When, where and how far
Last weekend saw a group of riders including one of my UKCycleChat colleagues take on wlondoncycling’s ‘The One’, and in honour of them completing this awesome challenge, I thought I would write a quick ride story from my attempt to conquer this beast of a route from a couple of months back.
First things first, what is ‘The One’? Well put simply it’s a near sixty mile ride through the surrey hills aiming to hit all of the noteworthy climbs in the area and tops out at nearly 7000ft of climbing.
A few weeks ago saw myself and a fellow Roly head to the south coast at silly o clock on a Sunday morning to catch a ferry to the Isle of Wight for the annual Isle of Wight Randonnee.
And boy we weren’t alone!!
On arriving at the ferry terminal to purchase our tickets we were greeted with a sea of lycra clad men and women in various shades of garish outfits also waiting to board and undertake this challenge. Once on the ferry you couldn’t move for cyclists and as for trying to get a much needed coffee, well you were waiting longer than Team Sky have been waiting for a monument win (though as with Team Sky we did get one eventually)!!
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.
It finally happened. After a long few years and a final 6 month slog my amazing wife (Mrs Rouleur to you lovely people) has handed in her PhD thesis. No longer will I be the smartest in the house (not that my MSc ever meant I really held that title), but I don’t mind for what it also means is that I RIDE AGAIN!!
It is with great regularity that I have recently found myself quoting the head of family Stark (before he lost his) from George R. R. Martins rather long (yet unmissable) Game of Thrones. Whether I am complaining to Mrs Rouleur about my dire need to turn the radiators on (it is October after all), or standing in the shower shivering more than the kingdom of Arendelle when Elsa went ‘nucking futs’ in Disney’s Frozen, I continue to repeat the mantra ‘Winter is coming’, and so it felt this weekend.
With Mrs Rouleur deep in to the write up stages of her PhD thesis it means that for the last couple of weekends it has been quite tough to find any real time to get out on the bike for more than my daily commute 1 mile to the train station and back.
However this past weekend was proof that every cloud has a silver lining. The 5am wake up from my son (the future rainbow jersey) constituted ‘The Cloud’. ‘The silver lining’, I could squeeze in a ride before a depressingly small and healthy bowl of muesli (aka dust with raisins).
Last night I picked up Mrs Rouleurs uncles mountain bike to use for a couple of days for one or two ‘I O U’ rides.
The Roly Rouleur and his future Rainbow jersey winner.
Tires pumped and saddle lowered (Uncle Rouleur is at least 6ft 5in, I am 5ft 9in!), I started to plan my route. From my In-Laws I planned a ride along a gravel path and then up into the Harz mountains, heading for the Josefkreuz (a large iron cross that you can climb, that itself sits at the top of a mountain!), and then back via a lovely winding descent down a mountain road, 25-30k all told and not a bad little ride.
I thought perhaps 2 hours in total and so took just a little water bottle and one gel, and with the words ‘it will be a walk in the park’ ringing in Mrs Rouleurs ears I set off.
They were like a hungry pack of wolves circling a poor injured fawn, my two ride partners were all over my back wheel, the Roly Rouleur was struggling and struggling badly.
Just 7 miles in to our ride last weekend, that was to take in the well ridden hills at Newlands Corner, Leith Hill and Box Hill, I had nothing in my legs, empty, wooden, hollow.
I have ridden upward of 40 miles per ride for the last few weekends and had no idea why today of all days, where one of my ride buddies had a new bike to show off, and I had to show off to our other training partner, this being their first ride, I had to have a ridiculously early Bonk?!
Reaching the summit (not really a summit, its barely a bump in the road) of Newlands Corner I seriously considered turning for home with tail between my legs to gorge on coffee and cake but thankfully willpower prevailed and I fought on.
The Roly Rouleur 