Chasing The Pope around Kent

I hope that by now you know that you are going to have a hard day out if The Pope came to you with this proposal: Heading down to Seaford via Ashdown Forest - just over 200k and c. 2400m elevation to be taken at a decent pace.(av speed c. 30 - 31kph).

Kent is his playground. The climbers didn’t have a chance in heaven today. He amassed so many mountain points today you could accuse him of gluttony, but being The Pope I guess he has a pass on that.

Nor the sprinters for that matter. He knew the route by heart, he even knew where all the town sign sprints were. 

Riding with The Pope and GC Denis I had high hopes today at the sprinter game but when Declan, a real sprinter, decided to join us, unannounced, I very quickly switched role. 

I kind of was forced to play the role of “this ride is too hard, I’m struggling a lot, sure there is something wrong with the bike that is slowing me down”. And I played that role to perfection the first 50 kilometers. Not once they saw me at the front.

Funny enough two of the hardest climbs of the day came at kilometer 50 and from there I started to feel a bit better. Enough to move to the front a couple of times so my riding mates knew I was still there.

A stop with a coffee AND a coke. A slow start after the coffee stop so we could visit the cliffs. And a few kilometers to warm up again transformed me.

I was now in the weird role of “the last 50k feel better than the first ones”. 

Still chasing The Pope, still beaten in every climb, still missing all sprints but, somehow, inexplicably, feeling better. 

 

So much so that I moved to the front as soon as Juniper, the last climb of the day, started. Something I don't think has ever happened. 

As always happens in these cases, I was a bit overoptimistic and I started a bit too strong. I, obviously, very quickly, slowed down And slowed down. And slowed down even more. Until The Pope, with his infinite mercy, moved to the front and allowed me to take a rest before attacking him to take the last KOM of the day. I don’t have a chance to make it to heaven.

Less so when you add the way I took the final sprint of the day (I knew very well where that was). 

The Pope attacked and opened a gap. 

I took advantage of the traffic, the work that GC Denis did and the fact that The Pope didn’t sprint to make it first to the line.

Does anyone know how I can book a place with air conditioning in hell?

ps. Follow me for more tips on how to save your soul.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9283596253

Take care

Javier Arias González

Spanish Cycling Jargon 101 (Part 3) - Cuñao

Look at them, bunch of losers; Only 180km and they are already wasted!

What's wrong with daddy?

Nothing, that today he ‘climbs’ the Aubisque at The Tour.

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Cuñao’s literal translation is brother in law.

But Cuñao is also used to describe someone (usually men) in your family or group of friends that thinks and acts as if he knows more than you about everything, even if he usually doesn’t know what he is talking about. He knows everything; he has the solution and the right course of action for every situation but lacks the skills or experience to back his words.

I have three sisters so I’m a (triple) cuñao in the literal meaning and after today’s ride the slang meaning of “cuñao” seems accurate for me too.

Picture this. Last meters of Juniper “hill”, Dai at the front, me on his wheel. 

As difficult to believe as it sounds I had done my fair share of work at the front so I was free to sprint, take the KOM and claim it a fair sprint (some believe that detail never bothered me at the time of sprinting but that’s just gossip).

At a given moment I saw Dai giving up. He was done. 

I knew that was the right moment to move up. I knew that moving in parallel to him would demoralize him. He would give up completely, slow down and I would take the KOM without even sprinting.

I “knew” what to do. What did I do? That’s where the cuñao in me manifested itself. 

I too gave up. I was done.

He felt me giving up, that gave him a morale boost. He kept riding. I slowed down. Dai took the KOM without sprinting.

Now you know, don’t hesitate to ask me if you have any questions about how to take a KOM or win a sprint. You’ll definitely get the right answer.

Btw. The rest of the ride was fantastic, great route, great company, great weather. 

Spanish Cycling Jargon 101 (Part 1) - Me llevaron todo el día con el ganchu is at: https://www.unbiciorejon.com/2019/10/spanish-cycling-jargon-101.html

Spanish Cycling Jargon 101 (Part 2) - Rompepiernas is at: https://www.unbiciorejon.com/2020/09/spanish-cycling-jargon-101-part-2.html

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9245226307/

Take care

Javier Arias González

My body said no

I was all hyped for today’s ride. In my mind the Col de la Madone was going to be the best climb in Nice and I was looking forward to putting on a great show. I even had a coffee with breakfast. 

Col de Eze came and it was raining, still, as soon as we started to climb, the rain jacket felt a bit too much. Managed to remove it while riding without crashing and that was my top moment of the day. From that moment on, everything went downhill even if we were climbing.

First my heart rate wasn’t going up even if I thought I was putting on decent power. Let it be, I thought, it will rise soon enough. 

Except it didn’t and instead I couldn’t hold the power anymore. So I had to ease down a little bit. 

Rain didn’t stop so I started to feel cold. And my pace kept going slower and slower. 

By the time I got to the top of the climb, several minutes after my riding mates, I had had enough. I put my rain jacket back on, took a caffeine gel, and hoped for a bit of recovery in the descent.

I got a bit of recovery, yes. But that didn’t help me much. As soon as we hit the Col de la Madone I needed a pee stop and to remove the rain jacket (again). That meant I found myself climbing on my own.

That was a good thing. I’m glad no one had to witness my explosion. I was trying to get the legs going and at some point my legs, my heart rate, my brain, my whole body, said no.

And that was it. From that moment I entered surviving mode and crawled my way to the top. 

Kudos to Bidders that waited patiently for me and gave me a conversation. Tubeless strategy at Paris-Brest-Paris is a topic I can speak at length about and he listened patiently while my words distracted me from the fact that we were still climbing.

We got to the top many, many minutes after The Pope and GC Denis and still that wasn’t the lowest point of the day.

From the top of the Col de la Madone we had a 30kms descent. Enough time to recover a little bit and make me feel slightly optimistic.

At some point I recognised the road and I knew the Nice town sign sprint was coming. That was going to be the third time we were going to cross that town sign in these days. 

The first day I missed the sprint because I had no idea the town sign was there. I think The Pope took it (!!), which gives you an idea of the level of the sprint.

The second day I missed even if I knew it was coming, even if I closed the gap Bidders created with his attack and even if I had good legs. It turns out I wasn’t 100% clear where the town sign was.

But today I was. I knew very, very well where the town sign was. And I saw The Pope pushing the pace at the front, all excited about the sprint. 

I sat on Bidders wheel and waited to launch my attack.

Except Bidders were before me. 

I also started my sprint and tried to close the gap but it wasn’t even close. I even feared The Pope would pass me, thank providence that didn’t happen.

That would have been too much to take. 

For the one that focused all week in recovering between rides (you’d be amazed at the speed I could get into my siesta after a ride), for Mr. Endurance is my game, this training camp has been a day too long. 

I’m now very tired, completely destroyed and demoralized but very, very happy with my riding mates and this week. Another experience to treasure.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9174432967 

Take care

Javier Arias González

Disgrace

Col de Vence, almost 17km at an average gradient of 5.2% I sat on The Pope and Bidders’ wheel aiming to stay there and attack them in the last 200m to take the KOM. A faultless plan that failed with only 6km to go to the top. Disgrace.

Was then accused of starting hostilities in one of the last climbs when all I was doing was following someone else’s wheel. The Gamin misled me. It was telling me we still had one kilometer to climb at the same exact moment The Pope sprinted for the town sign. Disgrace.

At the end of the ride my Garmin congratulated me. Apparently my FTP is now 268 watts. Disgrace. 

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9162789218

Btw. This route is fantastic. Another must do if you are riding around Nice.

Take care

Javier Arias González

One more cinglé du Mont Ventoux

Short but hilly ride (https://www.unbiciorejon.com/2019/02/javiers-ride-classification-criteria.html)

Very, very happy with this ride. Not because I managed to get a great performance but because I managed to do as best as I could considering my circumstances.

Saturday’s 600k (https://www.strava.com/activities/9110165742) left me very, very tired. Since then I have been completely focused on my recovery. To the point that I had to endure a few jokes from my riding mates when I refused a few beers, they saw me drinking milk or went to bed early. It doesn’t matter, I still love them and I was motivated to be as fresh as possible today.

And I managed to start today reasonably fresh. At least fresh enough to sit on the wheels of Bidders and GC Denis. The Pope being the mountain goat flew up the mountain every single time. Very impressive efforts. Bidders was my hero of the day. He sat in the front on all three climbs setting a metronomic pace. Challenging but not killing us. The picture shows how delighted I was to be able to stay on his and Denis’ wheel on all three climbs. 

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9144229712

Take care

Javier Arias González

Bryan Chapman Memorial (600km Audax)

I said it before but I’ll say it again. In my view this is the best Audax ride in the UK. Wales is stunningly beautiful, especially with the weather we had. I love the climbs, the good tarmac and more than anything how well the event is run. No wonder this was my 7th time riding it (2013 - https://www.strava.com/activities/55245726, 2014 - https://www.strava.com/activities/142973657, 2016 - https://www.strava.com/activities/577887043, 2017 - https://www.strava.com/activities/986429049, 2018 - https://www.strava.com/activities/1583814632 and 2019 - https://www.strava.com/activities/2380585350).

For me this ride was a dress rehearsal for Paris-Brest-Paris. I carried all the kit I plan to carry at PBP and followed a similar strategy. So I tested riding steady all day, short stops at the controls, what to eat on the bike (the little sandwich of spicy chorizo has been a success), riding through the night while tired, the kit I’m going to wear riding through the night, charging devices strategy, using the Shokz bone conduction headphones in the early hours to help deal with the sleepiness, new frame bag, etc.

You'll be excused for thinking I’m a master of planning and preparation but you couldn’t be more wrong. I’ll just say that 175km from the finish my di2 ran out of battery. Yes, I had forgotten to charge it… again.

Stuck in the small chainring for 175km and scared to death the battery ran out of juice completely, I minimized the changes at the back. Which meant I attacked small ramps overgeared, which emptied my legs pretty quickly. Free wheeling for long times meant my heart rate plummeted and my body temperature followed suit. What was meant to be 8 hours of riding ended up being almost 10.

Again, you'll be excused for thinking I had a terrible time but you couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, I shouted a few swear words (in Spanish, swearing in Spanish is more powerful) but that lasted 30 seconds. After an impressive display of Spanish swearing capabilities I focused on enjoying the ride and had a fantastic time. I love riding at night on quiet roads. I almost had time to find the secret for world peace.

That was it. I finished tired but very, very happy. In fact I’m already convinced I’ll ride it again next year.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9110165742/ 

Take care

Javier Arias González

Four times lucky

Not from today's ride but close enough

13 days without touching the bicycle.

A trip to Argentina. Ate a bit too much. It turns out I like Malbec so I also drank a bit too much. Walked a lot, although I’m not sure if that is good or bad for cycling.

Still slightly jet lagged this morning you could argue I was a lamb on the way to the slaughterhouse.

But I’m a lucky man. Four times lucky I was today.

First time was the route we were riding. We were NOT going to Sumners Ponds. Almost five years ago I wrote: “Believe me, I have seen this happening to a lot of riders. Doesn't matter how strong you are. You go on holidays for two weeks, come back on the bike after a cold or simply join the wrong group to Sumner Ponds and you'll be slaughtered. That's a fact.” (https://www.unbiciorejon.com/2018/10/you-need-to-read-this-if-you-are.html).

If we were riding to Sumners Ponds nothing could have saved me but we were riding to the Devil’s Punchbowl and that gave me hope. 

Hope is a dangerous feeling. Instead of riding conservatively I went a bit too hard in the first hour.

Yes, that was a decent effort up Green Dene but as sure as eggs is eggs (I just googled this expression) I paid for it in the second hour. To the point that I blew up massively as soon as the Devil’s Punchbowl climb started. 

It was so bad and obvious that when I got to the top Rupert sang Don’t cry for me Argentina to me and it felt very appropriate.

But that also was the moment I was lucky for the second time. We were stopping there. 

A stop that lasted almost 40 minutes, a visit to the loo, a scone with cream and jam and, crucially, a latte and I managed to recover a fair bit. Enough to feel comfortable in the ride.

The third time I was lucky was at Hogs “hill” (https://www.strava.com/segments/1150170). I hate that climb. I prayed and prayed for it to be full of traffic so we couldn’t go all out on it.

As we were approaching it I saw lots of traffic and almost cried with joy. The perfect excuse to take it easy and save my legs.

To save my legs for the final sprint of course. 

The Esher sprint.

A sprint I had perfectly planned. I was going to sit at the back of the group the whole way and outsprint everyone with 100 meters to go. Infallible.

The problem was my plan didn’t last long. As soon as we hitted the first ramp a gap was created in our group. Richard and Denis in the front group. Tom, me and Rupert (in that order) in the second group. 

I saw Richard and Denis starting to work together and the gap growing. Time for a new plan.

I was going to wait for Tom to finish himself trying to close the gap. Then I’d attack, drop Rupert, close the gap, sit on Richard and Denis’ wheel, wait for the last 100 meters and outsprint them. A seamless plan.

That was when I was lucky for the fourth time. The only traffic light on the road was red. Denis and Richard had to stop and we caught up with them. 

Didn’t feel too much shame for not having the opportunity to test my great plan. I’ll admit the situation was now much better for my chances. Especially when Rupert discarded himself for the sprint.

When the time to sprint came it was me and Richard contesting it. 

Somehow I managed to get it and that saved my day. 

Sometimes it is better to be lucky than strong or clever.

The ride in Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/8977190234/ 

Take care

Javier Arias González