darrentaytay
Über Member
- Location
- Kirkcaldy, Fife, Scotland
I wanted to share my first Etape experience with you guys, not sure if it's the right place so feel free to move it!
There is a short version of this at the bottom of the post!
Quick Links:
Around December last year, I signed up for the Etape Caledonia, a 130km charity race in Scotland in aid of Marie Curie. At this point, I'd only been on one ride using a bike I borrowed from a friend - we rode 18 miles and I loved it.
I got hooked on cycling after that ride and I thought that 5 months would be ample time to get myself a bike, get some training in and do the Etape - which in fairness, it probably should have been! By the time May arrived, I had only been on 6 more rides of which 3 were a one way commute, 1 was a session to practice clipping in and the other was a 28 mile ride with friends.
28 miles was the furthest I had cycled... until yesterday. I was dreading the event, knowing how little I'd trained despite my best intentions. I was worried that;
After about 10 minutes waiting around, I started Strava and off we went, cruising at a leisurely pace towards the starting line.
Almost immediately, the 2 lads I was cycling with gained distance on me. I had told them previously to just leave me at my own pace but they stopped about 15 mins in race and waited for me. "Just tuck in behind one of our wheels, it'll be much easier" they said. So I tried, but I just couldn't keep up. Off into the distance they disappeared again, and I quickly lost them in a sea of fancy bikes and Giro helmets.
20 miles into the race, the first feeding station. I'm feeling like I'm doing alright, got a bit of rhythm going, but I slow down to see if the guys had stopped and waited for me here - but no sign, so off I went, completely skipping the feeding station in a naive effort to catch up with them.
By the time 30 miles arrives, I'm already doubting whether I can complete this or not - being reminded every 5 miles by big, yellow signs how far I still had left didn't do anything for me either - as far as I was concerned, ignorance was bliss!
40 miles in, there's a kid with a megaphone shouting "this is the last food stop before schiehallion" (one of the tougher parts of the race - a climb up part of the schiehallion). By this point, I've rammed down 2 energy gels and drank most of my fluids so I need to stop. I parked up, got an energy bar, a refill of my fluids, half a banana and another couple of energy gels which I tucked into my jersey pocket. After wolfing the banana and energy bar, I need to pee - so off to the Portaloo I go, wrestling with my overly tight Castelli Bib Shorts as I try and slip my junk out the bottom of the shorts (it beat the alternative of having to undo my layering strategy!). Relief. I'm empty, my bottle and pockets are full, off we go!
45 miles arrived and it's time to start the climb - I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, it's probably an easy climb, but for me, it was a daunting test. I dropped down to the lowest gear possible and powered through with my legs on fire, puffing and panting and gaining a little bit of confidence by the fact I'm not the only one struggling as people begin to dismount from their bikes and walk.
I almost reached the top on my bike... almost! But it was too much, I had to dismount my self and push - which represented it's own challenges with my gripless, clipless shoes! Most of the difficult climbing was now out the way, and I carried on climbing another couple of hundred feet over a reasonable distance. There were a few photographers scattered around and even a flying drone camera all potentially capturing my exhausted body limp across the "King of the Mountain" finish line at the summit of the climb.
There was another feeding station at the top of the climb, however, the only thought on my mind was: if I've climbed up this far, I must get to come back down it, right?! So I skipped it and carried on pedalling until the descent started - then I was free-wheeling all the way whilst trying desperately to give my arse a rest from the saddle which had butchered it for the last few hours and it was fun! The only problem was, I had absolutely no idea how to handle corners at speed, no idea how fast I can go or how much I can turn without overbalancing on one side, so every time we approached a corner, I slowed down dramatically to take it safely.
After that, it flattened out and we were practically straight leading up to 70 miles where the next food stop was. I had to have a break by this point, my whole body was a wreck and I needed to stretch out. I also helped myself to the free flapjack and monster bucket of Haribo they were offering to spur us on for the final 11 miles.
A brief stop there, and I was off again "less than a commute to work remaining" was the only thought buzzing around my head as I zombie-pedalled the rest of the way. In the distance there were a small crowd of people encouraging the cyclist on, I thought it was the end, but as I got closer and closer, those bloody yellow signs were pointing us left, away from the main road. I was forced to mash my brakes and take a very sharp left and as I turned the corner, I noticed a very steep climbing off about 175 ft - my heart sunk and I was faced with the steepest incline of the race, with onlookers surrounding me. I did what I had to, dropped the gears, got out the saddle and beasted the short (but steep - did I mention it was steep?) climb.
After getting to the top, it was a kind, flatish road and I thought SURELY that's it all until the end. There were another few climbs and I was proper struggling but encouraged as a woman in her garden told me "it's pretty much all down hill from here!".
Sun burnt, exhausted but oh so very proud I was to finish the race, hand in my tracking chip and get a nice drink of water. I dropped my bike and lay in the shade against a wall.
6h 22m of cycling and I had done it. I was amongst the slowest, but I didn't care, I was just over the moon to have completed it!
I'm so glad to have done and got an indication as to what my body can do, I've got a benchmark from which to improve upon. For me, mental strength was very important aswell as the thought did cross my mind to cycle into a ditch and let the pace car find me!
Thanks for reading my story!
THE END!
-----------------------------
Short Version:
There is a short version of this at the bottom of the post!
Quick Links:
- Strava - https://www.strava.com/activities/569439456/segments/13811467401
- Etape Page - http://etapecaledonia.co.uk/
- Results page - http://results.sporthive.com/events/6130672976029939456
Around December last year, I signed up for the Etape Caledonia, a 130km charity race in Scotland in aid of Marie Curie. At this point, I'd only been on one ride using a bike I borrowed from a friend - we rode 18 miles and I loved it.
I got hooked on cycling after that ride and I thought that 5 months would be ample time to get myself a bike, get some training in and do the Etape - which in fairness, it probably should have been! By the time May arrived, I had only been on 6 more rides of which 3 were a one way commute, 1 was a session to practice clipping in and the other was a 28 mile ride with friends.
28 miles was the furthest I had cycled... until yesterday. I was dreading the event, knowing how little I'd trained despite my best intentions. I was worried that;
- I wouldn't finish it and get swept up with the pace car!
- Hold back the guys I was doing it with.
After about 10 minutes waiting around, I started Strava and off we went, cruising at a leisurely pace towards the starting line.
Almost immediately, the 2 lads I was cycling with gained distance on me. I had told them previously to just leave me at my own pace but they stopped about 15 mins in race and waited for me. "Just tuck in behind one of our wheels, it'll be much easier" they said. So I tried, but I just couldn't keep up. Off into the distance they disappeared again, and I quickly lost them in a sea of fancy bikes and Giro helmets.
20 miles into the race, the first feeding station. I'm feeling like I'm doing alright, got a bit of rhythm going, but I slow down to see if the guys had stopped and waited for me here - but no sign, so off I went, completely skipping the feeding station in a naive effort to catch up with them.
By the time 30 miles arrives, I'm already doubting whether I can complete this or not - being reminded every 5 miles by big, yellow signs how far I still had left didn't do anything for me either - as far as I was concerned, ignorance was bliss!
40 miles in, there's a kid with a megaphone shouting "this is the last food stop before schiehallion" (one of the tougher parts of the race - a climb up part of the schiehallion). By this point, I've rammed down 2 energy gels and drank most of my fluids so I need to stop. I parked up, got an energy bar, a refill of my fluids, half a banana and another couple of energy gels which I tucked into my jersey pocket. After wolfing the banana and energy bar, I need to pee - so off to the Portaloo I go, wrestling with my overly tight Castelli Bib Shorts as I try and slip my junk out the bottom of the shorts (it beat the alternative of having to undo my layering strategy!). Relief. I'm empty, my bottle and pockets are full, off we go!
45 miles arrived and it's time to start the climb - I'm sure in the grand scheme of things, it's probably an easy climb, but for me, it was a daunting test. I dropped down to the lowest gear possible and powered through with my legs on fire, puffing and panting and gaining a little bit of confidence by the fact I'm not the only one struggling as people begin to dismount from their bikes and walk.
I almost reached the top on my bike... almost! But it was too much, I had to dismount my self and push - which represented it's own challenges with my gripless, clipless shoes! Most of the difficult climbing was now out the way, and I carried on climbing another couple of hundred feet over a reasonable distance. There were a few photographers scattered around and even a flying drone camera all potentially capturing my exhausted body limp across the "King of the Mountain" finish line at the summit of the climb.
There was another feeding station at the top of the climb, however, the only thought on my mind was: if I've climbed up this far, I must get to come back down it, right?! So I skipped it and carried on pedalling until the descent started - then I was free-wheeling all the way whilst trying desperately to give my arse a rest from the saddle which had butchered it for the last few hours and it was fun! The only problem was, I had absolutely no idea how to handle corners at speed, no idea how fast I can go or how much I can turn without overbalancing on one side, so every time we approached a corner, I slowed down dramatically to take it safely.
After that, it flattened out and we were practically straight leading up to 70 miles where the next food stop was. I had to have a break by this point, my whole body was a wreck and I needed to stretch out. I also helped myself to the free flapjack and monster bucket of Haribo they were offering to spur us on for the final 11 miles.
A brief stop there, and I was off again "less than a commute to work remaining" was the only thought buzzing around my head as I zombie-pedalled the rest of the way. In the distance there were a small crowd of people encouraging the cyclist on, I thought it was the end, but as I got closer and closer, those bloody yellow signs were pointing us left, away from the main road. I was forced to mash my brakes and take a very sharp left and as I turned the corner, I noticed a very steep climbing off about 175 ft - my heart sunk and I was faced with the steepest incline of the race, with onlookers surrounding me. I did what I had to, dropped the gears, got out the saddle and beasted the short (but steep - did I mention it was steep?) climb.
After getting to the top, it was a kind, flatish road and I thought SURELY that's it all until the end. There were another few climbs and I was proper struggling but encouraged as a woman in her garden told me "it's pretty much all down hill from here!".
Sun burnt, exhausted but oh so very proud I was to finish the race, hand in my tracking chip and get a nice drink of water. I dropped my bike and lay in the shade against a wall.
6h 22m of cycling and I had done it. I was amongst the slowest, but I didn't care, I was just over the moon to have completed it!
I'm so glad to have done and got an indication as to what my body can do, I've got a benchmark from which to improve upon. For me, mental strength was very important aswell as the thought did cross my mind to cycle into a ditch and let the pace car find me!
Thanks for reading my story!
THE END!
-----------------------------
Short Version:
- Signed up for an Etape
- Didn't train
- I completed it in 6h 22m - it was very tough and I was very slow
- Mental strength required (if you're unfit)!
