9.8 metres per second per second

I can’t believe it has only been a week (and a couple of days) since the Prudential Ride London. It seems such a long time ago. After the race I had a week off, I had hoped to go for a small run or a ride to get the legs moving again but I ended up with quite severe pain in the outside of my lower calf. Dr. Google said it was in my soleus and it was down to overuse and not properly stretching after the big ride, but then on Friday the pain mysteriously went away.  I think I have actually identified the problem being down to my current obsession with Pokémon. I have been doing a lot of walking at lunchtime in my work shoes to catch those elusive pocket monsters and on Friday I had no pain in my leg, the only difference is that I was wearing trainers for dress down Friday rather than my unforgiving leather shoes. Since then I have been mostly fighting fit again.

On Saturday we went Parkrun tourist, this week was to Queen Elizabeth Country Park in Horndean. It is a beautiful parkrun with a beast of a hill in the middle of it. Every time I run or ride a hill I decide that I need to do more hill work during my training because the Parkrun locals whizzed past me on the incline. The actual reason we were being parkrun tourists was because I had a parachute jump in the afternoon and Parkrun was a good way to break up the two hour journey. While skydiving isn’t exactly running or riding or actually anything to do with getting a medal, I have to add it to my blog because it was awesome.

I am finding it difficult to put the experience into words (which is a shame as I am trying to put it into words for the blog) but I will try my best. The flight up to altitude was fun, I have flown in light aircraft a few times and it was a bit like that except I wasn’t facing forward in the co-pilot seat, instead facing backwards in the cargo area strapped to my tandem instructor. We got to 10,000 feet and levelled out, the side door opened, a light turned green and no one seemed concerned that with a whoosh we were missing a few people. The door was closed again and we began another climb up to 15,000 feet. This was my stop. The side door opened, a light turned green again and my heartrate went up a few beats. I was the last one to go and when I got there a solo jumper was hanging onto the outside of the plane just chilling out in the airstream. I was positioned outside the plane by my instructor and got a good look at what three miles off the ground looked like (if you’re wondering, it’s mostly like google earth except it is a bit windier). The solo man fell off and I was briefly concerned for him but then I fell off too.

It wasn’t scary; it was all too intense to be scary. The ground was just there almost not rushing up towards me, I was just there hanging out in the sky, the wind was getting louder and breathing was a bit of a chore but apart from that I was enjoying the adrenaline soaked, wind buffeted, terrifying views of a lot of ground. My freefall was interrupted by a bit of a racket behind me and then an abrupt jerk as the chute opened; compared to the previous 60 seconds this was now calm and tranquillity despite the fact that I was still hanging 5000 feet above the ground. We swooped and turned, pulling a few G’s each time as we aimed for the landing circle, we touched down with a run (rather than sliding in on our bums) and I felt awesome. One amazing experience. 

Sunday morning was quite pedestrian by comparison. I was up early and took my lime green racing kayak out for a paddle. I’ve owned it now for the best part of 10 months and have only paddled it a handful of times. I had hoped to spend the summer training in it as she is a tippy boat and falling in when it’s cold is no fun but I once again filled this year’s summer weekends with events so haven’t been out in it half as much as I would have wanted. I was able to keep upright while paddling which is an improvement from last time but once again I fell in while trying to get out. At least the weather was warm.  

The weather’s looking good for this coming week and I have an Olympic distance triathlon at the weekend, so I should have something to talk about next week.

Prudential Ride London 100

This weekend saw 27,000 riders take part in the Prudential Ride London 100 miler. I was one of them.

Turning up in London after a short night’s sleep and an early start I was experiencing a bit of that nervous excitement I sometimes get before a big challenge. Driving into London It was easy to see how big this event was going to be. We had to park a short(ish) distance away from the start and along every road hundreds of riders were streaming in one direction, to the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park.

Once the bike was ready to go there was a nice little warm up ride to get to the event hub, and after negotiating bikes and riders intent on going every which way I arrived at my start bin. I was about an hour early (because I am always early) and was told by the Man that I wasn’t allowed to go early because... ‘rules’, despite the fact that the loading pen was half empty and other riders were slipping by him left right and centre. I stood around (im)patiently for a bit and then, I did something I wouldn’t normally do. The Man had wandered off to leverage the authority his high-vis jacket afforded him onto someone else who was infringing a rule, and I slipped into the loading pen as stealthily as a Lycra clad ninja. Within 15 minutes I was away with thousands of other riders.

Riding with so many riders on a closed road is awesome and terrifying at the same time. Everywhere there are people on bikes, you pass some, you are passed by others, you hop onto the back of a train of faster riders and draft for a bit, you have conversations with other likeminded folks, and on a closed road it is even more fun as you don’t have to worry about cars. But putting riders of vastly differing abilities in the same space can lead to some near (and not so near) misses. I nearly came a cropper a couple of times when other rides did something I did not expect, and some riders exceed their ability or luck. Unfortunately at about the 60k mark it went terribly wrong for a rider ahead of me. 

I had been stonking along. London is mostly flat, and with the slipstream and pace of the other bikes around me I was averaging over 35kmh and was on target for a sub 7 hour time (even with the Surrey hills taken into account). But the traffic ahead began to slow and then stopped completely. A sea of helmeted heads is pretty much all there was to see. Word rippled down from the front that there had been an accident and the road was closed while air ambulance could get to the stricken rider. We were held stationary for about 45 minutes before we started to shuffle forward in a slightly frustrating stop start way; I was surrounded by Garmin’s beeping as the auto pause turned on and off. As we walked that mile or so of the route it became clear  as to what had probably happened, the road dropped into a steep descent and narrowed, there was then a sharp right hander which was blind until you arrived at it. I can’t know what might have happened had I been riding but I too might have gone in too fast and run out of stopping power, had I not been pushing my bike instead.

Getting back into the saddle after such a long delay was quite hard actually, my legs had become leaden and my bum was starting to feel sore, and the Surrey hills still lay ahead. Leith Hill was the hardest incline of the day in my opinion, Boxhill might get all the glory after it’s Olympic spotlight but the short sharp kick of Leith is a much more demanding test. After the long hold we arrived with all of the riders bunched up. With the weight of traffic and less experienced riders resorting to walking pretty much before the climb had begun it became really congested. Trying to ride was difficult but I stayed clipped in and was able to spin to the top.

The support on the event was excellent. There were hundreds of spectators out along most of the route, whole villages turned out with barbeques and drinks, and once we got back into London the streets were pretty much packed. They all cheered the riders on, picking out something from the riders jersey like a club name and yelling their support. With the charity riders though it sounded a bit more sinister. “Woo. Alzheimer’s. Go get ‘em!” or “Yay Kidney Disease. Not far now!”, “Awesome work Blood Cancer. Keep pushing!”. I wore a retro but obscure Tour De France team strip from a decade ago so I didn’t get any name checks but the people raising money for charity deserve the applause so I don’t mind. 

Finishing on the Mall (Or was it Horse Guards Parade?.. As I write up each blog I am concerned with how much detail I don’t take in) was a bit underwhelming for me. I’m not sure if I had built up the anticipated spectacle too much in my mind, or if I have seen these sights of London a few too many times, or if I was just too tired to care, but despite the fact that I had ridden further than I have ever done in a single day the best I managed was a half-hearted victory punch as I crossed the finish line. There was no savouring the moment, no selfie holding my bike aloft like so many other people, just a slightly pained hobble as I pushed my bike to collect my medal.

The Medal though… I am a bit of a medal connoisseur and I have to say that this one is a bit special. Definitely in my top three favourite medals, it looks great with two different metals, the rear has the map of the course on, and it is huge.