Monday, 10 December 2018
Yasmin writes: On the night before my third 200km audax my husband Chris was enjoying thinking about the audaxes he's done this year.
"I was really pleased at attempting the Spring Dash [on
17th March], even if the cold weather broke my bike and forced me to ride home from Barley in a single gear", he said.
"I thought you were bonkers!", I replied. "You're supposed to be an enforced fair-weather cyclist! Why did you wait for the coldest day all winter to go outside?".
"I had to do it, it was on the calendar!" he retorted.
Morning came. The forecast hadn't got any worse overnight, or any better: it would be proper raincoat weather all day. I'd slept okay, but woke with a start at 2.20am realising that I'd loaded loads of routes on to the Garmin - Sawston to Witham, both halves of the 100km audax in all three flavours made available by Nick W - but had neglected to load a Witham to Sawston track. Doh. Back to sleep, and I was glad when I woke up before my alarm. Consequently, I left a little later than planned which meant Chris and our daughter had woken up and waved me off into a rather gloomy day.
Today's audax, as well as being my third 200 in three months, is my first "Extended Calendar Event" (ECE) - which means riding to and from the start, and claiming audax points in the process. The plan is to ride an extra 64km to Witham, do the 100km
Stansted Airport Express, have a jacket potato at the Wetherspoons at the end, and then ride the 64km home.
As Sawston is at least 54km from Witham whichever way you plot it, I didn't submit a GPS route. This is just as well, because in planning the route in haste I'd
put me going through Hinxton then down the busy B184. Instead, I used the slightly quieter B1383 past Little Chesterford and Littlebury to Walden, keen to make up time where possible.
On through Radwinter and the Sampfords. Around the Blue Egg at Bardfield the wind starts to press against me - right, time for a stroopwaffle! These Dutch delicacies are such excellent cycling fuel. My mood perks up, but my legs don't - and nearer Braintree I begin to doubt that I'll make the 10am start time. Oh well, I won't be much later, and I'm sure it takes the organiser a while to pack up his stuff.
Through Great Notley, which feels like a Cambourne tribute act, and back into the countryside. Phew - a sign for Witham!
And - oh! - a steady trail of audaxers heading away from me. Before despondency sets in, I remember that there was a 9.30am start time as well as a 10am. Ah, so I'm only 15 minutes away. Phew.
I arrive at Witham at 9.50am. The pub is loud, and filled with tall people in lycra. Why do I feel so short on audaxes? Mostly it's that I don't know many people yet, so am watching happy reunions and reminiscences. The pub is also hosting ordinary customers eating extraordinarily large breakfasts. By the time I arrive, they don't seem in the least bit phased by a small soggy person unable to find the toilets. I miss the mass start, but it's no bad thing as it means I'm at my own pace.
The route is slightly convoluted for the first half, in order to make it up to 52km. I begin to worry slightly at not seeing anyone else at all. Are they all really fast? Am I really slow? Then I see a few little groups ahead, and overtake a couple. Someone has stopped to fix a puncture already - oh dear. The road winds up and down, and I think what remarkable condition they're all in - really significantly better than Cambridgeshire.
It must be really pretty round here when the sun is shining. I stop to take a photo of what must be a really lovely view from a lovely house - if only the weather wasn't set to greyscale.
A lovely house in the rain
A lovely view in the rain
I start to flag and stop for a sandwich, and a group I've just overtaken pass me as I'm fumbling with my saddle bag. "You okay?" they shout - then they laugh, as I look up with a sandwich sagging out of my mouth. Happily they don't tell me off for talking with my mouth full, as I'd done the day before whilst on my way to work:
Me on bike: (avoiding potholes, whistling, etc)
Builder in van: (mouth full of sandwich) Oi, move over!
Me: (without thinking) I'm sorry, I can't understand you while your mouth is full. Please finish your breakfast, and then we'll have a proper conversation.
Builder: (drives off muttering inaudible reprimands)
Me: (tootles on to work, a bit embarrassed at being in full parent mode whilst offspring are at school).
When I catch up with them it turns out that one guy had met Chris on the "Four Minute Mile" calendar event. He'd found the Four Minute Mile a very challenging ride and is also suitably impressed at Chris ECEing it. But the main topic of conversation is my sandwiches - Nourishing Audax Sandwiches as they're known in our house, filled with muhammara as it's known in the middle east.
Here's the recipe I use. It's best with those long red peppers - better still if they're from the reduced basket at our greengrocers in Sawston.
The roads have been quiet, but as we pull into a village there's no choice but to ride along a main road for a bit. I get fed up at the noise of passing cars, and pull away from the group, eager to get to the next quiet country lane.
The first control in Great Leighs is easy to find: there is a pool of high-vis yellow pointing up at the village sign, then flowing away. I pull up, get out the brevet card and shout back, "How many churches on the sign?"
"Two!" someone replies. Off again, onto a well-surfaced bridleway over the A131.
The road winds round through Littley Green, which would evidently be a really pretty little chocolate box village if it weren't for the feeling of someone squeezing out a giant grey dishcloth over my head. Must come back this way in the summer. Or spring. Why am I doing this?
By the time I get to the next control, it's properly chucking it down and I take a photo of the answer rather than get out my brevet card.
Onwards to Hatfield Broad Oak, which is all slightly familiar after our solitary ride with the Tandem Club a few years ago. We'd just come back from our summer tour - Dorset that year, boy was that tough - and thought we'd be fit enough to manage a Tandem Club ride from Sawbridgeworth. Sadly not - the intervening ten recovery days had put paid to our fitness, and we were a bit glum to discover that a ride advertised as 30 miles actually meant 30 miles to lunch, then a further 10 miles back to the start.
On the road past Hatfield Forest I start to worry about the old A120, now the B1256, ahead - the only way of reaching the cafe control near Stansted Airport. My worries turn out to be with good reason: as I chug along, an enormous space ship of a car screeches to a halt next to me in a great cloud of dust and noise. Evidently the person driving the car hadn't noticed the concrete pinch point in the centre of the road when he'd decided to overtake me. He lurches off, tooting and shouting at me.
Nerves jangling I press on, knowing that it's not far to go, and glance at the steady trickle of audaxers on the other side of the road. One of them is Geoff, and there's Sally! Hooray! They both give me a cheery wave and holler a greeting.
Before I know it, I'm at the cafe. Nick W arrives around the same time, and we sit together for lunch. I'm sort of surprised he recognises me, until he raises the subject of so few women doing audaxes and I realise that, as one of the half dozen or so women on the ride, I am a bit distinctive. He wonders about how to get more women doing audaxes, or why women don't join clubs more. I think we've got a pretty good male:female ratio in CTC Cambridge, but I'm not sure why. It's not something I think about very much - after all, being female is an attribute I share with 50% of the population, so I don't tend to think of it as very interesting or distinctive.
Nick compliments me on my ride report for his
Cambridge Autumnal in October, which pleases me greatly. I don't find writing comes naturally to me - the words have to churn round my head for days, and then I have to sit down for hours and hours putting them down! Yuck!
Nick reckons I'll have loads of time to get back to Sawston before my time limit runs out. I'm not so sure, and am keen to get going again.
Onwards. Broxted to Thaxted is familiar territory; it's nice to know where the climbs are. The control in Thaxted is easy to find; the street sign in question is so obscure that it's an obvious choice for the answer. I've not been too well this week (since my 40th birthday ceilidh at the weekend, where I may have been slightly overenthusiastic): bailing out at Thaxted had been Plan B. But I'm feeling fine; riding on my own has meant that I've eaten and drunk plenty whilst riding, and not felt too bad about the number of necessary pitstops.
Thaxted
On to the Bardfields, and the route rejoins my route down to Witham earlier this morning. Past the Blue Egg for the second time today, and into the same wind. I am prepared for the ensuing dip in morale this time round.
Once the route brings me back to Rayne I know that it's not too much further, and start to look forward to my jacket potato at the pub. A little group of audaxers congregates; Nick manages to slow his pace for another chat before speeding off, and I chat to a fellow female from Audax Club Mid Essex (ACME). We are both despondent at her partner not even getting off his bike to do a wee! Grr, it's so _unfair_! I wonder if portaloos on random country lanes is what Nick had in mind when he wondered how to encourage women to do audaxes. Hmm.
It is good to be off the bike and into the friendly welcome of the control at the pub at Witham. Nick's power surge didn't add up to much time saved; he is outside sorting out his bike as I arrive. I glug down my tea whilst talking to Nick and a father and son team who've just done the audax together. Well, together is a bit of a loose term; the son has clearly been waiting quite some time when dad arrives. Dad got lost - I remember seeing him near Takeley - and it sounds as though he'd put in rather more miles than anticipated. Both are somewhat shocked to hear that me and Nick are riding back to Cambridge, although Nick downplays the circuitous route that he has planned for his mandatory ECE route.
Eating my potato turns out to be harder than I'd anticipated - I've got no appetite. I force it down, then bid farewell and set off for home.
In the pitch dark, I'm glad again of the really excellent road surfaces. Must write a nice letter to Essex County Council - I don't suppose highways departments are in the habit of receiving complimentary post.
I've added a second front lamp since my last audax; one light pointing at the road straight in front and a better light pointing ahead into the
distance. A third cheapo lamp on my helmet means that glancing down at my Garmin is easy and doesn't wreck night vision.
The rain keeps on, and the road to Bardfield rolls up and down and is mentally tough. Why am I here? Whatever was I thinking?! I hate my bike! There's the Blue Egg _again_ and it's closed!
My average speed for the day has dropped from 13.1 mph to 13mph, and I send Chris a despondent text message. It's time to start putting in sugar, and I force down some fudge, a gel and a stroopwaffle. That's better. Chris replies, suitably upbeat and with a string of tiny emojis which are probably party poppers. Yeah, go me! I love my bike!
A second dip in morale occurs between Bardfield and the Sampfords. It's dark, it's very damp, and there's a chance that I won't make it back before my time runs out.
Christmas lights in Great Bardfield
I give up on fruit-based snacks, and just force down sugar. The orange glow of Walden is encouraging, and my pace picks up.
Back on the B1383 to Great Chesterford my pace is good, and I'm up to an average of 13.2mph. Yeah!
I pull up outside the post office in Sawston, triumphant at having beaten the clock. Victory!
A brief gentle spin around the village to calm the legs, then it's home. My family are jubilant and proud, and everyone dances round me before the novelty
wears off and they sneak back to computer games and books.
I collapse onto the sofa. The satisfaction of getting home from an audax, soggy but triumphant, is immense. The Four Minute Mile (which I did as a perm last month) was a harder ride, but today's ride was tough. It has rained nearly all day, and I am properly soaked and exhausted. Why do we do this? To do something different, something hard and difficult. To maintain or gain fitness.
For the points. Because it feels like touring. Or maybe just because it was on the calendar.
Yasmin