Day 7: Ludlow to Bath

Today's stage report will be series of unconnected fragments, because all available energy has to go to my legs, leaving no extra for my brain.

Bullet point #1: when Mr. Cook spends a lot of time talking about nice downhills, he's hiding something. And that something is ridiculous hills that pop up put of nowhere at 15% or more. He did vaguely mumbled something about grippy sections on the line this morning. I will take this under advisement for future briefings.

2: my ankle took quite a while to warm up, but then was pretty good, with the assistance of ibuprofen and some good blue gel stuff that made it all tingly at the pit stops. Treatment regimen will continue.

3: I was prepared for rain today, and I was not disappointed. That is all I will say about the weather.

4: we rode through some gorgeous countryside today, and climbed some pretty serious hills. We also managed to duck into Wales for a brief stretch, just to cover all the Great Britain bases.

5: apparently, Bath is built on seven hills, including the one which holds the race course.  This led me to make snide comments to myself along the lines of "who do they think they are, Rome?". It took until lunchtime for me to remember the Roman origins of the city. Again, energy going to legs, not brain.

6: today was my first time wondering if I could make it up something. And the answer to that, so far, is yes. I'm so glad I changed the cassette on my bike however. The biggest concern I have now is that my ankle makes it really painful to climb out of the saddle. I'm hoping the 28 tooth cog on the back means I won't have to.

7: as we get farther south, there are more and more day trippers (people doing just the day's stage). You can tell who they are every morning because they are very clean, and very energetic. R and I entertain ourselves with snark about them, but I find myself quite seriously scornful. Particularly when they talk about how they're "doing the Ride Across Britain!" Excuse me, you're doing one day of RAB. Have a good ride!

8: I have been thinking today about why I'm doing this ride, particularly in the context of trying to explain to the girls why I spent so much time doing something so hard that hurt so much. I'm still working on the answer, but it is, in part, because doing something this hard by choice means that I know I'll be able to do the hard things that come along that I don't have any control over. And that is a very important thing to know.

9: I never thought I would ever say this, but I am really, really tired of eating All. The. Time. It was fun for a while, but now it is just a chore. Bah. Also: trying to take pictures of yourself while on the bike is really quite difficult, as evidenced below.

Right, enough disjointedness. Day 7 done, on to day 8 and the lovely (ha ha ha) hills of Somerset.

Day 7: 91/741/~953

Day 6: Manchester to Ludlow

Today's profile was the reverse of yesterday's - 80+ miles of more-or-less flat country lanes and then a big climb. About 20 miles in, the heavens opened and released a biblical downpour for about 30 minutes. I ended up completely soaked to the skin, as well as freezing cold, so it was a long haul to pit stop 1, where the sun was out. This pattern was repeated for the rest of the day - soaking rain, then sun and wind to dry us off, then more rain.  I took off a bit hard from the first stop, since I was pretty cold. The route went along tiny country lanes lined by hedgerows. When the sun was out, it was absolutely lovely.

Andy warned us last night to save our legs for the first two thirds of the stage, because the steepest climb we've had yet was coming at mile 85. The climb, again, was long and relatively steady except for a few short steeper bits. My legs felt pretty good though, and I was pleased to be the first of my group up to the top. From there it was rolling terrain for ten miles and then a nice long downhill. So no Long Mynd, but a pretty tough day nonetheless.

My knee is doing much better, but my ankle is worse. The word from the medics is that the solution is to stop riding, surprisingly enough! Mostly its just a bit of tendonitis, so I'm on a strict ibuprofen refining. Hooray for anti-inflammatories!

I've attached a few pictures for today, including one of my interesting hand tan. Even with all the rain we've had, I'm getting some funny lines!

Today is my tenth wedding anniversary. On our first anniversary, Himself and I did a 40k time trial together. So there is a precedent for silly athletic events on this important day. I wouldn't be here if not for his support, so thank you sweetheart. I'm so glad you forced me to sign up for this!

Day 6: 106/650/~953

Day 5: Carlisle to Manchester

I knew that things would get hard at some point on this adventure, and I arrived at that point today. We left Carlisle in a light drizzle, and headed into the Lake District. Today's profile went up right from the beginning, peaking over Shap Fell. The climb was long, but not really steep - kind of like Gates Pass in Tucson - but we were climbing into the clouds, so there weren't any good views.

Over the top onto an 8 mile descent down into the Lake District. We dropped down below the clouds into Beatrix Potter's England - stone walls, sheep, green fields, wildflowers and birds singing. The rain lifted, the sun broke through and we rolled along. We're getting into the stereotypical English country lanes - they are gorgeous to ride, but they tend to go up and down pretty sharply. If you don't keep some momentum going, it gets rough. The last 20 miles were in a very urban area, which took a bit more concentration. A tough way to finish.

So the toughest part today was mental rather then physical. I've been breaking each day down into pieces of approximately thirty odd miles - to the first pit stop, the middle bit, and the last section after the second pit stop. The problem today was that the first stop was at 28 miles. The day's big climb was finished by 40 miles. So I got to the bottom of Shap Fell, and thought "Right, that's it". Actually, there were 75 more miles to go. Oof! The last 30 were really rough - it started raining again, we were going through rush hour traffic and one knee and the other Achilles were acting up. Oof again. I am so grateful that I had people to ride with - it would be so much harder alone!

Now I've been fed, massaged and physio-d for my various issues. Apparently I have very special hamstrings - it took the physio with 30+ years experience ten minutes to figure out what was going on, and I will soon be sporting thumb sized bruises in the back of my leg where she detached the head of my hamstring from the bone (about as much fun as it sounds, believe me). Hopefully that will sort things out for tomorrow's trip to Ludlow.

Thanks to everyone reading and leaving comments - I do get them, even if I'm not responding. So please do leave a message if you get inspired! As for me, I'm off to bed.

Day 5: 115/544/~953 - over the hump!

Day 4: Glasgow to Carlisle

I lay in my sleeping bag this morning, feeling stiff and sore, and not terribly interested in getting back on the bike, no matter what the sing being played to wake us up insisted. Life in camp has fallen into a routine: I plan out my tasks so as to limit the number of times I need to go back to my tent. This morning's plan: get dressed, brush teeth, eat breakfast, get Garmin off charger. Then get bottles filled, put them on bike and finish packing. Put bag in truck, pump up tires and start. Two things went wrong with this plan: the Garmin, while plugged in, had come off of the cradle and wasn't fully charged. Bah! Plug it back in to leave for last, in hopes it will last the day. Problem 2: the zipper of the large duffel bag I'm using completely gave up the ghost. The crew found me a big plastic bag to put the duffel in, and I headed off.

They say bad things come in threes. We headed off through suburban Glasgow and early rush hour traffic. 16 miles in and I was pulled off on the side of the road changing a flat.  The bad thing wasn't the flat itself, it was the fact that the valve stem snapped off when I was pumping it up. Thankfully I had another tube and finally, we got back on the road.

Today's stage should have been sponsored by whoever makes those big, cushy, gel-filled seats with massive springs. The route wasn't terribly challenging, but the road surface was unbelievably bad. It felt a bit like what I imagine sitting on a jack hammer might feel like. I think everyone is going to be a bit bruised tomorrow. We rolled along, taking it pretty easy - yesterday's epic left us all with some pretty sore legs, so we just noodled along next to the M74, trying to spin out some lactate. Sadly the only landscape shot I've got today includes some suggestive forest trimming - you can see why we had to stop. Pity the one man riding with four women!

104 miles later (thankfully the road surface improved!), we had passed through Gretna Green and the big welcome to England sign, and arrived at the Carlisle racecourse. L said at one point, "I feel a bit odd saying this, but this is kind of like a 104 mile recovery ride".  That alone makes me concerned about tomorrow's route, which includes passing through the Lake District, and over the highest A road in Britain. Hmmm...hope my legs can hold out!

Today's progress: 104/429/~953

Day 3: Fort William to Glasgow

I was on my bike today for almost nine hours. 8:58, to be exact. And that's not total elapsed time, that's nine hours in the saddle, pedaling. It was kind of a long day...

It started at 5:30 with the combined alarm clock of "Manic Monday" and raindrops on the tent fly. We knew the rain was coming, and at the start, it wasn't too bad - more of a drizzle then a downpour. We headed off down the A82 along Loch Linnhe (I think that's the right name). It was a tense stretch: 600 cyclists plus rain (getting heavier all the time) dived by a narrow road multiplied by Monday morning traffic was a bad combination. There was one crash just behind us (touched wheels I think), but the camp rumor mill is deleting one broken leg, one collarbone, and someone taken down by a car. Suffice to say things were a bit nervous until we got through town and things thinned out a bit.

From Fort Suppliant we climbed up the spectacular Glencoe, slowly but surely getting wetter and wetter as the clouds dumped rain. And then the headwind started. It's a gloriously beautiful spot, even in the rain and the fog, but the temps were dropping - one of the truck drivers reported 3 degrees as he came down over Rannoch Moor, and we felt each one as we came flying down the long descent from the top. Thankfully, the first pit stop at 50 miles was at a cafe with hot drinks. Hooray for hot chocolate!

From there it was 24 miles to pit stop 2. The rain stopped and the skies started to clear, but the wind kept blowing right in our faces. The road continued up and down, passing through some beautiful forests and along isolated lakes. I kept expecting Mel Gibson to pop out from behind a tree, in a ragged kilt and blue woad. Such was not to be, unfortunately. The road narrowed to a country lane, barely one car wide, with fields full of sheep on either side. And the road surface got progressively worse - cracks, holes, eroded edges and stuff that felt like riding over our playroom floor when the girls haven't picked up in a while. It made for some tricky handling, tough when we were all tired.

Today was the first day I got into trouble - coming along from the second pit stop I started feeling kind of blown: not enough calories on board. Two chocolate chip shortbread cookies and a gel later, things started looking up again. I know how quickly food can turn things around, and that the first thing I should do when things start going badly is eat, but I still forget sometimes.

At last night's briefing, we discovered that today's route had been changed because of construction. We lost what Andy called "the second hardest climb" of the ride, which was slated for mile 103 of 113, but we gained "4 to 5 miles" total distance. Given the wind, and the fact that it ended up being almost 8 extra miles, I'm not sure I wouldn't have rather had the climb! Still, despite the rain and the cold and the extended dance version of today's trip to Glasgow, I still felt really good today.

Not so many pictures today, given the rain, but I'm hoping for more tomorrow, when we finally leave Scotland and start into the Lake District.

122/325/~953

Day 2: Kyle of Sutherland to Fort William

We awoke this morning to "The Ride of the Valkyries" and a valley full of fog and cold. The mountains we saw yesterday across the river were gone in the mist, and there was a bit of grumbling about grey skies on the way to breakfast. However, we were assured at the start that blue skies were waiting down the road, on the day's first climb.

Every evening, we are given a briefing about the next day's course by Andy Cook, the course director. On the first night, he described some of the hills on day 1 as "grippy". The first climb today, at 6 miles from the start, was described as "double grippy". I'm still working on my calibration curve for Andy's grippy scale, but 2x grippy seems to be a 2 mile climb that maxes out at a 10% grade. Grippy, indeed. But doable, as that length allows for settling in to a ryhthm and spinning your way  up.

The first pit stop came at mile 35, after a lovely rolling ride through the hills. I've been lucky enough to find people to ride with from the beginning, which makes it so much more enjoyable. I met A at a RAB-sponsored training ride in April, and we've ridden together several times since. She met L on the bus on the way up from the airport and, wonder of wonders, we're all of similar speed. It's working very well.

From stop #1, we headed towards Drumnadrochit and Loch Ness. My compatriots declined my suggestion to stop off at the Glen Ord Distillery shortly before Sara Storey, current Paralympic World Champion, sped past resplendent in her rainbow jersey. She was out of sight in minutes.

The next climb was a longer one. Deceptively long - every time we came to a crest I was convinced we were at the top. Sadly, this went on for about 5 miles before a screaming descent down to Loch Ness. The route then ran alongside the Loch, a road I remembered as being relatively flat. I was very wrong, and the constant up/down was really hard. The situation wasn't helped by L and I latching on to a slightly faster gentleman who pulled us for quite a ways. By the time we reached pit stop 2 at mile 71, I was very ready to sit down and have some food.

The last 28 miles consisted of 22 miles of rollers, and 6 miles of mostly downhill. Base camp tonight is in a field with an extraordinary view of Ben Nevis, for once not hidden in the clouds. There's even snow on top. We've had a good dinner, added two more riders to our little pack for tomorrow (the speedy guy from the loch, R, and his wife C), and are waiting anxiously for Andy's grippy rating for tomorrow's stage. I'm afraid rain is definitely in the forecast, just to make sure we don't get any silly ideas about Scottish weather, but we will have to wait to hear about route details. And you'll get to hear about them tomorrow!

99/203/~953

Day 1: John O'Groats to Kyle of Sutherland

Today dawned mostly clear and windless, particularly in comparison to last year's 60 mph gale force headwind and horizontal rain.  We left JOG just after 7:00 and headed west along the coast. The first 32 miles to our first pit stop flew by - everyone was excited to be underway, and we speeded down the tiny back roads chatting away.

After the first stop, the roads got a bit "lumpier", a charming British euphemism for hilly. But the climbs were pretty steady - worst was about a 9% grade according to my cycling buddy's fancy Garmin. They reminded me of Arizona climbs: long, but steady enough to find a rythym and just spin. After about 50 miles, we turned south at one of the most beautiful beaches ever, and headed inland. The next 25 miles were alongside a river, on a gorgeous one lane road that rolled along gently,  always going up. The river first rushed by on the left, but soon widened into a lake. At the head of the lake was pit stop #2.

From the second stop, it was 28 miles to base camp. Sadly, the weather gods decided to go to Aruba, and the clouds and wind started to roll in. A few drops started to come down as we finished the day's climbing and started a rolling downhill to the end of the day. After just under 8 hours total time, we arrived at Kyle of Sutherland.

Ten minutes later, the skies opened up, and the Scottish weather that was expected arrived in full force. Things since have been a bit damp. But I've had a shower, a brief nap, lots of dinner, and a massage. The evening briefing is next, and then its off to bed. And hopes for reasonable weather tomorrow!

104/~953