Up at 5am. Van loaded drove up noting all the places we should have booked to stay when I realised I couldn't face the faff of camping. Had a relaxing start to the day though - once we'd arrived. I don't want to face the pre-race travel anxiety again.
It was relaxing until I went to check my tyre Pressure & all the air came out when the tubeless valve unscrewed. Then I couldn't get it to inflate until I gave it a spin. It popped off the rim in the meantime. I hurriedly blasted it up to 50psi. Thank god I brought the blast pump.
I joined the crowd of people at a random point in the field There was hunting for Helen Jackson, number 30, who had forgotten her dibber. There was a briefing I couldn't hear.
• • •
For 15 minutes I dicked about on the start line with Rich and Tom and heckled my parents and then we were jostling for position through the road junction. Most people went around me. I didn't panic except to stay in contention with the wheels to avoid being in the breeze on my own. I had a chat with a first timer seeking old timer advice, then she rode away too. I was a little concerned that I was last, coming over the final hill climb but then I saw the familiar jersey of Brian Renshaw ahead of me. I actually checked my watch for the first cut-offs and started to sprint but once I'd turned off the road I relaxed, assuming the cut-off to beat the gate. I'd never had to worry about * this one before.
Off the road, I rolled over the cattle grid and my rear rim smacked against the bars. I could see it bulging under my weight. After asking Brian what we were doing back here, I hopped off the bike to start pumping up my tyre. Lots of people, including the commissaire, offered help but no one had a decent pump so I persevered, putting in as much pressure as I could fathom (about 50psi) then set off gingerly - hardly daring to ride the rocks or jump on.
With more air in my tyres, I soon started to catch up but not until I had been heckled by 3 5ths of the Thackaray family for my traditional slow start.
I caught up to Brian & we decided that as near-OAPS we were allowed to spend 2 hours warming up. Back in my comfort zone on Simon Fell, I set about overtaking a steady stream of people and at the top, lept effortlessly over the stile. Thanks to my running training. The next bit tested my tyres enough for me to start to trust them, though they were so solid I spent quite a lot of time sliding sideways on the grass and the limestone. They didn't seem to be losing pressure and that was the main thing. I jogged over the summit to dib then interchanged between walking/chatting to Rachel Mellor and riding my bike, finally. The descents didn't seem nearly so far compared to Scotland and I hardly noticed it except for a few squeaky moments of thinking the back end was going to overtake the front end (sideways). I might have set a pb. I'd decided I probably had enough food on board for a no-stop approach so I rattled past my family at the bottom, onto the road where I ate - and rode - like a lunatic, intent on racing those time limits. I even managed to inhale food and almost cause a traffic jam at the road junction as I spluttered through.
Ian was in his usual spot. The spectators deckchairs and blankets at Chapel Le Dale looked tempting. The road up to the farm was taken at leisure for its climbing, knowing that I'd be taking a nice walk up the hillside, snacks in hand, munching away.
By the third cereal bar I was already feeling bloated an sick of cereal bars then my friend Sue Thackaray (4th 5th) appeared in amongst the hikers wielding a... no THE tin of flapjack. Sue's flapjack is the best. Tasty and the fellside-setting only compliments it.
The things I would do for Sue's flapjack. I took 2 pieces, stuffing one into my jersey pocket, pretty sure I was near the back still and there were plenty left.
She told me to keep going steady. Au contraire, I was racing like mad to meet the cut-offs and would worry about Pen Y Ghent when I got there.
I caught 2 male riders up & we compared notes. What's next, number of completions, how ride able to the summit? We moved into the cloud. Substantially wetter air that condensed on helmets, dripping.
At the fence I lifted my bike over politely scattering 3 walkers gathered for lunch then walked around to grab my bike off the guy who helpfully passed it to me with a smile saying, "there you go! Just like new".
The jolly marshalls hiding on the ley side of the wall from the Northerly wind were all smiley and jolly. I resolved to continue the descent without my coat on yet, in the hope that we'd get out of the cloud soon enough and it would get warmer with altitude.
I looked on whist fully as a hiker sheltering from the wind poured tea from a flask. All I wanted from then on was a hot drink.
• • •
I was looking forward to the descent. While I still didn't really trust my tyres, I've grown a bit of a mountain bikers brain over the last 2 years. Unfortunately I missed the good steep lines and tyres and shoes faltered on the limestone.
When I had to walk on rocks carrying my bike the outside of my right shin and the muscles on the outside of my ankle got painfully tight. A new kind of agony from insufficient hiking in cycling shoes, I guess. Oh how I wished it had been boots weather.
I ran across the tussocks + grass instead then rejoined the limestone slabs when I could, the bloke behind passing me when he got his confidence back. I still nursed the tyres down the gravel a little - I knew I needed to finish. The sight of the ambulance slowed me down on the wide track and I stopped to put my coat on as it began to rain full-on. and I moved over to let the Ambulance pass. My friend Ann B cheered me on from underneath her hood, out on a hill walk.
Embarrasingly I then had to harass the ambulance until it stopped to get out of my way before hauling across the river while I took the easy way across the footbridge. No, I have no shame and I was also slightly sorry I didn't get to watch the off-road ambulance cross the 3ft boulders in the river bed as he banged and scraped his way across. The casualty in the back must've had quite a ride!
There were so many well wishers on the run down to the viaduct it was special to get there and I chatted to the person recovering the Ambulance riders' bike. I chickened out of most of the Ribblehead drop-off and met my family who, to my disappointment, had drunk all the coffee. My hot drink would have to wait. Off I went into the weather. The legs felt relatively good. The little steep climb on the road was ridden, unlike some years where I've had to get off and walk. I had 20 minutes to do a very short section of easy road and no head-wind, maybe even a tail wind.
None of my support came past me which justified me not relying on them for my feed stops. My run vest had everything in it that I needed and I did a quick reshuffle of the right hand pocket into the left. A salted caramel cereal bar went down a treat in the absence of a pack of crisps which was what I really wanted. The snickers bar was a brilliant boost.
Horton in Ribblesdale was eerily quiet. Usually there are people lining the streets cheering but my lateness, combined with the steady drizzle meant most people had either gone or were tucked up in their homes and holiday cottages. I was kind of relieved to see the race organisation appear at the bottom of the hill, though hardly anyone noticed me as they all had their backs to me watching riders over 1 hour ahead coming down the hill.
Suddenly all the noise was back, the core body of spectators was there. "Dutch" corner where my team mates cheered, clad in Euskatel-orange jerseys. Cyclocross rider.com Cheered frenetically in my ear. Then I got off and walked THE BIG STEP, satisfied that I had still ridden quite far up the lane without my legs failing me before the big, rocky lump. I lay my bike down to remove my coat one more time, realising I was boiling in it and as wet on the inside as out. Through the fatigue I realised I could keep it in my pocket and, later, wear it over my running vest to save me taking the vest off again.
I had company on the climb as I caught up and passed tired blokes and consumed chocolate. I also had cheers with Hannah Saville, Stu Taylor, Darrell Bradbury, Rich (concerned for Tom) then Tom.
Sorry Rick, I told-on-you for being ahead.
By the time I reached the end of the rocky climb the hill cloud was in full force and we were walking in the blast of Northerly winds so I paused at a cairn (the only place with any shelter) to put my coat on before trudging up the purgatory staircase to the summit. It stopped the shivers and I hoped it might stop the cramp which was just tickling the edges of my conscious and my thighs but not quite materialising. I often suffer cramp on the way up PenY Ghent but was pleased it held off as long as it did. I often have to growl and have a word with my legs.
• • •
The guys who had been trailing me suddenly found legs on the downhills. My appetite for steep descents was sated so I walked the worst of it. I wanted to get home in 1 piece & still ride the BB 200 in 2 weeks A bothy bag deployed by MRT on the grassy bank was my first trigger to slow down. When I reached the Ambulance at the bottom of the steep rocky section, I had to ask, "are you just parked here to remind me I don't like this bit and I really should walk it". They said they were there to remind me I'm awesome-which was nice but being slow is nothing special - it's one hard ride. Training to be any good - that's the definition of awesome.
I was on the bike then for the rest of the descent though I think I might have walked the big step as my legs were shot.
As I thundered down the track I checked on a spectator rider sitting in the grass with his wheel off.
He just managed to ask if I had a spare tube before I was out of earshot. I stopped 50m later. Emptied a tube out of my tool bag and carried on "I'll get a tube to you," he said, asking my number. I told him not to worry, remembering I found a tenner in the park 6 weeks ago. I told him to pay it forward one day. He insisted but rather than give him my race number (hidden under my jerseys I gave him number 30 instead. I knew Something was wrong with that but couldn't think what! I later had to message Helen Jackson on facebook and tell her some stranger would probably message her offering to post her an inner tube.
There were still a few people coming up hill for a while but eventually they stopped. I was disappointed that the woman I had been with on the road ride out did not seem to have made it, unless she'd been on the summit loop just behind me.
The joy of descending Pen Y Ghent lane with a clear line makes it almost worth being at the back. The only people to dodge are the straggling supporters making their way off the hill and they'll cheer for you and get out of your way.
• • •
I rounded the corner to the final drop to find my dad, wheels in hand, heading up the Lane "just in case". I tapped him on the arm as I passed then dropped down to where TSK, mum and Po, Sinead and Nicky were all cheering while bemused ramblers learned my name, shouted across the road by my support... and they wonder where I get my loud mouth from?
The hard bit was yet to come.
TSK followed me in on his bike which meant he got to witness the glory of my final mile cramps. I thought I'd got away with it as the flat road sections did not seem to bother me. Then I suddenly realised that my drinking tube, compressed under my coat, had been gradually weeing on my left leg all the way down the hill and my legs and shorts pad were soaked.
I lost the end off the tube trying to stop the leak and just emptied the water all over the road which was better than down my quads.
As soon as I hit the road climb the familiar cramp kicked in but I have known it worse and despite the yowling, slapping, growling and free-wheeling half way up a climb, I made it to the top and the fun descent to the finish line. The happy tone of a race marshal whistle to let people know a rider is coming home.
All day people had been telling me I was "still smiling "still doing it". I was honest with myself. I knew it wouldn't be a fast year, I just wanted to get around. My "training has had to be more about fixing the bike up and resting enough than actually riding my bike so I was relying on residual strength and endurance from the long stuff I've been doing.
With every peak ticked off, every trickle of hope I'd make the cut offs and every positive experience (not getting cramp at all climbing Penny Ghent was a huge win), I felt pleased that I could drag my body out of the fat and lazy shell it crawled into during Covid and menopause and actually make it do crazy things again and not feel too bad afterwards.
I kept my "run" of 3 Peaks races in tact - another one to chalk up on the "done" board. Despite the lack of glorious scenery, I just had the' best' time, out in nature with mates. It was a year that I needed mother nature to smile on me, not slow me down and she did and for that I am truly grateful. Cyclocross is here and I'm looking forward to the rest of the season.
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| (c) Laura and Gary Jackson |
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