Did the 190km route for the first time and jolly hard it was too. Went very well on Bwlch1 and Rhigos but must've had too much polymer carbohydrate in my belly - felt terrible all the way to the Crai feedstation - a merciless headwind I couldn't escape from and no company to share the work with. No electrolytes available at Crai - absolutely unforgivable on the 190 route - a lot of very pissed off people. I'd carried my own 'just in case' and gave my last sachet of ''Go'' to a chap from Bedford who had a fierce attack of cramp.
I can't remember much of the way to Cimla - just grinding on for a long time till I caught up with a big guy from Staffordshire on a hill. Had a chat with him for a bit and felt much better, strange how you can recover on a hill. He went past me like a bullet on the descent.
Then, Cimla Hill. So hot, not a breath of air. I remember hurting badly. No electrolytes at the feedstation again.
Peeling myself off my bike, I found I could hardly stand. A pee, a banana, plain water in the bottles and off again. The mountain will be along soon.
Bwlch2, torture.
So hot and windless - I feel sick most of the way up it, only able to sip at my water for fear of throwing it all up again; sweat running into my eyes and mouth. A few people walking, beaten. A couple of riders lying on the grass staring at the sky. But I did'nt come here to walk. I tell myself I'm not going to bloody walk. But it's so hard.
At the summit, I roll past the cars and the grinning ride supporters and roll into the descent. Hands on the drops I try to stretch my back out a bit - it's solid and killing me. The 'bars start to shake - what the....? I realise that it's me - I'm shivering so much from the cold I'm shaking the bars. I tuck as low as I can to get out of the wind, but I accelerate. Hang on, isn't that the hairpin? The one where the photographer always sits?
BRAKE!
I counter-steer into the apex, pressing the bars into the road and the bike glides round like it's on rails. Knee out and time to grin at the camera.
This feels better. I drain my bottle and start my final one. I'm definitely feeling much better now. The last hill, then the home straight. Take your time up this one now, let's recover properly. Down the other side. Calm down, tight bends. Braking early, I rail them easily. Feeling really good now.
5k to go, the power comes back on and I'm absolutely flying. A youngster catches me at the top of a short rise but I'm out of the saddle before I realise he's there and he gasps ''Oh no!'' as I plunge down the road. Sorry son. Can't wait now.
Over the moors and up the last little kicker. Momentum shoots me past a small bunch, heads down, grinding. A muffled "Jesus Christ!" No, but I've an angel's wings.
Kilo to go. I change up again. More power. How fast do you want to go?
Past another couple, they look strong but I'm stronger. There's the finish! Come on! Sprint for the line - and I've done it.
I skid to a halt and roar YEEEEESSS! as loud as I can. A nice man with a microphone comes over to ask my name. For a moment it's Cavendish. But sense prevails and I give him the one my mother gave me.