PGT Day 23 - The Virtual Champs Elysee.

It was wonderful to wake up with sun brightly lighting our bedroom even through the curtains. After a disturbed Friday night a lie in would have been welcome, but my mind and body woke decisively at just after 6, so getting up and getting out on the bike in the early morning sunshine for the final stage of the People's Grand Tour was a desirable alternative.

My route choice was the Boscobel Loop, one of my favourite 2 hour routes. The sun was a welcome companion throughout the ride, and as it rose so too did the temperature meaning I was able to shed my gillet and arm warmers well before the half way point. The bird song was magnificent, and my day was already made when I spotted a hare, one of my favourite animals, running in a field adjacent to the Patshull Park estate. At that stage I seemed to be riding directly beneath a divide between two different cloudscapes, wispy Cirrus to the West and towering, white Cumulus to the East, one of which was anvil shaped and could easily have been drawn by Roger Dean for a Yes album cover.

I eventually arrived home a little late than planned having stopped to chat to a three cycling buddies I passed during the last 10km. There were many cyclists out this morning so I suppose it was inevitable I'd see a few that I know, and it's better to stop and chat at the end of a ride rather than having the early rhythm disturbed.
And that was that, People's Grand Tour II of 2012 was over. Statistics don't tell the real story of this tour for me, which was simply that it felt easier and more enjoyable than the previous edition, something I delightedly take as confirmation that I'm pretty much fully recovered from my surgery in January. It was disappointing that Finn was unable to ride more of it with me, but his irritating cough that keeps appearing and disappearing was certainly made worse by cycling and his withdrawal was unfortunate but necessary.

Congratulations to everybody that rode this edition, especially if you got out in some of the less desirable cycling weather, and many thanks as ever to Lionel for organising the event.

Final day data

Final Stats Tally

Number of days ridden: 23

Number of kilometres covered: 959.1

Time in the saddle: 38 hrs 11 minutes 

Metres climbed: 9637

Longest single ride in distance: 83km

Longest single ride in time: 3hrs 29 minutes

PGT Days 21 & 22 - Escape From Aberystwyth

There's no other way of putting it really - the weather for the final work day stage of the second People's Grand Tour of 2012 was absolutely vile! With strong winds, continual heavy rain and noticeable wind chill this was always destined to be a functional, "do what I need to do then stop" ride, indeed if it hadn't been for my participation in the PGT I would not have ridden. The honour of route today fell to my hour commute which I now call the "Hammer Hedge Loop", named after the delightful piece of rudimentary topiary pictured right. It's actually not a hedge at all, although it is strikingly shaped like a giant lump hammer, but two trees that form a natural gateway into the garden of the cottage. Trouble is Hammer Tree doesn't have the ring to it that "Hammer Hedge" does, and it certainly doesn't invoke an Izzy Stradlin (former/ original Guns and Roses member) song with a similar sounding name - Hammerhead . What is for sure is that when I arrived at the Hammer Hedge yesterday I had spent most of the ride grinding slowly up shallow gradients into a block or slightly off kilter headwind. In such conditions I always spend a lot of time spinning smaller gears as this at leaves gives the feeling of something in my man and machine combination moving freely. Pushing a big gear into a stiff wind is psychologically soul destroying!

After a brief check in at work I headed home and within an hour of arriving there was in the car with Paula, Romie and Finn heading to Aberystwyth. We had originally planned to camp with some relatives and friends from Thursday to Sunday at the wonderful Fforest Fields camp site near to Builth Wells, but a dreadful weather forecast caused discretion to become the better part of valour and we cancelled. Instead we booked a single night at the Plas Dolau Hostel 2 or 3 miles outside of Aberystwyth. A fabulous, sprawling house with great facilities, everybody took to the place instantly in spite of the incessant rain. A huge tea was enjoyed by all before 6 children (aged between 12 and 15) pulled an "up all nighter" and managed to drag 3 of the 6 adults "down" with them. Whilst I was one of the three grown ups who did sleep, it was a light and broken sleep and the journey home this afternoon was punctuated by frequent application of methods to keep me wide awake. Between sleep and the sleepy drive home however came the drama of genuine flooding. At 6.30 am I walked down the drive with the children to find that the river, at least 250 metres away from the estate entrance usually, was now several metres inside the front gate. Furthermore the quiet morning was frequently punctuated by the wail of sirens as the emergency services rushed to the rescue of stranded campers, caravanners and home owners. At around 11am we drove out of Plas Dolau with water cill deep in places, but managed to get out safely, then sent a few minutes watching a local farmer tow less fortunate vehicles and their drivers out of the flood on the A44. That said, in spite of the sirens and traffic problems and being in the midst of this melee, I think we got a bigger sense of the scale of the day's events from the TV and radio news at, and on the way, home.

We negotiated many new fords and witnessed many waterfalls on our way home, but we made it safely and in time for me to get my PGT day 22 ride in. Initially I didn't think that I'd be able to ride all 23 days of this edition due to our camping plans, and even after they were altered there was the possibility that I would be unable to ride today, but with so much tiredness in the camp, exacerbated by the come down from adrenalin inducing flood adventures, an early departure was requested. So lunch on Aberystwyth Promenade (in front of the magnificent University building), we headed home. After unpacking, tidying etc I still had plenty of time to do the reverse ride of yesterday's Hammer Hedge Loop (on dry roads to boot), get home, pack the family to bed en masses, write this blog, watch the end of Germany vs Portugal and finally check out the recording of this afternoon's stage of the Dauphine. Phew. Virtual Champs tomorrow, probably a morning ride before the rain returns, but I won't be setting an alarm clock so if I sleep in and ride late then I'll probably be glad.

Day 21
Day 22

PGT Day 20 - Riding My Own Wheel

Towards the end of my last ride yesterday afternoon, an hour or so after cycling through "the deluge", I began to notice a metallic sound coming from the front end of the bike. Having stopped and adjusted mudguards, checked for broken spokes and ruled out anything else being loose I concluded that the noise was under-lubed bearings "popping" over one another in my Mirage hub. A quick consultation with Steve Williams at Fred's confirmed that this was indeed the diagnosis, and that although the situation might rectify itself as the hub dries out it would probably need re-greasing and may simply be knackered. Fortunately I had a solution at hand, a beautiful and brand new Mirage hub set in the centre of 32 spokes and an Open Pro rim, a shiny new wheel that I had built myself last year. After spinning the old wheel this morning to confirm that the waterlogged hub was still rattling, I fitted some new, cloth rim tape to my wheel and switched the tyre and tube from the old.

Half an hour later I was dressed and rolling out onto an out and back commute (medium size again - this is the tail end of a Grand Tour you know), looking down at the wheel and feeling a little tentative about it. Initial nerves (aka lack of faith in my own handiwork) dissipated very quickly and I was soon far more concerned with the rain, wind and soaking wet roads than any non existent wheel issues. In fact it wasn't until I'd been at work for a few minutes that I suddenly welled with pride and considered that I'd just ridden on a wheel I built myself.

Neither workward or homeward journeys were particularly pleasant, it being the kind of day you might not ride under normal circumstances, but the People's Grand Tour generates the drive to say "sod the weather, let's rock 'n' roll". In fact I might even thank the weather if I manage to ride all 23 days of this PGT as I would have been unable to do that had we not decided to cancel a Mid Welsh camping trip booked from today until Sunday due to the awful forecast. An overnight stay in an Aberystwyth bunk house tomorrow night could still scupper me on Saturday, but with the virtual Champs Elysee in sight I shall strain every sinew to get a one hour ride in on that day. Watch this space.

Ride data

PGT Day 19 - Doctor, Dentist and Deluge.

Another surprisingly dry and bright start to the day afforded me the opportunity to continue riding my clean and shiny FP7 rather than my mudguard equipped Angliru which I expected to use for today and the next few as the wet, stormy weather squatted resolutely in our summer. As planned I rode my routine medium size commute to work, opening post and briefly lingering over email in the office before heading home to shower, change and head for an appointment at New Cross Hospital. There, at the appointed hour (or an hour after the appointed hour), I was to consult with my surgeon, Miss Soulsby, for the first time since she discharged me from Ward D2 in January, six days after removing a tumour from my bowel. It's a strange relationship that one has with a surgeon. For most people having somebody carry out a life saving procedure on us is a very rare occurrence and leaves us with a debt that we can neither repay nor fully express our feelings about. Yet the skilled surgeon carries out many such procedures, and has that relationship with, and holds that debt from, many people. It's easy to see how a God complex could develop, but Miss Soulsby retains a calm and gentle manner and is free of obvious ego, talking easily and freely - even whilst examining me in the most, ahem, intimate areas.

I'm delighted to report that she is entirely happy with my recovery, and after detailing the monitoring plan to which I will be subject for the next five or so years, and despatching me to provide a couple of vials of blood, I was heading home and into a rain belt. Once there I re-clad myself in Lycra, decided that the rain wouldn't amount to much, and jumped onto the Angliru to head to Stourbridge for a six monthly dental check-up and visit with the Hygienist.

For the first few kilometres of the journey the rain increased slightly in heaviness until, somewhere around Kingswinford, the heavenly sluice gates were cast open and spewed forth a deluge of water. Suddenly the edges of the roads were fringed with unavoidable, metre wide streams. Sheets of water careered down off house roofs, overshooting gutters and adding to the roadside rivers. Within a few minutes every item of my clothing was thoroughly waterlogged and water sloshed around in my shoes. And yet my face was cast in an inane grin - there comes a point when you're so wet it doesn't matter anymore and then I usually find myself heading into the puddles (today they simply couldn't be avoided anyway), splashing through the water like a big, happy kid. Today both air and water were warm too, which just served to make the sensation of getting drenched all the more pleasant. I just hope that the water was largely clean as I deposited a puddle of the stuff on both dental chairs that I sat in!

My teeth, mouth, tongue and jaw all received a clean bill of health which, combined with my positive consultation at the hospital earlier, let me with a lovely feeling of well being. I stepped out on to the Lower High Street in Stourbridge as the sun broke through the clouds. The rain had stopped a few minutes earlier and the roads were already drying in the warm air and light wind, leaving me to enjoy a relaxing ride home through the urban borderlands of the Black Country. En route I considered the health related events of the past few months and set them against the realisation that I had been blessed with positive outcomes. It's been three or four months since my first tentative post operative bike ride, but today I rode my bikes with that old feeling that I could happily twiddle along for hours on end and without ill effect when I stop. In short I felt that I was back to how I was before the symptoms of Bowel Cancer first started to affect me.

Then I counted my many blessings, thanked God and made a large mug of coffee.

"What a long strange trip it's been"  

Ride data

PGT Day 18 - Yadretsey But In Reverse

It was a relief waking up to dry and reasonably bright conditions this morning. The last forecasts that I'd seen had suggested much rain was incoming, so I expected damp riding conditions today, but as is the way of the weatherpeople, that prediction had been revised to the expectation of just a wet afternoon. So after a hasty re-arrangement of plans I was out on the FP7, riding on dry roads, in cool (but not too cool) air, the ideal conditions only disturbed by a fairly robust southerly wind.

A late night last night at the Kinver Jubilee Beacon lighting had no effect on my pedal turning, although 200m of climbing in the first five or six km ridden did, and I felt pretty good as I rode the same route that I'd thoroughly enjoyed yesterday, albeit in reverse. My perception was that riding this in an anti-clockwise direction would be harder than the doing it the opposite way, but in fact with nearly half of the climbing out of the way in the first 20 minutes or so it probably isn't, although my speed on some of the long, shallow descents in the middle of the ride was definitely hampered by that southerly blowing into my face. The bottom line is that it's an enjoyable little 90 minute loop no matter which direction it's ridden in, and one I'll do again.

Ride Data

PGT Day 17 - Riding Hills and Lighting A Beacon.

After the blustery deluge of "Jubilee Day" yesterday it was good to wake up to bright skies and drying roads as well as lighter wind. A flat battery on Paula's car caused a re-shuffling of the day's itinerary and meant I could ride in the morning today rather than in the afternoon. After a great sleep and some decent food last night my legs and lungs felt much better today, so much so that towards the end of a tentative anti clockwise loop I decided to tack on a bit more and use all of the available 90 minutes. Not only that but I headed for hillier "add on roads", a sure sign that I'm feeling good in both body AND mind. The air was cool but the arm warmers and gillet combo proved just right after the usual initial chilliness, and the sun dodged in and out of the thick cloudscape that filled the sky throughout the spin. When it did appear though the warming effect was very noticeable.

The roads were dotted with pockets of loose gravel deposited by the storm water yesterday, and plenty of large verge-side puddles stood testimony to the amount of water that fell from the skies. I passed through the villages of Claverley, Worfield and Pattingham and they felt less bunting strewn and "Jubileefied" than they had. Perhaps the wind had blown the decorations away, or maybe the lady I saw removing the string of "flamme Union Jack" from the front of her house was one of the last so to do. Either way today felt like the quiet and hungover day after something big, with quite roads, villages and towns. To finish my ride I cut cross country up Springhill Lane, across Penn Common and onto the fast and hugely enjoyable descent of "Sedgley Bonk" back into Wombourne. 40 wonderful kilometres of riding then straight into the kitchen to knock up asparagus rissotto for the gang, to be timed perfectly and punctually for Paula to eat on her lunch break from work - mission accomplished.

In truth the Jubilee celebrations have largely passed me by, stirring little interest although I saw enough of the appalling BBC coverage of the Thames flotilla to be glad to have missed it! It's not that I'm a rampant Republican, I'm just utterly ambivalent about the Monarchy. Tonight, however, I will make my only concession to the weekend festivities by visiting Kinver Edge for the lighting of one of the 4000 plus beacons, there's something rather satisfyingly primal about a form of communication as simple as lighting bonfires on hilltops - that's a real tradition and one I can truly love.

Ride data

PGT Days 13 to 16 - Real Peloton to Real Gone Summer

Another catch up blog, four days of People's Grand Touring to report on, so here goes;

PGT Day 13 started early, 4.30am, with a quick bite of breakfast before heading out of the door at 5am bound for Greenwich Park in London. It didn't come as a great shock to me that driving the last twenty miles took me 15 minutes longer than the first hundred and twenty had, but I still passed through Blackheath Gate over an ahead of the meeting time. The purpose of my journey was to join old friends and new acquaintances on the third annual Team Real Peloton bike ride, an event first started in 2010 when Ned Boulting and Matt Rendell invited listeners to their irreverent cycling podcast, Real Peloton, to join them on the Devon Tour Ride, a 110 miles bicycle odyssey through the rolling hilly southwest. That event started on a rainy September morning under heavy, grey skies and the wet roads took their toll when Joad, one of our number of around 20 hardy souls, crashed en route to the start line and had to retire. After numerous mishaps and adventures we finished in a warm, dry - if not exactly sunny - Teignmouth.

As most roadies know, friendships forged on the road prevail and so it was that on June 16th 2011 we assembled for the second annual Team Real Peloton Ride. The plan was to ride much of the Olympic Road Race course, especially including Box Hill, and thereafter to take in the final round of the Tour Series in Canary Wharf. That plan didn't include apocalyptic rainfall sufficient to submerging the car park in Richmond Park and to leave us wondering whether to ride or go and build an Ark. But ride we did, a few new faces mingling with a few Devon vets, and great fun we had - I can still laugh out loud when recalling the vile verbal abuse that Mr Rendell suffered from the puffy chops of an XXXL Anne Summers rep in Dorking.

And so we come to the 31st May 2012. Conspiracies of circumstance meant that we were merely 6 today. Matt was sadly unavailable (happily for him though as he was in Italy) and I can only assume that a lack of Real Peloton podcasts in 2012 had caused a dwindling of interest in Team Real Peloton. Hence our third annual ride began with just four vets - myself, Luke McLaughlin (ITV webmaster and everyday commuting cyclist) Ned and Jim Clayton (once the subject of much abuse from Boulting and Rendell for briefly pulling out of the 2010 Tour Ride team) - and 2 new "members", Ian Cleverly of Rouleur and Chris Alfreds from IG Markets. With Ian and Luke as two legged sat navs we negotiated our way out of Greenwich Park and into the Kent countryside in almost perfect cycling weather, warm, dry and a a little overcast. I can easily understand the "Garden of England" tag that the county has, it's beautiful and some of the roads are a joy. Finding fresh new tarmac on lanes where two cars struggle to pass each other was a delightful surprise, and the bunting clad villages of middle England felt a world away from the nearby metropolis. As expected the company was wonderful and relaxed, and when Ned, Jim and I arrived back at Blackheath Gate neither my mind NOR my legs felt like we'd ridden four hours and fifty miles - my first 50 in one go post bowel cancer. This I took as a sign of great enjoyment and (finally) a welcome return to full cycling fitness. Most shocking of all was that we experienced not one drop of rain or inclement weather on the entire journey, meaning that Matt Rendell, Jon Stump or one of the other two time RP riders is our Albatross killer!

After a welcome freshen up at Ned's we headed to Canary Wharf for the Tour Series race where this time Jim took control of navigation duties through the shiny shopping centre and glassy gorges they call streets. Although we had seen little sun during our earlier ride Chris was sporting some impressively red arms, and when he's had enough of working for IG Markets he can probably carve out a top level career in the World Speed Sun Burning League. Below is the elevation profile of our ride which looks ego satisfyingly like a Grand Tour mountain stage.

Thanks Jim, Ned, Luke, Chris and Ian for a lovely day out.

I thought that PGT Day 14 would be a toughie, but in fact I felt great throughout Friday 1st of June with my lungs and legs feeling superb. Sadly I wasn't able to repeat the mileage of yesterday but I still had a joyous day of litle local loops (including the obligatory Club Day trip to Fred's where I got a new team tee shirt).

PGT Day 15 was as awful as day's 13 and 14 were great. I read an interview with Ryan Giggs a few months ago in which he said how he could feel a deterioration in performance at training if he put butter on his toast. For the past few weeks I've been noticing clear links between what I eat on one day and how I feel cycling on the next. We are, after all, what we eat. In my case what I eat too much of is sweet things. So on the evening of Friday June 1st I succumbed to too much cake and sweets (sweet liquorice stuffed with Flake like chocolate - how can one resist?) at a nephew's 21st Birthday tea, then to too much junky snacky foods at a friend's sixtieth birthday party. On the morning of Saturday June 2nd I headed over to my sister's house in Wollaston (route detailed here in my PGT 1 day 5 blog post) to drop off my Oyster card (she's snagged tickets to the Jubilee Concert at Buck Pal) and, to be blunt, felt crap. The return journey was better, the wind was behind me for one thing, but I never once felt great and my breathing was awful going from fine to breathless in record times again and again. In the end I was glad that it was a short ride day and I am now absolutely certain that if I'm riding far I must eat well for a day or two before and stay off the cake and chocolate.

The temperature plummeted back down to 7° today, for PGT Day 16, and was accompanied by steady rain and strong wind. Thus it was that I suffered through a short ride for the second day running, this time along the regular Tuck Hill/ Six Ashes route (detailed here), only today the wind was behind me heading outward meaning much grunting and grinding on the homeward half of the ride. In fact the weather was so poor it felt like THIS should be the 2012 Team Real Peloton outing, not the dry run in The Smoke on Thursday, and so to acknowledge this I wore my Real Peloton jersey, but once again I was glad to get home, drink coffee and shower. Fingers crossed that the forecast for the rest of the week is largely wrong, but if not then it looks like a few days of riding with mudguards.



Day 13
Day 14
Day 15
Day 16