50 miles to ride and 6 weeks to get fit – can it be done?
It’s all well and good me trying to tell you that you can definitley be ready to ride 50 miles by the 27th of June when the Made of Stone ride takes place. But what would I know?
Time to call in a willing volunteer. Meet Alex, after cycling in his youth, he’s been dabling with a return to the saddle but life keeps getting in the way.
He’s going to use the Made of Stone ride as the carrot (or is it the threat of a stick!) to get him fit again and he’ll be sharing his thoughts on that process in a guest blog for us from time to time between now and June 27th. Here’s the first installment:
Saturday 8 May 2021: Is it giro day?
I’ve been invited by event organiser, Paul Rowlands, to take part in the Ride Staffs Made of Stone ride on 27 June. Paul’s actual words were “you might enjoy it and it could give you a reason to get out on the bike”, so suggesting ‘invitation’ is generous to say the least. Last year I got my bike out again for the first time in 20 years, which even included a ride of 50 miles (woo). But with the challenges of modern life and a long list of ready-prepared excuses available at each opportunity as to why not to go out for a ride, Paul’s suggestion seemed a good one.
After a ride, I never fail to be satisfied to have gone out on my bike. Even when part of me says beforehand that the wind speed (or other variable of choice) will be more favourable tomorrow. I’ve decided that this goal will do me good, and riding on scenic roads in a (slightly) different part of the world will be great. So on Saturday I committed my motivation, along with the reasonable £19.99 entry fee (you also get free pint from Lymestone Brewery), to the challenge.
Starting at the beginning
So far this year I’ve only been out on my bike about six times, the longest ride was 30 miles and was completed with a struggle. Before that I hadn’t ridden since the end of October. Made of Stone is 50 miles with 2,648 ft of climbing. This might be well within the capabilities of many a club and recreational rider, but not yet for me. I’ve got seven weeks to try and get myself in a shape sufficient to make it round – and do so without coming too close to the brink of physical or spiritual breakdown.
So the ‘training’, if I have the audacity to call it that, starts today. I’ve drunk far too much coffee this morning. It was only two strong cups but I generally avoid caffeine. Now my attempt at a sharpener – it’s raining heavily today so I thought some kind of liven-upper would be useful – has backfired. I’m on a comedown and I’ve got to wait for the shakes to dissipate and adequate control over the handlebars toreturn. Lesson learned! UCI drug testing on the day of the sportive would be a surprise, but equally it would be embarrassing to be suspected of caffeine abuse. Especially when one would be performing at speeds of 14 mph and below.
Onto the ride
By the time I get out I gamble that a flat route (it’s quite bumpy in south Shropshire) would be prudent, even though this means going out with a tailwind. If I can do nearly 30 miles today I’ll be happy enough. At least most of the uphill bits will come at the start.
I’m taking it mega steady and this means the largest three cogs in my 13-28 cassette are getting the most use with my 39 inner ring. Though the legs have felt ok for the first few miles down the lanes, the short but steep bank into the village of Pulverbatch has reawakened the energy hollow created by the caffeine explosion. It feels like the after effects of this week’s Covid jab – God bless the NHS and all her volunteers – are returning too.
I can’t go home yet though, surely?
Woah oh, we’re half way there!
Dropping down the hill into Habberley is the point of no return because there’s no way I’m riding back up that thing! Pedalling down the hill with the rain still falling, I congratulate myself on the decision to put plastic freezer bags over my feet (inside my overshoe-shod shoes – I’m not a complete idiot). For thrifty cyclists like me who don’t have Goretex over booties, the plastic bag affords warmth and general dryness when it’s raining or if it’s freezing, even if your feet might get a bit hot. I know what I’d prefer.
(Make sure the bag handles don’t visibly protrude, that’s not a good look. Re-use the bags but when worn out, don’t chuck them in a river or the sea).
Past Earl’s Hill and then the half-way point at Pontesbury, the legs are still feeling ok and I must have about 12 miles to go. The return leg’s headwind starts but luckily I’m sheltered down the lanes with some walloping big hedges so I’m not feeling the force too much. Anyway, riding on the flat in 39 x 21 isn’t an achievement that one should be excessively proud of, but I’m happy to be progressing towards home without suffering too much. Up the last little bank and mentally I’m safe, though with about two miles to do which I could walk if I had to. Wet through (except, of course, for my feet), my spirits are undampened.
Home and Dry
I’ve done 27 miles today – at a push I could have done another 5 miles. I’ve got to do twice that at the end of June and clearly the second half is where the challenge lies. A lot of work still to do but all goals have got to start somewhere.
Home and dry, I reflect that it’s the first day of the Giro today and I tune in to watch the end. Though the prologue speed was about three times faster than my average today, I console myself that not only have I gone three times as far as their race distance, I’ve also embarked on my own journey. Hemmingway said something about the greatest challenge in life being against ourselves, rather than competition with others. In the long-run Ernest, that may well be true, but who was the real winner today?
It wasn’t a man in a skinsuit, it was a man with plastic bags over his feet.
