Uncle Jonnie, Fast Ant, Dangerous Dave and I decided to sign up for the event a few months back, and I for one had been looking forward to the ride all winter. Jonnie and I used it as our inspiration to do some rather challenging training rides, in weather when we wouldn't normally venture outdoors. Jonnie started his training on one of my other bikes - a steel-framed 1979 Holdsworth Mistral in cracking condition. However, the weight of the machine and the limited gears were holding him back and he eventually upgraded to a fine Trek Madone 3.1. Carbontastic!
On the day of the sportive, we arrived at the starting line to find Dave on his new racing bike and Fast Ant on his 26 inch wheeled touring bike complete with a pannier! The ride started off very pleasantly, with the weather initially being kind to us. Jonnie and I lost touch with Dave and Ant at around about the 15 mile mark. We continued to battle our way down through Snitterfield and past Stratford, sometimes tucked in behind a group of seven female riders who had a strange habit of suddenly stopping en mass at various points along the route! The weather took a turn for the worse about now and both Jonnie and I (due to a natural break I had to take at the 20 mile mark) found ourselves exposed and battling against a ferocious headwind. After that, we were reunited but desperate for the feedstation.
Instead, there came Ilmington and a 14% category 3 climb with a photographer lying in wait at the top. I rode side by side with Jonnie and I was extremely pleased to see him, a man who had recently given up smoking to take up cycling, ride the whole climb. He rode past people half his age who were pushing their bikes up this hill. I smiled and gave the cameraman a thumbs up. Jonnie, so much more professional than I, kept his gaze firmly locked on his stem - a la Froome.
As chance would have it, we caught up with Dave and Ant at the feed station. Our happy reunion was cut short however, by the sudden and disappointing realisation that, after queuing for around 10 minutes, the feedstation was without food! Daydreams of bread-pudding, toast or pasties vanished in a soggy puff of weak tea and bottled water. It should have been named a drink station...
Back on the road, Ant sped off into the distance, legs pumping stoically in some monstrous gear. Dave, who had been fighting cramp, tucked in with Jonnie and me and we turned our handlebars Northward for the final push.
Fuelled by magic formula (Hi 5 summer fruits energy drink) we tackled the worst that Ullenhall could throw at us, including the climb from the farm that Jonnie, as a beginner, used to walk up - but not today.
After 5 hours and 33 minutes, Dave, Jonnie and I rode over the finish line together, found Fast Ant, and indulged in coffee, bacon butties and photographs.
On the ride home, legs turning to jelly beneath us, Jonnie punctured and we changed the tubes in the rain, exhausted but determined to get back home under our own steam. Two hours later, our families together at his house, Jonnie fed us homemade beef stew and I poured some fine ales.
Cycling may not be the best hobby/sport/way of life ever, but, right at that moment, it was hard to think of something that can compare...
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