London Nightrider 2014

I'd been really looking forward to the Nightrider. It was my main charity fundraising ride of the year (cheeky plug - you can still sponsor me here!), which I was doing for JDRF again, and there had been a lot of banter on the JDRF cycling page in the build up. I didn't really know what to expect. The last time I'd ridden (sober) at night I was 16 and I went with a few mates into the Kentish countryside to look for the house where his sister was having a sleepover!

What I wasn't expecting was to get bitten by a mosquito, and for the mechanic checking my bike to snap my front mech gear cable, and take 20 mins in ever worsening light to fix it (only cost £3 though) before I'd even started. But once I had got through this trauma, I met up with JDRF Elizabeth, and we went to meet the other JDRF riders - several of whom recognised me from my sweaty selfies on the facebook page. It was a really lovely atmosphere as we prepared ourselves to go, took some pictures, cracked jokes, and all very relaxed considering what lay ahead.

Thanks to John for the photo of the team below:

We were due to start at 2235 in the second wave, but it was slightly chaotic at the start, so we all set off with the first wave. As we waited to go, the lights of all the riders ahead of us disappearing up the road was all very romantic, but the romance passed soon enough as we rolled forwards to find that we were delayed because someone hadn't spoken to the park wardens and got them to leave the gates out of the car park unlocked! We wiggled out one at a time through a gap and were away.

The first bit was a nice downhill around the park, with the lights twinkling ahead, and then across to Sydenham after which we headed for Greenwich. I was chatting to some people as we went, but it was all a bit stop start with the lights and the traffic, and as you quickly lost people, I just decided to get on with it. Each time I caught the next group, I asked them if we were the front - but we never seemed to be!

I was pretty surprised at how busy the route was - I'm not sure I would have chosen to go along the South Circular - I thought initially that as we were starting early there was still plenty of traffic about, but I was later disabused of that notion. Over Blackheath, belted down Maze Hill into Greenwich, losing & retrieving a backlight in the process, and then a bit of a wiggly route along through Rotherhithe towards Tower Bridge. Somewhere along here we got ourselves a bit lost, and missed a rest stop (DISASTER!), but ended up in the right place, Tower Bridge!

Even though it was now Sunday, it was busy! Lots of traffic, lots of people out and about - less drunk and more touristy at the tower than they were Up West later. While waiting at some lights, we struck up a conversation with a chap in a taxi who was interested in what we were up to - this happened several times. There was some wiggling around through the city, and after a while we were heading back out again towards Wapping and the Isle of Dogs. By this time I had made friends with a couple of chaps who were riding together and were going at a similar pace, so we tried to stick together. (Larry & David. yes, really.)

Although we were going at a reasonably fast pace, the lights and weight of traffic were slowing us down. Plus the signage was a bit erratic - often only seeing the sign as you were right on top of it, and if a bus was in the way then you were in trouble. We largely got around most of the course without too many alarms though - the basic rule of thumb seemed to be stick to the busiest available road!

Wapping High Street with its cobbles came and went mercifully quickly, and after a couple of laps of Canary Wharf it was off towards Olympic Park for our first stop outside the Velodrome. It was about 25 miles in, and after a quick sugar intake, we cracked on.

As we left the Velodrome, we went past a lady who was doing 60km on a handbike accompanied by her dog - very inspiring. In fact, there was room on the ride for all sorts of bikes,and it made a welcome change from the usual chiselled whippets on carbon bling - as did being able to keep up and even do a bit of overtaking...!

From there it was on into the mysterious lands of North London - Hackney, Stoke Newington (both packed & achingly hip, natch), past a bloke who'd just got out of his cab to throw up, Wood Green (where my Dad grew up) and on towards Ally Pally. By this time it had become clear that Larry's mate Dave was struggling on each and every incline, and Larry had already tried to send me on. By the top of Ally Pally, which was stiff but not unmanageable, he was walking, and he kindly sent us on without him. So, without stopping for cake in case he changed his mind, on we went!

I liked the road up to Ally Pally - there were loads of kids parking up and gathering to chat, or smoke or drink,or just be teenagers. It reminded me of going up to the hills behind Folkestone to look at the view, have a cheeky beer & smoke, listen to Transformer & plan how to persuade to get a girl to go along...

Back in the real world, it was just 2am, and we had done the first 35 miles in 3.5 hours. There was a nice fast run down the hill, then we went up a residential street which turned out to be a long old climb up through Highgate to Hampstead Heath. It wasn't enormously steep, and it wasn't KGB hour either, but they do say the darkest hour is before Dawn, and even though it was only just post 2am, first light was only about an hour away. Larry was chatting away oblivious as I had a bit of a wobble, which quickly passed, but I felt rough for a bit. Once we started going down the other side, and I'd had a banana, and I knew there were no other hills of note until the end, I was a lot happier.

Unfortunately, my back trouble from last week proved to be an omen, and the same knee pain I'd had last year came back somewhere between Olympic park & Ally Pally. Time for a visit to the osteopath, and to do some bloody core work :-( On the night,it seemed the best plan was to keep going, and once we were over the penultimate hill, we seemed to get faster - I think we both secretly wanted to get back before it got light!

The pace was now really rapid, and a little group formed as we swept down towards Swiss Cottage, Abbey Road - probably the only time of day to "do" the zebra crossing without incurring the wrath of the taxi drivers, then Lord's and back round to Baker Street via Regent's Park - the first red light we jumped - if you can't jump a light at 0230 with nothing about and no street lights, then when can you?! There were still people about, but it was nothing compared to the hordes around Piccadilly! Big queues of people waiting to get in to places I've read about in the gossip columns, traffic jams, lots of revelry, very busy - and it was now past 0230, and there was no sign of it dying down. Somewhere in Covent Garden we went past a tired and emotional chap who just wanted to know what all the bikes were doing as he'd seen them all night. We went back across the river for more wiggling before coming back over Westminster Bridge, past Parliament, off up Whitehall, through the "as busy as daytime" Trafalgar Square, then down the Mall.

Suddenly it was dark & deserted again, as we rode down the big wide road, around the corner and back up Birdcage Walk into Parliament Square again - meaning we had missed a turning somewhere as we were supposed to be in Victoria, rather than about to set off for a second lap of Whitehall. We found our way eventually and got to Lambeth Bridge in time to see the dawn start to appear - by now it was a bit after 3am but it was still very early / late...

Then it was an increasingly fast ride back to Crystal Palace under the ever lightening sky, through Brixton, past Herne Hill Velodrome, lapping a few late starters from Ally Pally along the way. Larry described it as the beasts heading for the water hole, such was the sense of urgency. We crossed the by now very quiet South Circular and the fast group we were in split up a bit on the long drag up College Road, but we got to the top with no great drama. My knee was really protesting now, so it was slow going, but then it was an easy roll down to the finish. Here's my road buddy Larry with me at the finish:

The finish was a bit disappointing really - there was no obvious end - just a banner in the car park but people weren't riding under it and they were handing out the medals before you got there anyway - all a bit low key. We then had what I'd have to rank as the worst bacon sandwich of all time (which didn't stop me from eating it), and we rode around the park looking for an exit near to where Larry had parked. We had done the bit from Ally Pally to Crystal Palace, about 30 miles, with all the traffic jams & carnage of the West End, in bang on 2 hours, which was very pleasing! After bidding him farewell, and thanking him for sticking with me as I got slower on the hills, I took a picture of the sunrise and went home, waving at the poor buggers setting off from Crystal Palace with halfway to go as I did.

It was a great ride, not too hard so that it turned miserable, a really wide range of ability & bikes, people riding to raise money for a host of worthy charities, all chosen for their own reasons - in my case my 8 year old daughter who has type 1. Another JDRF team rider was doing it to raise money as her nephew has it, for example. The atmosphere was great all the way around.

I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to anyone - the faster folk can have fun whizzing around the quieter streets in the dead of night, the steadier riders can build themselves up to the challenge of 100km - none of the hills are TOO bad, and if they are then you can just walk anyway!

Things that surprised me? That really wide range of people & bikes, the all pervading smell of ganja in many of the built up areas, the lovely curry smells coming from some one's house in the East End, the number of people who were still out and about at 3am. I must be getting old.

I imagine it would have been quieter and calmer later on, and I've seen some great photos of London as it got light, but I was pleased to be done and dusted and home in bed by 0530 - the joys of living 3 miles from the start!

I'll leave the last word to William Wordsworth - I didn't know this poem before today, I saw the first line in another post about views of London, and looked it up. It perfectly describes what I thought the ride would be like, but in fact,the mixture of chaos & calm made it a lot of fun. Take it away Billy:

Upon Westminster Bridge, Wordsworth

EARTH has not anything to show more fair;
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty.
This city now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky,—
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Tour de Penge 2014

Sunday 18th May was a glorious sunny day, so perfect for the 8th edition of the Tour de Penge. Families and riders gathered in the park from about 10, and by the time I turned up with my peloton of 16 people, the place was heaving. We signed on and joined the 300 or so others for Le Grand Depart!

Unlike last year, the local police hadn't turned out to close the roads for us, but with marshalling help from Bromley Cyclists & the adult section Penge Cycle Club, we managed fine. The ride rolled off down Maple Road, then along the high street, with passers by taking pictures of the enormous Peloton, and gathered again in Cator Park to form into smaller groups, with a marshall leading the way, and another bringing up the rear.

From there it was 8 miles along the Waterlink way via Catford, Ladywell, Lewisham and Deptford to Greenwich. The pace was languid, targetted at letting the kids keep up, or set the pace, so there was none of the usual misery today. The only slight concerns were making sure that the tan-lines were straight, and having enough money for ice cream.

Groups formed, splintered, reformed again, and there was a great atmosphere as we made our way gradually along the quiet paths to Greenwich for our picnic. Just as some of the little ones (and a few of the grown ups) were beginning to grumble, we came around the corner & the masts of the Cutty Sark hoved into view! Phew!

On arriving in the park in front of the Greenwich Mean Time brewery, there were loads of other riders having their picnics in the shade, and, given we were picnicking in front of the brewery, it would have been rude not to sample a bit of the product...

The kids all seemed to be re-energised by some food, and were really happy running around in the sun until it was time to go back. This time we went in one big group, and the children were all looking forward to ice-cream in Ladywell Fields, and a splash in the river. It was such a warm afternoon that I was also tempted to join them...but I resisted. It was lovely to see new friendships being formed, old ones being rekindled (my daughter was really happy to see a girl she'd met on last year's ride,and they played together in the creek), as well having some time to chat to people you usually see ahead of you on rides!

After an hour or so lazing in the sunshine, we headed off, over the curly wurly bridge,and back along the waterlink way to Cator Park, where Conrad, John & Helen, Liam, John & Jane were waiting to welcome us back, then it was back to ours for some refreshing beers.

It was a great day out - brilliantly organised by Penge CC, well marshalled by Penge CC & Bromley cyclists, and most importantly wonderfully supported by the community. There were bikes being ridden by people who may not be out on those bikes until the same time next year, loads of kids - and hopefully all those casual cyclists will have enjoyed it enough to do another one - be it Breeze, sky ride, or just doing the same route again in the holidays.

Thanks to all the organisers, the marshalls, all the riders, and roll on next year. I imagine there'll be a lot of kids sleeping the sleep of the righteous tonight!

PS - you'll be pleased to hear the lycra top did its job, and the sunburn is nicely symmetrical!

Beckenham to Brighton, May 4th 2014

So today I finally broke the Brighton duck - I've been trying to cycle there for a few years,and today was the day! I went on an organised run with Bigfoot Bikes, based nearby in Hayes. Here's the route., and here's the profile:

The main club set off slightly earlier, many planning to ride back afterwards, and I was waiting with the families - where kids from 8 years old were going to ride down! They were split into groups and the faster kids were nipping at our heels all day - usually arriving at the feed stops as we were leaving, with exhausted parents in their wake.

I was joined by Martin from the club, and an old floor-mate since University, Jon "Bunny" Bunn, and we joined a group of 16 others, supposedly in the 12mph group, thinking it would a nice sedate ride down...I was going to change the name to "FAT LADS ON BIKES", but Bunny has lost so much weight his lycra was baggy, so that wouldn't be fair.

The route took us along some familiar lanes before we started following some roads I hadn't seen before, and some of the scenery was beautiful - bluebells everywhere, the sun trying to warm us up, then whizzing down the Haliloo Valley (no, me neither), before we went along what felt like a secret road which took us through the middle of Woldingham School (or Wolditz as it used to be known when Bunny's lovely wife went here a few years back), then out the other side and down to Godstone.

We were on the busy A25 for a bit but soon got back onto the quiet roads around Bletchingley, as we headed to our first feed stop at the Bell Inn in Outwood. The aforementioned Kate was there with emergency supplies - bacon sandwiches, cereal bars & support - it being their local boozer! Also saw Andy who was waiting with his youngest for his wife and 2 boys to come through on the family ride.

I'll be honest, at this point of the ride I'd decided this was going to be a pretty short post - pretty much "rode to Brighton, it was a sunny day, no alarms". Needless to say, hubris was to get the better of me eventually, but not just yet! It almost did as we swept down a fast downhill just after the first feedstop: as the road went around to the right, the corner was a bit sharper than I'd thought, I was going a bit too fast, and I had a brief vision of catapulting over the hedge Jonny Hoogerland style...

The pace was fine, and I was particularly enjoying not being overtaken on all the hills, which is my usual MO...Having gone past Mrs Bunn's fomer alma mater, we later went past another of the Bunn family schools at Worth, with amazing views across the Sussex countryside- not really done justice by this photo:

Our next stop couldn't have been more quintessentially English - country pub on a village green, cricket match taking place, vintage transport aficionados standing by the side of the road waiting for the vintage commercial vehicle rally to pass by on their way to Brighton from London.

Quick pitstop to top up on water / flapjacks / sausage rolls, followed by the now obligatory pic of the boys outside another pub, and then we set off again before we completely seized up. The one problem with riding in such a big group was we inevitably needed to have longer stops at the feed stations than you would otherwise, but it was fun to be in a big group and have people to talk to, target on the hills, support etc.

We knew that the last bit of the ride would be the toughest, and it took a while to warm up again after the stop. Bunny cramped up at the top of a hill, but there were a couple of salt tablets to hand and, with some electrolyte drink, this seemed to do the trick. There wasn't quite as much sprinting up the hills as there had been earlier in the day! Then we saw the South Downs looming ahead of us, and the ominous Devil's Dyke in the distance. Suddenly, the banter died down (apart from Martin who was quoting the miserable bits from last week's blog back at me), and people started concentrating on getting over what was ahead. Here I am looking up at it - it's off camera, because you obviously can't look directly at it.

Mr Hubris, I've been expecting you.

We got to a roundabout and started the climb. It wasn't that steep to start with, but you knew it was going to get worse, so it was a case of grinding up. We annoyingly lost some height before it ramped up, and we had to stagger into the middle of the road and turn right for a further ramp and on to the top. There were some strugglers and a few people got off to push - someone on front of me dismounted with a loud "No, that's enough" - but I carried on, and it flattened out towards the top. We went over the summit and collapsed onto a grass bank next to the golf club to bask in the achievement and the sunshine, and look at the sea!

Here's Martin, King of the Mountains, surveying his domain from his grassy throne!

Conquering Devil's Dyke had a reinvigorating effect - all the stress of the last hour was gone, the jokes were back, it was time for another selfie, and then to drag ourselves off our sunny grass bank and set off for the last 5 miles down the other side to Brighton.

By this time we were seeing groups of riders riding back to London - odd, given there was a perfectly good train service - and Martin, who had been talking about riding back all day, made a snap decision and went for it. So he missed the interesting route we took down to the beach,and the cheer that went up as we rounded the final corner!

It was over surprisingly quickly - we thanked the lead rider, who then went off to be with some friends, others were met by families, and that was that! A quick brew and an ice-cream was our recovery food, then a smaller group of us headed for the station to catch a train back.

It had been an excellent ride - thanks to Bigfoot for organising it, and throwing their doors open to everyone - it was a really good route, well organised feed stops, well led, a perfect pace (for me, at least), great weather, no misery - apart from a teeny bit on Devil's Dyke. Well done to the youngsters too - the first group of whom made it to the coast not long after us,and looked like they could go straight back again!

By the time I got home, cycling back with a few others from East Croydon, I'd ridden 110km at an average speed of 22kmh, with a max of 56kmh - probably going around Hoogerland Corner! It was great to ride with my old mate Bunny, and it seemed apposite in Skidrow-on-Sea to have a couple of tinnies on the station forecourt before we headed for home. It was also his longest ride, so he did really well, especially conquering the cramp.

We're riding again next week, with more hills, as we're building up the the ridiculous Chiltern 100 at the end of the month - something I'm NOT looking forward to! I'm sure there'll be a miserable story to tell though!

The Inaugural Penge Continental

Sunday 27th April, 22:49

Just got back from France, where I've been with 11 other from the Penge Cycling Club for the first edition of what I hope will be many Penge Continentals. This was the 3rd ride of my summer of 8 organised rides (not including the Sunday club runs), several of which I'm doing to raise money for JDRF (Read more here)

This one was a 100km around the Pas de Calais, organised by John, taking in 60 miles of bucolic French scenery, including several stiff climbs, apparently linked by flattish roads...this is the route!

And here's the profile - flat bits at the start & mercifully the finish, not so much in the middle:

The 12 of us assembled at the travel centre in Dover at 8ish then followed the red cyclists line round to the ferry. As cyclists we were allowed to embark first, and because many had just bought coffee, water bottles were temporarily replaced with costa cups, which fitted really well, and we took on the first climb of the day to get onboard. Bike racks were provided, and we all piled up to the cafe and watched on with interest as some tugs shifted a container ship which had run aground in the inner harbour. Once we got going the chat & banter increased as the continent got closer and we could see our first proper climb looming into view. I had clearly overdone it on the food front and even had some dry clothes in my bag, which was already heavy and quickly became a burden once we started riding - already investigating saddle bags for next time!

We rode out of the port and along towards Sangatte on the coast road, straight past the refugee camp, and continued to make our way through the outskirts, already noticing that drivers were giving us a respectfully wide berth, and there were even some encouraging toots of the horn. There were some envious glances from me at the people queuing up for €6.50 roast chicken from a van by the side of the road, but there was no time for such fripperies as lunch, so on we went!

There was a decent tailwind, so we made good progress to the base of the climb up to Cap Blanc Nez, then pedalled up that at our own pace, under the watchful lens of Martin who had his camera out at the top for those all important “this climb isn’t bothering me at all” shots as we approached the top!

We waited for everyone to arrive, took some pics, looked back at the impressive height we’d gained, then set off down the fast sweeping road on the other side of the cap and turned inland onto the tiny, largely traffic-free roads which were to characterise most of the ride. It was here we got the first "Courage" from a random old lady, but there was banter with other cyclists, as well as the occasional hilarious "pedal" joke from a car when we were going up hill...

It was lovely to ride up these empty roads in between rolling hills, then get to the top and see the magnificent views across the channel or back to Calais, or on to the next set of rolling hills on our route...

After a long descent into another hamlet on good surfaces apart from the slippery gravelly bit in the middle of the lane, we went up another valley and came across our first car - apparently being driven by a child sitting on its mother's lap! The road surfaces were generally very good, and we were going through some very bucolic looking & smelling scenery - big piles of natural fertiliser on the edges of many of the fields, some enormous looking farmhouses, a few of which had been converted to gites, and may have been a good option for a holiday - if it wasn't so close to home with the same weather! Eventually we got to a village called La Slack, and the photo opportunity was too good to miss!

Not long after this I started to struggle - I had been fine all day, but with the dark clouds looming, the weight of my rucksack starting to give me gip and the rain starting to spit I started to feel rough and needed to stop for some food. I ate some bread & salami from my bag while John & Sophie waited, then we shared a very bizarre tasting energy bar, and the three of us carried on until we met up with the others at the cafe stop about 10 miles on.

The next 45 mins or so were miserable - as miserable as I'd been on a bike for a long time. All of those black thoughts start going through your head - I started remembering my last bike ride in France, the epic fail of the Etape in 2011 (described here), I decided I would throw my bike off the first available cliff and give up all the riding I have lined up for the rest of the summer, why was I doing this, the weight I had lost didn't seem to be making me any faster, what was the point etc etc. John stopped to take a call, and I confided in Sophie that knowing that the only way out of it was to keep going as there was no chance of bottling out and calling for rescue was a bit demoralising. While she agreed, she also said it would be good discipline to crack on, and not that we had any choice in the matter, that's what we did, if not a massively cracking pace!

There was a long drag up to Boursin, which didn't seem to the one of Cheese fame, and then a stiff climb out of town on one of the last 3 hills of the day - we went up to a crucifix appropriately, praying for deliverance from these hills, then branched left, and the road ramped up around the corner to the top. By this time it was hosing it down, which paradoxically made me feel much better and I started enjoying myself again! I was wondering why I had been struggling quite so much up the hill - could it have been the phantom mechanical?! - so I got off at the top and found both the mudguard & rear brake blocks were rubbing against the back wheel rim. A twiddle from John sorted the brakes and a kick from me sorted the mudguard and on we went.

Here's a picture from the bottom of the hill - we have to get to the top. It may not look steep, but why don't you try riding up it?!

Down the other side and past the bemused farmer in his tractor, then through another village and out the other side to see a wall ahead of us, our penultimate climb, and the one with the hairpins. As we approached it and could see where we had to go it was quite daunting, but once you got into the hairpinny bit, it wasn't too bad - though by this time I was utterly soaked and could hardly see a thing. I got to the top, parked my bike against a house, chatted to the locals about the weather and waited for John & Sophie to arrive, which they duly did, and we carried on down to the next village and the long awaited cafe stop!

When we arrived triumphant at the hilariously named cafe, a big cheer went up from inside, and we went in to warm up a bit, dry off a little, and shed some of the weight in my bag by eating a few rolls and some cashew nuts. The rest of the rolls stayed behind and only the malt loaf and the remaining cashew nuts continued the journey. We would have liked to have had some frites, but some other cyclists had been in earlier and apparently polished them off!

After watching the end of the LBL race on telly with the owner, who turned out to be Monsieur Boulanger, who claimed to be two-time French National Cyclo-Cross champion, with the pictures on the wall to prove it, we carried on.

The final hill, le Cote du Mat, was straight up the side of the escarpment, but wasn't that long, and after a break at the top for more photos, we struck out for home. This is the view back down it.

The first section was a long downhill, which was great and very fast, then quite a long tiring stretch into the wind, which kind of mitigated against it being flat, then a stretch along the canal into Calais - some of which was the worst surface we'd been on all day. The sun had come out, and the mood lifted even more when the roadsigns started showing Calais again. We had an enforced pitstop because Liam had cramp, but then we finished the last few miles to the port, and after a false start trying to go in via the lorry entrance and a quick escape back down the one way entrance ramp the wrong way, we found our way to the right part of the port and, after passing through the border controls, made our way to the front of the line and relaxed. Out came the malt loaf, down went the malt loaf with a hefty thump, and eventually we were allowed to embark, after the lorries but before the cars, and trying to break the strava segment time for sprinting up the ramp.

Bikes stowed, we headed for the bar and a well deserved drink. Really well deserved! So well deserved that we had another one, then one more just to make sure.

Once we'd disembarked, we were pleased to be able to follow the red line again out of the port, and not encounter any more lorries (until the bit when the red line bizarrely went straight across the main exit route, but luckily the lorries stopped to let us go), and we headed for the car-park, loaded the bikes, said our farewells and headed home. Thanks to Martin for stepping in at the eleventh hour and giving me a lift there and back, and for his excellent company.

It was a fantastique day out, brilliantly organised by John Haile, who rode along at the back all day, and helped those of us who were there, for however long we were there, get through the rough patches and over the hills. Without that kind of encouragement and support when you're out, riding can be very lonely, so I want to thank John & everyone else who made the ride such a great experience.

Can't wait for the next one! A tout a l'heure!

PS - thanks to Martin & John for some of the photos.

My Hell!

The Hell of the Ashdown is a local cyclosportive, run every year by the Catford Cycle Club. It starts in Biggin Hill and heads out up and down 104km of lanes in Kent & East Sussex to the Ashdown Forest & back. It's pretty popular too - always sells out, 1500 riders. They use the same route each year, only altering it for road closures or ice. The only real variable is the weather - this year it was bright & warm & sunny. Last year it was below zero & very cold.

I tried to go to Hell about 4 years ago, but had an elbow injury which didn't lend itself to riding up & down bumpy roads. I decided to give it another go this year, and signed up along with about 15 others from Penge Cycle Club.

Here's the "before" shot...

Last week we went out on a training run which was to cover some of the route, including the last 2 hills, and I struggled - it was very windy and I didn't eat enough. Halfway up Ide Hill I bonked / cracked / lost it, got off the bike, sat on the verge and called home for a rescue. I then pushed the bike up the hill until Andy came back to look for me & helped me get over the top. So I spent most of the build up fretting about the hills - which, as you can see from the profile below, come thick & fast all day long! Click on the pic to see it better!

The Biblical weather of Friday had faded away by Sunday, which was beautifully calm and sunny. Unfortunately ideal conditions! I got a lift to the start, picked the all important timing chip, route card & the mysterious yellow band (apparently it was so you could get food, not that it was ever checked), and met up with some of the others from the club before our scheduled start time of 9.15.

As we were waiting, phone calls were coming in from the marshalls on the course about treacherous conditions with black ice on the first couple of hills - we were allowed to go but advised to proceed with caution.

I had done some parts of the route before, so was prepared for the first shock,  about 2 miles in, of Cudham Test Hill - still, no matter how well prepared you are, a short climb which is 25% at the top (1 in 4 in old money) is still hard, and this was the first time in 3 attempts I'd got to the top and stayed on the bike! My heartrate was through the roof, so it took me a while to recover. I caught up with Winston, who owns the bike shop & unofficial clubhouse, who was on the verge of pulling out as he'd been up all night with sick kids. A bit later he belted past me going down Hogstrough Hill, so I guess he'd recovered!

Hogstrough was the first downhill - it's a narrow lane & is usually very fast, but because of the aforementioned black ice, everyone was going down it full on the brakes. Then there was another patch of black ice as we came into Brasted at the bottom, where we just got off and walked through. I met up with some others from the club, and we paired off with people of a similar level.

Toys Hill was long but straightforward - with a surprising number of people turning back because of the black ice. By this time it was getting on for 10am, so the worst of it had melted away. I was riding with Conrad, and we got off towards the top with some others, but as there was no ice we got back on again after a few minutes and carried on.

Because of the focus on the big local celebrities,  Ide, Toys, Star & "the wall", you could be forgiven for not realising that other hills are also available - and the route did its (un)level best to take us over all of them! Once you had gone down one it was around a corner and up another. There was little respite and hardly any flat bits,such as the road out of Hever, the long drag up Forest Row to the top but we were all in the same boat & the camaraderie was great.

We had a brief stop after 16 miles in Cowden for a banana and debrief, but then it was on to the first control & feed stop at the top of the Ashdown Forest,  where we scoffed cake, jaffa cakes,  drank tea & girded our loins for the infamous Wall. Before we got to the climb there was a wonderful downhill stretch with amazing views across the downs, but then it was round the corner by the pub (I'd had lunch there the last time I tackled the wall - and unsurprisingly failed), down the hill then up!

This is the view on the approach taken on a sunny autumn day, but it was remarkably similar yesterday.

It's not called The Wall for nothing, but if you sit in the lowest gear you have and focus on landmarks rather than the top, it is do-able. At one point I veered off into the forest but no harm was done & I carried on. Then, out of the blue, disaster struck! I was almost at the top when m chain snapped and fell off. Luckily I wasn't standing at the time, so there were no crushed balls to go with the disappointment of not quite making it - even though, with only yards to go, it was in the bag!

Up ahead I could see another Penge rider with his bike on his shoulder, and when I got to the top it turned out to be Andy whose rear gear mech had snapped off. His race was over, and mine would have been too, had there not been a friendly guy who stopped to help,  who had the right sized link to replace my broken one. Andy had a chain tool and duly replaced my link, so on I went.

The next bit was a long descent to Groombridge - punctuated with a couple of sneaky climbs. Halfway down I looked back to see where my buddy Conrad was, and as I turned back I somehow managed to ride off the road and fall off into the muddy grass. No harm done,  and onwards to Groombridge.

As we came up the Nouvelle Col de Groombridge back into Kent,  Conrad started to struggle with cramp. My front mech also got stuck, so I had to stop at the bottom of the next hill and drop it to the lower cog by hand. I got to the top and found that I was on my own, then a few minutes later someone came past and told me my friend had sent a message that I should leave him and go on. I couldn't do that - do unto others as you hope they would do unto you and all that, especially as we were only 2/3 of the way home, and there was plenty to go. He caught up and on we rode, past the Bough Beech reservoir to Ide Hill.

Last week I'd had a complete meltdown on Ide Hill and given up - a combination of exhaustion, lack of energy,  shame... I just wanted to get past where I'd cracked the previous week, but couldn't remember where it was, so I kept going. There was also a chap in front of me who was in more trouble than me, so I sat on his wheel, yelling at him when he started to veer across into oncoming traffic. We made it to the top unscathed, and went into the village hall for a well deserved cup of tea, some cake, and a quick call home for a progress update.They also fixed my gears.

After a good rest we carried on - now only 13 miles away, with one brutal hill to come. The light was beginning to fade as the evening drew in, but it was still beautifully sunny. There was a fast bumpy downhill section, then a flattish bit alongside the M25 before turning left and heading up Star Hill. It's another long climb, one I've done once before and not managed. Again I focussed on the small targets  - a bus stop, a funny shaped hedge,  a red sign, a "slow" warning painted on the road - not that I could have gone much slower.  By breaking it down into chunks I made it to the top and allowed myself a Henmanesque fist pump. The worst was now over.

Poor Conrad had been struck by cramp again, but he made it too and we made our way through the ever darkening lanes towards Biggin Hill and the finish. We didn't go the most direct route, annoyingly, but with Conrad now calling out how far we had to go every half a mile we made good progress and were suddenly at the finish. They were just packing away the finish line, but we crossed it together to be met by Andy, who had been waiting for us.

What a great feeling that was - I'd been to Hell & back & lived to tell the tale. I hadn't walked up any hills. I'd toughed it out and had a certificate to prove it! Who cares about the time (7.20 since you ask), it's not about the time, it's about finishing,  and somehow,  despite my doubts, my back had held out, my knees hadn't given way and I had made it. WE had made it,  as I couldn't swear I would have been as determined to plough on if I'd been alone and not wanting to desert my comrade in arms, Conrad.

We went inside, collected our certificates with the irrelevant times on them, then had a well deserved hot chocolate & fried eggs on toast. Winston had been rescued on the course following a fall (he's ok), so all of Penge CC were accounted for. The Gabster arrived with the kids and it was home for a long soak in the bath, this lovely picture they'd done for me to welcome me home, followed by the inevitable 4 hour nap on the sofa.

It was a great day out - a long one, but the weather was great, the company was great, the solidarity on the road was fantastic, the marshalling was friendly & efficient,  the route was very challenging but not impossible - even though I had thought it would be beyond me. I decided, once I knew that I was going to make it, that I could cross it off my list now and never do it again, but as I write, with my tired legs and painful left hand, I find myself looking forward to doing it again next year - I always said cycling was a masochistic pursuit!

You can sign up to do it yourself sometime in November at www.hell.gb.com

Living with Type 1 Diabetes

For World Diabetes Day last year, I wrote an insight into a day in the life of a child with T1:

1) night testing

0145, give her a nightime blood test. Levels a bit high but decide not to correct as experience tells me the numbers fall away quickly as morning approaches and I don't want her to go low. Last night they were a bit low so gave her a snack - biscuit & milk. She has no memory of being sat up in bed & fed. No 2 nights are the same.

2) Breakfast

We do the blood test to see her morning levels, and if there's a correction to do, we do it before she eats. Change the needles on the long & slow acting insulin pens. Today we had to change the long acting insulin as well.

What's the difference? The long acting levemir provides the basal dose, and this ticks away in the background all day, doing normal pancreas stuff.

The fast acting novorapid handles the food intake. But in order to give the right amount, we have to work out the carbohydrate content of everything B eats, type that into the meter, which then tells us how much insulin to inject. This is the bolus dose.

Carb counting: Most foods have a carb content per 100g on the back, so we weigh her cereal, add the measured milk. Toast is easier as they have a per slice count on the bread packet. Some people add a bit on for the toasting as well but we don't. Add on a few grams for the honey, or weigh it onto the buttered toast.

I hate carb counting, it sucks the spontaneity out of food, but it's also absolutely essential. When we let it slide or get it wrong, B can get too much or too little insulin, and end up too high (hyperglycaemia) or too low (hypoglycaemia) - both of which will make her feel shit and both of which could get nasty if not treated immediately with correctional insulin or fast acting sugar.

There are apps & books to help, but sometimes the food isn't in there, so you have to guess.

So, 1 test, 2 needles changed, 2 or 3 injections (depending on whether she's decided what she's having to eat), food weighed & measured, carbs calculated. Now she can eat! Every morning...

3) School

B doesn't let her diabetes get in the way of her doing anything, and nor do we. She does everything at school that the others do. We are very lucky to have a supportive school, and an amazing TA who takes care of B at lunchtime and makes sure she has the right injections. Carb counting is not so onerous, as most of the time the school catering companies can give you an idea of the carb content of the meals.

During the day, B will test herself if she's feeling unwell, and the teachers may keep an eye on her too, but I understand that it's not easy for them and they have 29 other kids as well. As she's getting older, she, we and they want her to become more independent, but you do still need trained adults around who know the signs. In very unusual cases, some parents get a statement, which means their child can have 1 to 1 care - but these are definitely the exception and not the rule.

She'll usually need a snack before or after PE, and this may cause some envy from her classmates, who just see her eating biscuits during lessons. She used to have to be taken to the medical room for tests, but we insisted they keep her test kit in the classroom - if she's hypo, she needs to be tested right away and shouldn't be walking halfway across school, or going down stairs etc.

We're not sure how any residential school trips will be handled, as she does need to be checked and potentially treated at night, and this is usually a big area of concern for parents - we don't want our kids to miss out, and legally the school can't exclude them, but some schools make it very difficult. I hope this will not be our case.

BG levels can be very different during the school day than at weekends, and can vary day to day depending on what they are doing. Concentrating can cause the levels to go down more quickly as the brain also burns up the carbs.

She'll come home in a couple of hours, and may well be bordering on low - she usually fades after lunch, so we need to think about whether the carb ratios are right at lunchtime or not, and change them if necessary.

4) Bath & bedtime

So the evening meal is much like breakfast, with all the food being weighed and the carbs calculated. We have to be careful with certain foods - fatty things like pizza take a long time to release, so we give the insulin after she's eaten it. We also have to watch out that what we calculate is what she eats - otherwise we might end up giving her too much.

She might have a treat from her sweetie box (which we carb count and add to the meter), or if she's been to a party she might have the cake. She's incredibly disciplined about waiting until an appropriate time to eat her sweets or cake - much more than I am.

At bathtime, she might suddenly feel funny in the bath or shower - this is because hot water can accelerate the absorbtion of insulin, so this is another thing we have to look out for. I imagine she'll be pretty pissed off when she's older and suddenly feels low when she's covered in soap or shampoo!

Before she can go to be she has to be tested again, and given a second dose of the long acting levemir to get her through the night. If her numbers are below 7 then she'll need a small snack - a couple of biscuits or a glass of milk - something to bump her up a bit and keep her from going low in the night. This is the nightmare of many T1 parents, and why we test at night, as you just don't know whether they will wake up once they go low or not. The other day, she did, at 0530, so we were able to give her some OJ and get her back up again. Other times she may not. It's a worry.

When she eventually goes to bed, we can put our feet up until we go to bed, but we should expect to test her a couple of times in the night, and be prepared to feed her again if we need to - or indeed administer a correction. We can usually tell if we'll need to correct her as we'll hear her padding around upstairs going to the loo frequently - one of the signs of high blood sugar.

Just another day in the life of a child with Type 1 - and this was an easy day without any additional complications like being ill!

5) the stats

B's numbers today: 5.2 at breakfast, 6.1 at lunch, 4.1 after school, then a biscuit-frenzy induced 13.2 at teatime. Apart from the 13.2, these are excellent numbers! I just know that tomorrow we could do exactly the same, she could eat the same, and they'd be different - higher or lower - such is the roller-coaster of type 1 diabetes!

Thanks for your patience in reading these updates about what it's like managing & living with Type 1 diabetes. I hope you've gained some awareness into what is a relentless but manageable condition - she'll have it for life, or until there is a cure, but it needn't be a life sentence.

Type 1 is auto-immune, it is not caused by obesity or poor lifestyle choices or too many sweets - not that you'd know that from the way the media uses the blanket term "diabetes". I'm not sure I knew there were several different types before it affected me, or what they were, so I try to raise awareness rather than be judgmental!

With B the signs were rapid weight loss, extreme unquenchable thirst, going to the loo all the time & general listlessness. We were lucky that the GP did a blood test and sent us to Paediatrics at Lewisham in an ambulance, where we have a lovely team helping us manage this disease.

It is a daily struggle, but we do our best to keep everything as normal as possible, and things like carb counting are becoming part of the routine. She can eat the same as everyone else can, there's nothing we have to avoid - we just have to calculate how it's going to affect her and account for it with insulin.

One of the reasons we're able to cope is partly because we have no choice, but mainly because B takes it all in her stride with such courage that she leaves us humbled.

Here she is with her equally incredible Mum who does most of the work, saving the best bits (weekends and nights) for me!

If you want to help find a cure, then you can make a donation to JDRF, or sponsor me for one of my crazy bike rides - it'll get to the same source, and will be used to find a cure.

Thanks for reading.

RideLondon 100

So, the day was finally here. I had done a reasonable amount of training- plenty of short 30-40km rides, 1 x 75km, 1 x 100km, so I had some mileage in my legs at least. I'd also lost about 5kg, which was very pleasing.

The week began with a bike fitting, as I had been getting a lot of lower back pain. This was a detailed process - nearly 3 hours assessing my position on the bike, changing around various bits & pieces, learning a new pedalling style, and the next day I rode to work and felt a bit faster! However the back pain was still lingering, and I couldn't decide whether it was the new fit causing it, or it was left over from the weekend, or it was because I was nervous about the ride!

On Friday I went up to the ExCel to collect my starting pack, and to meet the lovely JDRF team in person. There was also a massage area, so I decided to let them have a go at my back, and it helped. I avoided the sofa for the next 2 days, which probably also helped! On Saturday we pottered around - I ate plenty of protein at a barbie, but in the evening I didn't really feel like eating - the nerves were starting to kick in, though I forced some risotto down, searched the house top and bottom for one of my lucky training socks which had gone missing, and eventually packed it up, got some other perfectly acceptable socks out of the drawer, prepared the rest of my kit and went to bed.

The night before the Etape du Tour in 2011 (a stage of the Tour de France going over 2 alpine passes and finishing on Alpe De Huez,) had been terrible - I'd lain awake devising a foolproof plan to hide in the woods behind the chalet until they all went - and I started that ride on a bit of a hiding to nothing with shattered confidence, dehydrated, and nothing in my legs. I got over one alp then was caught by the broom wagon. This time I slept pretty well, apart from being woken at bladder o'clock a few times, although I did wonder at one point if I should accidentally leave the garage door open to facilitate the theft of my bike...

After my experience in 2011, only a few months after my daughter was diagnosed, I felt like I had a bit of unfinished business with long distance sportives, and to really tempt fate, I decided if I were going to beat the demons, I would wear my etape t-shirt under my kit to get that closure. The lucky socks would have really pressed home my advantage, as well as the very generous cut off times, so I felt like I had a good chance, if my creaking back could hold together.

I was wide awake by 4am, got up and had some porridge Gaby had prepared the night before. Mum was staying (so we didn't have to take the kids along), and she woke up too, read through the riders' instructions and worried whether I had everything (I did!).I stuffed my jersey pockets with dried fruit, jelly babies, homemade flapjacks, and got the bike in the car, and off we went.

There were a few other cars on the road with bikes, and there were knowing glances between the drivers. We were all heading for the O2 carpark, where the bikes were unloaded, checked for the last time, wives were kissed goodbye (the event was about 75% MAMIL), and off we cycled through the closed tunnel. This was fun in itself - I have ridden through a closed tunnel once before in Rio, when the roads were impassable due to mudslides, but on that occasion there were diggers in the opposite bore making a terrible racket.

This time, it was just the whirring of pedals, and it was quite tranquil. Out the other side and along the road down to Stratford. I ran into Steve, another JDRF rider I knew, and we arrived at Olympic Park way too early, about an hour and a quarter before our start time. Didn't do much - queued for the loo, met some other riders, got cold, went through to the start pen, queued for the loo again, chatted a bit, lost my buddy, found a broken pair of Oakley shades which I repaired by clicking the lens back in, waited around, ate flapjacks, tried not to think about what was ahead... The hilarious PA man wasn't quite as tiresome as the one in the Etape, but he didn't need to be waffling on quite as much as he did at that time of the morning. (I wonder if they ever think to play calming classical music instead of pumping hi-energy pop?!)

And then we were off, about 5 mins ahead of schedule. There were a couple of miles until we officially started, and I just rode off at my own pace. There were a few bunches of people together, but no one riding in a properly formed group. There were chain gangs of good club riders who came through from time to time, but they were too fast for me to get on a wheel. There were all sorts of different shapes & sizes- from Boris Johnson's chiselled whippet to some very large people, and on different kinds of bikes - mainly road, but some hybrids, a few tandems and some bloke on a Brompton - no idea how he got on! Once we were over the start mat, we had a lovely run down the A13 with great views of the Canary Wharf area in the early morning light. Then it was down into the Limehouse Link for a while, until we popped out, somewhere along from the Tower. This is also where we saw out first spectators on the road, and I was momentarily overwhelmed by this, stifling a couple of sobs, glad of the protective shades. I had anticipated pain & suffering, but not emotion. It was going to be a dusty day, by the look of it.

Around the tower a large group appeared on my shoulder and swept past - Laura Trott & her team mates, minders and hangers on. They weren't going hugely fast and I was close enough to see them drop out by The Ritz - even telling another rider that whatever else happened, we had beaten Laura.

The route took us along the A4 then over Chiswick Bridge, through Sheen & up into Richmond Park. I wasn't riding in a group as such, but seemed to be sticking with the same people. There was a bloke with cow horns on his helmet for some reason,  and I was glad once I had dropped him because he was annoying me! Cow horns! After the park it was Kingston, past the JDRF support on the bridge, Hampton Court then out towards Surrey via Walton, Weybridge and other places. The pace was good - 30kmh average - but it was windy.

The 10 mile posts came & went, and I was telling myself 10% done, 20% done etc. The 20-30 seemed to take longer than expected, and I didn't see the 40 mile sign. I had decided not to stop until the 45 mile mark, which was at the top of Newlands Corner. The ride up is quite sharp, but not that bad, and I was a bit surprised to see some folk already walking up, pushing their bikes. There was food & water at the top (bananas,  crisps,  gels) but I didn't feel like anything. I phoned home (more dust, what was happening to me??),  let them know where I was,  and though Leith Hill & Box Hill were up next, I was going much faster than I thought I would be.

I was quite amused as we headed down from Newlands towards Leith Hill to hear people around me mistaking the straightforward hill we had just been up with the brute still to come. On the way we went past the 50 miles down - the halfway point. There was a sorry lack of festivities at this point, but I commented on it to the bloke next to me at the time, who just grunted and carried on. Once we reached the foot of Leith Hill, it was as bad as expected and seemed longer too. It was hard to get into a steady rhythm as the road was very narrow,  and once it ramped up to 17%, that slow lane became the walker's lane as people got off / got in the wrong gear & fell off.  I wasn't quick enough to go in the middle bit, so, (secretly not that disappointed), I got off too! It flattened out towards the top so I got back on, rode off the road into the wood, tried again & managed to get moving again!

Once over the top there was a fast descent back to the A25, and I later heard that I'd narrowly missed a pile up behind me. Given the way some folk were hitting the descent,  I wasn't that surprised. Anyway, as it had all been going brilliantly so far, there had to be a spanner somewhere,  and the first spanner was that I got stung on the shin by a bloody wasp! This was painful but not debilitating - however, the St John's ambulance people in Dorking had no antihistamines,  so it started to swell a bit. As I went through Dorking I saw the JDRF supporters zone, who cheered me on, and we shared high fives, then my friends Kate & Pat who had caught a train down to see me. I was so far ahead of the anticipated schedule that they had cut out the first place they'd planned to go and gone straight to  Dorking. It was so good to see some friendly, familiar faces - the roadside support was fantastic, but there's nothing like seeing friends & family to put a spring in your step. Now I know what a difference it makes, I am resolved to go and support the marathon runners next year.

And so to the "mythical Box Hill" - I'm not really sure why it is so mythical, as it is a very gradual climb, 3-4%, lovely surface, no problem going up. No walkers here, so no problems with rhythm, though the wag at the bottom who said there was free beer at the top was a lying dog! I was at the top by 1210, about 4 hours 20 after setting off, and with only about 35 miles to go, I was looking good for a great time...what could possibly go wrong now?!

Even to entertain such thoughts was to produce the other spanner, which was that my right knee packed up a few miles later, and it suddenly became very painful to put any pressure on it - so any bit of road which went uphill became a real struggle and I started going backwards. I got as far as the next hub at Leatherhead, and hobbled into the St John's Ambulance tent, where they initially advised me to stop riding. That was never going to happen, and as all they could do was provide an ice-pack, I just took a few minutes to sit in the shade & massage my knees (specifically the IT band, which was causing the pain) with tiger balm, which I had brought along for my back! After a while I pushed on, and, while going backwards on any slopes, I was ok on the flat.

Some of my family were going to meet me in Wimbledon, so I let them know where I was from Kingston and carried on. All the way from Leatherhead I was wondering how I was going to get up that last hill, whether I would have to walk, whether my nephew would run alongside etc. I hadn't forgotten the penultimate hill along Coombe Lane, but there was a lot of support out by now, and so I was spurred onwards & upwards.

As I was riding up from Raynes Park, I got chatting to a Scottish bloke whose legs had also gone, and we resolved to nurse each other through to the end - but then someone swerved in front of me, I lost a bit of rhythm, and the Scottish bloke was gone. I wasn't going to catch up with anyone at this point. I got to the corner, and there were the family cheering me on, "Come on Andrew, only 10 miles to go, you're nearly there!" shouted Anna. I wanted to stop, but knew that if I did, I'd struggle to get moving again, and would have probably burst into tears, so I gave them a wave and turned the corner & started up the hill. The surge of "you're nearly there now" emotion carried me up the hill somehow, as well as all the support, which was really encouraging, and after one last stop for water (they had just run out of new knees, the guy told me), it was off along familiar roads towards Putney.

Halfway along the common, there was an old boy with a sign reading "pain is just weakness leaving the body", which made me laugh. My knee was just about tolerating the position I had got myself into, but when I tried anything else, like sitting up, or standing up, or taking my hands off the handlebars, it made its feelings clear very quickly and I was back down again. I coasted along past Tibbet's corner (not worrying about oncoming traffic was a nice change!) and on down Putney Hill, where we had to stop to let an ambulance cross the course. This was annoying, as valuable downhill momentum was lost and we had to start up again. It may not seem much, but 95 miles in when you're knackered, it's a real effort!

I don't remember much of the next 4 miles, but suddenly I was back on the Thames & heading along towards Parliament Square, where Gaby, the kids, Mum, Giules, Kate & Pat were waiting. I wasn't sure whether they were expecting me to stop & chat, but I just carried on past them (partly because I couldn't have stopped at this point), high fives all round, and carried on up Whitehall to the final corner.

Somehow, I got round it & through Admiralty Arch, even getting a bit of a sprint on as I went onto the Mall, then coasting over the line as there was a big group finishing together denying me my moment of Cav, and the feeling that the sudden injection of pace meant all the crap in my pockets was going to fly out...however, finish I did, about 12000 down (which doesn't mean anything as people started at different times), but according to the announcer, well conditioned to be finishing in a decent time with decent fitness. He clearly had no idea about my knee!

7 hours 10 in the end, which included a lengthy injury stop and a very slow final third - if only I'd found that other lucky sock!

We were then asked to dismount, given a nice heavy medal, given a goody bag full of junk - a milk drink, a cranberry juice, a bottle of water, some gels, a tube of toothpaste, a sachet of salad cream...all really useful. A cheese roll would have been much better. I made my way through to the park, found a space on the grass, sat myself down, had a chat with my brother who had finished in 4.5 hours(!!!) then got mobbed as the support team arrived!

It was great to see them, and they were so pleased for me too - I don't think I had fully appreciated how others had looked on this whole venture - because I had done 100 miles the previous summer with a couple of neighbours, albeit in about 5 more hours, I never felt that I wouldn't finish. But 100 miles is a long way, and I had only been training since June. I had failed to finish the Etape, (you can read about that episode here), so definitely had some unfinished business. I also felt, as I rode along in a blur from Fulham, that I could cross the mid-life crisis off my list. And whenever it got tough, I tried to remember why I was doing it.

After a decent sit down, we went up to see Elizabeth & the JDRF team, then we walked gently back towards Charing Cross, fuelled by chips & hot-dogs, and looking forward to a milkshake from Maccy D's! The knee stiffened up in the evening, but an ice pack and some voltarol meant I could just about get upstairs at bedtime and slept the deep & dreamless sleep of the virtuous - what a day!

This morning, having sworn that was it yesterday, and now that the knees are working after a fashion again (if anyone has any tips for sorting out femoral tibial band issues, let me know!), I'm already thinking about the next one - Tour de Type 1 anyone?

You can still sponsor me here!