BrumJim
Forum Stalwart (won't take the hint and leave...)
- Location
- Selly Oak, Birmingham
So, for those that haven't been reading my posts on commuting, my regular ride of 6 miles to work and then same back home again has been put on hold as I have been sent away on a placement. The temporary work place is now in Derby, and I live in Birmingham. The shortest commute is 40 miles, but to avoid major dual carriageways that really aren't safe on a bike, the best route looks like 50 miles. Which is clearly not reasonable as a daily commute.
So last night I decided to ride home as the possible start of a weekly challenge. Only those that live SW from work will know that yesterday (18th April) there was a pretty stiff headwind if you were heading in that direction, which I was facing for 50 miles.
So I'm riding a bike with a compact double chainring. I only spend a handful of miles in the large one. I'm in the small one even going downhill. Which all has to be pedaled. I've done a 50 miles non-stop before, but it was a much stiller day, the wind was slightly behind me, and maybe I was better fueled. This time it was tough.
The ride started well, with a lovely stretch on the NRN route 6 out of Derby towards Barrow Hill, which very nicely sat at the bottom of the hill, and therefore wasn't the big grind I had dreaded. Ashby-de-la-Zouch was pleasant in the evening sun, and the countryside beyond, equally so.
I was short of Tamworth before I had to stop for the first time. I swallowed half my chocolate muffin (fair-trade, for those that are worried), took on some more water, and set off again. The second half disappeared somewhere between Tamworth and Birmingham, and again I found a little boost of energy when the carbs hit in.
By the time I reached Birmingham it was getting dark, I was out of food and running low on energy. Every hill had been hard work, both up and down, and the long flats were even worse and the wind howled across the flats and hit me head-on like a 1-in-10 hill. The legs had a bit of verve in them, but my body was tired, and head was beginning to go. After falling off under Spaghetti junction, and getting lost there for the first time on the route, embarrassingly on a part of the ride that I know reasonably well, I finally found myself on my regular commute. Warm and pleasant had turned to cold, sleeves were back down to my wrists, and this was no longer fun. "Only 6 miles to go" I thought, spurring myself on for one last burst.
Rather scared about how much I was wobbling as I rode alongside the canal, and finding the narrow tunnel impossible to ride, I reached the 3-miles to go point in Highgate. Spirits were getting even lower than the sun, which by now was well below the horizon and dusk was giving way to full-on night-time. However I was still on target to reach the local chip-shop for a well-earned fish-and-chip supper before it closed. My body had other ideas though. 3 miles to go seemed so much further than the 50 miles to go at the start, and by the time I reached Balsall Heath it was getting too much. Keeping a straight line was proving difficult, and my head and body started to feel fuzzy and legs would not co-operate. Unable to continue, I dived for the one remaining shop open, and bought some chocolate and drink to revive myself for the next mile and a half.
Another 10 minutes wasted as I sat outside finishing off my snacks, and I set off again. Stomach was feeling like food was not wanted, my legs were dreading the insignificant Col-de-Cannon Hill Park, and my head couldn't keep my bike straight. I was beaten.
I gave-up on the Park choice, and walked back to the main road past the Edgbaston Cricket ground, keeping an eye out for a taxi, hopefully persuading one to take me and the bike. Still hadn't found one by the time I reached the main road, and after walking a further 5 minutes, decided to try the bike again. Mars and Caramel had kicked in by now, and I managed to complete the ride on two wheels. It was getting too late for the fish and chips, and I'm not convinced I could have managed it either. Back gate was too much, so I parked the bike in the porch, and was met by a lovely wife, who had also had a hard day looking after a 4 month baby who had not napped properly all day and dealing with a failed washing machine - every new-Mum's nightmare. She made me a cup of tea, didn't shout, tick me off, or show any disapproval of my venture that evening, and slowly I gained enough strength to make it to bed.
Today is much better. My hip and elbow still hurt from where I fell on them (and I have left blood all over the bed sheets), but I feel full of energy, wide awake and ready to hit the challenges of the day.
Was I silly to attempt it? Good question. I'm still alive, and have ridden the hardest 50 miles of my life, so one side of me says "Yes". However the real test is if I attempt it again next week. Or the week after. Or indeed any other day this month.
So last night I decided to ride home as the possible start of a weekly challenge. Only those that live SW from work will know that yesterday (18th April) there was a pretty stiff headwind if you were heading in that direction, which I was facing for 50 miles.
So I'm riding a bike with a compact double chainring. I only spend a handful of miles in the large one. I'm in the small one even going downhill. Which all has to be pedaled. I've done a 50 miles non-stop before, but it was a much stiller day, the wind was slightly behind me, and maybe I was better fueled. This time it was tough.
The ride started well, with a lovely stretch on the NRN route 6 out of Derby towards Barrow Hill, which very nicely sat at the bottom of the hill, and therefore wasn't the big grind I had dreaded. Ashby-de-la-Zouch was pleasant in the evening sun, and the countryside beyond, equally so.
I was short of Tamworth before I had to stop for the first time. I swallowed half my chocolate muffin (fair-trade, for those that are worried), took on some more water, and set off again. The second half disappeared somewhere between Tamworth and Birmingham, and again I found a little boost of energy when the carbs hit in.
By the time I reached Birmingham it was getting dark, I was out of food and running low on energy. Every hill had been hard work, both up and down, and the long flats were even worse and the wind howled across the flats and hit me head-on like a 1-in-10 hill. The legs had a bit of verve in them, but my body was tired, and head was beginning to go. After falling off under Spaghetti junction, and getting lost there for the first time on the route, embarrassingly on a part of the ride that I know reasonably well, I finally found myself on my regular commute. Warm and pleasant had turned to cold, sleeves were back down to my wrists, and this was no longer fun. "Only 6 miles to go" I thought, spurring myself on for one last burst.
Rather scared about how much I was wobbling as I rode alongside the canal, and finding the narrow tunnel impossible to ride, I reached the 3-miles to go point in Highgate. Spirits were getting even lower than the sun, which by now was well below the horizon and dusk was giving way to full-on night-time. However I was still on target to reach the local chip-shop for a well-earned fish-and-chip supper before it closed. My body had other ideas though. 3 miles to go seemed so much further than the 50 miles to go at the start, and by the time I reached Balsall Heath it was getting too much. Keeping a straight line was proving difficult, and my head and body started to feel fuzzy and legs would not co-operate. Unable to continue, I dived for the one remaining shop open, and bought some chocolate and drink to revive myself for the next mile and a half.
Another 10 minutes wasted as I sat outside finishing off my snacks, and I set off again. Stomach was feeling like food was not wanted, my legs were dreading the insignificant Col-de-Cannon Hill Park, and my head couldn't keep my bike straight. I was beaten.
I gave-up on the Park choice, and walked back to the main road past the Edgbaston Cricket ground, keeping an eye out for a taxi, hopefully persuading one to take me and the bike. Still hadn't found one by the time I reached the main road, and after walking a further 5 minutes, decided to try the bike again. Mars and Caramel had kicked in by now, and I managed to complete the ride on two wheels. It was getting too late for the fish and chips, and I'm not convinced I could have managed it either. Back gate was too much, so I parked the bike in the porch, and was met by a lovely wife, who had also had a hard day looking after a 4 month baby who had not napped properly all day and dealing with a failed washing machine - every new-Mum's nightmare. She made me a cup of tea, didn't shout, tick me off, or show any disapproval of my venture that evening, and slowly I gained enough strength to make it to bed.
Today is much better. My hip and elbow still hurt from where I fell on them (and I have left blood all over the bed sheets), but I feel full of energy, wide awake and ready to hit the challenges of the day.
Was I silly to attempt it? Good question. I'm still alive, and have ridden the hardest 50 miles of my life, so one side of me says "Yes". However the real test is if I attempt it again next week. Or the week after. Or indeed any other day this month.
