[Originally blogged on CC: 22 August, 2011]
First Club Ride 21/08/11
It was with a feeling of excitement that I set of from home on the bike for my first club ride. The first ten miles covered was my old commuting route into Carlisle from Wigton. I hadn't done this route for over a year and was keen to see if my time would be any better than my previous best- I was over a minute faster, I felt doubly chuffed because I didn’t push as hard as I could as I was saving my legs forthe club ride.
I was the second person to arrive at the pre arranged meet point. I met a chap called Andy who had been once before and gone over the Border with the club for a spin into Scotland (why not they are theBorder City Wheelers after all!). More and more people arrived on smart looking road bikes, I was beginning to feel nervous. Introductions were made and one of the old sweats had a fiddle with the plastic cover that rests above the brake hoods on the handle bar (I don’t know its correct name). It had come slightly out of position. I felt like a like a new recruit on muster failing an inspection. This really added to the building nerves. The old sweats with calves hewn from oak discussed the route and it was decided that it would be good to head south to Pooley Bridge a charming village nestled on the northern shore of Ulswater.
So of we went 10 plus strong, my first mini peleton. As soon as we started spinning all my nerves disappeared. The pace was steady as we rolled out of Carlisle, whereupon we hit roadworks on a large roundabout headed for Dalston. Everybody tackled it in there own way with cyclists weaving in and out of cones some going one way around the roundabout others the other way, it was all very Harold Lloyd and not the well drilled cycling I had imagined. It was comical and lifted the mood even higher.With the first challenge over now all I had to do was master riding in close proximity to other riders and tuck behind the chap in fronts back wheel!
Road Works coming outof Carlisle.
Despite the odd cry from behind of “hold your line” I felt pretty good about my efforts. The first 20 mile or so consisted of a gradual climb over 700 plus meters the speed never dropped below 12mph on the climbs. Unfortunately we lost one of the other new members to the group who cried off at the 12 mile mark, it was a shame because if she had communicated that she was finding it tough I’m sure we would have slowed down to accommodate her pace.
The scenery was stunning with views of the Lakedistricts Northern Fells
After steadily climbing for over an hour the lane nose dived and we bombed along at over 30mph for several miles I was desperately trying to catch the lead two riders who were hunkered down on their aero bars and flying like men possessed. I pulled the gap back slightly but didn’t manage to get on to their wheel. The group was well and truly split now and as the lead group rolled into the picturesque village of Greystoke (Tarzans fictional birth place and coincidentally the location for my better halves first triathlon earlier in the year-it’s a small world!) we stopped to regroup. A couple of minutes later the stragglers appeared and the group reformed. Quick check, everybody in good shape, right off we go. A short distance further on quiet lanes and we hit our first major road. The A66 bisects the northern Lakes linking Penrith to Keswick and Cockermouth beyond. The traffic was flowing and we scuttled across both lanes of traffic in ones and twos like frightened rabbits to a country lane on the other side of the road. Back on a quiet (!) road we headed down a fast windy descent at 40mph. I was behind the lead rider who was as distinctive for his excellent aero bar positioning as he was for his for his forgoing of a helmet in favour of a cycling cap, approaching one bend at speed he pulled out to get a good line around the corner, I followed suit really picking up some speed - just then an open top MG speed up the hill round the corner beeping its horn like an angry elephant. Old sweat swerved out of the way at the last minute. It was truly a kamikaze descent. The lane broadened slightly and we continued to twist and loose altitude. We raced down to the shore of Ulswater with insects exploding in our wake and landed in Pooley Bridge for a well deserved pot of tea and slice of cake.
Refuelling and puttingthe world to rights at Pooley Bridge
After refuelling and putting the world to rights it was time to set off again and headed of towards Penrith. After passing through Penrith the pace really picked up and we raced each other all the way back to Carlisle, it was awesome 15 miles or so of smooth fastroad. The lead rider and I were cranking it towards a sharp rise- half way up and we were still doing 30mph I laughed like a loon at the incredulity of the situation, this type of thing never happened on my solo rides. My legs gave outjust before the top and I had to tap out on my gears like a wrestler asking for mercy from a painful hold. The experienced club rider blew past me and crested the hill with aplomb: it was a sight to behold.
Cranking home
Riders peeled off home one by one until five of us rolled into Carlisle bidding each other farewell and saying what a good ride it had been. We went our separate ways and I was faced with the last 10 miles back to Wigton alone with tired legs into the wind.
It was the toughest part of the ride, the thought of theroast dinner awaiting me carried me the remaining distance.
I arrived home suitably tired 74 miles 797 metres of climbing in 4 hours and 40 minutes. Jobs a good un. I will definitely go back for more. The miles flew by, group riding is a buzz. I learnt a great deal about group etiquette, descending (I have been very nervous since crashing out on a sharp corner of a decent last year breaking my arm in the process),cadence spinning and the speed bonus of cooperative riding. No egos were onshow we just rode as hard as we could and had a bloody good time doing it.
First Club Ride 21/08/11
It was with a feeling of excitement that I set of from home on the bike for my first club ride. The first ten miles covered was my old commuting route into Carlisle from Wigton. I hadn't done this route for over a year and was keen to see if my time would be any better than my previous best- I was over a minute faster, I felt doubly chuffed because I didn’t push as hard as I could as I was saving my legs forthe club ride.
I was the second person to arrive at the pre arranged meet point. I met a chap called Andy who had been once before and gone over the Border with the club for a spin into Scotland (why not they are theBorder City Wheelers after all!). More and more people arrived on smart looking road bikes, I was beginning to feel nervous. Introductions were made and one of the old sweats had a fiddle with the plastic cover that rests above the brake hoods on the handle bar (I don’t know its correct name). It had come slightly out of position. I felt like a like a new recruit on muster failing an inspection. This really added to the building nerves. The old sweats with calves hewn from oak discussed the route and it was decided that it would be good to head south to Pooley Bridge a charming village nestled on the northern shore of Ulswater.
So of we went 10 plus strong, my first mini peleton. As soon as we started spinning all my nerves disappeared. The pace was steady as we rolled out of Carlisle, whereupon we hit roadworks on a large roundabout headed for Dalston. Everybody tackled it in there own way with cyclists weaving in and out of cones some going one way around the roundabout others the other way, it was all very Harold Lloyd and not the well drilled cycling I had imagined. It was comical and lifted the mood even higher.With the first challenge over now all I had to do was master riding in close proximity to other riders and tuck behind the chap in fronts back wheel!
Road Works coming outof Carlisle.
Despite the odd cry from behind of “hold your line” I felt pretty good about my efforts. The first 20 mile or so consisted of a gradual climb over 700 plus meters the speed never dropped below 12mph on the climbs. Unfortunately we lost one of the other new members to the group who cried off at the 12 mile mark, it was a shame because if she had communicated that she was finding it tough I’m sure we would have slowed down to accommodate her pace.
The scenery was stunning with views of the Lakedistricts Northern Fells
After steadily climbing for over an hour the lane nose dived and we bombed along at over 30mph for several miles I was desperately trying to catch the lead two riders who were hunkered down on their aero bars and flying like men possessed. I pulled the gap back slightly but didn’t manage to get on to their wheel. The group was well and truly split now and as the lead group rolled into the picturesque village of Greystoke (Tarzans fictional birth place and coincidentally the location for my better halves first triathlon earlier in the year-it’s a small world!) we stopped to regroup. A couple of minutes later the stragglers appeared and the group reformed. Quick check, everybody in good shape, right off we go. A short distance further on quiet lanes and we hit our first major road. The A66 bisects the northern Lakes linking Penrith to Keswick and Cockermouth beyond. The traffic was flowing and we scuttled across both lanes of traffic in ones and twos like frightened rabbits to a country lane on the other side of the road. Back on a quiet (!) road we headed down a fast windy descent at 40mph. I was behind the lead rider who was as distinctive for his excellent aero bar positioning as he was for his for his forgoing of a helmet in favour of a cycling cap, approaching one bend at speed he pulled out to get a good line around the corner, I followed suit really picking up some speed - just then an open top MG speed up the hill round the corner beeping its horn like an angry elephant. Old sweat swerved out of the way at the last minute. It was truly a kamikaze descent. The lane broadened slightly and we continued to twist and loose altitude. We raced down to the shore of Ulswater with insects exploding in our wake and landed in Pooley Bridge for a well deserved pot of tea and slice of cake.
Refuelling and puttingthe world to rights at Pooley Bridge
After refuelling and putting the world to rights it was time to set off again and headed of towards Penrith. After passing through Penrith the pace really picked up and we raced each other all the way back to Carlisle, it was awesome 15 miles or so of smooth fastroad. The lead rider and I were cranking it towards a sharp rise- half way up and we were still doing 30mph I laughed like a loon at the incredulity of the situation, this type of thing never happened on my solo rides. My legs gave outjust before the top and I had to tap out on my gears like a wrestler asking for mercy from a painful hold. The experienced club rider blew past me and crested the hill with aplomb: it was a sight to behold.
Cranking home
Riders peeled off home one by one until five of us rolled into Carlisle bidding each other farewell and saying what a good ride it had been. We went our separate ways and I was faced with the last 10 miles back to Wigton alone with tired legs into the wind.
It was the toughest part of the ride, the thought of theroast dinner awaiting me carried me the remaining distance.
I arrived home suitably tired 74 miles 797 metres of climbing in 4 hours and 40 minutes. Jobs a good un. I will definitely go back for more. The miles flew by, group riding is a buzz. I learnt a great deal about group etiquette, descending (I have been very nervous since crashing out on a sharp corner of a decent last year breaking my arm in the process),cadence spinning and the speed bonus of cooperative riding. No egos were onshow we just rode as hard as we could and had a bloody good time doing it.
