lunes, 30 de mayo de 2011

El 600 de Midhust - Español

¿Qué pasa "biciosos"?

[This is the Spanish version of my cycling report riding the Midhurst 600K. The English version can be found at this page]

El despertador volvió a sonar a las 3:15 de la mañana, igual que para el 400 de Hailsham e igual que para el 300 de 3Down, pero da igual, yo no me acostumbro, me costó, y no me cabe duda de que seguirá costándome, levantarme a tan temprana hora. Y eso que el Viernes me había acostado temprano.

La experiencia del 400 me había demostrado que no podría hacer todo el 600 sin dormir por lo que mi estrategia para acabar el 600 pasaba por dos puntos básicos. El primero era ir a la prueba sin deficit de sueño y para eso me había asegurado de dormir todos los días de la semana previa al menos 8 horas. El segundo punto era parar a dormir durante la ruta. El momento/sitio ideal parecía el control del kilómetro 345 en Magor, en un área de servicio de la M4. El caso es que quiso la providencia que en ese fin de semana se celebrase una final de Rugby en Cardiff (que está "cerca" de Magor) y por tanto era imposible reservar habitación en ningún hotel o bed&breakfast de los alrededores. De todas formas no había problema me agencio el saco un saco de dormir y ya encontraré una esquina donde echarme a los brazos de Morfeo. Si es que uno es de un apañado...

A las 4:15 recogía a Pete en su casa.

A las 5:15 llegábamos a Midhurst.

La bicicleta que está en el suelo es la mía

Primer detalle en el que me fijo, de los 35 ciclistas que vamos a tomar parte en esta ruta soy el que más cargada lleva la bicicleta.

Bicicleta de carga

Bolsa delantera, bolsa trasera y saco de dormir envuelto en bolsa de plástico por si le da por llover. En apariencia Pete llevaba la misma equipación que para un 200, y los demás parecido. Algo debo de estar haciendo mal.

A las 6:00 empieza puntual y sin muchos miramientos el 600 de Midhurst. Mi segunda participación en un brevet organizado por David "El Supremo" Hudson.

Y al poco pasamos por New Alresford. Y ya no hizo falta que Pete me preguntase (que me preguntó) si reconocía el sitio. ¡Claro que lo reconocía!. Habíamos pasado por allí en el 300 y en el 400. Esta vez no paramos.

Y al poco pasamos por East Stratton. Precioso pueblo por el que también pasamos en el 300 y/o (no recuerdo bien) en el 400.

Descargada de internet que yo no se hacer tan buenas fotos

Y estaba claro que rodábamos por carreteras conocidas, pero eso no impidió que al poco nos perdiésemos.

La instrucción era esta: "3.7 L no $ (down short hill & round R bend)". Yo circulo delante, Pete detrás. Aparece una carretera a la izquierda, pero era un poco pronto, según mi cuentakilómetros no habíamos rodado los 3.7km. Seguimos de frente. Se pasa el kilómetro 3.7 y no aparece ningún desvío a la izquierda. Seguimos un poco más. Nada. Con la mosca detrás de la oreja saco mi móvil (que no deja de parecerme hacer un poco de trampa), consulto la ruta y efectivamente nos hemos pasado.  Tenemos que dar media vuelta. En ese momento me doy cuenta que venía con nosotros un tercer ciclista. Nada más dar la vuelta me pregunta si yo soy Javier. Le contesto que si y me dice que ha leido mi blog (publico las entradas de los brevets en Inglés en yacf.co.uk) que se ha imaginado que era yo por el acento (lo que demuestra que no mejora). Me entero de que se llama Daniel, que es siciliano. Rodamos juntos de vuelta. En total 4 kilómetros de más. Hacemos el giro que tenemos que hacer. Daniel va delante, yo detrás y Pete cierra el grupo.

En esto oigo que Pete me llama. Se ha quedado parado. Me paro. Daniel no se ha enterado por lo que sigue a su ritmo. Vuelvo hasta donde está Pete. Se le ha roto el pedal izquierdo.

Pues estamos bien. Apenas llevamos 60km y ya nos hemos perdido y ya hemos tenido una avería mecánica. Parece que el 600 va a ser entretenido.

La rotura del pedal no nos impide seguir. El pedal se le sale de la biela, se queda enganchado a la zapatilla. Pero Pete puede pedalear, tiene que hacerlo con cuidado para que no se le salga el pedal, no puede levantarse sobre la bici, pero podemos avanzar.

Por suerte el viento sopla de culo lo que hace que podamos rodar con facilidad hasta el primer control. Un control marcado en la hoja de ruta como "El Supremo feed" y eso significa comida, bebida, sillas y atención sin igual.


Estamos en el kilómetro 96 y sello mi brevet a las 10:33. La gente que está parada en el control nos dicen que en Marlborough hay una tienda/taller de bicicletas donde pueden ayudarnos. ¡Bien! Marlborough está a pocos kilómetros y nos pilla de camino.

Se me hace raro no ver a Daniel en el control; tiene que estar rodando realmente rápido.

Justo antes de ponernos en marcha le pido a Pete que me saque una foto. Me saca dos.

 El bulto de plástico es el saco de dormir

Esta le quedó un poco mejor, más que nada porque estoy más lejos

Camino a Marlborough Pete da cuenta de que se ha olvidado el casco en el control. Llevamos ya tres o cuatro kilómetros pero le pregunto si quiere dar la vuelta a por el. Dice que no, que ya lo recuperará en el siguiente control en el que "El Supremo feed". Al menos lleva gorra...

Llegamos a Marlborough y era día de mercado. Perdimos un poco de tiempo en encontrar la tienda de bicis (Bertie Maffoon's Bicycle Co); estaba un poco escondida.

Ese saco de dormir que luce en cada foto

Además no pueden ayudarnos; el pedal de Pete no es de los más comunes y ellos no los tienen.

Valoramos la posibilidad de desviarnos de nuestra ruta para ir a otra tienda de bicis, pero Pete lo descarta. Asegura que puede seguir pedaleando y que será difícil que tengan los pedales en otra tienda.

Nos ponemos en marcha y enseguida llegamos a Cirencester. Km 146, son las 13:33, paramos en un Tesco y es hora de comer. Aprovecho para dar cuenta de una ración de ensalada de pasta.

El ánimo es bueno, el viento sigue siendo favorable y pasamos por Brockhampton que no recuerdo por que pero lo marqué en la hoja de ruta como un sitio a recordar (cierto es que de poco me sirvió haberlo marcado).

Aspecto de una de las carreteras por las que rodábamos

En estas que llegamos al kilómetro 174 y nos enteramos que en el buzón de Winchcombe el correo se recoge a las 5:45 los días de diario. Me habría sido de más utilidad recordar por que tenía que acordarme de Brockhampton.

Justo después de este "info control" la instrucción era (el resaltado es del original) "R (Gambles La) Very very steep" y no era exagerado...

Pete preparándose para descender una rampa de un 25%

Ni más ni menos que un 25%, desde luego coincide con mi descripción de "muy muy inclinado". Bajamos con cuidado.

Cuando mi cuanta kilómetros llega al kilómetro 200 se lo comento a Pete. 1/3 del recorrido. No tengo muy claro si se enteró de mi comentario.

En el kilómetro 215 tenemos otro control. Se trata de conseguir un ticket. No tenemos intención de parar mucho por lo que entramos en un supermercado, me compro un kinder bueno y enseguida nos ponemos en marcha. Ya empieza a hacer frio, el viento sopla con fuerza y a veces es de cara, el cielo es de color gris plomizo. En mi Google Buzz me declaro publicamente cansado.

Aun así el que la siguiente etapa sea sólo de 56km (un casa->Carabaña) y el que el siguiente control fuese un "El Supremo feed" me daban ánimo. El Supremo había dicho que nos tendría preparados English Muffins, como para no animarse.

En la hoja de ruta marco Hildersley, creo recordar que porque se trataba de un pueblo bonito, pero tampoco lo tengo del todo claro.

Camino del control empezamos a cruzarnos con ciclistas que venían en sentido contrario. Parece que tendríamos que volver por la misma carretera que íbamos. Y eso eran malas noticias. En la ida la carretera picaba hacia abajo y el viento era favorable. Malo y malo para la vuelta.

Llegamos al control a las 20:27, estamos en el kilómetro 271. No esta mal, llevamos tres horas y media de adelanto sobre el límite de tiempo. Nos quedan 74 kilómetros hasta el siguiente control que es en Magor, justo donde teníamos pensado parar a dormir.

Fiel a su promesa El Supremo nos tenía preparados English Muffins recién tostados y untados con mantequilla y mermelada (para mi de fresa por favor). También tenía tostadas rellenas de queso fundido. Se te caen las lágrimas con tanta atención y encima Pete recupera su casco.

Antes de ponernos en marcha nos equipamos para la noche y la lluvia. Yo me pongo encima todos mis complementos de la señorita pepis (calienta brazos, calienta piernas, calcetines de gore-tex, una camiseta interior, los guantes largos y el chubasquero), enciendo las luces, cubro las bolsas y me lanzo a la oscuridad, la lluvia y el viento de cara.

Hacerse 74 kilómetros cuando ya tienes 271 en el cuerpo, es de noche, llueve y tienes viento de cara no es la parte más bonita del ciclismo, pero por alguna extraña razón yo no me lo tomé a mal, en realidad estaba al borde del disfrute. En mi mente veía una y otra vez la imagen de mi mismo tumbándome en el suelo en la cafetería de Magor y pidiéndole a Pete que me sacase una foto para el blog antes de ponerme a dormir por tres o cuatro horas.

Nos cruzamos con Daniel. ¡Que raro! ¿Que hace por detrás de nosotros?

Las condiciones no eran buenas y eso se ve en el tiempo que tardamos en hacer esa parte del recorrido. Más de 4 horas en recorrer 74km ¡menos de 18.5 km/h de media!

Por fin llegamos al área de servicio de Magor, todavía lloviendo y nos dirigimos al único que vemos con luz. ¡Es una gasolinera!

¿Por qué lo pongo entre admiraciones?

Pues porque es una gasolinera normal y corriente. Tiene una pequeña tienda donde incluso te puedes pedir un café, pero AHI NO SE PUEDE DORMIR.

Y EN LA CALLE LLUEVE...

¡MUCHO!

Esto si me lo tomo a mal, aqui si que ya no estaba al borde del disfrute. ¿Qué íbamos a hacer? ¿Seguir? Yo ya estaba bastante cansado y en esas condiciones avanzaríamos muy despacio. ¿Buscar un techo y dormir en la calle? Tampoco es que fuese un panorama tentador.

Pete debía tener la mente más clara que yo porque enseguida comentó. "Tiene que haber un restaurante o café en algún sitio, aqui no hay ningún ciclista". Creo que lo comentó dos o tres veces antes de que yo me diese cuenta de que tenía razón, que tendría que haber un restaurante o café en algún sitio que allí no había ningún ciclista.

Decido entrar en la tienda de la gasolinera y preguntarle al dependiente. Por que me contesto sé que me entendió, pero yo a él no le entendí nada. Rápidamente caí en la cuenta que estábamos en Gales. Volví a preguntarle pero esta vez haciendo gestos y el me contestó a su vez haciendo gestos y señalando. Me quedé con la dirección a la que señaló, di las buenas noches y salí de la tienda sin haber entendido nada. No mejoro, no mejoro y no mejoro.

Le digo a Pete que si, que hay un restaurante y que está en aquella dirección, la que me había señalado el dependiente de la tienda.

Y hacia allí nos dirigimos...

Y si que había un restaurante...

Y si que había ciclistas, unos 20 calculo yo...

Yo nada más entrar analizo el panorama. Esto tiene mejor pinta. Me pido un vaso de leche caliente para así conseguir el ticket que necesito como prueba de paso. Es la 1:41 de la madrugada. Me tomo el vaso de leche con muesli que tenía en mis bolsas. Cojo el saco de dormir, me voy a una parte del restaurante que estaba cerrada al público, con las sillas sobre las mesas, me tumbo en el suelo y me meto en el saco. Todo muy rápido, todo muy eficaz...

"¿Pero que es esto?"

Este saco es MUY pequeño. ES EL SACO DE UNA DE MIS HIJAS. Para que me cubra entero tengo que encoger las piernas pero mira, después de haber cargado con él 345 kilómetros lo uso aunque sea para taparme hasta el pecho.

Aviso a Pete de donde estoy, él todavía está tomando algo en el restaurante y hablando con otros ciclistas. Yo me duermo en menos de un minuto.

Acabo de darme cuenta de que tenía tanta prisa por dormir que se me olvidó pedirle que me sacase una foto. Y es una pena, porque habría quedado muy bien aquí...

*******************************************

"Javier, javier".

Me despierto sobresaltado. Pete me está llamando. He dormido tres horas, pero me levanto de un salto. Tres horas de sueño no dan para mucho pero me encuentro bien.

Me voy al baño, me aseo y me cambio de ropa. Me pongo la equipación del Pakefte, la de las grandes ocasiones.
Esta foto no es de la ruta, pero la pongo para que os hagáis una idea

Veo a Daniel y le pregunto que les había pasado el día anterior. Me cuenta que se habían perdido y que habían perdido mucho tiempo. Ya me extrañaba a mi que fuesen por detrás de nosotros.

En estas Pete me dice que nos vamos. Yo tenía pensado desayunar, pero como a él se le veía con una cierta prisa por ponerse en marcha, me tomo con rapidez uno de los tostis que llevaba untados con nutella y una barrita, me pongo el chubasquero, todavía mojado, y nos ponemos en marcha.

Ha amanecido, el ambiente está húmedo pero ha dejado de llover. ¡Bien!

El la primera rotonda, a 200 metros, ya nos equivocamos de salida y en cuanto llegamos a una rotonda inesperada tuvimos que volver a consultar el móvil.

Media vuelta.

Cuando retomamos el camino correcto vi que eran las 5 de la mañana. Tenemos por delante una etapa de 95 kilómetros.

Empezamos a rodar por un valle absolutamente llano. El cielo estaba totalmente despejado; "hoy va a hacer calor" pensé yo.

Enseguida nos encontramos en la A48 y no la abandonamos por varios kilómetros. Charlábamos sobre la Paris-Brest-Paris, sobre material para las bicicletas, sobre ruedas. Que si 23, que si 25 que si Continental que si otra marca. El único momento en el que supe que decía fue cuando comentamos que yo tenía las Contienental 4 Seasons y que no había tenido ningún pinchazo en ninguno de los los brevets. Mucho nivel para mi, hice como que sabía de que iba el tema y traté de aprender lo más posible, pero ya no me acuerdo de nada.

Pasamos al lado de una caseta que parece una parada de autobús. Me fijo que un ciclista está sentado en su interior desayunando. Me pregunto si ha dormido allí.

La A48 es una carretera aburrida, un continuo sube y baja rompepiernas. Menos más que el tráfico a esas horas del domingo era escaso.

A las 6:36 llegamos a Lydney donde nos enteramos que su farmacia se llama "Lloyds". Otro "info control" superado.

24 kilómetros más de A48, mira que se hace larga.

Llegamos a una instrucción que advierte "Subida larga y dura, tomátela tranquilamente", según las instrucciones la subida son 2.7 kilómetros, "pues tampoco es tan larga" pensé yo. Antes de empezar la subida nos paramos a quitarnos ropa. Nos adelantan dos ciclistas, una es la ciclista de nombre desconocido del 400, nos saluda al pasar. Pete acaba antes que yo y se pone en marcha. Una chica montada en un caballo blanco también pasa mientras yo estoy parado. Yo me tomo mi tiempo, me pongo los guantes cortos, los cristales oscuros y me quedo de corto tanto arriba como abajo; cuando me pongo en marcha lo hago a buen ritmo.

Vaya, parece que esto se complica. Vamos a bajar (¿o es subir?) un piñón.

Ahí está la chica y su caballo blanco. Les adelanto, pero pedaleando de pie sobre la bici.

Ahí está Peter. Está subiendo andando. Aunque ha aprendido a ponerse de pie incluso con el pedal suelto no puede hacer la fuerza necesaria para subir estas rampas. Le adelanto.

Vaya, esto si que se está poniendo duro. Va a ser que voy a tener que meterlo todo.

Tomo una curva y veo que los otros dos ciclistas están subiendo andando también.

Se me pasa por la cabeza la idea de poner el pie a tierra, no merece la pena agotarse tanto, todavía quedan muchos kilómetros, unos 200, pero descarto la idea. No me gusta poner el pie a tierra.

No llego a alcanzar a los dos ciclistas. Aprovechan que la pendiente se modera para volver a montarse en la bicicleta cuando llego a su altura, pero ahora ellos suben más rápido. Menos mal que después de la siguiente curva ya se veía el final.

Aguanto como puedo y corono la subida. Me doy cuenta de que 2.7 kilómetros se pueden hacer muy largos y muuuuy duros. Especialmente cuando tienes 400 kilómetros en las piernas y el perfil tiene esta pinta.
Perfil sacado de climbbybike.com

Aprovecho para recuperar el aliento hasta que viene Peter.

Una vez coronada Birdlip hill nos toca pedalear por la parte alta. El viento se vuelve más violento y las nubes se acumulan con rapidez. El cielo se oscurece y nos cae un chaparrón que nos pilla de improvisto, apenas tenemos tiempo deponernos los chubasqueros. Nos empapamos en muy poco tiempo. Fueron pocos kilómetros, yo diría que unos 15, pero nos machacaron, nos dejaron helados y empapados.

Cuando llegamos a Cirencester caí en la cuenta que por ahí ha habíamos pasado era el Tesco del kilómetro 146 de la ruta. Pete propuso desayunar en el McDonals, un restaurante de una cadena de ¿comida? americana que es muy famosa en este país, pero yo recuerdo que en el Tesco había un restaurante/cafeteria y le propongo decantarnos por la cocina local. Acepta.

Y que bien que aceptó. Tenían English breakfast que seguramente no sea lo más adecuado según los manuales de nutrición deportiva, pero que a mi, en ese momento y lugar del espacio tiempo, me resultaba la mar de apetecible. Complemento el English breakfast con un poco de ensalada de pasta y un trozo de pastel de chocolate.

"Desayuno potente", definición gráfica

Son las 10:40 de la mañana, estamos en el kilómetro 450. Entre el desayuno y el calor del local conseguí dejar de tiritar.

Cuando nos ponemos en marcha la tormenta ya había pasado, incluso brillaba un poco el sol. Yo no me fio por lo que vuelvo a poner los cristales transparentes a las gafas, guantes largos, calentapiernas, camiseta interior y chubasquero. A mi no me vuelve a pillar la tormenta ligero de ropa.

Las primeras carreteras por las circulamos son realmente tranquilas y nos invade un cierto sopor. Circulamos muy despacio, a unos 15 kilómetros por hora. Yo, que estoy constantemente haciendo cálculos de velocidades medias y estimaciones de tiempo para distraerme (cuando en realidad debería estar concentrado en la hoja de ruta...), caigo en la cuenta de que este ritmo es demasiado lento. Vamos justos de tiempo y cualquier imprevisto nos puede dejar fuera.

Se lo comento a Pete. Le cuento mi teoría de que deberíamos rodar a una media de 20Km/h para poder acumular algo de tiempo. Creo que acepta y acelera un poco el ritmo pero no mucho. Empiezo a pensar que es posible que esté cansado, yo me encuentro bien por lo que me pongo a su ritmo y seguimos.

En un momento dado me doy cuenta de que la rueda delantera esta pinchada (se acabó eso de ningún pinchazo en los brevets). Chillo para avistar a Pete pero no me oye, desaparece en la lejanía. Rápidamente me pongo a cambiar la cámara y sorprendentemente lo hago rápido. Me acuerdo de que entre los Wheelers hay una "competición" para ver quien repara un pinchazo más rápido. Pena de no tener testigos y/o haber medido el tiempo, lo hice realmente rápido. De hecho al poco de ponerme en marcha me encontré con Pete que me estaba esperando en el siguiente cruze. Su comentario fue que pensó que había parado a quitarme el chubasquero. Cualquier día de estos ficho por Ferrari (En la versión inglesa diré McClaren por aquello de que parezca que estoy integrado en la cultura del pais).

En el kilómetro 476 nos enteramos que el pub de Calne se llama Bug&Spider. Aprovecho la parada para tomarme una barrita y me fijo que Pete se toma un gel.

Seguimos la ruta y ahora rodamos un poco más rápido. Aun así, cuando llegamos al control de Burbage, un "El Supremo feed" llevamos sólo 28 minutos de adelanto sobre el límite de tiempo. ¡Muy justo!

El control de Burbage está en el mismo sitio de uno de los controles del 400

Esta foto es del 400 de Hailsham pero es aspecto era muy parecido

Y al igual que en aquella ocasión El Supremo nos tenía preparadas beans on a toast

Esta foto también es del 400 de Hailsham pero es aspecto también era muy parecido

Y como en aquella ocasión aproveché para complementarlo con una ración de ensalada de pasta, la última en este caso, la bicicleta pesaría menos a partir de ahora.

Nos quedan "sólo" 92km que haremos en dos etapas. Empieza a parecer chupado.

Al poco de ponernos a rodar nos unimos a un tercer ciclista, Peter. Rodamos con cierta agilidad, el viento es favorable, Peter da conversación, cuenta que tiene un amigo gallego, que de joven había participado en una competición subiendo Birdlip hill (los 2.7 km largos y duros) y todo tiene buena pinta.

Yo me encuentro bien. En las subidas mantengo el ritmo y hago hueco con mis dos compañeros y luego y luego nos reagrupamos. En el alto de una de estas rampas la instrucción era "R @ T" (a la derecha en la T) yo llego leo "R @ T" y hago "L @ T" (a la izquierda en la T) y sigo subiendo. Y menos mal que oí las voces que me llamaban a lo lejos porque sino me como toda la subida antes de darme cuenta que voy en dirección contraria. En fin, que estaba bien físicamente pero no precisamente concentrado en seguir la hoja de ruta.

Enseguida llegamos a New Alresford otra vez. La cuarta vez que pasaba por este pueblo en tres brevets, la tercera vez que paramos. Pongo la misma foto que he usado en el 300 y en el 400 porque dio la casualidad de que nos juntamos media docena de ciclistas y el panorama era muy parecido.

Aspecto del Tesco de New Alresford durante cualquier brevet

Habíamos recuperado tiempo en el último tramo y ahora teníamos una hora de margen, pero tampoco era plan de parar mucho tiempo. Total ya sólo nos quedaban 37 kilómetros. Aun así yo me dejé llevar por la filosofía de "ya que lo has machacado dale al cuerpo lo que te pida" y me acabé bebiendo un tercio de leche y comiéndome unas gominolas; extrañas peticiones que tiene el cuerpo de uno.

Los últimos kilómetros fueron un paseo triunfal. Hicimos grupo con Peter y Paul y los cuatro juntos rodamos a un buen ritmo por un terreno favorable. En el ambiente intuíamos el final y los kilómetros volaron. Cuanto más nos acercábamos a Midhurst más ágil se volvia el ritmo (dentro de lo ágil que se puede volver cuando llevas 600Km en las piernas) y sin llegar a disputar un sprint acabamos como campeones.

Justo a la entrada de Midhurst nos encontramos con otros ciclistas y nos paramos a conversar con ellos. Pete les contó que era mi primer 600 y uno de ellos me aseguró que si había podido con el 600 no tendría problema en acabar los 1200 de la Paris-Brest-Paris, pero no lo tengo yo tan claro.

A la vuelta de la esquina había una gasolinera y a ella fuimos a conseguir el último ticket de la ruta, son las 20:33, y otra vez me dejé llevar por las caprichosas peticiones de mi cuerpo...


Pedazo Magnum almendrado que me metí para el cuerpo, y que a gusto me quedé.



Los números:
  • Kilómetros: 609.47 (en yacf.co.uk comentan que 6322m de desnivel)
  • Tiempo total invertido: 38 horas 33 minutos
  • Tiempo rodando: 29 horas 54 minutos 10 segundos
  • Tiempo parados: 8 horas 38 minutos 50 segundos (3 de ellas durmiendo)
  • Velocidad media: 20.38 km/h
  • Velocidad máxima: 58.20 km/h
  • Pulsaciones médias: 103 ppm (106ppm en las 22:36:37 del Sábado, 98ppm en las 16:15:15  del Domingo)
  • Pulsaciones máximas: 180 ppm (esa subida a Birdlip hill ...)
  • Calorías consumidas: 12.114 Kcal
  • Kilómetros que tiene la bici: 5.678
  • Es la vez número 40 que monto en bici de carretera en mi vida
Si, ya lo se, esto es una locura; pero para tratar de darle sentido a la locura de intentar rodar 1.200 kilómetros en la Paris-Brest-Paris de este año estoy recaudando fondos para la ONG Cancer Research UK en mi página de JustGiving: www.justgiving.com/Javier-Paris-Brest-Paris Yo mismo estoy donando una libra por cada 10 kilómetros que ruedo en los brevets; de hecho acabo de donar 61 libras por este brevet.

A cuidarse
Javier Arias González

Midhurst 600 - English

[Esta es la versión en inglés de mi crónica del 600 de Midhurst. La versión en castellano esta en esta página]

The alarm clock went on at 3:15, same time as for the Hailsham 400 and same time as for the 3Down 300, but anyway I can't get used to wake up so early. Even if that Friday I went to bed quite early.

The 400K experience has proved I was not going to be able to finish 600 without sleep, so my strategy to finish the 600 was based in two main points. The first was making sure I started without sleep deficit and to accomplish that I made sure that every day on that week I had slept at least 8 hours. The second point was to plan a stop to sleep on the route. The right moment/place appeared to be at km 345, a service by the M4 in Magor. The problem was that on that very same weekend there was a rugby final in Cardiff (which is "close" to Magor) and it was imposible to book any room on any hotel, motel or bed & breakfast in the area. Never mind, lets get a sleeping bag and hope that you'll be able to find a place to sleep. I'm so easy...

4:15 meeting Pete at his place.

5:15 arriving Midhurst.

My bike is the one on the ground 

First thing I realized, out of the 35 cyclists I'm the one with more stuff on the bicycle.

Heavy loaded bicycle

Bag on the handlebar, bag on the back and the sleeping bag in a plastic bar, just in case it starts to rain. Apparently Peter was carrying the same stuff as for the 200K, and the same the rest. There is something I should be doing wrong.

6:00 it starts right away the Midhurst 600. My second ride organized by David "El Supremo" Hudson.

Very soon we were in New Alresford. And it was not needed that Pete asked me (he actually asked me) if I recognized the village. We visit it in the 300 and the 400. This time we didn't stop.

Soon enough we were in East Stratton. A beautiful village that we also visited at the 300 and/or (I don't remember) the 400.

Found on the internet, I can't take pictures as good as this one

It was clear we were riding on known roads, but that didn't stop us from getting lost.

The instruction was: "3.7 L no $ (down short hill & round R bend)". I'm riding on the front, followed by Pete. Here comes a road on the left, but it is a bit early according to my computer we didn't ride 3.7km just yet. Lets keep riding. The kilometer 3.7 went and we couldn't see any other road on the left. Lets keep riding a bit more. Nothing.

Ok, lets check with my mobile (which for me is like cheating but just a little bit). And obviously we missed the turn. We must turn back. At that moment I realized there is a third rider with us. He asked me if I were Javier. I said yes and he says he had read my blog (I also publish my riding reports at yacf.co.uk) he said he thought so because of my accent (which proves once again that my accent does not improve). His name is Daniel, and he is Sicilian. We ride together all the way back, in total 4 km. We take the right turn. Daniel in front, I second him and Pete closes the group.

Suddenly I hear Pete calling me. He has stopped. I stop aswel. Daniel didn't hear him and disappeared in the distance. I get to where Pete was and found out his left pedal is broken.

This doesn't look good. With only 60k in the route we managed to get lost and to get a serious mechanical breakdown. It seems the 600 will be entertained.

The pedal breakdown does not prevent us from continuing. The pedal gets out of the crank very easily, it  remains attached to the shoe but if Pete pedal being careful no to slip off the pedal we can continue. He can't stand on the bike and we have 540K ahead, this is going to be hard for him.

Luckily the wind blows in our favor which makes us ride easily to the first contro. A control signed in the route sheet as "El Supremo feed" and that means food, drinks, chairs and unbeatable service.


Km 96 and my brevet card is stamped at 10:33. The cyclists at the control told us that at Marlborough there is a bike shop. Great! Marlborough is very close and it is on the route.

I thought I was rare Daniel was not at the control, he must be riding very fast.

Just before we get on the bikes again I ask Pete to take a picture of me. He took two.

That plastic bag is the sleeping bag

This one is much better, mainly because I'm far

On our way to Marlborough Pete realizes he forgot his helmet at the control. It is three or four kilometers so I asked him if he wanted to get back to get it. He refused the offer, he'll recover it at the next control marked as "El Supremo feed". At least he is wearing a cap...

We arrived to Marlborough and found out there was open market day. We lost some time trying to find the bike shop (Bertie Maffoon's Bicycle Co) it was not precisely on the high street.

That sleeping bag that shines in every picture

Sadly we found out they couldn't help us. Pete's pedal is not the most common one and they don't have anything similar.

We consider getting off the route to visit another bike shop but Pete refused to lose more time. He said it was going to be difficult the other store carried those pedals.

We get on the bikes and very soon we arrived to Cirencester. Km 146, it's 13:33, we stopped at the Tesco, lunch time. I take the opportunity to eat one of the pasta salad portions I was carrying.

The mood is good, the wind keeps blowing in our favor and we passed by Brockhampton which I know I marked its name in the route sheet but now I don't remember why.

This is one of the roads nice, quiet and flat

At the kilometer 174 we found out that the post is collected at 5:45 in Winchcombe. It would have been better to remember why I marked Brockhampton.

Just after that "info control" the instruction was (the bold was in the original) "R (Gambles La) Very very steep" and it was true...

Pete getting ready to ride down a 25% 

A 25% not less, It also fits my description of "very very steep".

When my computer said it was km 200 I mentioned it to Pete. 1/3rd of the route, but I'm not sure if he got my comment.

At km 215 we had another control. We had to get a ticket. Our intention was not to stop too much so I went into a super and bought a kinder bueno and right away we continued our route. It's getting cold and the wind blows hard and sometimes on our faces, the sky turned dark grey, at my Google Buzz I declared myself tired.

Still being that stage only 56km and the next control a "El Supremo feed" was a great incentive. El Supremo had said he was going to have English Muffins, that sounded great.

At the route sheet I have Hildersley marked, I think it is because it was a nice village but I don't remember any more. I need to improve my on the route notes...

On our way to the control we started to see cyclists riding in the opposite direction. It seems we will have to take this road back, and that was bad news. The steep was slightly favorable and the wind was mainly in our tail. Too bad to ride in the opposite direction.

We arrived the control at 20:27, we were at km 271. Not bad, we are three hours and a half ahead the time limit, we have 74km until next control in Magor, just were we wanted to sleep.

El Supremo kept his promise and recently toasted English Muffins where waiting for us. He also had toasted with melted cheese. I almost cried!! An Pete got his helmet back!!

Before we set off we got ready for the night and the rain. I put on arm warmers, leg warmers, gore-tex sockets, a shirt, gloves and the rain coat, turn on the lights and started to cycle in the darkness, the rain and the wind on our faces.

To ride 74 km when you already have 271 in your legs, its night, rains and the wind blows agains you is not the best of cycling, but not sure why I wasn't feeling too bad, in fact I was at the edge of the enjoyment. In my mind I was seeing myself lying in the floor at a caffe in Magor and asking Pete to take a picture to upload it at the blog before falling sleep for tree or four hours and somehow that made me happy.

We saw Daniel, he was cycling in the opposite direction, still had to get to the control. That's weird, what is he doing behind us?

The conditions were not good and the easiest way of describing it is looking to our times. More than 4 hours to ride 74km, less than 18.5 km/h average speed!!

We finally got to Magor service area, it was still raining and we followed the only light we saw. It was a petrol station!!!!!

Why the admiration marks?

Well that was an ordinary petrol station. It had a small shop where you could even order a coffe, but there is NO WAY YOU COULD SLEEP THERE.

AND OUT SIDE IS COLD AND RAINING...

A LOT!!

Hey, this is more than a positive mind can cope. What were we going to do? keep going? I was really tired and on these conditions we would move too slowly. Try to find somewhere to sleep on the street? didn't sound like a tempting plan either.

Pete's mind was clearer than mine, as always, because it was him the one that said "There must be a restaurant in this service area, there are no cyclists here". And I think the mentioned that two or three times before I realized he was right. Those service areas usually have a restaurant or coffe shop and it was true there were no cyclist there.

I got into the petrol station store and asked the guy that was behind the counter. Because he answered I knew he had understood me but I had no clue what he said. I realized we were in Wales.

I asked again but this time gesturing and he answered again gesturing and pointing in one direction. I took note of the direction he was point out, said good night and left the store without understanding a word. I have the impression that not all was my fault.

I told Pete there is a restaurante and it is in that direction, the direction that was pointed to me.

And to that direction we set off...

And there was a restaurant there...

And there were cyclists there, around 20 I guessed

As soon as we entered I analyzed the situation. This looks much better. I ordered a glass of hot milk to get the ticked I needed to prove I was there. It's 1:41. Got muesli from my bags and had it with the milk. Got my sleeping bag and went to an area of the restaurant that was close, the chairs on the tables, I lay in the floor and got in the sleeping bag. All very quickly, very efficient...

But....

"What is this?"

This sleeping bag is VERY small. It is one of my daughters' sleeping bag. 345 kilometers carrying a sleeping bag just to find it only covered up to my chest.

Never mind I'm so tired that I just want to sleep. I told Pete were I was laying, he was still eating something at the restaurant and talking with other cyclists. I falled sleep in less than a minute.

And I now realize that I was so focussed on getting to sleep as soon as possible that I forgot to ask Pete to take a picture of me on my sleeping bag. It's a pity because I think it would look great here.

*******************************************

"Javier, javier".



I woke up startled, Pete was calling me. I had slept only three hours but I don't feel too bad.

A quick wash and I changed my clothes. Now I'm wearing the Pakefte maillot, the one to be used in special moments and I was going to beat my own distance record.

This is not from the route but it will help you to get the idea

I saw Dainel and asked him what had happened the day before. He told me they got lost (we are not the only ones) and they had lost a lot of time to get to the route again.

Peter came saying we had to move on. I thought we were going to have breakfast but as I saw he wanted to depart as soon as possible I ate a muffing and one my energy bars, put my rain coat on, still wet, and set off.

It was daylight outside, the air is damp but it has stopped raining, which was great.

At the first roundabout, 200 meters on the route, we got the wrong exit and when we got to an unexpected roundabout we had to check (cheat) with the mobile again.

Lets turn back.

When we went into the route again I saw it was 5 in the morning, next stage was 95 kilometers and we barely could say we had breakfast.

At the beginning we were riding in a valley, a really flat road. The sky had no clouds, "it's going to be hot today" I thought.

Very quickly we got to the A48 and we stayed there for many kilometers. We were riding easily, talking about Paris-Bres-Paris and bicycle parts. About wheels. What is better 23 or 25. Continental or any other brand. The only moment I knew anything about what were talking about was when I said I had Continental 4 Seasons and I had had no a single flat tire in my brevets. Too much level for me. I just pretended I knew what it was about and tried to learn as much as possible, but you know what, I have forgotten everything.

We passed a small construction, I think it was a bus stop, and I saw a cyclist sitting inside eating. I wondered if he had slept there.

The A48 is a boring road, going up and down. At least there was not traffic at those morning hours.

It was 6:36 when we got to Lydney were we learnt the pharmacy is named "Lloyds". Another "info control" done.

A48 for 24 additional kilometers. It really felt so long...

But we got to one instruction that said: "Long tough climb, take it easy". Again the bold was in the original.

According to the route sheet it was 2.7 kilometers. "That's not long" I thought.

We stopped before the climb to take off of some unneeded clothes. Two cyclists passed us. One of them was is the cyclist I don't know her name from the 400, she said hello as she passed us. Pete finished before me and set off first. A girl riding a white horse also passed while I was stopped. I took my time, changed gloves and put black lenses on my glasses. When I started it was a good pace; lets pass those 2.7 kilometers.

Upss, it seems this is not that easy, lets change gear.

There is the girl riding the white horse. I passed them, but I was pedaling standing on the bike.

There is Pete. He is walking. Even though he had learnt to stand on the bike with that lose pedal he can't push hard enough to climb this hill. I passed him.

Uhmm this is really hard, let me put the easiest gear.

There are the other two cyclists. They are walking too.

I have the temptation of putting my foot on the ground, it's not worth the effort, we still have 200km to go, but I passed. I don't like putting my foot on the ground when I ride.

I couldn't reach the two cyclists. As soon as the road easies they get on their bikes and now the are faster than me.

That looks like the end of the climb. Not sure how but I finished the climb and took note that 2.7 can be really long, specially if you have 400k in your legs are the hill looks like this one.

Once on the top of Birdlip hill the wind became more violent and clouds starter to appear everywhere. The sky went dark and before we could realized it started to pour water. We soaked in no time, barely had time to put on our rain coats. It was only a few kilometers, around 15, but they pounded us, left us frozen and soaked.

When we arrived to Cirencester I realized we were at the Tesco in the km 146. Pete suggested having breakfast at McDonals, the famous american food restaurant chain, but I remembered there was a restaurant at Tesco and suggested to go there. Pete agreed.

And it was great he agreed. They had English breakfast, which probably, only probably, is not the most the most recommended meal in the sportive nutrition manuals, but it was really appealing to me, at that specific time and moment. A piece of chocolate cake and a portion of pasta salad and there you go, the perfect breakfast.

"Powerful breakfast", graphic definition

It's 10:40 in the morning we are at km 450. Thanks to the breakfast and the heat at the restaurant I stopped shivering.

When we started again the storm had gone, the sun was even shinning a little bit, just a little bit. Anyway I don't trust the weather so I put back white lenses, winter gloves, leg warmeers, etc, etc. No storm will catch me unprepared.

The roads in this part of the route were really quiet and we felt, at least I felt, a certain lethargy. We are riding very slow, aournd 15km/h. I'm all the time doing mental calculations. Averages, ETAs, all sort of calculations to try to distract my brain (when I should have been focussed on following the route sheet). One of those calculations told me we are too slow. At this speed anything  unexpected can left us out of the time. We need to speed up a bit.

I told Pete my theory. I suggested we should be riding at least at 20km/h to save some time. I think he agreed, in fact he lived up the pace a bit, but not really that much. I guessed he was tired, I was feeling all right so I set myself at his pace.

Suddenly I realized my front wheel has a flat tire (no more "no-flat tires on my brevets"). I shouted to warn Pete but he couldn't hear me. Very quickly I started to change the inner tube. Surprisingly I was very quick. I remembered the Wheelers had kind of competition timing flat tire amendments. It's a shame I have no witnesses or I didn't time myself because I was pretty fast. In fact when I reached Pete at the next turn where he was waiting for me he told me he thought I was taking off my rain coat. One of this days I'm going to be asked to join McClaren (in the Spanish version I used Ferrari, after all Fernando Alonso is also from Asturias)

At km 476 we learnt the pub in Calne is "Bug & Spider". No pints, an energy bar for me a gel for Pete.

We are now riding a bit faster still when we arrived to the control at Burbage, the last "El Supremo feed" we we only 28 ahead of the time limit. Too tight!

The control at Burbage was at the same place of one of the controls in the 400

This picture is from the  Hailsham 400 but it looked the same at the 600

And as at that time El Supremo had beans on a toast ready for us.

This picture is also from the  Hailsham 400 but it also looked the same at the 600

I also ate the last portion of pasta salad, my bicycle is going to be lighter from now on.

"only" 92km in two stages to go. This is started to sound easy.

Very soon we joined a third rider, Peter. We were riding at a good pace, the wind was favorable, Pete does most of the talking. He has a friend in Galicia, a place in the north of Spain and when he was young he used to compete and one of the races was climbing Birdlip hill  (does long 2.7 km ring a bel?).

I feel great. In the hills I keep my pace and left my colleagues behind, we re-group at the top. At the top of one of those mini-climbs the instruction was "R @ T" (right at T) I reached the point, read "R @ T" and did "L @ T" (left at T) and keept climbing up the road. When they called me I had already done half of the climb. I was great physically but I can't say I was really focussed following the route sheet.

Next village was New Alresford, again. It was the fourth time we passed by New Alresford in three brevets. This is the same picture I used for the 300 and 400 but, hey, by chance we were half a dozen cyclists there and the scene was very similar to the one in the picture.

This is how the Tesco Express at New Alresford looks like at any  brevet

We had saved some time in the last stage and now we were an hour and a half ahead of the time limit, but we didn't want to stop for long time. There were only 37 km to go, the sooner we started the sooner we would finish. Following the philosophy of "you have beaten you body so give it whatever it asks for" I ended up drinking half a pint of mile and a few jellys; weird asks by body has.

The last kilometers were a triumphal march. We partnered with Peter and Paul and the four of us rode a good pace in favorable roads. We knew we were finishing so the kilometers flew away. The closer we were to Midhurst the more agile our pace was (as agile as it can be when you have 600k in your legs), there was not sprint at the end but we finished as champions.

At the entrance of Midhurst there were other cyclists and we stopped there to chat with them. Pete told them that was my first 600 and one of them assured me if I had finished that 600 I would have no problem to finish the Paris-Brest-Paris 1200, I'm not really that convinced.

Very close there was a petrol station and there we went to get our last receipt. It's 20:33 and once again I gave my body what it was asking for...




These are the numbers:
  • Kilometers: 609.47 (at yacf.co.uk someone said it was 6322m climbing)
  • Total time: 38 hours 33 minutes
  • Time riding: 29 hours 54 minutes 10 seconds
  • Time stopped: 8 hours 38 minutes 50 seconds (3 of them sleeping)
  • Average speed: 20.38 km/h
  • Max speed: 58.20 km/h
  • Avg. heart rate: 103 ppm (106ppm in Saturday's 22:36:37, 98ppm on Sunday's 16:15:15)
  • Max heart rate: 180 ppm (climbing Birdlip hill ...)
  • Calories consumed: 12.114 Kcal
  • My bicycle has 5.678 km
  • This is the 40th time I ride a road bike in my life
Yes, I know, this is crazy; but to make sense out the crazy idea of riding 12000 at the Paris-Brest-Paris I raising money for Cancer Research UK at my JustGiving page: www.justgiving.com/Javier-Paris-Brest-Paris I'm donating a pound for each 10km I ride in an Audax event, I just donated the 61 of this ride.

Take care
Javier Arias González

viernes, 20 de mayo de 2011

Mañana el 600 de Midhurst - Tomorrow the Midhurst 600k

Hi everyone,

Tomorrow I'll ride the Midhurst 600K. I'll start riding tomorrow Saturday 21st 6:00am. As the time limit is 40 I hope I will finish a bit earlier than Sunday 22nd 22:00.

I feel tired already...
If at any moment you feel curious about where am I riding you can check my position updated real time in this map; you can also see the comments I'll post during the route at Google Buzz account or at my twitter account (@javierariasgonz).

There will be a report sometime next week, but I cannot guaranty it will be a short one :-)

**************************************

Mañana haré el 600 de Midhurst. Empezaré a pedalear mañana Sábado 21 a las 6 de la mañana. Como el límite para hacer el recorrido es de 40 horas espero acabar un poco antes del Domingo 22 a las 22:00.

Sólo de pensarlo ya estoy cansado...

Si en algún momento te pica la curiosidad y quieres saber por donde ando puedes ver mi posición actualizada en tiempo real en este mapa o ver los comentarios que voy haciendo durante la ruta en mi cuenta de Google Buzz o en mi cuenta de twitter (@javierariasgonz).

Habrá crónica la semana que viene, pero no puedo garantizar que vaya a ser corta :-)

A cuidarse
Javier Arias González

miércoles, 18 de mayo de 2011

Ya tengo dorsal para la Quebrantahuesos 2011

¿Qué pasa "biciosos"?

Estoy velando armas para el primer 600 de mi vida este sábado 21 de Mayo y resulta que acabo de recibir un mail de la organización de la Quebrantahuesos anunciándome cual será mi dorsal el próximo 18 de Junio en Sabiñánigo.

Dorsal 9044.

El número es lo de menos; lo importante son las emociones que me invaden, los recuerdos. ¡Que ganas de estar en Sabiñánigo!

A cuidarse
Javier Arias González

viernes, 13 de mayo de 2011

Hailsham 400 - English

[Esta es la versión en inglés de mi crónica del 400 de Hailsham. La versión en castellano esta en esta página]


Once again the alarm clock went on at 3:15 am.

4:00am. With the punctuality the spaniards attribute to the british I was saying "good morning to Pete".

A bit before 6 am we arrive to Hailsham. We are going to take part of a riding event organized for who looks like an institution in this not really rational world of the long distance ride: David "El Supremo" Hudson. "El Supremo" in Spanish means literally "The Supreme", I wonder why David is "El Supremo".

(not really a good picture but David "El Supremo" is the one in the middle)

We didn't even start to ride and it started to rain.

We went on our bicycles and rain intensified.

We were riding just for a few kilometers and it was raining A LOT!

17K. First control. We just had to take note of the time. I take mental note, I don't want to get my brevet out, it would get wet.

At some point after the kilometer 17th it stopped raining. Very timely moment that Pete chose to get a punture in his rear wheel. Pete know when to do certain things.

67K we learnt Warminghurst church's door is made of wood. Interesting fact!

We were riding at an easy but constant pace; we very rarely stopped and that makes the kilometers to go away quickly.

90K. I get the first hint on why Dave is "El Supremo". This is how the control looked

(Pete at the left hand side, David "El Supremo" on the right hand side, wearing a white t-shirt)

In the middle of a national trust park he set up a camp where was offering to cyclists sandwiches, cakes, biscuits, energy bars, coffe, orange juice. A dream made true. There were even chairs!!

It was 10:15. As I had had breakfast a 3:15, seven hours before, and we had rode 90k already I got to the conclusion that it was the right moment to eat one of the two portions of pasta salad I was carrying in the bicycle. Well a portion or pasta salada and two pieces of cake and an orange juice among El Supremo's offer.

102K We learnt the name of that house at Burinton is Burinton House. Easy one!

We are entering Alresford and Pete asks if I remember the town. Sure I remember. It is one of the towns we visited when we rode the 300. We have to get a ticket from the very same Tesco Express.

(this picture is from that 300, but helps to make this post look good and I can assure the picture was very similar)

Its 13:15, which means we are 2 hours and a half ahead of the time limit. We are at the 146K, good feelings.

On of the cyclists, I think she was the only female that took part in this event, was sitting on the sidewalk and eating cheese. Uhm cheese! She said, don't buy any cheese I have plenty here and I don't want to carry it on the bicycle. So I bought two fruit salads and ate them with two slides of cheese. Not really orthodox but it was want I wanted.

We went on the bicycles and not even 7K later Pete gets his second punture in the rear wheel of his bike. Luckily this time we managed to find that "fully embebed pebble if-you-don't-find-me-you'll-have-to-change-the-tyre". We are now reasonable sure we have solved the problem but still we take mental note: if we see a bike shop we will stop to buy inner tubes and possible a tyre.

This was the moment when we were riding the most beautiful part of the route. Some cyclists came riding quite fast in the opposite direction. I thought they were the riders at the front of our route so I commented to Pete we might have to ride back on those roads. I'm glad, it's an almost flat road with a beautiful scenery.

201K. This is the confirmation that David is definitively "El Supremo". He is waiting for us at the edge of a roundabout with the camp installed.


Food, drinks and beans on a toas. HOT! cutlery included. Really impressive!!!

So good!

The cyclist that gave me the two cheese slices asks me. Where abouts are you from?. From Spain, I answered. Oh, we got it wrong, we were wondering if you were Italian or German. Just the confirmation that my accent is not improving. it just gets more confusing.

At the time of getting the stamp I was told there are 41 cyclist running the 400K and 16 the 200K, I had no idea there was a 200K running at the same time.

Well, we are half way and once you get this point I guess we all try to do the same. Forget about you have rode and try to convince your body that you are just starting a 200K ride.

I tried my best and I would say I was pretty successful. It's 16:24, we have been riding for 10 hours and 24 minutes and we are half way. Don't ask me how but I got to the conclusion that we will finish around 2am. Two hours ahead of my plan.

And that having in mind that not everything was all right. At my Google Buzz I reported (in Spanish): "200K, everything all right but we still have 200K to go, we will ride 100 of them in the night, it seems it is going to rain and I'm a bit tired." And still I, maybe to optimistically, thought we were going to finish around 2am.

We got on our bikes and at the first turn we realize we are not going to ride back on the same roads. Those cyclist might be taking part of the 200, which explains why they were riding so fast.

236K. The pub at the end of Stockbridge is called The Vine Inn. Not sure if it was a fluke but soon after that it started to rain.

And the rain was heavy enough and it was cloudy enough to make us 100% sure it wasn't going to stop any time sure. So we decide to stop and dress for the occasion. I put on my shoe covers, arm warmers, leg warmers, vest, globes and raincoat. We turn on the lights and we set off.

Less than 37K to the next control, it took us less than two hours but the rain didn't stop. By the time we got to the Esso petrol station in Petersfield we were drenched and frozen to death. When I saw the cafe I thought "I hope the have hot chocolate".

And they had!

It was the perfect opportunity to eat my second portion of salad pasta; also a hot chocolate "grande" and an almond croissant. It's 21:08 we were at kilometer 283. I do my calculations and got to the conclusion, not really sure how, that we will finish around 4am, just as originally planed. This is what I report at my Google Buzz to whoever is interested.

Despite the hot chocolate I was still shivering, outside it was raining and it was dark. It's not I was being lazy, it was I was afraid of going out.

And I shouldn't, incredibly it has warmer outside than inside the cafe. It's a shame that outside it was raining.

Next control is in 60K, and it took us almost 4 hours to get there. We are safe if we say those weren't the best conditions for cycling.

The control was at a service area cafe. It didn't matter it was 1:09, we had to get a ticked so I went for a hot loin (I think it was loin) sandwich and it was really good.

Thinking about it now I realize the whole setup was a bit surrealistic. We were around 10 cyclist in a cafe that otherwise would be empty. Some of the cyclist were sleeping in a corner. Someone (not cyclists) was playing at the slots machines. On the tv the news were saying that Seve had passed away. When we were walking out of the cafe three women of distracted moral said something to us, not sure what but I didn't need to understand them to know the answer was "no". As I said, everything a bit surrealistic.

Lets set off. We have 50K until the next control. 55K until the end of the route. The rain has stopped and a cyclist (I don't remember his name) is riding with us. From the very beginning he said, don't wait for me if I can't keep the pace, your are faster than me.

We were not riding fast, quite the contrary, at the first slopes he began to fall appart.

And pretty soon the one that was falling appart was me. I was falling sleep. Literally I was falling sleep while I was pedaling. I thought that was not possible but the fact is that for a second I closed my eyes and the next second I woke with a shake.

It should not be a surprise. I was awake for 24 hours, most of them pedaling in the bike and as at the 200 and 300 I had not had any te, coffee or redbull.

I have to stop if I don't want to fall off the bike. I let Pete know that I'm stopping but I ask him to keep it going, I'll catch up with him in a minute.

Lets pee; I'm starting to feel better. Lets eat an energy bar; I'm feeling much better now. The cyclist I don't remember his name passes in front of me. I still take my time before I get on the bicycle. I'm feeling much better now but to feel better I think I have to activate a bit my body. My heart rate is at 80 and I guessed (not a single medical argument to stand that guess) that was why I was falling sleep. Done! I get on the bike and start pedaling full power. It's a sprint. Physically I'm feeling great so I get some speed. I took over the cyclist with no name and by the time I reached with Pete I was feeling fully awake.

We arrived to the last contro. 396K and...

WE GOT LOST!!!!!

Let me set something clear. It is not that we didn't know were we were (although I didn't know where I was for most of the route), it is just that we were looking for a right turn and we couldn't find it. It had to be there, but we were not sure where. We lost some time riding up and down the street trying to find that turn.

Finally, after checking with mister Google Maps, after considering it was 4:45 am and we had 396 km in our legs and after reaching to the conclusion that 600 meters downhill were better than riding 2.7 kilometers back to the previous turn we took a turn.

And it was the right one.

Well maybe not "the" right one, but it was a right one.

After 600 meters downhill praying we reached a sign post announcing that if you wanted to go to Rushlake Green you had to turn left. That's the sign post we were expecting. We were back on track.

The road goes downhill for a bit, is dawning and the birds are singing. Pete says he recognizes this part of the route so we are not lost. All is full of happiness.

Riding very genteelly we got to the end of the route. Another cafe in another petrol station. Several cyclists that we thought they were behind us were there, including the cyclist that gave me to slides of cheese and the cyclist with no name. They were not lost in that right turn.

To get the ticked I end up buying spicy doritos and maltesers. It was what my body wanted and I was not in a position to argue with my body. Pete's body wanted and ice crean and he didn't argued with his body either because he ended up buying and eating an ice creame at 5:35 in the morning.

Almost four hours and a half to ride the last 62K. I wonder why I insist in making plans, calculations and estimations. They are useless, you will finish at the time you will finish and that's it.

We still had to ride 3 additional kilometers to get to where the car was parked, but that was easy.

We got to the car, put the bikes in and set off. I drive.

We had to stop three or four time (I lost the count) on the left hand side of the road because I was about to fall sleep in the car. Each time we stopped I went out of the car so the rain and the cold could wake me up. I don't remember how long took us to make the 1:30 trip, I don't really care, it was stopping or risking having an accident.

How did we solve it?

Easy, we started to talk about the best way of riding the 600K without caffein. Will we have enough time to sleep in a bed? When is it better to stop to sleep? Should we book in a B&B or is it better to decide on the go? How does this fit with the strategy for the Paris Brest Paris?. Those good things to get a long distance cyclist wannabe awake.

By the way, we didn't see any bike shop during the route (remember Pete's second puncture? getting inner tubes and a tyre?)



This are the numbers:
  • Kilometers: 410.94
  • Total Time: 23 hours 35 minutes
  • Time Riding: 19 hours 14 minutes 26 seconds
  • Time stopped: 4 hours 20 minutes 34 seconds
  • Average speed: 21.30 km/h (22.7 during the day but much lower during the night)
  • Max speed: 56.90 km/h
  • Average heart rate: 105 ppm (surprisingly low)
  • Max heart rate: 195 ppm (the wake up sprint to be blamed)
  • Calories consumed: 8.571 (also low, I ate so much that I'm sure I put on some weight)
  • My bike has 4.967 kilometers
  • This is the 38th time I ride a road bike in my life
Yes, I know, this is crazy; but to try to make sense of all this madness I have donated 41 pounds to Cancer Research UK at my JustGiving page:www.justgiving.com/Javier-Paris-Brest-Paris

Take care of yourslef
Javier Arias González