Friday 5 July 2019

Parents to Paris 2019

I'd been looking forward to this day since I finished last year's fundraising ride with the diabetes dads. So this year we wanted branch out & invite Mums & Dads to join us. We ended up with 3 mums - another 2 had to withdraw unfortunately through illness - and also had Jack, son of Andrew & Kate, both riding, a young person living with type 1 diabetes.

It hadn't been an entirely stress-free experience in the lead up - trying to get people who would commit, booking ferries & trains, getting sponsorship, planning routes & hotels, worrying about fitness levels, worrying about their bikes & their ability to fix a puncture...Luckily we had Kev as Le Patron, a veteran of 3 previous rides, who took on all of the hotel booking & route planning, even though he was supposed to be taking a back seat this year, and did an absolutely fantastic job. All the rest of us had to do was turn up, load up the panniers & ride!

This fundraising all started a few years ago after I met some other parents in a facebook support group for parents of children living with Type 1 Diabetes, with a shared love of cycling. Initially we cycled Nightrider together as a grouo of Dads, then upped the ante to do London to Paris last year, before inviting Mums this time!

Over the years we've raised close to £50,000 for JDRF, the UK's only charity dedicated to funding research into a cure for type 1, so while none of us want to be in this position, it's been a great opportunity to raise funds & awareness of this relentless condition.

There had been plenty of banter in our what's app group and on the facebook page, and it was good to finally meet up with people on the Wednesday night in the local 'spoons in Penge - the ladies joining us felt a bit like they were on a blind date; even though we'd all known each other virtually for months, this was the first time we were meeting IRL! So I was pleased that they weren't put off and came back for a second date the next morning at the Grand Depart in Beckenham - shaving off a good 10 miles from last year's start at the JDRF offices, and a whole lot of stressful traffic!

Throughout the trip Kev was recording short videos for our JDRF instagram takeover on Sunday, and you can see some of them & others, on our facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/ukdiabetesfamilies

Day 1 - 86km, 1000m (53 miles, 3277 feet)

We gathered from 10 at my place for last minute packing / unpacking / bacon rolls, and set off around 1115, waved off by various neighbours, partners, children, as well as Amy from JDRF who had popped over to see us off. 11 parents and 1 teen with T1D. We got out of London and into the lanes without incident (other than going along a cycle path which turned out to be overgrown with nettles & brambles & led to the uncomfortable choice of cycling though one or the other!) and really enjoyed cycling through the beautiful rolling countryside of Kent & Sussex on a day which was warming up, but not yet too hot to ride. Stopping occasionally to regroup and fill up our water whenever possible, we made good progress to East Grinstead, where the sneaky hill up into the town always catches you unawares. But soon we all gathered in the salubrious surroundings of the Sainsbury’s car park, to grab a quick lunch, more water, ice cream, and have a bit of a break before cracking on.

Whereas the same route last year had been miserably wet & ridden in persistent rain, this year was absolutely glorious - maybe the extra month helped. Straight after our lunch break, we were up a hill towards Turners Hill, then had a long & rolling stretch to the top of another hill into West Hoathly. By this time we had established that young Jack was a big fan of the hills, and was powering up all of them – often turning round to come back & do it again! While we waited for everyone to catch up, an ice cream van stopped at the junction, and in a master class of Yorkshire brassneckery, Vince asked him for some free ice cream in lieu of a charity donation. Much to our surprise, the nice chap from Venice Ices pulled over, and proceeded to hand out lollies to all of us – asking us to make a donation ourselves, which we all subsequently did!

Onwards towards Newhaven, and we had an extended break at the now traditional level crossing stop in Cooksbridge before pressing on into Lewes and then down the valley into Newhaven. Halfway along this road Jack started to wobble aound a bit, and we realised he was having a hypo so stopped by the side of the road in a driveway. The lady whose driveway it was arrived back from work a few minutes later, insisted on bringing Jack into the house & sitting him down, giving him time to get his BG back up again & to recover. While the others pressed on, I stayed with Jack & his parents, and the delightful Penny looked after us all. The kindness of strangers. After about 40 minutes or so, we were able to continue and carried on to complete the last 5 miles to Newhaven, in the late afternoon sunshine, with no further incident.

Following dinner & beer in the pub we made our way down to the port & managed again to get past the cars in the queue to check in. We had a chat to the drivers of a support van for some lunatics who had cycled down from Edinburgh, and were riding a much more direct route in the following day. In the waiting room we chatted to others, also aiming to complete the ride in 24 hours - as opposed to our leisurely 4 days - one of whom very kindly gave us a fiver for the cause. Then it was onto the boat, into the cabin, quick shower & bed (or drink then bed) to try & catch a few ZZZs before the ferry docked a few hours later.

Day 2 - 115km, 492m (71 miles, 1614 feet)

The dulcet tones of the announcer dragged us from our fitful sleep at 0330, 0430 local time, and we were off the ferry & on our way by 0530. What a difference a year and a month makes. Last year we rolled off the ferry still in our soaking gear from the previous day & set off through the mist, which didn't burn off until late morning. This year the sun was rising, there wasn't a cloud on the sky & we could see our surroundings - it was well worth it.

The route out of Dieppe takes you along the Avenue Verte, a long cycle path which cuts across Normandy towards Paris. It's been extended in the last year, so there's even more off road. We rolled along at a nice pace with the sun appearing over the top of the hills, until the inevitable puncture - the first one of the trip going to Svenia & her tubeless tyres, courtesy of a broken bottle on the cycle path. Matt fixed it eventually - took 3 goes - and we carried on a few more km until Megan also had one, which was also swiftly dispatched.

As last year, we were aiming for Neufchatel en Bray for Breakfast, and we went back to the same place, only to find the chef wasn't there yet! Fortunately, someone who could rustle up some omlettes arrived, so we had those, a couple of folk had the now traditional cheeky 9am stella - essentially a lunchtime drink, given we'd been on the move since 5am - and on we went.

One of the local cafe owners took great amusement in the Brits lathering themselves with suntan lotion at 9am in the morning, but hey, an opportunity for meme's an opportunity for a meme in any language, right?

After a brief stop at a sports shop for more tubes, we pressed on, still on the Avenue Verte, towards the Super-U at Serquex for supplies...mainly water as it was heating up. Then we were off the cycle paths and into the quiet rural rolling roads towards Gournay - lovely to be out in the open with sweeping vistas, but with the sun getting higher, we were glad of any shade when we got it.

We arrived in Gournay & decided against buying a picnic to eat in the car park, and retired to the McDonalds for some air-con & blessed relief from the sun. However, we also had some mechanicals to deal with at this point, a broken wheel rim & a broken spoke, which meant that Andrew & Steve couldn't carry on, as well as some likely lads with a white van, overheard discussing which bikes they were going to take, so it all got a bit fraught for a few minutes while we tried to sort it all out.

On the map, Beauvais is just a straight 20 miles away, so of course there was no train, and no taxis anywhere locally who were close enough / willing enough to help out. So with a last throw of the dice we went to a car mechanic place, and the very helpful guy there was able to help us to get a taxi to come from Beauvais to pick up Steve & Andrew, and their bikes, and take them to the Decathlon in Beauvais to fix everything.

The rest of us carried on, and after a brief bit on the road, we hit another section of shaded cycle track through the forest for most of the way to Beauvais! It was wonderful - but even with the shade & the breeze, I was still dousing myself with water to try & keep cool. A couple of hours later we popped out into the mid-afternoon furnace of Beauvais, but it wasn't for long and we were soon at our hotel on the outskirts.

Cold showers, cold beers, power naps followed, until we met again at a surprisingly good all you can eat & drink buffet, Crocodile (bizarrely themed as a railway station, given the name), nearby for a nice meal, before heading back for the night.


Day 3 - 77km, 610m (48 miles, 2000 feet)

Even though the hotel had some form of rudimentary aircon and it was at the end of 2 very long days. I don't thing anyone slept particularly well, so it was a relief when the alarm went off at 6 and we could officially start getting ready for the day. This was supposed to be the hottest one, with the weather due to break that evening, and it didn't let us down.

The first part of the ride was lovely though, out through a pretty village, up quite a long drag to be rewarded with glorious views, then down and back up a longer drag before we stepped on it and set a good pace across and down to Meru where we stopped for breakfast. Well, I say breakfast, but it was actually just some vienoisserie from the boulangerie and a coffee from the cafe, as apparently no one needs to eat at the weekend in rural France, so the chef wasn't working! Tant pis for us!

After our breakfast we pressed on towards Van Gogh territory, through ever more beautiful countryside, and forgiving roads. Not too many hills, though I did get a bit of flint in my tyre on the off-road section which caused the 3rd puncture of the trip - a pretty good record really. Once that was changed, and with it getting hotter all the time, and having squirted my sticky energy drink over myself instead of the water by mistake, it was nice to have some smooth roads down towards the Oise, and we stopped in a village where the lady in the Mairie filled up all of our bottles. Kev was very keen for us to see some culture, or to get in his Van Gogh joke, and the route out of the village took us up such a sharp hill that young Jack decided to turn around and do 2 more reps of it! The lunacy!

It was now getting towards late morning and was seriously hot! We still had about 30km to go, but stopped in Auvers-sur-Oise to buy some lunch (and stand next to the freezers for a bit), and then went to eat it in a shady spot on the banks of the Oise. It was hard to tear ourselves away, but we had been trying to avoid the heat of the day, and having failed miserably to do that, just wanted to get there.

At this stage, which the temperature over 100 in the hottest June heatwave recorded in France, heat exhaustion wasn't far away. Most of the water was going over our heads every few minutes, and whenever we weren't cycling into the hair dryer breeze, the heat as we waited at lights was searing. At one point we came around a corner to the rare sight of an open bar, and piled in to fill up the water, have ice cream (some cheeky stella too), and shelter for a few minutes before pressing on. It's a real shame that the heat was so brutal, as it was a really lovely route along the banks of the Oise, past some beautiful grand houses, and we really weren't in much of a mood to appreciate it! You can't control the weather though, so we just got our heads down and pushed on. There were a couple more energy sapping hills before we arrived at the hotel at around 4pm.

Phew, what a scorcher it had been. And better yet, this hotel didn't have any aircon at all - though they did have fans which we could use. I waited with Jack in the relative cool of reception for his folks & Kev to arrive, and the others stood in cold showers and lay under wet towels and did whatever was needed to recover - but blimey it was hot!

Later, after refreshments in the Carrefour, we all went to the Bureau, an English themed pub & restaurant, whose main attraction was the cocktail menu including "le brexit" - naturally we all had one, and surprisingly they weren't that bad! They certainly weren't as bad as all the hilarious puns anyway. We presented Jack with a t-shirt for his supreme riding for the previous 3 days, and after a meal and some more drinks, we headed back to the hotel & to bed, for another hot & sticky restless night.

Day 4 - 46km 353m (29 miles, 1158 feet)

It was another early start, but the heat had definitely broken and there were even some clouds about. Nevertheless, we had to push on as we wanted time in Versailles for breakfast & enough time at the Trocadero to enjoy it before we had to go.

The route was through the woods to Versailles first, with another long drag to get us warmed up. Last year I'd had a broken spoke & Vince had fallen off on tjis stretch, but we all survived unscathed and headed for Versailles.

After a quick photocall outside the palace, we stopped for a quick breakfast of cake & then carried on through the town, up the hill on the other side, then through the fantastic St Cloud park until suddenly there it was. Paris. The Eiffel Tower. The end of the road. Ian managed to fall off his bike on the excitement to get going & Svenia had a close encounter with a bus in Versailles, but we were otherwise unscathed.

It's a really special feeling to arrive in another European capital having got there under your own steam, carrying your own stuff, with no support vehicle to help, and throuh the hottest June temperatures France has ever seen. But we had made it, and the last few celebratory miles through the streets & along the river were infused with excitement. All thoughts of tiredness were gone.

It was lovely to arrive together, and to see Steve's wife Sam & their 2 girls waiting for us. Cue balloons, hugs, handshakes, some warm fizz & the usual photos of the finish. What a thrill. 

After spending some time at the Trocadero we had to get going - firstly because we had a train to catch, secondly because we needed to get a picnic before the shops shut, but mainly because the route to the station took us around the Arc de Triomphe a few times & down the Champs d'Elysees! Yes, the Champs d'Elysees. And around the Place de la Concorde, not quite channelling Renshaw leading out Cav but enjoying the memory.

At this point, and with impeccable timing, Jack had his second hypo of the trip, fortunately next to a supermarket, so we were able to get our lunch & he was able to recover. The power of Android APS looping!

It was only a mile from the end now, at the Gare du Nord, where we found our way to the baggage dispatch area, got the bikes loaded up, then went to check in & start the picnic. The much anticipated shoelace to open a bottle of wine trick didn't really deliver on its early promise, so it was the old push the cork in job instead.

Once on the train, Vincent made the mistake of dozing off & paid the price. It also later transpired that his achy wrist caused by a crash on the day before we started was actually fractured, so it was an epic effort from him.

Once back at St Pancras, we picked up our bikes and said our goodbyes, heading our separate ways after 4 fantastic, brutal but unmissable days. 12 people brought together by our association with type 1 diabetes,  and everyone a hero - Kate, who hadn't ridden over 50 miles before & certainly not in the heat, Andrew & Jack, just 16 & so strong throughout, Svenia & Lewis who both only started riding this year, Megan, le Patron Kev with all the organisation, Steve, Vince, Matt, Ian - all of whom made my job of riding at the front following Kev's superb navigation to the Eiffel Tower so much easier.

So thanks to all of them, and thanks to all our supporters - we've raised over £11,000 for JDRF now, but please continue to give generously.

www.justgiving.com/fundraising/parents2paris2019

Merci for reading!



Tuesday 9 April 2019

Penge goes to Flanders - a view from the back

Help! De Ronde...

Flanders is flat. Everyone knows it. Everyone said it was flat when I told them what I was planning to do. And they were almost right. Even the grizzled old chap in one of many Gent chippies told me. "Flanders is flat. Apart from the hills." So what brought me to Gent on the first weekend of April, with a slightly sprained wrist - not ideal for the challenge ahead!

Last year I signed up to join a trip to De Ronde Van Vlaanderen with Penge Cycle Club, Pride of SE London, with 59 others. The fantastic organiser David said it was open to anyone, so I decided to go. I'm no athlete, I ride for fun & cake, usually pretty slowly, and take the more sedate rides out occasionally. I knew I probably wouldn't be able to train that much or lose that much weight, but I'd give it a go. Because I knew very well that Flanders was *not* flat & that riding the Tour of Flanders sportive, then watching the pros do it the next day, was an absolute bucket list cycling experience.

What is this Tour of Flanders, some of you may be wondering. It's one of the 5 monuments of cycling. Just like tennis isn't all about Wimbledon, neither is cycling all about the Tour de France. There are many kinds of races - the big 3 week grand tours - Italy, France, Spain. Shorter stage races like Paris - Nice. One day classics. And the Monuments - also contested over one day but steeped in tradition & history. Paris-Roubaix - the Hell of the North, Liege-Bastogne-Liege, Milan - San Remo, Lombardia and Flanders. These are the big five. Just as some cyclists specialise in the grand tours, others as climbers or sprinters, a whole breed also exist to put themselves through the unremitting pain & suffering of the classics. They're all incredibly tough, but Flanders is the one. Flanders is the toughest. Because not only does it have cobbles - lots of them,  it also has bergs - hills. And not only does it have bergs, it has cobbled bergs! These aren't nice smooth hills zig-zagging up the side of a mountain at manageable gradients. These are tiny lanes, barely wide enough for a tractor, which go straight up whatever is in front of them!

Cobbles makes it sound quaint, doesn't it? But these cobbles are not nice & smooth & uniform. They are jagged & bumpy & uneven. God help you if they are wet! Did I mention how steep some of these bergs are? Even the pros sometimes end up walking, to hoots of derision from the hundreds of thousands of Flandriens lining the route, especially if they slip or someone falls...once you have unclipped, it's very hard to clip back in & continue. Anyway. Enough build-up.

On Friday we all gathered in Sydenham with our gear & boarded the coach to Gent. The journey passed without particular incident & we got to Oudenaarde in the late afternoon to sign on. Due a combination of factors & a soupçon of fatalism, I'd decided a few weeks previously to do the 74km ride. Other distances were available, but I had decided the 74km was better suited to my shite level of fitness & preparation, and also gave me the best shout of getting to the hills without too many crowds & a fighting chance to get up then unimpeded by anything other than my own lack of ability! Oddly, we had to pay for our medal in advance - usually they dish them out as you finish - but I obviously had to get one.

Then it was back to the bus for the short journey to Gent to our hostel. We were all bunking up with others - sorry about the snoring lads - and after a pasta meal together & a potter around the town in search of frites, we retired to bed.

At 5am the alarms all started going off and we dragged ourselves downstairs - to find the door to the reception area where our bikes were being kept was locked! Mild panic swept the hostel until "le patron" David found we could access the room from the other side - panic over!

Strangely & unusually for me I wasn't in a state of anxiety or having the sweats. I'm not sure why. Before the epic fail of the Etape 8 years ago I was crippled with nerves the night before. Maybe it's because I had decided that this was going to be a ride for me. I wasn't going to fundraise off the back of it - that'll be later in the year - I just wanted, for once, to do it for myself, without the extra pressure, just because it was there. I'm so glad I did.

We gathered outside the hotel ready for a Grand Depart of 0545 for Oudenaarde - 20 miles away along the canal. We were supposed to try & ride together, a 60 strong peloton of Penge's finest, and me. This was the plan, and as usual with plans, it disintegrated almost immediately! Several people slipped on the tram tracks and came off. Traffic lights caused a split - as did the ferocious pace at the front! Never mind, it all settled down as we made our way out past the broken glass & drunkards coming home, then we hit the beautifully tranquil canal paths, with the dawn still a while away, and the birds getting into the swing of things. We shot along at a fair old lick, the only other signs of life being an occasional jogger and a couple of barges - one of which had such bright headlights that it was like Close Encounters. (one for the teenagers there!). After about 12 miles we turned off the canal path & took the more direct route along the main road to the outskirts of Oudenaarde & to the unpreposessing industrial estate start.

There were 5 of us who had decided to do the 74km distance - Fran, Loren, Jonathan, James & me - and we'd also decided to try & ride it together if we could. Out on the road a 6th rider was to join Team 74, Jonathan C. We set off together but soon found that many of our fellow riders suffered from a strange malady known as Dickitis. Symptoms included going through spaces which weren't there, on either side of you, shouting at you to move out of their way - as they obviously had more right to that bit of road than you, and not taking turns on the front when riding in groups. The first rule of life ignored - don't be a dick. To be honest though, annoying & dickish as some were, there were plenty of cyclists behaving normally,  plenty of that masochistic black humour you get when you're all suffering the same, and the dicks did not rule the day.

Off we went, initially along the canal then over a bridge & back down the other side. It was good cycling weather - overcast & cool - which maybe didn't show Flanders in all its glory, or maybe it did exactly that! We sped along nice smooth quiet roads, knowing what was to come but enjoying the phoney war while it lasted. We stopped briefly at a feed stop to get some breakfast & had a quick chat with a lunatic doing it on a single speed bike...seriously mad! He had calf muscles the size of actual baby cows though, so who can say...all I know is that I rode past him on the Koppenberg, and he was pushing!

As we rolled along after the food stop it became apparent that the hill which had appeared from nowhere was the Koppenberg, and was approaching rapidly. I took a quick FB live video of the run in, only to be scolded by a watching Winnie, so got back to the task at hand. The Koppenberg is one of the fabled climbs in the Tour of Flanders. It used to be in such terrible condition that the pros complained & it was removed until they fixed it. As it was, we could see it rising sharply away to our left as we approached the right angled turn & got our first teeth rattling taste of the cobbles. You could see the whole thing snaking away through the trees & even from the bottom the steep ramps & walkers were already evident.

As we were early in the day (later riders had to queue at the bottom before being let on), it was relatively sparse, so up we went. I'm not much of a climber - being a fat knacker isn't conducive to flying up hills - but I can be quite stubborn when I want to be & I was determined to get over this first climb. Even if all others were flops, I wanted the bragging rights of getting over at least one of the big boys! I ground up it in my lowest gear, jumping around on the bumpy cobbles, trying not to think about my slightly sprained bandaged wrist, or the folk cutting past at speed on both sides, or the riders who were walking. I just wanted to grind it out, especially with shouts of encouragement ringing in my ears. Up we went, and it got steeper & steeper. Eventually I had to stop for a breather, at which point the bike started to roll backwards. It was that steep. After a few seconds respite I had another go & somehow managed to get moving & clip back in. More of the same until I needed a second breather & then I pushed on to the top! Jeez I felt sick from the exertion. Like I said, I'm not very fit. However, I wasn't as sick as an English lad leaning up against the portaloos & throwing up his breakfast, but still pretty rough. Took a good few mins & a lovely sweeping downhill to recover!

One down, one of the hardest bergs, with a mere 9 to go. We had a sticker on the crossbar & we were mentally ticking them off as we went. The organisers had also kindly put up signs telling us how far we had to the next one was as we finished each of them!

The next challenge was another go at the cobbles along Mariaborrestraat, then up Steenbeekdries. This just seemed absolutely relentless - flattish through a small hamlet then up the hill & down the other side, cobbled all the way. The relief when we got back to a smooth surface was palpable! How they do it I have no idea - going fast seemed to help but I have no idea how they did that when we were just struggling to control the bike as it bounced around the cobbles, rattling everything! Downhill was worse. Still, all good things must come to an end, and so do cobbles.

After a brief pause to laugh our heads off at the insanity of it all, Team 74 forged onwards. The organisers were sneaking in some definite hilly bits without advertising them, the swine, but the next one on our list was Taaienberg - not too long or too steep but plenty of cobbles to keep us interested, and a bunch of folk at the top cheering us on. This is always very helpful! 3 down, 7 to go. I don't remember the next one, but the one after was Kanarieberg, steep but cobble free - and also the halfway point - happy days! Even happier was that there were food trucks at the top, so we stopped for a bit of lunch. Yes, it was fried. I almost had to quit at this point, such was my devastation that the  bratwurst truck had electrical problems & was unable to provide sausage, so it was a bitte-ballen sandwich instead. I rallied & we pushed on, spirits high & ready for the second half.

This started with a quick water stop in the main square of Ronse, which had been turned into a feed station & massive outdoor disco pumping out what can only be described as oompah techno! We tore ourselves away before Plastic Bertrand came on, and up the next 2 hills towards Karnemelkbeekstraat, which was a long but manageable drag up through the woods. At the top we got talking to a local lad who gave us some insight about what was coming up with our last 2 climbs - short version, nothing good! We also met one of the original club founders, Pete, riding with VCL.

Next was Kwaremont - the longest stretch of cobbles, going on for what felt like an extremely long 2km, uphill all the way. We came back here the next day to watch the pro riders bouncing & bumping over the very same cobbles at significantly greater speeds! There were lots of people cheering us on in the middle, some even mendaciously telling us the worst was over - spoiler alert, it wasn't! Our old friend Jamie from the Koppenberg went past us at the top, still battling on. We had one left. The Paterberg...

As we came along the top of the ridge, around the corner & down the hill, we could see a line of caravans & flags across the valley, at a curious angle...marking the final berg of the day, and I think the steepest one. At least the ramp in the middle felt steeper than anything else, and judging by the amount of people walking, they felt the same way! I decided my best chance here was not to look at it, and fix my gaze resolutely on the front wheel & the cobbles immediately in front of them. And this was a good plan, but like all plans, as we have established, it fell apart once we hit the steepest part of the climb. I got slower & slower & eventually ground to a halt. There were too many bikes to get going again, so it was the walk of shame for me, exchanging witty bantz with the locals about the flatness of Flanders. Still, as Meat Loaf once said, 9.5 out of 10 ain't bad.

After a brief pause for the all important FB live for our adoring fan(s?), it was downhill all the way to the finish. Apart from the final 6km along the flat into the wind, which got a bit dull. I was feeling chivalrous so decided to take the wind for a few km to give some of my Team 74 pals a rest. When I stopped at the 1km to go mark to regroup, a French chap nipped past with a cheerful merci!

With all 6 of us still together, James wanted to ride over the finish in formation...but some mug ruined it by accepting the lead out then sprinting past for the win! I slowed down to try & reform the group but it was too little too late! Sorry team. I won't do it next year! But finish together we did and what a great feeling that was. To survive one of the toughest sportives out there, and to do so in the company of your friends & club mates. Everyone had dark moments, particularly on the cobbles, but we stuck together & got each other through. Penge Cycle Club, truly the Pride of SE London.

We found a space in front of a cafe & got  food & beer & waited for others to come in. This club has some fantastic athletes & there were some stunning performances from them - Kate was the second fastest woman, Tash was 12th. Phenomenal. After a while we decided to head back to Gent, and the final great plan of the day - to ride back - duly went awry as the wind picked up & we got tired. But it turned the day into an 87 miler, so every cloud! The rest of the weekend was fantastic too - watching the pro men & women go past us on the Kwaremont was thrilling, enjoyed with beer, currywurst & great company, then the ride into Bruges on Monday morning, when the amazing Tash saw that I was struggling with the pace & eased up a bit & sat in front taking the wind & chatting away. Her price? A beer. Absolute class.

I loved it all. Getting to know people you nod hello to outside the shop. Riding with stronger riders & learning from them. People being generous with their time & patient with Wahoo questions. The support for everyone from everyone else. This club has built a really great ethos, and I feel privileged to be a part of it.

Thanks to everyone - but especially David for organising a wonderful trip, Emily & James M for the encouragement, all the riders in Team 74 on Saturday & Team Tash into Bruges. And Gareth for the soundtrack & the title of this write up!

Roll on next year!