London Cycle Revolution? I Hope So!

As I sit here watching a full evening's worth of cycling themed programmes on BBC4, having returned from a bicycle maintenance class in one of the London bike shops, and ridden on a "cycling superhighway" to get home, I realise that things could be picking up for cycling in London.

Is cycling really growing in popularity and in the conscience of the everyday Londoner, or is it just something us cycling folks would like to believe? Some type of optical illusion?
Who knows.

London now has a cycling specific cafe, Look Mum No Hands. Good old Bojo, our Mayor has launched two cycling Superhighways that are meant to make cycling from the suburbs into central London safer for cyclists. We've even got a cycle hire scheme (like what you get in Paris or Barcelona), which will be launched this Friday. Apparently over 3,000 people have already registered to use the scheme.

This all sounds very good, and a great advert to the rest of the world that London is making inroads to becoming a bicycle friendly city.
I suppose the fact that people from all sections of society have been paying a little attention to the world's most famous bike race, the Tour de France, makes July an apt time to launch all things cycling related, and uptake is always going to be better during the summer months.

I hope that the people marketing these schemes have properly thought the whole process through. The music will eventually stop and suddenly there won't be enough chairs (or bicycles) for everyone.

The cycling superhighways will no longer be sporting the lovely luminous blue that makes the motorists give cyclists more room - there may be a few vehicles too many parked in the cycle lane - people out on a Barclays Hire Bike may get lost, have nowhere to redeposit their bike after use and get overcharged. Such are the potential hazards and teething problems when significant changes are made in cycling.
I'm not against these changes at all. I am very pleased to see that Boris Johnson and Transport for London are doing their bit to improve cycling facilities in London. I just hope that they will follow their plans through thick and thin. No one ever said the road to success would be smooth.

The Hurting

Isn't it a mad world when crowds of people gather along a steep hill to watch us suffer on a slopy bit of road with a horrendous gradient. We are probably madder for signing up to these challenges.

Entering the start gantry arms a-quaking, legs a-wobbling, adrenaline rising, I realise that in a few moments I should explode out of the blocks and tackle The Beast (aka Swains Lane). The time is now! I can't get out of it. OK, I'll put my hands up and say I did the crime. I had the strange moment of excitement and I signed a form to do the race, and took myself off to Highgate yesterday evening. So, I'm on the start line doing the time. Yes, I am the prisoner - I'm held in place, unable to move. I'm trapped in a wobbly body on an overweight bike about to try and defeat gravity and get up the hill! If only I could get out of this "contraption" - I can't walk away, as I'm all set with my number on. I can't get going either - must wait for the countdown. I so just want to release the tension in my body and stop the shaking. Shout, shout let it all out!

The countdown begins - 30 seconds and my breathing's getting shorter - 15 seconds, body's getting more tense - 5,4,3,2,1 and I'm released - I break out ready to tear on up the road. Trying to find the right gear - or at least the gear I'd run through in my pre-race strategy. Oh well, I press on, using my energy but not feeling like I'm going anywhere. Is this the start of the breakdown?

A few metres in, I remember what I'm supposed to do and begin to focus. The first 100m seem long, and drawn out. A few people shout words of encouragement. Then, just as I'm getting used to the gradient, another "step up" appears in the road and the high wall of the cemetery becomes visible at the side of the road - the net is closing in on me! There's no way out of this! The road is getting steeper, the crowds are getting thicker. People cheer, but I can't make out what they're saying. I'm just hurting, I think I will burst, or faint or both. Have the people come to watch me bleed? Oh God, how do I get out of this? Pedalling is the only answer - and hard, if I don't want to fall head over heels! I focus as much as my body will allow me, and pump the pedals with what limited energy I have left.

The finish line comes into view, but it's still so far away. Someone shouts "sprint for the line." I feel sick, I try, but I just crawl to the chequered flag and turn right into the side street. All flaked out, I throw myself off the bike and sit at the side of the road. My legs have buckled and I can't walk anywhere for several minutes. I see other riders finish in a similar state. We are broken!

So that was my hill climb - 2mins 40s up Swains Lane, and alot of pain! But hey, I did it. Memories fade, and I will probably do something like this again!


Photo by John Mullineaux, London Cyclesport

[I couldn't help make references to that 80s band, Tears for Fears - it seemed apt at the time!]

A Sucker for Punishment!

I don't know what's gotten into me this year. I keep complicating matters for myself by signing up for different cycle challenges. It's true that I like to do cyclosportives or challenge rides of 200km. Those type of events are as much about discovering new scenic places to cycle and meeting new folks as they are about the mission of the ride itself. In any case, I have got to the stage where I know what to do in order to get through a 100mile hilly bike, and I have confidence in my ability to complete such events. (Of course the time I take is a different matter!)

This year I have hardly done any of the usual cyclosportives. Instead I have found myself signing up for tough challenges - the Fred Whitton, the Paris-Roubaix. These are the sort of challenges where you really don't know if you'll make it through.

Signing up to ride the Paris-Roubaix had made me quite nervous. I felt very anxious in the days leading up to the race, and was quite worried about what effect the cobbles would have on me and my bike. At times the feeling of going out of my comfort zone was overwhelming, to the point that the mere thought of battling through the event had my heart skipping a beat.

I'd had very similar feelings in the run-up to riding a cyclosportive event abroad for the first time about 8 years ago. The fact that I eventually made it through the race should have given me the confidence to know that I would be able to make it through this new challenge. But my mind was up to its old tricks and I didn't feel as if I'd be up to the job at all.
The smile on my face when I finally crossed the finish line at the Velodrome de Roubaix said it all, and I was elated to have accomplished this feat.

So, as if all that was not enough for me for one year, I now find myself once again faced with a challenge - two in fact.

Firstly, I've got a hill climb to do this Thursday. A hill climb taking place within striking distance of central London is completely unprecendented and sounds too cool an event to miss out on. So I signed up to do it - the Rollapaluza Urban Hill Climb. Slight snag is that I must winch me and my bike up a 13% gradient for about 950m and endure stretches that reach 20%! I am not the best racer, and with a hill thrown in that complicates things even more!
Five minutes of pain and humiliation ?? Of course I'll survive it, but it will be very uncomfortable!

Secondly, I'm down to do The Three Peaks Cyclo Cross challenge. Now this goes off the scale in the cycling self harm stakes! Thirty eight miles of off road riding is not too bad. It's a different story when it involves riding up and down the 3 highest peaks in the Yorkshire Dales. Actually, riding will not be the verb! The story goes that no one rides up them. The first climb involves scaling up the side of a mountain, bike slung over shoulder, gripping tufts of grass for leverage. It's impossible to wheel the bike along, especially when considering that riders go up the peak in a procession and to know who's in the line you look above your head or between your feet! The descents are rocky and treacherous, and have people and their bikes reduced to bits.

So, you've guessed it I've signed up for this challenge. While I do take part in cyclo cross events, this event is a completely different kettle of fish. Rather than the usual hour-long frenzy over grass and muddy trails usually with a small hillock, this will be around 5 hours of all types of terrain that can be thrown at the rider in mountains! The stakes are high in this one. I may not finish. I may finish but with a broken bike, or with broken bones, teeth and skin. I may be lucky and get round, having had a thoroughly miserable time carrying my bike up and down the "ultimate assault course"!
I don't know what possessed me to sign the dotted line and send in my cheque to commit to this event. Now that I am over the initial shock of seeing my name on the start list, I am ready to take on the challenge and punish myself in order to get through it.
I have yet to know the real answer as to why I keep on putting myself forward for these crazy challenges. Maybe I just like pain!

Another Pleasurable Sunday

As the anti-dote to thrashing around on my road bike I went for a leisurely off-road ride with the guys from my second claim cycling club.
It wasn't exactly that leisurely as there were a few stiff climbs on the trails around Banstead and Epsom, but what I like about the off road rides is that because I'm no good at the rough stuff I do it with no expectation in mind. That in itself is a nice place to be when riding.


This was also a nice place to be - the lavender fields just outside Banstead. Loads of people were out picking them for their therapeutic and homeopathic needs. We were quite content to stop and marvel at the beauty of it all.

We pressed on with our loop to Epsom, Ashstead and then Reigate where a well deserved flap jack was waiting for me at the top of Colleys Hill.

So, a leisure bike ride on two Sundays on the trot. People will start to think I'm slacker!

I actually raced on both weekends but have no results to show for it as technical hitches gave me a dnf and a big fat zero on the score sheet. I look forward to doing more leisure bike rides. I hope that one of these days I can also finish a race!

Taking it Easy

Today was a leisure day in the saddle. I enjoy days like these. There's no pressure to ride to a particular pace or ride in a chain gang. You just ride along and enjoy your surroundings. A sunny summer's day on a Sunday is one of the best times to do this.
So a group of us from the cycling club did a social ride out to Knole House, Sevenoaks from Crystal Palace. The route went along a few of our regular lanes to Keston and Cudham, down Brasted Hill, and across to Sevenoaks via Ide Hill and Stubbs Wood.

By the time we reached Knole House we'd done almost 30 miles so were ready for scones and tea in the pleasant tea room gardens. The deer with their baby "Bambis" were happy to see us too! They are much friendlier than the ones in Richmond Park, as they are quite happy for people to go up to them and say hello!

After our little stop we made our way back to London - some, keen to get in their miles rode back, while the rest of us took the train. This was the first of our women's social rides and we wanted to make it do-able by all. Overall, people were glad to have tried out a few new parts of Kent, and also to have challenged themselves a little on the hills.
I was glad to have found another place to do a pleasant cafe stop!

Crash!!

I'm not sure what's going on, but there seem to be alot of crashes happening in the road races these days.
It's a given that road racing carries an inherent risk of crashing . In fact there are certain races like the 4th cat races at Hillingdon or Goodwood where no crash occurring is quite newsworthy!
What is of great concern is the number of crashes that have been happening at places which had been hitherto considered as relatively "crash-free" zones.

Tuesday nights people could choose between Hillingdon or Crystal Palace. Apparently Crystal Palace was favoured by the experienced racers because the technical nature of the course meant there were hardly any crashes, since the standard of bunch riding and cornering was very good. This year that hasn't been the case though. Practically every week the first aid man and marshalls have been kept busy picking people off the ground after crashes. A couple of weeks ago there were so many "offs". I stopped counting after the fourth one! Generally, people end up with a bad case of road rash and a slightly dented bike.
But this year we've seen a few broken bones - and we've still got half the series to go. For the first time ever we had a nasty crash in the women's race too. Sadly the casualty ended up with a triple fractured collar bone.

Even the women's national championships last week were halted for an hour after a pile-up involving 12 riders. Yes, a few of the local girls have had prolonged absences from racing due to significant injuries from bike racing. That's been the downside to the growth in local women's cycling this year.

Furthermore, crashes have not been just confined to road racing. A couple of pile-ups at the track league in Herne Hill Velodrome this season have resulted in riders being left with nasty injuries and no functioning bike. This business is getting very risky and for some, quite costly. Accidents don't just lead to expensive bicycle repair bills, but in some cases, lost earnings from sick notes.

It looks like the growing popularity of cycling racing is resulting in all and sundry taking part. Some folks don't having the required bike handling skills but think they are Lance Armstrong anyway!
Maybe British Cycling also has a part to play in setting up bicycle training programmes - not just training cyclists to commute on the roads safely, but also for those who want to bunch race safely. The drive to get everyone racing is an accident waiting to happen - hell, the accidents are already happening! So how many more accidents are there to be before more is done to upskill would-be road racers? This is definitely an aspect of cycling that needs reviewing.

Surviving the Cobbles - Final Part

SPOILING THE FLOW

Pressing on through the countryside we passed through a series of more straight forward sections of cobbles. Fortunately, they were not too wet so there was no inherent hazard of riding the stretches - or at least no more than I'd hitherto experienced. 

What was becoming more evident though was the pain from riding cobbles. My arms weren't aching so much, as I had definitely found that taking the cobbles at speed was the way to experience the least amount of juddering - that technique had paid off. Also having gel bartape and foam on my handlebars certainly helped. 

However, I was finding that because of the number of riders on the stretches and strangely enough, a number of naughty drivers who had chosen to take their support cars onto these roads, there was a bit of congestion and I was unable to ride the cobbles as quickly as I wanted. I had to take things down a gear as I found myself at the back of a group of guys who in turn were caught up behind a car or van. 

This low speed meant I was shaken around a lot more, and I also found it more tricky controlling the bike. A few cyclists vented their frustrations on the drivers and angry words were exchanged. Nothing like a cyclist/motorist altercation to remind me of home! 

 

PAIN IN THE PEVELES 

As we did more and more cobbled sections my fingers hurt as they were getting the brunt of the shaking, given that they were only loosely hanging on my handlebars. Then, as if that irritation wasn't enough we got caught in another shower. The guys in my group soldiered on in the rain, whereas I stopped under a tree to put on my jacket, hoping that the rain would stop shortly. It was also a pretext to give my fingers and my bones a bit of respite. Everything in your body shakes so much, including any spare flab on your arms and legs, and your breasts if your bra isn't tight enough! 

Thankfully the rain didn't last long, and the sun came out again. Sadly, the sun was not able to dry off the ground in time for us reaching what I felt to be the worst section of the day - Mons-en-Pévèle. This section was not quite as brutal as the Arenberg section, but it was challenging enough on my nerves. The cobbles were again higgledy piggledy with holes at irregular intervals. Of course the holes were full of water so it was anyone's guess how the bike would land when you went over them. The road also irregularly changed camber so there was the added risk of the bike sliding around in the damp conditions. 

Normally, riders could have ridden on the dirt track verge. However, because this was riddled with pot-holes it became risky using these so we had no choice but to brave this section that was like a mini obstacle course. Added to the mix, was how to get around slower riders, or stay out of the way of a falling rider - of which there were quite a few. I attempted to overtake one man, and failed dismally when, to my misfortune, and to other people's amusement I careered out of control towards the ditch. Although I'd managed to rescue myself from a crash, it was still an embarrassing lesson in how not to overtake people. So I spent the remainder of the ride, learning to sit behind people patiently with my body being bounced to smithereens! 

The 3km stretch of Mons-en-Pévèle, at this stage of the ride was too long for me to take on in one hit. So half way along the road I dismounted to gain my composure and destress before continuing the rest of the section. Were the guys suffering as much as me, or were they just grinning and bearing it? It felt like I was the only person in pain. Some of the Dutch guys riding this section rode side by side and chatted as though they were on a leisurely afternoon club run! Were they actually human?? 

LAZY BONES!

Finally, to enormous relief I came out of the other end unscathed! At the Pont Thibaut cobbles I took time out to take a few pictures. 

An old man who lived at the side of the road came out to watch the riders. "Oh yes, of course Paris Roubaix," he said. It seemed like he hadn't realised it was on. "I rode this about 30 years ago. It was a great ride. Back then, we didn't have the crowds that you have now. The organisers were crying out for entrants. I thought I'd have a go, and it took me 7 hours. I was a rare breed from the region because many of my cycling buddies didn't want to do it. They thought I was mad! I bet people think you must be mad doing it. You don't get many women riding this you know. You're doing really well!" 

I guess he made that last statement because he was thinking I was one of these racers who was really focused, on my drop handlebars, in racing mode. If only he knew about my 2 hours of stoppage time and my extended tea breaks! As I was taking pics he looked at me anxiously and asked, "Are you sure you should be doing that? The cut off must be in about an hour's time." 

"No, they close the finish line checkpoint at around 8.30pm" I replied. "Gosh, they're very generous nowadays aren't they? In my day we had almost 300km to do. We started at around 9am and we had to be finished by 5pm. We hardly had any feed stations. You guys are spoiled! Well, good luck to you young lady." Onwards I continued, thinking what a lazy bones I'd been, only doing 173km and even stopping and taking photos and having tea breaks along the way. 

THAT COMING HOME FEELING! 

The next significant section was the Carrefour de L'Arbre, which was in fact three sections of cobbles in rapid succession, that made up almost 5km of bumps. The last section was very straight and all the crowds could be seen in the distance during the last kilometre. This was the time to look like you were enjoying it, you were fresh and energetic, and in control of your bike. Not! I was all over the shop, tired and bedraggled. And d'you know what? I was past caring. I was on the edge of my limits, and just focused on holding everything together at the lowest common denominator. Appearances were the last thing on my mind! 

For the last set of cobbles in Hem, and the run back in to Roubaix there was a group of guys that I tagged onto. It was just a case of following their wheel, road race style all the way back into Roubaix. Once at the entrance into the Velodrome there were lots of folks cheering us on. 

It felt quite emotional finally realising I'd made it through the 173km that I started at 7 o'clock that morning. I felt like Fabian Cancellara, Tom Boonen and Thor Hushovd all at the same time! It was a great feeling. Even one of the officials from Velo Club de Roubaix who I'd chatted to the previous day recognised me and came up to congratulate me at the finish. What an honour! What a day! 

I'm not really one for souvenirs, but I made a point of picking up my commemorative Paris Roubaix cobblestone, which now sits proudly on the shelf at home. I was just so glad to have survived the cobbles, and in proper "classics" conditions. At the end of the ride me and my bike were a muddy mess. I was glad my hotel was only a few minutes away. Will I come back and do the full 255km? Probably, but give me a few years to recover first!