Even if it has the sad record of being the only brevet I didn’t finish (in 2018 I had a crash and broke my bike frame 6km into the ride) I was telling my Spanish friends this is the 300 event I would recommend to them if they ever come to ride a 300 in the UK.
This is a route that has it all. Not flat the first 100km Strong head wind the following 50k. A touristic 50km to cross Dover, climb to its castle and ride through parks and near the sea. 50k with tail wind (although my comment about getting a second wind wasn’t as well received as I was expecting) and last 50k riding while the sun is settling and magnificent views of the valley on your left with a few easy hills. Perfect to finish the ride with a great taste in your mouth, to which also contributed the recently delivered pizza from the local italian restaurant that was being distributed at the final control.
The first and obvious answer is distance and amount of climbing.
But if you have cycled enough you know that doesn’t paint the whole picture. Circumstances are what make a ride hard.
And the first and most important circumstance is who are you riding with as it will determine the pace. Ride with a group that is riding at a high pace for you and very soon you’ll find the ride hard.
That’s what happened to me yesterday. Riding in a group of five and from the start feeling the pace was a touch too hard for me. It took no time for negative thoughts to visit my mind. I’m the weakest rider, I’m going to need to drop, this is too hard for me… That’s hard.
Another circumstance that makes a ride hard is weather conditions. Add low or high temperatures, rain or wind to a ride and it gets harder very quickly. Especially if you violate the principle of "There is no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong gear" like I did yesterday showing up for the ride in my summer kit. What an amateour!!
Yesterday we had wind and rain.
I wasn’t conscious of the wind in the first 100km which means we probably had tail wind. But the moment we hitted the flat section of the ride I was very, very conscious of the wind. At that point I was riding with Bidders, a very good time trialist, and Richard L, who had aerobars on his bike. I struggled big time just to hold on to their wheel. That, for me, was the hardest part of the ride.
Now, let's add rain to the mixture and you are getting into a really hard ride. I waited a bit too long to put the rain jacket on when it started to rain, which meant that I was very cold in the last third of the ride.
So there we were with 200km in the legs, riding on to a head wind, wet and cold heading into the last hills of the day. What could possibly make the ride harder?
A mechanical.
And mechanicals we had (and saw) plenty. A broken spoke, a rear wheel hub that didn’t engage when pedaling, a puncture when we were cold and wet.
But we also were lucky with the mechanicals. A bike shop in New Romney managed to repair the broken spoke and the rear hub. A Dynaplug sorted out the puncture with speed. Bad luck can also make rides hard.
Yes. You wouldn’t say it looking at the distance and the amount of climbing but yesterday's ride was a very hard one.
And because of that I’m very happy now. Because I managed to survive the first two thirds of the ride. Because endurance showed up and I felt strong in the last third. Because I loved the solidarity we showed with each other while riding. Because it was a well organized event and a nice route. Because it feels great when you finish a hard ride.
My current thinking was that I was a breakaway specialist but I’m not quite sure.Three riders broke away and stayed away the whole ride. Missing the “winning” move is not precisely the sign of a great breakaway specialist, is it?.
I certainly can’t be a climber. That was obvious even before this ride started. Riding the first 75km of the ride with Harry was an unneeded confirmation. One of the type of him chatting casually while we were climbing and I was at the edge of a heart attack.
Not a descender either. I never was a good descender. That’s not a surprise. But picture this. At the top of one of the hills I got a cookie from my back pocket. We started to descend when I had eaten only half of it. Tried to descend chewing half a cookie, keeping the other half in my left hand but the descent was steep and the road was full of potholes and bends. I ended up involuntary dropping that half of the cookie. Probably a good thing because I was starting to get too close to losing control of the bike. Not, not a descender.
At some point in the past I thought I was a good rouleur but yesterday I got proof that is not the case. As soon as we hit the flat part of the ride my two riding companions set a pace that got me hanging in there. Every time I moved to the front our speed decreased by 4 km/h. At some point I blamed it on not having my aero bars fitted on my bike (they both had aero bars), but that didn’t help to explain my struggles to keep the wheel.
I’m not a sprinter either. I never wanted to be but yesterday I got a painful reminder. I did the first part correctly, I sat on the second wheel the whole ride into Hampton. Not a single time the idea of taking a turn in the front crossed my mind. So far so good. But then, somehow, I got distracted. Deep in my own thoughts only got back to real life when I saw us crossing the line. Me in second position. What kind of sprinter gets distracted seconds before sprinting!!!
Are there any other cyclist types I could fit in? I’m running out of ideas.
The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/7181275612
A list of things that went well and others that didn’t go that well.
Letting drop your TSS from 112 in mid July to 85 before this ride was not the best tapering strategy.
Fracturing a rib on Friday wasn’t ideal either.
With this in mind my plan for this route was I don’t have a plan. Let's start pedalling and we shall see.
A fractured rib means breathing heavily was painful. The good news was that it incentivized me to ride within myself, which is always good in these types of rides. If I’m honest I’d have to admit a fractured rib was more an advantage than a disadvantage.
Riding in the front group through the first night was great. The terrain was benign and the group was strong.
Riding with part of that group the second day was not that good. It was brilliant for the most part, but twice I followed the group decision against my instincts. First one was deciding to eat in Segovia. I wanted to eat, the group wanted to carry on. I followed the group. Those kilometres until we stopped for lunch were probably the hardest of the whole ride for me.
The second one was after lunch. I wanted to sleep a big siesta. My reasoning was that sleeping at those hours when the temperatures were at its highest would allow us to be fresher to ride through the night, when temperatures are more bearable. I followed the group and didn’t sleep. Only to find out a few hours later that I was so sleepy that I could cause a crash in the group. I told the group I was dropping.
That was a good decision.
I booked a hotel room in Soria and had four hours and a half sleep. Had breakfast at the hotel and hitted the road at 8:30. That went very well.
Much better than forgetting to carry chamois cream. As the kilometres piled in, all ridden in sunny, high temperatures, sweaty weather I paid a high price for this rookie mistake. That certainly didn’t go very well.
What went a bit better was that I had sent chamois cream to the control at Salas de los Infantes. The damage was already done, but at least it helped to alleviate the pain.
What didn’t go that well was to forget the chamois cream a couple of controls later. You couldn’t make this up.
In my defense I’d argue that in the control in Astudillo, at 7pm there wasn’t anywhere to eat. In the next control, Ampurias, there was only one place open and they didn’t have any food. I asked for a raw egg, a litre of milk and half of a cake. Mixed everything and that was my dinner. Not ideal if you plan to ride through the night.
At that place I put my head down on the table and had a good hour of sleep. I woke up half zombie and that is the moment where I forgot the chamois cream.
That area is flat and exposed to the wind. Of course the wind was head wind. But I had my aero bars. First super brevet using them. That went very well. Flat and straight road without traffic. Sat in an aero position, tried not to change position as that was painful (I can confirm that butt pain triumphs rib’s pain), and set for a sustainable pace riding in the middle of the road. Plenty of time to think in other things
That was the tone for the rest of the night. Head wind, empty roads, mostly flat, aero position, not moving around to avoid the pain.
Breakfast in Leon was great. Sitting outside, early sun in my face. I ate two breakfasts.
Tackled the last climb at a steady pace and as soon as I got to the last control I realised that I could finish just before midday, that would mean less than 66 hours for the whole ride. It wasn’t going to be easy but it sounded doable.
And like that I found myself pushing the pace. The terrain was favourable and I wasn’t pushing it too hard (I couldn’t) but that kept me entertained for the last couple of hours.
I was on track to finish before midday but what didn’t go that well was that I took the wrong turn at the top of the last climb. Suddenly I found myself at the bottom of the climb, but on the wrong side, heading to a motorway. The extra kilometres meant 11 minutes on top of the 66 hours. That didn’t go well.
But what went very well was the overall feeling with the ride. At the finish I was told I was third back home (remember, this is Audax, this is not a race) and about a third of the field were DNF. I had my set of challenges but I managed to adapt and enjoy the ride. After all, most of the secret was to sit on the saddle and not move around.
You’d be excused if you look at the ride and you were thinking it was a 600km ride in less than 29 hours, of course it was a day in hell!!!
You’d be wrong. As far as 600km rides go this is a fairly “easy” one. What made it a day in hell was the temperature. If you think you had a warm weekend in the UK, think twice.
Average temperature for the ride was 28°C (82,4F)
12 consecutive hours of the ride were on temperatures above 30°C (86F)
Within those, 5 consecutive hours with temperatures above 40°C (104F)
Peak temperature was 46°C (114,8F)
I can’t think of any ride I have ridden that fits better in the description of a day in hell.
The day didn’t start well. I had been told we could get breakfast at the start but it turned out we couldn’t. Had to eat a banana and an energy bar for breakfast. Not ideal when you plan to ride 600km.
Only six riders in the start line. We rode together to the first control. But they were riding a bit slow and stopping a bit too long for me so I decided to go ahead solo. 550km to go.
All went very well until km 268. By then I had already been riding 4 hours with temperatures above 40°C. I stopped at the control and my focus was on drinking lots of Aquiarus (a drink similar to Gatorade), I also ate a bunch of olives, conscious of needing to get salt. I wasn’t feeling hungry and with my stomach full of liquid I decided not to eat anything else. That was a mistake.
In my defense I have to say in the routesheet I saw there was another village in 3km and another one 22kms after that one. Plenty of options I thought.
What I didn’t realise was I was in the middle of a national park. Those two villages were merely a couple of houses with no signs of life around. I was on my own in the middle of nowhere.
And then a 11km climb appeared. First 7km were gentle but that was only the slow cooking. Literally. In the last 4km I was fried alive.
I had water with electrolytes, although it was so hot I had to keep it in my mouth for a few seconds to cool it down before swallowing it.
I tried to eat a small pack of Haribos but they were completely melted. I decided to get a gel, I still felt how hot it was as I was swallowing it but a hot gel was way better than nothing.
It took me almost half an hour to climb those 4.5km. Half an hour of climbing at 9km/h. Half an hour of temperatures ranging from 43°C to 46°C.
That was it. There and then I sold my soul to the devil in exchange for a resque.
The resque appeared 2km into the descent in the form of a village, the village had a bar and the bar was open. A soul well invested if you were to ask me.
But the devil being the devil made it the bar had the worst Spanish tortilla I ever tasted (no onions), the 4 cupcakes (yes, 4) I ordered were so hard the landlady, embarrassed, said she wouldn’t charge me for them and when I was 15 minutes into a nap someone decided to wake me up to ask me if I was feeling alright. I showed a huge amount of autocontrol eating the whole piece of Spanish tortilla, the 4 cupcakes and not killing that person. Long distance cycling certainly has points where it is more psychological than physical.
Drinking, eating, not napping and not killing took me one hour and ten minutes. A huge amount of time for a not-control stop, but it was the right thing to do. I was still at km 290. Recovering at that point was critical if I wanted to finish the ride.
And it worked.
Not that I was feeling super strong but when the next climb came, the top of the ride at 1032m of altitude, I managed to pass it without much fuss. It helped that by then the temperature was around 35°C. It is amazing how these things are all relative. When you are climbing the Angliru and you see a sign saying the gradient is 14% you think “fantastic, I can recover here”. Similarly when I saw 35°C in the Garmin I tought soon I would need the arm warmers I was carrying in my bag. A bit of an exaggeration yes, but you get the point.
By km 375 I was back to Yepes, the starting point. I had a proper dinner and reconsidered my plans. I had a room booked and the idea of stopping to sleep for a few hours and finishing on the next day was very tempting. On the other hand Sunday was forecasted to be even warmer so I decided to go to my room, get a shower, sleep for 30 minutes, get changed and hit the road again. I wanted to take advantage of the cool temperatures during the night. It was still 31°C at midnight when I started to pedal though.
Temperatures were not an issue anymore but finding open places to eat and refill still was. That’s why when I crossed a village at around 2am and I saw a bar that was open I decided to take the last opportunity to drink and refill my bottles.
With temperatures and refilling not being an issue anymore, sleepiness became the issue. This long distance cycling malarkey is just a sequence of issues you have to deal with while you keep pedaling.
By the time I got to Tarancon, around 3:30am I was feeling sleepy so I decided to stop and lay down in a park and close my eyes. Temperature was 22°C. The green was comfortable enough. I slept for almost half an hour. It is amazing how much you can recover in such a short period of time.
Being “recovered” triggered my sense of happiness. I found myself completely alone on the road, the sky full of stars, lost in my own thoughts, legs feeling ok(ish). I really enjoyed that part of the route.
Got to Pastrana, last control, around 6:30 in the morning. Everything was close so I took a picture as proof of passage. I enjoyed the 5km climb. Yes, I know it sounds crazy to enjoy a 5km climb at 6:30 in the morning with 500km in your legs but there I was thinking sprinters got the wrong part of cycling.
That climb was followed by a 50km descent. I also enjoyed that bit. More than the climb to be honest. Those were the only roads I knew, the speed, the TT position, the illusion of strength, the anticipation of the breakfast I was going to have in Chinchon. All contributing to my sense of happiness.
A real shame that by the time I got to Chinchon, at the top of a 15km climb, I got lost and by the time I found my way I was already outside of Chinchon.That didn’t affect my sense of happiness. I’m used to getting lost and I still think I have a great sense of orientation and I’m great at navigating routes. That, and the fact that from Chinchon to Aranjuez there are only 20km, pretty much downhill all the way. So instead of riding back a few hundred metres breakfast in Aranjuez was going to be.
A quick breakfast in Aranjuez, a final 10km climb that proved I still had decent legs and got back to Yepes by 10:42 in the morning. Temperature was now 29°C Perfect to have a smoothie sitting in the shade in a terrace at Yepes’ main square.
While I was refreshing I was told three of the riders were DNF and the other two were still on the road. I felt for them they had challenging hours ahead.
Following that line of thought I reflected on how happy I was with this ride. It was not that I felt strong or I was very fast. In fact, if anything, I’m a bit disappointed with how strong I felt. Two things made me really happy about this ride.
The first one was how my experience showed up. I changed plans to allow me to recover after the critical moment of the ride. I changed plans again and rode through the night to avoid the extreme temperatures. I adapted to the circumstances and slept in a public park, the first time I did that in the middle of a ride. My experience and flexibility took me through this ride. I’m very happy about it.
The second reason is all the lessons learnt in this ride. I entered this event as a preparation for the Asturica Augusta (1200km), an event I’ll be riding in August. Temperatures are going to be fairly similar (although I hope not that extreme). Knowing that taking Haribos with me is going to be useless, understanding the value of having a long nap during the hottest hours of the day, confirming that SIS electrolytes and Pelotan sun cream worked perfectly for me in these circumstances, realising I need bigger bottles, that the mudguard is going to be useless or that the PBP reflective gilet is too hot for the summer Spanish nights are valuable lessons that will help me for that event. I’m going to need those lessons as I won't have any soul to offer to the devil to take me out of another critical moment. I could offer him my bike but if it were down to it I’d demand the Spanish omelette with onions. When it comes to a point I certainly have a price.
You could argue that deciding to ride on the full setup I’ll use in my August 1200km was not the cleverest of my decisions.
Yes, the ride is flat if you consider it is a 400km ride, BUT, if you consider you have close to 3000m of punchy climbing in the first 200km AND you are going to ride with a bunch of very strong riders to show up to the ride on a fully loaded, heavy bike can only be described as cycling suicide.
“My kingdom is not of this world”. That’s what I was telling myself all of the ride as I was being slaughtered again and again.
And I was happy with it. Managed to hold myself and go for the first and unique coffee until km 300. Survived the ride and now I’m thinking I’m on a very good path to have a fantastic ride in August.
“Delayed gratification”, the trick is to enjoy just the thought of the gratification while you are in the delaying phase. That’s how I’m feeling today.
Feeling that, and a considerable amount of tiredness on my legs.
Not the fastest of the rides. It could look strange considering Julian and I always ride at a decent pace and are fairly efficient with our stops. But yesterday there were other factors.
Let’s start pointing out this event has a lot of controls, both info and free controls. That forces you to stop either to take note of the answer to to buy something at a shop, petrol station or coffee shop. From memory, I think we had 10 controls, an average of one every 20kms!
We also had a fair bit of cross and headwinds for most of the day. True, the last 60 kms the wind was mostly tail wind, and that was very welcome, but you know 60km of mostly tailwind does never compensate for the 140 initial kilometres mostly cross and headwinds.
Then you had that Julian’s garmin stopped working very early in the ride. That made me responsible for navigating the route. I still claim I am great navigating routes but I’ll have to admit I got it wrong in more than one turn. Fair to say Julian never complained, I’m starting to suspect he even enjoyed the extra distance.
And finally we got the visit of The Puncture Fairy. First me, then Julian, then Julian again, then me again, then Julian again, then a group that included the rider that lent Julian an inner tube so we felt compelled to stop with them. Each stop was taking us longer as we were being more and more careful inspecting the tyres. It turns out it was not only us. At the end we were told several riders had reported punctures. Weird because the roads weren’t that bad. But, hey, at least we got a good training refresher on how to repair a puncture.
Now, if we were that slow you might ask yourself how come that I got a PR for most of the segments in the route.
There is an explanation for it.
I rode the Hop Gardens exactly 6 years ago, in 2015 (https://www.strava.com/activities/302595604). 8 weeks after I had broken my left femur. With 48 kilometres in my legs as previous training. The Hop Gardens was my first classification brevet in my attempt to ride Paris-Brest-Paris 2015. At the time I wrote the report only in Spanish (https://www.unbiciorejon.com/2015/05/hop-garden-200.html) but, long story short, that was a very, very hard ride for me. Probably the hardest ride I've ever done. Had to put the step down and walk three times (me, the one that, unlike some of my Saturday Gang mates, won’t name and shame, didn’t have to walk up the Angliru in the many times I have climbed it). It took me almost 13 hours to finish the ride and that was with only stopping for one hour and a half. That was almost 11 hours and a half sitting on the saddle as I didn’t have the strength to stand on the bike for long. My Brooks saddle got so deformed after that ride because I was compensating heavily with my right leg that I had to scratch it. My moving speed averaged 18.6 km/h, finished with 32 minutes to spare and I was very, very tired by the end.
That is why yesterday I couldn’t care less about our speed. For me it was all about enjoying the ride. Every so often I’d recognise a bit of the road, a climb and I’d remember how hard it was six years ago. Nothing compared to yesterday, I was fresh at the start, legs felt strong all day, I was riding with Julian, weather wasn’t too bad, Kent was showing at its best.
Was there (just another) control? Relax and take your time. Head wind in the flat section? Hands on the drops and find your rhythm. You have just missed a turn? Put a smile and blame the Garmin, that always works. Another puncture!!??!! That’s a welcomed pee stop, an opportunity to have a chat, to have a laugh. After all, we are definitely going to be faster than I was 6 years ago and my Strava is going to be full of PRs (129, I counted them). That is the right metric to measure the quality of a ride, isn’t it?
Pd. The competitive side in me has just realised that if I ride the 600 I rode 6 years ago 10 weeks after I broke my leg I am likely to get even more PRs in a single ride. Something to consider.
The Ditchling Devil is probably the most important event in the Saturday gang calendar.
This year the pace was fairly easy for the first hour. Controled mostly by the mentioned group.
As every year there was a bit of a debate about the first control. Bacon roll or not bacon roll. I dare to say I'm recognised as a strong defender of not bacon roll and keep rolling but this year we agreed on a short stop ("three minutes") to allow bacon lovers to satisfy their gluttony. I was on gels, measuring the carbohydrates I needed in my body. That's how serious this event is.
After what felt to me like an eternal stop we decided to start rolling. Unfortunatelly The Pope was still busy, eating a third bacon roll I can only guess.
By the time he caught with the group (we were softpedaling waiting for him and Will... Kind of) he shauted something too strong to my delicated ears and "attacked" the group.
It was one of those attacks that is not an attack, he just sat in the front and set a pace we were abel to match. Not even close. Away he disappeared.
We climbed Dichling Beacon and we all got to the top. While we were softpedaling waiting for Will. Shaun, Denis and Richard "attacked" in the front leaving Rupert and myself alone.
This "attack" didn't look like an attack either. They just rode a bit faster. Rupert and I were just riding easy counting they'd wait in the T junction with the main road. But they didn't.
And we didn't wait for Will either.
And we took the wrong exit in the first roundabout we found (my fault as Rupert didn't have the route in his device).
Still we managed to close the gap just before starting to climb Devils Dyke.
To my surprise Will was with them. He had made a TY. Legal under the Audax rules but cheeky nonetheless (ps. I was told that, apparently, Will didn't do a TY in that sector, he passed us when we took the wrong exit in the roundabout. Oh well).
By this time (km85) I was finally starting to feel some power in my legs. Seeing The Pope descending as we were climbing fueled my optimism.
We all respected the agreed lunch stop. Pasta and rice pudding can't be skipped. The Pope was there waiting for us.
A group of 7 departed the control. Stayed like that for 20km. But then a gap opened. The Pope, Denis, Richard and Shaun in the first group. Rupert, Mark and myself in the second group.
I was not worried. We had 26km to the next control ("the cake control") and somehow I got to the conclusion they were going to get there just three minutes before us. Three minutes in a control full of cakes is nothing. We agreed on keeping a sensible pace and let it be.
Sure enough we got to the cake control (three pieces for me) and we set off all together again.
At some point Rupert and Mark got droped.
In one descend Richard had a mechanical.
It was down to four of us (The Pope, Shaun, Denis and myself)
I have to confess I was worried about Combe Lane. I knew my companions were stronger than me and I was probably going to be dropped at that climb. I decided not to take a single turn in the front (not that I had taken many before. Race craft they call it).
Combe Lane came and we let The Pope lead the group but not for long. Denis upped the pace and opened a gap. I knew I could follow him but I thought I'd better stay next to The Pope fearing a strong push in the last ramp (the steapest part).
But the ramp was approaching and his pace was even slowing down. I kept my own pace and managed to open a gap.
Denis was softpedaling at the top and so I was. It took some time for the idea to cross my mind.
I got to Denis and asked "Do you want to wait or attack?"
"Lets attack" he answered.
That was all I needed to hear. I moved to the front and upped the pace.
Looked back and saw The Pope and Shaun very close. Kept pushing. Looked back again and I saw the gap opening.
Denis came to the front and gave it another push. So strong I almost regreted my idea. Looked back again and couldn't see them.
An attack from far away. The dream of any racer.
We descended fairly fast but by the time the descend was finishing Shaun was next to us (great descender he is I learnt).
We had a short conversation and agreed to keep pushing it until Esher and wait for The Pope there (The Pope was the clear favourite for that sprint).
We kept the power on. Denis more than anyone. It was hard to just stay on his wheel.
Imagine our surprise when we were approaching Cobham when we saw The Pope in front of us. I first thought that was a true miracle but then realised he too had done a TY (big influence has he left in the group) and had taken a shortcut.
Things were not looking great in my head. The Pope in the group. Denis had just demonstrated he was very strong and I had Shaun regarded as a good sprinter.
The Esher sprint was going to be contested.
First Denis (the most generous rider when a sprint is approaching), then The Pope, then myself and Shaun closing the group. Not bad positioning I thought. Just pay attention in case Shaun goes from afar.
At some point Denis moved to the right and The Pope moved to the front. That could only mean he is feeling strong. My alarms were all over the place.
Denis waited a little bit on the right expecting me to follow The Pope. Not in a million years that would happen. I slowed down and let a gap clear for him to move to the second wheel.
The pace was very slow for this sprint. That's good for me I thought.
As we were approaching the last ramp I was expecting Shaun to jump but it was Denis the one that did the first move.
This is great I thought. I got your wheel.
Not for long. The pace was slow and we were in reach of a sprint so I jumped.
No one followed me.
I took the Esher sprint!!!!
Probably the most important win in my (quite limited) cycling palmares.
We kept a brisk pace to the end.
The Pope claimed he got first to the finish just because he turned right first.
I claimed it was me because I was the first one to cross the line that limits the pub (the best way of wining sprints is deciding the line is where you crossed first).
None of that mattered because we got there before the control had opened. We ordered our pints, the control opened, they convinced me to go for a second pint, Mark arrived and he was the first getting his brevet stamped "wining" Ditchling Devil 2019. My senses numbed by the alcohol I was only fifth (I think).
When we decided to go home The Pope decided to punish me and made me climb Nightingale Lane straight after the pub. My legs hate him, such a great friend....
(apologies for the length of the report but TY needed a full report to have all the information, as impartial as possible, for the after game in our WhatsApp group)
(Just to be clear. Ditchling Devil is an Audax event. Audax is not racing and has nothing to do with racing. No one cares who finishes first, sprints or tactics. All this report is just a joke)
Lets start saying that I was a bit worried about this ride. Despite this going to be my third BCM and my 7th 600k, a 600k is never an easy ride and the BCM is not exactly in the list of the easiest.
I wasn't worried about being physically capable of finishing it, it was more about weather, route changes and a thousand of little things (should I carry winter gloves? sun cream? the heavy goretex rain jacket? should I fit new tyres?), somehow all of them looked critically important a few days before. It was like if my experience riding Audax instead of helping to take my natural relaxed approach were more used to add things to worry about.
In any case the moment I stepped into the Bulwark Community Centre all doubts and worries disappeared and there was only room for joy and good time.
It all starts meeting and saying hello a bunch of riders you have met in previous rides. I'm not a particularly chatty, extrovert rider but slowly you get to know people in the world of Audax and it is always a pleasure to expend a few minutes chatting and catching up with them.
The Kingston Wheelers were represented by Jasmijn, Sarah, Gavin, Chris, John and myself. Jasmijn was using the BCM as a training ride towards her LEJOG record attempt, Gavin was riding with a friend at a fastish pace, Chris was riding at an easier pace and that left Sarah, John and myself riding together at a not-that-slow-but-sustainable pace.
First stage is 75k and it goes very quickly despite of having some good climbing. It is still early and still cold. The sky is completely covered by clouds. The weather looked to me as it were at that edge that could go either way, it could start raining for the next two days or it could just clear out and give us the present of two days of blue, sunny skies.
We were lucky and blue, sunny days it was. Now add to that how beautiful Wales is. Top it with lots of long steady climbs and you end up with a collection of memories that if you could print them out it would be the perfect collection of postcards to promote tourism in Wales.
Between the first and second control we sat on the wheel of a Hereford rider. It reminded me Tomsk, The Mozart of the pace making. One of my Spanish friends says cycling is poetry and suggests that when you cycle you are writing a poem that reflects how you are cycling. This Hereford rider wrote a whole 55k long sonnet on his own with the quality of his pacing.
The second control was new and very welcome. Not only because it came 20km earlier than what the route sheet had marked but also because, with 140k in the legs, it was the first proper stop we were going to enjoy. Sitting in the outside, enjoying the sun, it was the moment of switching from cold gear to sunny gear.
Just after the second control it came a section that was new in the route. A series of short steep ramps one after the other. The last one was preceded by a 12% signal and I struggled quite a lot climbing it. I regretted every single gram I was carrying and I promised myself I was going to load a 32 in my cassette for future rides.
As soon as I arrived to the top I realized I had climbed the whole ramp on the big chainring. In a way that was a relief. True I had screwed my legs but it also meant there was a good reason while climbing the ramp was feeling that hard.
Now the view was totally worth the effort.
At this point I missed Alberto, the protagonist of my first BCM experience, now relocated to Canada. I'm sure he would have enjoyed this new part of the route. And the same happened every time we were riding in through a new section. Two thoughts kept coming to my mind. The first one is how much Alberto would have enjoyed the new section and the second one was trying to decide if I preferred the new section of the route or the old one.
I couldn't make my mind. The new sections had advantages and disadvantages. The new route is shorter and with less climbing (this counts as a disadvantage) but also it avoids some of the most annoying parts of the all route while they introduce amazing sceneries. In any case I was happy with the new route.
A bit before the control at Kings the road made us meet Ray, from Dulwich Paragon. We have lunch and from that moment on the trio became a quartet.
It always amaze me how sometimes riding with a complete stranger for 400k turns out to be something so easy and natural. Although in the case of Ray, he is a punchy rider in the climbs that knows how to adapt his pace to the groups' and that really helps.
We made it to Menai Bridge (km300) a bit before 20:00 (that is 14:00 to ride 300k, not bad) and that was a perfect timing. In one hand because the Waitrose that is in by the roundabout was still open which gave Sarah and myself the opportunity to raid it. In the other hand because in Menai you are offered hot food, so ideal for a proper dinner stop (jacket potato with beans and cheese and rice pudding for me). But also because that timing marks the night/day limit. At the control we put on all our layers, reflective jackets and lights. We were going to ride 100km during the night and it was getting cold.
Not as cold as we thought it was going to be. In fact after a few climbs we had to stop to take off some of the clothes.
Funny enough that was the moment were my biggest struggle began. I started to feel sleepy.
It was not late at all, probably around 22:00 but I couldn't help it. I started all kind of games to try to keep me awake. It's funny how one's brain works. Creep from Radiohead played in my head again and again.
To be completely honest it has been the soundtrack in my head for the whole ride, but now that I was falling sleep I couldn't take it off my head.
At some point I noticed my heart rate went down to 76ppm when we were climbing up a long steady hill. The idea of closing the eyes for two seconds to allow for a micro-sleep crossed my mind but I discarded it immediately. Some sense came out of my head I interpreted those signals as my body shutting down so I decided to sprint up the hill to try to get my heart rate up.
It was 23:30, I had 350km in the legs, 1 minute at 366w did the trick. My heart rate went up to 144ppm and woke me up enough to get to Kings in good spirits. It was around 00:30 and we had ridden 400km in 18:30 hours; not bad.
At Kings we had quick a quick dinner and we got ready to get to bed. When we asked for a bed we were told we would have two hours and then they would wake us up so other riders could also sleep. I remember in previous edition it used to be three hours but, hey, fair enough, everyone deserved a good rest and two hours in a bed is better than nothing.
I quickly headed to my bed. As we were ahead of most of the riders I was the first using it. Not that I cared that much at that point but always nice. I think it took me one or two minutes to fall deep sleep.
At 3:10 another rider woke me up asking for the bed. I moved out and he moved in in less than 10 seconds.
It was too early for breakfast to be served so I helped myself with some milk and a banana. In a few minutes John, Ray and Sarah were also around. Somehow I found myself ready when the rest was still eating something so I decided to sleep a bit more just there, sitting at the table.
I don't know for how long I slept but when I woke up breakfast cereals were available so went for a second breakfast before we moved on.
It was around 4:45 and we had daylight. It was also a bit cold but soon enough a long steady climb comes to warm you up. That climb is followed by a long and fast descend that it is followed by another long climb. The first stage of the day was only 65km but we were riding so slow that it took us three hours to complete it.
The good news was that at the control they had bacon and hot rice pudding. I liked this control, it had a relaxed atmosphere that went very well with the sunny morning we were enjoying.
Next stage was a short one, only 51km, and again it differed from previous editions. Instead of taking left at some point of the A483 we continued straight on the same road climbing and climbing and climbing. It was almost 15km of steady climb. I loved it.
A fast descend took us straight to the following control, a café that was open just for the BCM riders. Free tea and coffee, tomato soup and a roll for £3. It was 11:00 in the morning. We had cycled 110km already with some considerable climbing. It was the perfect time for a tomato soup.
Last stage (103km) was completely new and it was beautiful. True the weather was playing ball, but the beauty of those Welsh valleys was astonishing. I was constantly looking left and right admiring the creation mother nature was offering us.
We were 50km away from the finish when John's derailleur cable snapped. It was giving him problems the whole ride but at that point it was completely useless. John and Ray were very efficient making sure the derailleur would not change gears and from that moment John would have a fixed gear at the back and the option of big or small chainring. Challenging considering it was very unlikely the 50km left were going to be flat.
And the were not. One of the sections I was sad to miss was the final climb before Chepstow in the old route. That one is beautiful. It turned out this new route had a climb that was very similar to that one. Also very, very beautiful, with great views to the valley as you are gaining heigh and also with a final section of the road surrounded and almost covered by trees. The moment you finish this climb you know the BCM is done.
You still have a couple of punchy ramps, but you are five kilometres from the finish. Optimism and good spirits were in order.
We made it to the final control at 16:19 which means we rode the BCM in 34 hours 19 minutes. Not bad. In fact looking at my numbers this was my fastest 600 and surely the one I finished "less tired". That is the beauty of riding with a great company.
At the final control they had food available for a £3 flat rate. I went for a bacon sandwich and the "Spanish tortilla". It turned out the Spanish tortilla was more a Welsh interpretation of the Spanish tortilla but still good enough to please a hungry Spanish cyclist.
We relaxed some time at the final control. Gavin was there and it was time of celebration, taking pictures and telling histories.
This was my third Bryan Chapman (2013, 2014 and 2016) in none of them I got rain. As far as I can tell it never rains in Wales.
With this I have finished my this year's Super Randonneur (not a single puncture) which is my 5th SR. Slowly but surely I'm adding up kilometres and experiences.
