2010 Cheshire Cat

I remember last years Cheshire Cat somewhat less than fondly. My training (you couldn't call it that, really) was ineffective, and my preparations worse. Riding my miles in the form of a 200km ride once a fortnight was not working. My weight was gargantuan, and the Cat found me out.

I was a little more hopeful this year, what with a stone coming off as a result of the diet, and the sufferfest training me for digging in when the going gets tough. Additionally, this year the climbs were at the start of the ride, and not at the end.

Leaving home almost before it got light, we managed to park in the Car Park next to the ground, and got a late-ish breakfast prior to registering and taking our places in the start melee. Brett & I stayed roughly together until the turn at the bottom of Mow Cop where he disappeared whilst I was getting my head together. The last I saw of him before the finish was as he disappeared round the first of the bends at the bottom whilst trying to avoid the attentions of a random dog. Retreating into climbing mode, I took it easy all the way up, finally rising from the saddle at the foot of the steep bit, only to return to my seat once past the pub to crest the hill feeling relatively comfortable. What on earth has happened to me? I nearly died on that climb last year. This year the St John's Ambulance didn't even reach for the defibrillator.

Once over the top, I was overtaken by a number of people as I descended tentatively. Early in the season I am always a great wuss until I get used to the feel of the bike on fast descents again. Further riders passed on the climb to Bridestones, but many stayed around me all the way to the top. I was definitely climbing better, and looking like breaking the 8 hours total time predicted by Memory Map. The climb up the back of Gun Hill was as long as I remembered, but not as much of a struggle, and the few sharp drags prior to Feed 1 were also well dispatched. Arriving at feed 1, I checked the (noisy) front hub, and exited without food having stayed a scant 36 seconds. Wincle was the last climb, and in my opinion the hardest as it does go on a bit. Nevertheless, I didn't walk. I didn't pass those who were walking either, but I did stay riding.

Once out onto the flat stuff, the presence of the wind became apparent as it was opposing us most of the way to the third control beyond Holmes Chapel at Malpas. Many groups passed, and I even got onto some for a while. Unfortunately, I still didn't get my drinking strategy right, only consuming 1 litre of fluid in the whole ride. This is still something I have to work on, but still a factor of being on the ragged edge of my ability trying to hold the faster groups. The minute I reach for the bottle, I break rhythm and lose the group. So I don't reach for the bottle.

Judicious positioning of effort let me attack most of the drags on this section, still gradually increasing my average speed well inside 8 hour pace. I now know many of these roads from frequent audaxes, and this does help, knowing where to dig in, and where to just grind it out. Once through Church Minshull, and onto the long course, things got more lonely as many seemed to be doing the 67 miler. Still, there was the occasional group, and I ensured that these would pass more than once by trying to hold on, and visiting the feeds only fleetingly.

Once out of Malpas, we swung with the wind and as the speed increased, my GPS ran out of battery power. I knew that I was well up on 8 hour pace, but now had to push without knowing either the time, or the remaining distance. It was still a surprise to me that I could find riders going at roughly my speed even at this stage. Normally, the final stages of a Sportive are a lonely affair for fat blokes. Passing through Audlem, I hit the gas for the last time, finding later that I averaged close to 18 mph from here to the finish. As soon as the football stadium became visible, the head went down, and the speed was cranked up, but by the time I crossed the line the legs were completely gone.

Returning to the car, I discovered that Brett did not have a Mow Cop medal, having been de-seated by someone weaving in from of him. Unlucky! There's nothing you can do in those circumstances. I'm more fortunate, I'm never fast enough to run into people.

Today's sanitised results seem to indicate just over 1,000 riders who may be considered to have finished the 100 mile route. In my mind, the only time that matters is the elapsed time, not the on-the-road time as published by Kilotogo. Certainly, that's what I was targeting on Sunday. I was incredibly happy not only to break 8 hours, but to return within 7, clocking an overall time of 6:52:52, which puts me 402 of the 1022 I believe completed the 100.

I am delighted. I have very few rides of which I am proud:
The Etape 2008
2008 Etape du Dales (8:30:13)
2008 Circuit of the Cotswolds (one and only Silver)
2008 Cat (6:34 but 10km less and 300m less climb)

I now have one more.

Cheshire Cat 2010 6:52:52 402/1022 riders. Done!