It was the best of times (out riding my bike), it was the worst of times (hills), it was the age of wisdom (taking it nice and steady), it was the age of foolishness (pushing too hard), it was the epoch of belief (not just riding my bike, but in the sunshine too!), it was the epoch of incredulity (how is it possible we are still going up?), it was the season of Light (I can do this), it was the season of Darkness (no I can’t), it was the spring of hope (Ahh Almond Croissant), it was the winter of despair (The dreaded ‘Bonk’).

The opening paragraph of Charles Dickens classic ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ seems to sum up this weekends rides pretty well for me.

So lets start at the beginning.

Day One – Saturday

A very good friend of mine messaged me during the week and asked if I was free for a spin and I quickly took up the offer, and the route planning went something like this.

Friend; ‘Shall I come to you, or you too me’ (FYI she isn’t a member of the Chuckle family)

Me; ‘Well I’ll come to you if you want a fairly flat ride out, or you come my way and we can do a few hills’

Friend; ‘I’ll come to you then’

Me; weeps

Now I’m an Epidemiologist by training and we like numbers so here’s the tale of the figures for Saturday;

Distance – 43.71km        Time – 2hrs 03mins 07secs

Average Speed – 21.3kph         Elevation Gain – 334 metres

It started out simple enough, make our way through Send and West Clandon and then at the crossroads that leads to Newlands Corner swing a left, and in to unchartered territory. Our aim was to climb slowly up towards the back (and easier) route of the dreaded ‘Whitedown’ so we took a right and headed up Staple Lane. An initial surge of confidence soon turned to incredulity at how unfit I was, my ride partner slowly disappearing in the distance and two other riders catching and passing me with ease, but I made it eventually.

Leafy, quiet and rolling roads meant we were able to have a bit of a social chat as we went along until the first real downhill of the day and where my (considerable) weight advantage saw me descend like an in form Vincenzo Nibali! But all too soon we were at the first of two crossroads. Go left and off to East Horsley or right and head towards Ranmore and Whitedown. As the words left my ‘Friends’ lips I knew I was in trouble and we turned right up the Strava section labelled ‘Crock of Shit!’. I admit 3/4 way up I was psychologically beaten and had to put a foot down, but after a brief interlude to catch my breath, I sucked it up, followed ‘Rule number 5’ and made the top.

At the second crossroads it was my turn to choose the turn and I took a left, rejecting the back route up to Whitedown as I just didn’t think I had it in me. More gorgeous sunshine and some lovely, quiet, bendy, and more importantly, descending, roads we wound through to West Horsley and on to Ripley where we enjoyed a well earned coffee and the aforementioned Almond Croissant before ticking off 6 more miles in to the finish.

Day 2 – Sunday

This one had me nervous, very nervous in fact. I am not the most socially confident of people so the idea of meeting some of my Twitter friends who I had never met in person before and who judging by their profile pics were at least half my weight had me very worried! But buoyed on by encouragement and the reassurance that ‘we ride to the slowest person’ I rocked up at the meeting place at the prearranged time and met 3 great blokes true to their word!

Numbers time.

Distance – 77.58km        Time – 3hrs 27mins 13secs

Average Speed – 22.5kph         Elevation Gain – 534 metres

We rolled out of Frimley 15 minutes earlier than planned and a nice brisk pace saw us breeze through the built up area of Farnborough and out towards Fleet and Bramshill very quickly. It was at this point going through Bramshill that it became apparent any time the road would head up I would head backwards, but I was helped a long by one of the trio I was riding with dropping back to gee me a long (a theme that would recur for the majority of the day).

Now, I lived in Hampshire for 25 years and I am still at a loss where some of the roads we rode were. Just as with the day before lovely country roads and single tracks, virtually traffic free, were enjoyed by not only us but many other cyclists too. On the flats things stayed chatty and sociable as I got to know a little about the other guys I was riding with (as well as others who sadly couldn’t make it this time) whilst on the hills I continued to do my disappearing act.

Unfortunately on Saturdays ride and again from about mile 10 on Sunday, I started to have pain in my lower back and hip. I think its the change of saddle two weeks ago that is causing me problems so I am definitely going to have to play around with my setup a bit more. Being the stubborn sod I am though I just grimaced and kept on pedalling. This pain might explain some of the issues I was having when the road went up, though my belly from ‘too many beers’ was certainly more to blame.

At mile 25 having just passed through Golden Pot I was told this was the last of the hills and a 4 mile decent (which I had gone up the other way a few weeks ago) was approaching. And what a joy, I could stretch out the hip and get some enjoyment in the speed at which we dropped.

It soon became apparent though that I had misunderstood the ‘no more hills’ comment as we made our way slowly but surely towards another area I used to live in and which is notoriously hilly, Wrecclesham. Head dropped and the last of the drink and food consumed things were going from bad to worse as I could feel the ‘Bonk’ looming. This was not helped by abuse from a cyclist going the other way who felt that my ‘morning’ and nod was not a good enough greeting so proceeded to screech expletives at me.

But then as we came through Seale we stopped (well the others waited for me to catch up), and I discovered my new favourite gel. Kindly donated by one of my colleagues, I am convinced that Science in Sport ‘Double espresso’ gel could be used as a substitute for nuclear power. It had an instant impact, and though I didn’t go up the final hill any faster, it certainly didn’t hurt as much as previous hills. The final 8 miles or so passed fairly innocuously and I was again able to roll through on the flats with my ride partners. Despite the pain and difficulty I had I really enjoyed the ride, and the guys I went out with were really top blokes, and if they are reading this, thanks again for having me.

So there you have it two rides, both different, both tough and both very, very enjoyable. To some (including me) the routes might not seem particularly hilly but its a measure of how far I need to go to be back where I was that I found them so tough. A good kick start to my training after 6 weeks off the bike courtesy of a severe chest infection though! I’m back, slow, unfit, but back!!