06 Jan 2016
Optimism. That's what this post was supposed to be bursting with. Unashamed, untethered, disgusting OPTIMISM!
2015 was my strongest year on the bike. Given a couple of easy months to recover followed by the TrainerRoad Sweet-Spot base plan would see me have a guilt-less festive period. I'd be ready to hit some serious sufferfest action in a planned bid to increase my FTP to "loadsa watts", while being the leanest I've been since school. A decent 10-mile time trial time would be the target.
My power-to-weight ratio was going to be impressive and I'd have started longer efforts at sweet spot or even threshold in the aero bars. My bike would now be set up for me in a TT position and all my focus would be on building sustained power output. I'd be following my Core training plan as well, on rest days.
The CX bike that I recently purchased would be making light work of the active recovery-level commutes in the pissing rain as well as allowing me to stay sociable on club rides.
On top of that, I'd have my weekly game of fives. Great fun and a bit of weight-bearing cross training to keep the bones healthy right?
No. Instead, at the end of November, five-a-sides finally got my knee. Delicious Irony there as well.
After getting very fat at Uni, as well the salaried years of excess that followed, I started playing 5-a-sides again. My and the belly managed just fine, but my knees would complain at times. I read up on it. Basically after applying some rocket science, I concluded that I was overweight and my legs were underdeveloped. I decided to do something about that as I loved fives so much. I bought a bike - this would allow me to build the muscles around my knees and help me lose weight - it worked. It's also given me a thunderous right-peg!!!
Back to November 2015. It's Monday night at Soccerworld. I intercept a pass, the ball at my feet, back from goal, about to kick it back to my teammate. Standard play. My left leg is taking my weight but it starts to go behind me, it's not supposed to bend that way. A tackle comes in. PAIN!!
7 weeks later and here we are. Two ill-advised days of commuting and a sheepish half-hour easy spinning on the turbo trainer aside, my training plans and aspirations are in tatters. The 2.5kgs planned weight loss has turned into gain. My FTP has probably halved and I'm certain the knee is not a whole lot better.
Cycling was supposed to be for helping my football. It certainly has, but it's become the main thing, the one I can't do without. I'm not sure I really appreciated how much I rely on the bike, it's not just a leisure pursuit - it's a big chunk of my life as well as a form of transport and I am really missing it. I'm not sure I'll play football again now but I need my cycling back. And the sooner the better.
What now then? Patience. Get better. Then (gradually build up and) hit it hard. There you go, optimism (fingers crossed it's not misplaced).
All being well, what does Cranky's 2016 look like?
- TT position on the bike
- A decent TT time (I'm not going to set a target in stone as I have no idea where I will be now, but I'm hoping for at least a minute on my time on the COG course from last year, sub-26mins. Would have been sub-25 if my training was going to plan).
- Archies into Space or whatever crazy fundraiser COG run this year.
- Kinross Sportive. Only one I am currently signed up for. Improving on last year, which I was happy with
- Other sportives. I'm keen for Cairn O' Mount. Should do Tayside, Highland Perthshire as well. I'd like to go and do the Bealach Mor again, Ullapool would be fantastic if it fits in as well. Perhaps the Skye Sportive.
- Flights are booked to see some of this year's Tour. We'll be taking our bikes and staying around the Cévennes where there is loads of great routes. Ventoux looms also!
- One, tentative bonkers mental huge ride as yet unconfirmed.
21 Sep 2015
|
|
| Date |
September 19, 2015 |
| Distance |
83 miles / 133.6km |
| Elevation Gain |
8,735 feet / 2,662m |
| Conditions |
Dry. Cloudy. Temp: 13°C Wind: 4mph SE |
| Route |
https://www.strava.com/routes/3199747 |
| Official Time |
05:18:11 (12th) |
A few years back when I had just started cycling, I watched the Rapha Continental "Assynt" movie. It left an impression on me. I'd watched plenty of videos of the big climbs on the continent, and by that time was following le Tour, but this was different. This was shot in Scotland. It was moody, it looked wet and miserable. And accessible. One day I would definitely have the chance to ride those roads. I'd never been to the Assynt area. I'd never listened to the shipping forecast. I'd never bought trendy and expensive cycling clothes, particularly caps, but I could ride those roads and see those sights.
So this was my chance to re-enact that movie. My kit was to be the green and blue of COG Velo - Champion Systems not Rapha. I didn't listen to the shipping forecast in the morning, because I planned to ride my bike on the road. Also, happily, the weather wasn't bleak and moody. A bit chilly in the morning, not much Sun, but it was braw day for a cycle: no wind of note.
While the video is beautifully shot and has a fitting piece of poetry attached to it, the conditions and faces of the cyclists featured really tell the story. I looked at the route profile: Ten miles less than the Bealach Mor, with more elevation gain and no big climbs of note. This was going to be tough, this story was going to be about legs!
There were to be four Coggers on this challenge. Clogs and I made the journey up on Friday night staying at the Ledgowan bunkhouse, we'll enjoy a weeks break up here with family (once our legs have healed). Fran and Steve Crawford were in as well.
We got together at about 8, meeting in the car park. Plenty of time to get last minute prep sorted. Most of us added air to our tyres, checked brakes and shifting. I had to turn my hastily installed bottle cage the right way up - idiot!
By 9am, we were at the start line. This time there was no crazy COG-style jump everyone at the lights and burn from the off. This time, we look it easy(ish). Fran was happy to set her own pace so we said our goodbyes before the first turn took us on to the main road. There was a decent sized group with us. We set a steady pace off the front. Up the first climb out of Ullapool and that green shirt that I kept glimpsing wasn't Clogs. Steve's phone buzzed so we stopped and let the group go. Fran had a mechanical just as we left her. Clogs stopped to assist.
Steve and I descended back into Ullapool, getting plenty of "you're going to wrong way" patter in the process. I thought "It was funny the first time, it'll be funnier when we pass you in a few minutes...suckerrrrrs!". We regrouped and set off. False start.
I had no idea how the day would pan out. How do you pace yourself for a route that is almost completely undulating? My strategy was to just take each climb as it came. Spin easy at the bottom, and finish with a bit of power. Rest as much as possible on the descents and no crazy hard pulls at the front on the flats. Sensible. This course should surely suit Steve more than Clogs and I, so we'd be saying goodbye to him at some point.
In the first section of the course, the stretch of A935 out of Ullapool, I didn't take in much. It was a bit lumpy, we passed many of those "suckers" from the start but that was it. Clogs mentioned something about not feeling it today, that he'd probably peel off at some point soon. He didn't though, and we kept the three-up COG train in motion. We turned left onto the single track road that leads to Achnahaird. Two things happened, 1. I get attacked my midges (I stared in envy at the other two with their leg warmers on). 2. We catch a glimpse of the imposing Stac Pollaidh. We weren't long on this road before it revealed itself - we were heading straight for it. This was a good road to be on as long as you weren't in shorts! Clogs was happy setting a good pace on the front and we let him.
It was still lumpy though. We turned up onto the road that leads to Lochinver, it leads us upwards and Steve mentions there are some big steep bits up here. I hit a stone on the turn, my front wheel bobbles but I hold it. Dodgy moment. The descent off the back of that climb was fantastic, winding, steep, technical. Clogs and Steve reveled in it. I saw them move out of sight. I had lost my nerve on the gravelly bits. Hanging on my brake most of the way down. A few other guys turned up and came past me. Damn it, I was going to be dropped because I couldn't descend. I then had the first inkling from my legs that they might be ready to play ball today. I had to bridge the gap once we reached the bottom. The road predictably started pointing up, and a burst of power got me back on. In the melee of up and downs, we seem to gain and drop riders constantly. Our pace generally seemed too high for most.
Lochinver. There was a feed stop there. A guy on a nice Merida in Ben Wyvis club kit who came flying down a descent past us pulled in there, we didn't. Steve recommended the pie shop. Not today though. There was more climbing and descending to do. Lots more.
Not far out of Lochinver, is the split between the "Mor" and the "Beag" routes. We turned left into what proved to be the hardest part of the route. Those up and downs seemed to be getting steeper. We catch more riders ahead. A guy in a vintage Molteni jersey is among them. They stick around on the incredible coastal road. The three of us are still together. It seems to follow the same pattern: Steve and Clogs hit the hill first. I stick it in the granny, spin past Clogs, almost catch Steve, get overtaken by Clogs on the descent. Rinse. Repeat.
We reach Nedd, gadgie place. Ha. Lolz. Nedd has the last laugh though, as the gradient really bites. 15% - out of the saddle for that - no, I'm lifting the front wheel up. Back in the saddle and grind. Molteni guy is there, spinning. He's packing a 34-32 or something. We get past the worst bit yet the climb carries on. Steve is still in sight. I keep him there. Looking back, Clogs doesn't seem too far. We are stretched out though. For the first time today the COG train is faltering.
I put down a bit of effort and catch Steve. I look behind me and Clogs is still just in sight. Cool. Steve questions where the feedstop is as we crest yet another up. I hadn't even considered stopping, but I needed the toilet. Where was Clogs though - couldn't see him anywhere. We pull into the feedstop. I eat shortbread and fill up my one empty bottle with water, by this time there's quite a bunch of guys doing the same. I go for a whizz and Clogs and Steve shout that they'd head off and cruise to keep warm: I would catch them.
The road goes up immediately after the stop. This is the only longer climb of the day. Clogs is in sight, in a group, Steve is a good bit further up the road. That isn't "cruise" pace! I make it back to Clogs. He informs me that he's in "limp home mode". This time I believe him. My next target is Steve, but he's out of sight. I put in a bit of effort to get over the climb. The road straightens and there he is, at the front of a group of three. I get into the drops and TT my legs off to get back on. Past a bunch of bemused looking students in high-viz vests.
My TT effort pays off - back on. I take a turn at the front, giving Steve a nod as I come through. The road is "buzzy" and my power starts to drop. A rise in the road and we split into two. I'm caught in the back group, with a guy on a Giant Propel. Working again but we're not catching them. We start working a bit better together and Steve and the other guy start to slow.
The next climb sees the other guy drop off. Now it's just me, Steve and Mr Giant Propel. This seems like another big climb. We catch a group on the road. There is the guy on the Merida again, he joins us and the pace increases. Giant Propel guy can't hold it and somewhere soon after we lose Steve as well.
We're now setting a good pace but its flawed. I'm getting the first signs of some bad leg cramps. Hamstrings and calves keep twitching. Every now and then, and bang, a spasm. Pain. I keep spinning and increase my water intake. A quick chat with the guy I'm with - also Steve, Merida Steve - and he is suffering the same, I offer him a gel and he gladly receives it. We're both suffering but we're still setting a cracking pace. Just. Don't. Cramp.
"HOW MANY MORE CLIMBS?!?" I scream as the next climb presents itself and my legs give me more warning of what is to come. Merida Steve informs me that there are just two. I get out of the saddle, it's the only way to stave off those twinges. We're over it and only have one more to go.
My out of the saddle effort took me away from Merida Steve. My thoughts started to turn to the finish. Would my wife and kids be there waiting for me? I started the last climb hard, then as my leg started to spasm again, I tried to get out of the saddle. BOOM. My right leg seized up. I almost threw myself over the bike as I unclipped in pain. I had to stop. Merida Steve passed me as I tried to stretch it out. One failed attempt to get back on and I was starting to worry that Clogs and Steve would catch me and all that work would be for nothing. Back on. Easy now, just need to get over this hill and the descent into Ullapool begins.
I get there, the cramp eases off and I turn the bend at the top and see the road going down, then back up again! ONE MORE FECKING CLIMB! It's the longer but less punishing climb up to Morefield. I'm not taking my chances spinning up this one. I remember it now - it's definitely the last one. Up I grind. Merida Steve is in the distance but I'm not going to catch him.
I got a bit emotional at the thought of seeing Mrs Cranky and Cranky Jnr(x2) at the finish. It wasn't going to end as Cranky Jnr had predicted with Uncle Clogs beating me. That meant nothing in reality but everything to me at that moment in time. I hit the descent into Ullapool with all I had left. I didn't need to, but I wanted this to be over (and I still had a picture in my mind that Steve and Clogs would come flying past).
To the finish line, and the family weren't there yet - ah well! Merida Steve was though. He'd finished with a great time. 10 minutes faster than my time of 5 hours 18 minutes, which made him 5th. I was the 11th rider home and finished 12th. I tucked into my chilli, Steve and Clogs weren't far behind at all.
The Bealach Mor 2 weeks ago was probably the toughest sportive I'd done, I would say this pipped it. A truely brutal, unforgiving route through some of Scotlands most amazing scenery. This is one that you can look back and feel good about doing - but you don't feel good when you are actually doing it. I've ticked it off, I feel I did it justice. I'm not sure I'll do it again!!!
I had my legs massaged, then set off to start the holiday with some well-deserved beers and a dip in the hot tub. Cheers!
09 Sep 2015
|
|
| Date |
September 5, 2015 |
| Distance |
89.4 miles / 143.9 km |
| Elevation Gain |
8,353 feet / 2,545.99m |
| Conditions |
Dry. Cloudy. Temp: 10°C Wind: 11mph NW |
| Route |
https://www.strava.com/routes/3199710 |
| Official Time |
05:24:17 (20th) |
Last year, I climbed the Bealach Na Ba climb with Nico and Nicky P at the end of what was the toughest day of cycling I had ever completed. The daddy of all climbs in the UK, conquered after 200-odd miles at 1am in the morning, with no working lights. Bonkers. You'd think that would be enough to deter me from doing it again but I am a cyclist and, let's be honest, we a bit "no-right" in the head at times. I had yet to witness the Bealach in its full imposing glory. I hadn't been on that road since that night, indeed, I had NEVER seen that road. So despite already having ticked the climb from the bucket list - I had still had some beef with this one, I would get stare the Bealach right in the eye this time.
A grueling drive straight after work, via Kyle of Lochalsh to drop my colleague off, saw me arrive at the bunkhouse at Ledgowan lodge in Achnasheen at about 10:15. A stag was standing about 10 foot from where I parked up - reminding me of the last time I climbed the Bealach - we thought we were being watched by a stag. There was no night of heavy drinking for me, the good name of COG Velo restored after the apparent disgrace of last year :-p, I had a blether with my roommate for a bit - a guy from Edinburgh RC who occasionally teaches at DJCAD and commutes in from his father-in-laws house in Errol (Small world) - lights were off by 11!
I knew my legs would be attacked again and again today, but I hadn't antipated those attacks coming from the 30 million midges that were waiting for me in the car park just outside Kinlochewe. Shoes and helmet on, bike off the rack in record time. Got registered, met up with Ed (my collegue who I'd dropped off last night), Cat and Ewan and (after getting some coffee to escape the midges) Mr Rod Fleming.
Rod brought a fresh supply of optimism. He and I decided that 2 hours would be too short to cover the 38 miles before the Bealach climb (and thus the road closure). We didn't want to get held up there so we held back, waving off the majority of riders desperate to head off at 9am - probably to get away from the midges. We headed off at about 9:15 and in what I have observed to be a COG tradition, the green jerseys (Rod and I) found ourselves setting a lung-busting pace at the front. There were some guys who clearly had never ridden in a group before as well as a few from Orkney and two Dundee Wheelers.
In a flashback to last years Tour of the Borders, the road very quickly started to point upwards, we hit the "Cat 3" climb out of Kinlochewe. I dropped off. I'd been sustaining 350w at the front, I couldn't manage the 550w required to keep Rod by my side. Spat out of the back before we'd even really got going. Damn. All I'd wanted to do was stay with the group until the climb, now I was screwed. At the top of the climb were some traffic-light controlled roadworks. The light was red, I was in luck. We regrouped and settled into a tailwind-assisted half-working rotating paceline on the descent into Achnasheen.
After the roundabout in Achnasheen, we headed into a bit of a headwind. We seemed to move into single file and I took a lengthy turn on the front. After what felt like about 5 minutes (which in reality was probably about 1), I pulled off keen not to blow up too soon. I looked back but couldn't see Rod. I dropped to the back of the group and looked behind and there was no sign of him. I reckoned he must have punctured or something but he'd get back on, or at least he'd catch me on the climb.
By the time the nice EU funded smooth Tarmac turned to standard Scottish potholed single track, we'd formed what seemed a nice wee group - around 8 of us - fairly tight apart from a couple of guys. One in particular - who had a bad habit of surging off the front and standing up randomly - unknowingly risked breaking the group up. There were a few dodgy moments caused by them and I think the pace was a futile collective attempt to shake them off as much a dash for time.
I was faring quite well when we hit Lochcarron. This was a good group to be in - was happy in the knowledge that most of them would leave me when the climb got serious though. However, I'd forgotten about the climb that comes just after Lochcarron. My 85kg dragged me to the back of the group, and soon the Wheelers guys were out of sight. We passed two sizable groups at Lochcarron and I was engulfed by most of them as well. I didn't panic, just kept the legs spinning.
I hit the bottom of the main climb just after 11. Perfect timing - "cheers Rod - I'll see you soon" I thought as I started the lower slopes, keeping my cadence high. I was stuffing a banana into my mouth when I caught Ed - he was toiling a bit having put in too much effort on the way (and a bit of manflu in his defense), I carried on up the climb. A quick chat as my roommate passed me before I hit the serious bit of the climb. You turn out of the lower slopes and the pass presents itself - Hiya Bealach, Hiya Pal!
A strange atmosphere - silence - everyone seemed to be examining their stems. Oddly, I recognised the road, I remembered the steep ramp before the switchbacks and how the switchbacks were a relief from that gradient and after 47 minutes, I was at the top! If I'm honest, I was glad to see the back of it though. I got my dabber dabbed at the top without stopping and headed down the other side. On the descent, my mind turned to Rod again - where the hell was he?! I started to feel bad, I should have stopped for him, or waited at the top? Too late for that though.
Everyone I had spoken to in the lead up to the event had warned that the real challenge is the 40-odd ramps that come after the Bealach. I knew this was going to be tough and lonely. On the the hand, I probably needed to be alone on this bit, to ride it at my own pace. I passed the Applecross feed stop. I looked in and saw Cat and Ewan, gave them a wave and headed on. One of the guys who'd been in the group from Achnasheen was ahead of me at the bottom of the climb, I passed him expecting him to hold my wheel but he was gone.
If the Bealach was like getting stung by a big wasp, what came next was like being back at that car park with the midges. 30 million little hills, up and down, up and down, up and down and repeat all the way to Torridon. To make matters worse, there was a bit of a headwind. I tried not to go too hard but about half way through and my left leg was starting to cramp and the only way to combat it was to get out of the saddle when the gradient ramped up. Ed had told me at the start that he'd been through the route profile and counted all the little climbs so he knew what to expect. I didn't - on purpose as I didn't want to know. On the day I really wished I knew what was coming.
The road started to swing east at the top of the peninsula out of the wind. I reached into my back pocket for a gel. I found a chocolate cereal bar - this was a surprise and a real boost, I was needing to eat something solid. That, combined with the thought of getting to the end of the lumps and I had a bit of a second wind. I boosted over a few of the lumps, passing a few who had come past me spinning earlier - now they were struggling. A fast group came past - some guys from Portovelo were in there - on a descent as I switched water bottles. I used their wheels for a bit until the next climb. HOW MANY MORE CLIMBS?!?!
I came down into Sheildig with a young lad with an Orkney cycling top. I'd been reeling him in since I was dropped from that group. He wasn't up for chatting much and he dropped back. I went past the feed stop in Sheildig as well - no stopping now - I was intent on wringing the last drop from my legs through the valley from Torridon to the finish back in Kinlochewe.
Through Torridon I joined with a guy doing his first ever sportive. He complained that he'd probably chosen the wrong one but he must have put in a great time, I let him have my wheel for a bit but with 10 miles to go he said he couldn't keep up so I left him as well.
Into the valley - I could see the group that I had been dropped by on the road ahead. I measured how far ahead - 3 minutes - I put the head down and tried to grind out some pace. I counted again - 2 minutes. Was I dragging them in? No, I just couldn't count. I rode the rest of the way on my own, with that group in sight. If only I'd managed to hold their wheel on that one climb. If I'd known it was one of the last climbs, I might have.
Nevermind, 5 miles from the finish. I'd been comparing the route since the 10 miles to go marker to points on my commute. 5 miles and I was at the T junction on in the Inchture-Errol road from Longforgan. 4 miles. I've just come over the Inchture flyover. 2 miles, I'm in Ballindean - Hiya Ben! At this stage, the scenery had changed from open valley had to trees on either side, there was a slight climb to the road just like the road out of Ballindean - was I hallucinating? I passed Jay's house and down to the Westown approach climb. Finally, I was home. Mrs Cranky dabbed my dabber (said the actress to the bishop) and gave me some bean chili.
I sat down at the dining table eating the bean chilli - (why did she give me it in a polystyrene box? Where's the plate?) My roommate from last night was sitting next to me and we started chatting - he'd finished one place above me by about 30 seconds! (But what the hell is he doing at my dining table!?)
I checked to see if Rod had text me. I assumed since he hadn't passed me that he'd stopped but no text suggested he was still out there. I sent him a text to make sure he was ok. I met up with Cat - she seemed to have enjoyed it. Rod text me back to let me know he was fine and that his chain had broke and though he'd done a temporary repair he'd decided to bail out rather than risk it in the steep slopes of the Bealach. Rubbish. I felt bad for him, but a sense of relief that he was fine and in hindsight I made the right choice not going back or waiting.
Time to head back home - for real this time. The next race was getting back in time to take over daddy duties as Mrs Cranky was going out for tea at 6:30pm. I rolled up at 6:29pm. Tekkers!
In summary (this is the bit that you wish I told you to skip to at the start!): happy with my final time of 05:24:17 which placed me 20th. That route is a real challenge but that's why we do it right? Would be lame without the suffering. Some stunning scenery and the weather was perfect as well. Dry. Cool.
All in all a great 90 miles on the bike. Plenty of friendly folk there. Very courteous, patient driving, particularly on the narrow roads. Special mention to the local children who seemed inspired by the event, they'd made colourful banners and shouted encouragement. Humbling after last weeks experience with the mother encouraging her children to "shake the Pringles can at us" as they passed us, I realised that perhaps there is hope after all (maybe you just need to move to the West of Scotland)
Ullapool next up. It seems to have less miles and more elevation gain. I'm ready for it!
