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Married to Night Train
- Location
- Salford, UK
Got out again today. No particular target in mind, but I didn't get on the road on the trike until 10ish, so a really long ride was probably not on the cards.
As is my wont, when I don't have a specific plan, I headed through Murton, Holtby, Warthill, and Stamford Bridge, and then on to Pocklington. I didn't have my usual tea and sausage sandwich stop, but kept on, through Burnby, Londesborough and on to Market Weighton. I noticed that my average speed was around 12mph, and felt I was flying along quite well.
I stopped on the edge of Market Weighton, and looked at my map, trying to decide what to do next. If I headed south to the Humber and back through Howden, I'd be looking at a nearly 100 mile ride - a few extra loops would get the century. But it was noon already, and I'd only done 26 miles. Another 74 more miles would be 7 or more hours. With work tomorrow, I wanted to be home mid afternoon, to chill for a bit. Getting in at 7 or 8, knackered, I'd just flake out on the bed.
I could go on to Beverley, and then retrace my route back. But I just didn't fancy it. My right knee was twinging a bit. So I turned back to simply retrace my route home - this would give me at least 50 miles for the day, my vague mental target.
At which point I discovered the reason for my fleet performance on the way out - the tailwind. I'd been trying to work out the wind as I rode, but looking at the trees and grass, it didn't seem to be very strong, and it really felt like it was from the side, or even in my face. It hadn't been, as it was definitely in my face now!
I varied my route a little on the way back, to climb up past Londesborough, instead of cutting across to meet the Burnby road. This meant a long slog upwards to the point where the Nunburnholme hill crests, but it gives me a chance to descend from that point to Burnby. Last time I did this, I got to 37.5mph, my highest speed ever.
It felt a bit faster this time - I was braking, which I'd avoided previously. I didn't dare glance down at the speedo as I was rolling, too busy tracing the best path between the edge of the road and the midline of gravel. Once I was rolling out at the bottom at merely 18-19mph, and could spare a nanosecond to look away from the road, I toggled through the figures as quickly as I could to Max Speed.
40mph!
Jeez, that feels fast on a recumbent trike! I think I left my ears up there somewhere.
Sadly, eventually the momentum ran out, and it got to be hard work again, with the wind in my face. The long slog up past Londesborough meant that my average was down again, even with the few seconds at high speed. Once again, I didn't stop in Pocklington, but pressed on. My burning foot syndrome kicked in at Fangfoss, so I stopped for a stand up, and half a Hobnob bar (I'd had one on the way out), and then it was the final slog home. Well, I had another brief break, just after Stamford Bridge, to take a photo of a combine harvester and tractor working in a field - for my nephew, who is 3 and a boy and therefore very interested in wheeled things and machinery.
At Murton (after a 'lovely' section of freshly gritted road that made my teeth rattle), I checked the average speed, and it was down to 11.2. I tried hard to sprint and raise it, but I just couldn't go fast enough for long enough, and 11.2 it stayed. Still, it's another 55 miles under my belt (plus 5 on the Giant FCR going to and from the lock up). My right knee hurt a bit, and my right foot - although that wears off when I stop. I think heat makes it worse.
If I'm going to crack the 100, I have to do it on a Saturday (so that I have Sunday to recover) and I have to get up and started early, so that I'm not dragging myself home too late. That's the problem, because come Saturday, after a week of getting up for work, I'm greedy for my lie in, too greedy to put it off 'til Sunday.
Maybe next weekend.
As is my wont, when I don't have a specific plan, I headed through Murton, Holtby, Warthill, and Stamford Bridge, and then on to Pocklington. I didn't have my usual tea and sausage sandwich stop, but kept on, through Burnby, Londesborough and on to Market Weighton. I noticed that my average speed was around 12mph, and felt I was flying along quite well.
I stopped on the edge of Market Weighton, and looked at my map, trying to decide what to do next. If I headed south to the Humber and back through Howden, I'd be looking at a nearly 100 mile ride - a few extra loops would get the century. But it was noon already, and I'd only done 26 miles. Another 74 more miles would be 7 or more hours. With work tomorrow, I wanted to be home mid afternoon, to chill for a bit. Getting in at 7 or 8, knackered, I'd just flake out on the bed.
I could go on to Beverley, and then retrace my route back. But I just didn't fancy it. My right knee was twinging a bit. So I turned back to simply retrace my route home - this would give me at least 50 miles for the day, my vague mental target.
At which point I discovered the reason for my fleet performance on the way out - the tailwind. I'd been trying to work out the wind as I rode, but looking at the trees and grass, it didn't seem to be very strong, and it really felt like it was from the side, or even in my face. It hadn't been, as it was definitely in my face now!
I varied my route a little on the way back, to climb up past Londesborough, instead of cutting across to meet the Burnby road. This meant a long slog upwards to the point where the Nunburnholme hill crests, but it gives me a chance to descend from that point to Burnby. Last time I did this, I got to 37.5mph, my highest speed ever.
It felt a bit faster this time - I was braking, which I'd avoided previously. I didn't dare glance down at the speedo as I was rolling, too busy tracing the best path between the edge of the road and the midline of gravel. Once I was rolling out at the bottom at merely 18-19mph, and could spare a nanosecond to look away from the road, I toggled through the figures as quickly as I could to Max Speed.
40mph!
Jeez, that feels fast on a recumbent trike! I think I left my ears up there somewhere.
Sadly, eventually the momentum ran out, and it got to be hard work again, with the wind in my face. The long slog up past Londesborough meant that my average was down again, even with the few seconds at high speed. Once again, I didn't stop in Pocklington, but pressed on. My burning foot syndrome kicked in at Fangfoss, so I stopped for a stand up, and half a Hobnob bar (I'd had one on the way out), and then it was the final slog home. Well, I had another brief break, just after Stamford Bridge, to take a photo of a combine harvester and tractor working in a field - for my nephew, who is 3 and a boy and therefore very interested in wheeled things and machinery.
At Murton (after a 'lovely' section of freshly gritted road that made my teeth rattle), I checked the average speed, and it was down to 11.2. I tried hard to sprint and raise it, but I just couldn't go fast enough for long enough, and 11.2 it stayed. Still, it's another 55 miles under my belt (plus 5 on the Giant FCR going to and from the lock up). My right knee hurt a bit, and my right foot - although that wears off when I stop. I think heat makes it worse.
If I'm going to crack the 100, I have to do it on a Saturday (so that I have Sunday to recover) and I have to get up and started early, so that I'm not dragging myself home too late. That's the problem, because come Saturday, after a week of getting up for work, I'm greedy for my lie in, too greedy to put it off 'til Sunday.
Maybe next weekend.