Your ride today.... (part 1)

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Rickshaw Phil

Overconfidentii Vulgaris
Moderator
My ride today lasted less than ten minutes. :sad:

On Thursday I rode Cannock Chase. Absolutely great fun, and a gem of a trail centre if you ask me. A few minutes I to that ride is a rock section called the Stegasaurus. It's a pretty straightforward rock garden to be honest, you can spot the best line through and simply aim the bike down it. There are two or three such rock gardens in that section, and one leads down, then into a little clearing and before you know it you're up onto some boardwalk. I got the gearing wrong and found myself in the big ring and wanting to put in a couple of pedal strokes to correct my line on the now climbing boardwalk, found I couldn't, and was now heading for the edge. I couldn't t get a wheel lift in with the pedals, and tried to manual the bike. It wasn't having it so I ended up simply putting the front wheel off the boards and onto the floor a couple of feet below. Gravity always wins these sort of battles, and the inevitable consequence was a faceplant over the bars, taking the brunt of the hit on my chest. It winded me, but I got back on and went back to the start of the boardwalk to show it who was boss. I rode the rest of the trail, then went round for a second lap, including the second half of the figure eight, riding perhaps 20 miles after the stack. I realised I had probably bruised my ribs or diaphragm, but as I always take a prophylactic dose of ibuprofen, codeine and paracetamol before a ride ( knackered hips) I guess most of the pain was masked. I did notice that on some of the sections needing a lot of "body English" I was hurting a bit on my right side, and it did hurt to breathe a bit on some of the steeper climbs ( I felt justified in pushing up Insidious Incline for example) but I didn't really think I was badly injured.

Next morning I struggled to sit up and had to roll out of bed, but again, the regular doses of the three painkillers soon meant I was functioning again. I was a bit sore under my ribs yesterday, but in a bruised sort of way, nothing major. This morning it felt like it had more or less cleared up until about tea time. I had to do some gardening, only a bit of gentle weeding and tidying, and I had to bleed a dropper seatpost, but I was determined to get in an evening ride.

I started to notice real pain under my pectoral,muscle. The bruised feeling from my diaphragm had more or less gone, but has been replaced by a searing pain from just under my armpit, level with the nipple, to a point where my rib joins the sternum. I put the lights on the bike , pumped up the tyres and set off. I got as far as the hardcore track towards the old quarry, and realised that I could feel every single ripple, bump and pebble. So. No ride today. :sad:

I've taken a double dose of codeine now, and am feeling pretty mellow, but tomorrows ride to work is going to be interesting!
Doesn't sound good.:B) I hope it's nothing too serious and heals quickly.:thumbsup:
 

Cubist

Still wavin'
Location
Ovver 'thill
Doesn't sound good.:B) I hope it's nothing too serious and heals quickly.:thumbsup:
Still hurts this mornig, so I might try a.gentle ride this afternoon to see how I get on.
 

CharlieB

Junior Walker and the Allstars
Late again, but a cracking day out yesterday (Sunday 13th) with @jayonabike and @toptom round the Chilterns.
Jay's pretty much said it all in post #16890 on previous page, but having cycled in the area on and off for 30 years, still being shown new routes to familiar places is always a treat.
Perfect timing on the cloudburst, there, Jay.
A real shame @ianrauk and others couldn't join us, but there will be a next time.

A comment in Jay's report was quite pertinent insofar as I for one am noticing a slow increase in the number of impatient motorists out there - an aggressive close pass from one on the wide road to Wigginton, an even closer pass (don't think it was intentional) from a large horse lorry, again on a clear wide road, and a couple of others for me the previous day.
I know there are more of us out there of a Sunday, and in larger groups, which may contribute to an increased lack of tolerance, but it is getting a little worrying.

62 miles for me for the day, topped up to 71 with a regular Sunday evening commute to the radio station I volunteer for.
 

Donger

Convoi Exceptionnel
Location
Quedgeley, Glos.
My ride yesterday. London to Brighton Overnight.
Left Mrs Donger in a nice seaview room in our hotel in Brighton and made my way to Madeira Drive in good time for our 20:30 bus and truck transfer to Tower Bridge, where I was due for an 11:30 start time on Saturday night. The queue of cyclists stretched back almost to Brighton Pier, and you really got the feeling that this was going to be something big. After a 2 hour coach trip to London you also got an idea of the length of the ride. Arrived in some dark square surrounded by closed office buildings and only a tantalising glimpse of the top of the Shard at 22:30, only to find crowds of lycra clad human misery waiting for their overdue trucks full of bikes. We waited so long that I'll spare you the details, but while some of the TNT trucks had the good sense to follow the coaches with their riders in, ours did not. We arrived at Tower Bridge, our truck apparently arrived at Dartford (????). In the intervening period, jokes or speculation started that our bikes were all probably already on Ebay. When the truck finally turned up, we ended up unloading it ourselves!

Anyway, after plenty of time to make new friends (Hello to Sharon and Michelle, a couple of very nice nurses from Milton Keynes, who had been on my coach but were expecting to start earlier than me, at 23:00) we eventually got around to our Grand Depart at 12:21 on Sunday morning. Just had time for a couple of photos of Tower Bridge and HMS Belfast before the start.
From this point onwards, London was a bit of a blur to me, as everyone went off at breakneck speed. As I only had an almost unreadable paper map to follow (in the dark), all my concentration went on following the group in front of me. Left, right, left again .... over Tower Bridge ....back over London Bridge (I think).... through a mystifying warren of mews and back lanes .....traffic lights, picking our way between London buses and black cabs ..... searching for the yellow arrows we had to follow, but actually seeing very few of them .... occasionally spotting a marshall, .... just sprinting to get through the next lights before they went red and the group in front disappeared. I kept meeting Sharon and Michelle on the way, and we settled on following a girl with luminous bunny ears. Fortunately she knew where she was going - and luckily she was part of our ride, and not just someone on her way to Stringfellows. Saw ranks of Boris Bikes, loads of red buses, black cabs, exotic restaurants, wide boys swaggering around in pork pie hats - in fact everything you would need to see to win at Cockney Bingo.

Apparently at one time we rode through Brixton, and then at another point I saw a street sign with SW17 (I think) on it. After an hour, be had stopped so many times that we had only covered 7 miles. This was going to take longer than I thought. Eventually, by about 02:00 or so, we were reportedly out of London, and into a suburb that I did not recognise the name of, and instantly forgot. I can honestly say that at no point in the first 60 miles of this ride did I have the faintest idea where I was. As for London, all I can say is that, at that time on a Sunday morning, the place is a human zoo. Witnessed much drunkenness .... was shouted at in both jest and annoyance .... was letched at by drunken girls haning out of taxi cab windows .... got cut up by a local lad on a bike with no lights, who was on the phone and suddenly lurched at 90 degrees to the rest of us ..... miscellaneous police sirens .... crowds of people spilling out of clubs. The lot.

There were 3 rest and repair stops along the way. Just don't ask me where any of them were. The only meaningful landmark that I spotted on the way South was when we crossed over the M25. From there up until the 45 mile mark it was dark. I had been saving my re-chargeable front light, using it sparingly in London, aware that if it ran down I would be left with only a torch and a very poor battery light that gets you seen but doesn't light up anything in front of you. We were helped for a while by the fortunate presence of a "super moon" and a light fret, meaning that the moonlight was reflecting nicely from the damp road in places. As the rain started, some time before 04:00, my front light started to give out. Not just disappointing - more downright frightening. My "Crap Light" carried on for the whole ride, but didn't help me to see a thing. I took a bit of a soaking at this time, as I just couldn't stop to put my rain top on as I had to sat with the crowd. The moon had disappeared behind cloud, and It was pitch black by this time. I survived by waiting for someone to catch me up, then sprinting to stay ahead of them for as long as possible, utilising their lights. If that failed, I sprinted to catch groups that were ahead of me and found that multiple bright tail lights are just strong enough to provide enough reflections on a wet road to be able to ride into the blackness. You just never knew whether you were on the level or going uphill in those conditions. I had switched to Plan Z, and at times was riding with a pocket torch lighting the road for me. I had to use it sparingly, as I was down to my last batteries.

On 2 separate occasions we approached bright blue flashing lights, to find the sad sight of riders being loaded into ambulances and police studying accident scenes. This focussed the mind somewhat. At some time round about 04:00 (I think) the first pre-sunrise light of dawn started to appear, very much to my relief. I bumped into Sharon and Michelle again at the second rest station. They had met up with their friends, who had got lost earlier on. Well done girls! For people who had never gone beyond 25 miles before, they were keeping up remarkably well. By the final rest stop the light conditions were rideable without strong lights, and the worst was over - for me anyway. I did see a few who had "bonked", and needed to be evacuated by the broom wagon. Not a nice sight at all, and I felt very sorry for the old chap I saw bawling his eyes out.

By the 50 mile mark, scores (perhaps hundreds) of people were getting off and pushing at every incline, never mind the steep ones (of which there were a few). Fortunately my conditioning and training kicked in, and I was always able to keep going. I was also tiring, and my trip computer seemed to take an age to get through the fifties from 51 to 60 miles, but I just kept grinding it out through the South Downs. Eventually, just before Devil's Dyke, I found I was overtaking people on the hills, and positively flying past them on the down slopes, and starting to really enjoy myself again. Devil's Dyke was a challenge. I would have found it a challenge at the 5 mile mark. After 60 miles, it was just plain cruel. In the granny gear for almost the entire climb, I puffed and grunted my way up and, to my surprise, made it to the lay-by at the top without stopping. As agreed before, I stopped to phone my wife to say I'd be back inside the next 20-30 minutes, and then set off downhill. Thankfully, the council had closed the road for the event, so I could enjoy a nice fast descent - for all of 200 yards, where I came round a corner, only to find that I had been on a false summit! Another 200 yards of the very steepest bit still had to be climbed. At least this time you could see hordes of people at the top, clapping and shouting encouragement, so you knew this was really the last hill. By now I had taken off my reflective jacket, and was proudly displaying my "Fat Lad At The Back" shirt. "Come On Fat Lad", someone shouted, and then others joined in the encouragement and shouted me up to the top. Someone worrying close to me got to that point where he just couldn’t turn another wheel, and he just flopped over sideways within a foot of me. Amazingly, although I was at my limit, I got over the top without trouble, and to a round of applause. I would say that 75-90 % of the others around me were walking by this point, so I felt really good about myself. Downhill into Brighton now, with a huge grin on my face. A nice flat run-in along the seafront, past our hotel, and into Madeira Drive, where my evening had begun. I even managed a “sprint” finish of sorts, getting up to 19.5 mph before having to be told to slow down by a marshall! Nobody had ever had to tell me to do that before. Chequered flag, “Finish” line, crowds of people applauding, medal…. Nice touch.
08:00 exactly. I had always expected it to be slower than any of my 100km audaxes because of the London bit, and the dark, but I was quite pleased to do it in 7 hours 39 mins. I had expected it to be over 8 hours, what with only doing 7 miles in the first hour. On my way back to the hotel, I recognised many of the riders still heading for the finish, and realised I had gone quite well. Just Hope Sharon and Michelle made it home in one piece. Got back home to Gloucester (after calling in on relatives on the way) in time for the second half of the World Cup, which I slept through. I’d also had to stop a couple of times at service stations for kips, as I was so shattered. Really glad I did it now though.

Hope to post photos later - having internet connectivity nightmare at the moment. Cheers, Donger.
 

welsh dragon

Thanks but no thanks. I think I'll pass.
My ride yesterday. London to Brighton Overnight.
Left Mrs Donger in a nice seaview room in our hotel in Brighton and made my way to Madeira Drive in good time for our 20:30 bus and truck transfer to Tower Bridge, where I was due for an 11:30 start time on Saturday night. The queue of cyclists stretched back almost to Brighton Pier, and you really got the feeling that this was going to be something big. After a 2 hour coach trip to London you also got an idea of the length of the ride. Arrived in some dark square surrounded by closed office buildings and only a tantalising glimpse of the top of the Shard at 22:30, only to find crowds of lycra clad human misery waiting for their overdue trucks full of bikes. We waited so long that I'll spare you the details, but while some of the TNT trucks had the good sense to follow the coaches with their riders in, ours did not. We arrived at Tower Bridge, our truck apparently arrived at Dartford (????). In the intervening period, jokes or speculation started that our bikes were all probably already on Ebay. When the truck finally turned up, we ended up unloading it ourselves!

Anyway, after plenty of time to make new friends (Hello to Sharon and Michelle, a couple of very nice nurses from Milton Keynes, who had been on my coach but were expecting to start earlier than me, at 23:00) we eventually got around to our Grand Depart at 12:21 on Sunday morning. Just had time for a couple of photos of Tower Bridge and HMS Belfast before the start.
From this point onwards, London was a bit of a blur to me, as everyone went off at breakneck speed. As I only had an almost unreadable paper map to follow (in the dark), all my concentration went on following the group in front of me. Left, right, left again .... over Tower Bridge ....back over London Bridge (I think).... through a mystifying warren of mews and back lanes .....traffic lights, picking our way between London buses and black cabs ..... searching for the yellow arrows we had to follow, but actually seeing very few of them .... occasionally spotting a marshall, .... just sprinting to get through the next lights before they went red and the group in front disappeared. I kept meeting Sharon and Michelle on the way, and we settled on following a girl with luminous bunny ears. Fortunately she knew where she was going - and luckily she was part of our ride, and not just someone on her way to Stringfellows. Saw ranks of Boris Bikes, loads of red buses, black cabs, exotic restaurants, wide boys swaggering around in pork pie hats - in fact everything you would need to see to win at Cockney Bingo.

Apparently at one time we rode through Brixton, and then at another point I saw a street sign with SW17 (I think) on it. After an hour, be had stopped so many times that we had only covered 7 miles. This was going to take longer than I thought. Eventually, by about 02:00 or so, we were reportedly out of London, and into a suburb that I did not recognise the name of, and instantly forgot. I can honestly say that at no point in the first 60 miles of this ride did I have the faintest idea where I was. As for London, all I can say is that, at that time on a Sunday morning, the place is a human zoo. Witnessed much drunkenness .... was shouted at in both jest and annoyance .... was letched at by drunken girls haning out of taxi cab windows .... got cut up by a local lad on a bike with no lights, who was on the phone and suddenly lurched at 90 degrees to the rest of us ..... miscellaneous police sirens .... crowds of people spilling out of clubs. The lot.

There were 3 rest and repair stops along the way. Just don't ask me where any of them were. The only meaningful landmark that I spotted on the way South was when we crossed over the M25. From there up until the 45 mile mark it was dark. I had been saving my re-chargeable front light, using it sparingly in London, aware that if it ran down I would be left with only a torch and a very poor battery light that gets you seen but doesn't light up anything in front of you. We were helped for a while by the fortunate presence of a "super moon" and a light fret, meaning that the moonlight was reflecting nicely from the damp road in places. As the rain started, some time before 04:00, my front light started to give out. Not just disappointing - more downright frightening. My "Crap Light" carried on for the whole ride, but didn't help me to see a thing. I took a bit of a soaking at this time, as I just couldn't stop to put my rain top on as I had to sat with the crowd. The moon had disappeared behind cloud, and It was pitch black by this time. I survived by waiting for someone to catch me up, then sprinting to stay ahead of them for as long as possible, utilising their lights. If that failed, I sprinted to catch groups that were ahead of me and found that multiple bright tail lights are just strong enough to provide enough reflections on a wet road to be able to ride into the blackness. You just never knew whether you were on the level or going uphill in those conditions. I had switched to Plan Z, and at times was riding with a pocket torch lighting the road for me. I had to use it sparingly, as I was down to my last batteries.

On 2 separate occasions we approached bright blue flashing lights, to find the sad sight of riders being loaded into ambulances and police studying accident scenes. This focussed the mind somewhat. At some time round about 04:00 (I think) the first pre-sunrise light of dawn started to appear, very much to my relief. I bumped into Sharon and Michelle again at the second rest station. They had met up with their friends, who had got lost earlier on. Well done girls! For people who had never gone beyond 25 miles before, they were keeping up remarkably well. By the final rest stop the light conditions were rideable without strong lights, and the worst was over - for me anyway. I did see a few who had "bonked", and needed to be evacuated by the broom wagon. Not a nice sight at all, and I felt very sorry for the old chap I saw bawling his eyes out.

By the 50 mile mark, scores (perhaps hundreds) of people were getting off and pushing at every incline, never mind the steep ones (of which there were a few). Fortunately my conditioning and training kicked in, and I was always able to keep going. I was also tiring, and my trip computer seemed to take an age to get through the fifties from 51 to 60 miles, but I just kept grinding it out through the South Downs. Eventually, just before Devil's Dyke, I found I was overtaking people on the hills, and positively flying past them on the down slopes, and starting to really enjoy myself again. Devil's Dyke was a challenge. I would have found it a challenge at the 5 mile mark. After 60 miles, it was just plain cruel. In the granny gear for almost the entire climb, I puffed and grunted my way up and, to my surprise, made it to the lay-by at the top without stopping. As agreed before, I stopped to phone my wife to say I'd be back inside the next 20-30 minutes, and then set off downhill. Thankfully, the council had closed the road for the event, so I could enjoy a nice fast descent - for all of 200 yards, where I came round a corner, only to find that I had been on a false summit! Another 200 yards of the very steepest bit still had to be climbed. At least this time you could see hordes of people at the top, clapping and shouting encouragement, so you knew this was really the last hill. By now I had taken off my reflective jacket, and was proudly displaying my "Fat Lad At The Back" shirt. "Come On Fat Lad", someone shouted, and then others joined in the encouragement and shouted me up to the top. Someone worrying close to me got to that point where he just couldn’t turn another wheel, and he just flopped over sideways within a foot of me. Amazingly, although I was at my limit, I got over the top without trouble, and to a round of applause. I would say that 75-90 % of the others around me were walking by this point, so I felt really good about myself. Downhill into Brighton now, with a huge grin on my face. A nice flat run-in along the seafront, past our hotel, and into Madeira Drive, where my evening had begun. I even managed a “sprint” finish of sorts, getting up to 19.5 mph before having to be told to slow down by a marshall! Nobody had ever had to tell me to do that before. Chequered flag, “Finish” line, crowds of people applauding, medal…. Nice touch.
08:00 exactly. I had always expected it to be slower than any of my 100km audaxes because of the London bit, and the dark, but I was quite pleased to do it in 7 hours 39 mins. I had expected it to be over 8 hours, what with only doing 7 miles in the first hour. On my way back to the hotel, I recognised many of the riders still heading for the finish, and realised I had gone quite well. Just Hope Sharon and Michelle made it home in one piece. Got back home to Gloucester (after calling in on relatives on the way) in time for the second half of the World Cup, which I slept through. I’d also had to stop a couple of times at service stations for kips, as I was so shattered. Really glad I did it now though.

Hope to post photos later - having internet connectivity nightmare at the moment. Cheers, Donger.

Congratulations donger. Well done and a great write up.:dance:
 

Saluki

World class procrastinator
Lovely fun ride today.
Firstly, I took the Selle Italia back off the PX and put the Spoon back on. The Spoon makes my bits numb after 10 miles or so but the Selle Italia seems to cause serious pain to my sit bones on the left hand side of my pelvis. It's where I broke my pelvis and there is a lumpy bit on the bone where it mended. As I have lost weight (and padding) the Selle Italia no longer suits me at all. Yesterday, I had pelvis pain all day and it still hurt this morning so the Spoon went right back on. I can get off the bike every 10 miles to get some feeling back!

We headed off up Park Lane and Verdons Lane and on to the Silfield Road out of Wymondham and then headed off to Wattlefield and then turned left along Broom Road and headed to Ashwellthorpe. Once there we turned for Fundenhall as I thought that Hubster would like to see the pretty houses that we pass on the way to the village centre. My camera packed up today so the photos I took, didn't actually take. I discovered this at Waitrose later in the ride.

From Fundenhall we came out on the B1113 and went along for a couple of hundred yards and then turned left back to Ashwellthorpe and immediately turned for Wreningham, then Hethel and the cyclepath past the Lotus test track. After the cyclepath we cycled along to East Carleton and past Colin Chapman's home when he was still alive and then turned for Eaton and Waitrose. Here we parked the bikes and grabbed an outside table and shared a big coffee (Hubster is on fluid restriction of 625ml a day until he gets a kidney transplant) and had some cake each. I had chocolate fudge cake :mrpig: and Hubster had coffee & walnut cake :mrpig:. It was here we discovered that the camera had packed up. It was old and tatty but it worked last week. I'll have a fiddle later.

Leaving Eaton, we headed up Bluebell Lane towards the UEA and, instead of chosing the cyclepath which is so shockingly badly surfaced it rattles the fillings out of your head, rode on the road. There was a car behind us for about 100 yards - we were single file - and when he overtook the passenger yelled obscenities and flipped us the bird. I thought that was charming behaviour from a driving instructor. Sadly I didn't get the name of the driving school. We tried to catch him for 'a word' at the lights but they changed faster than we could pedal. When the cyclepath surface became decent, we then got on the cyclepath to the UEA, through the Uni grounds and on to the B1108 and thundered down the hill at 31.6mph. Got held up by some stupid BMW who couldn't shift his backside for toffee.

We then swung left and up the hill at the hospital complex and then carried on up the hill, past the hospital to Roundwell Park and the A11/A47 roundabouts. The lights at the Toucan crossings both took an age to change. I was beginning to think that some of the car drivers hadn't actually been born when we actually pressed the button, so long did the lights take to change. We headed up the Hethersett Road, Ketts Oak, Norwich Road back to Wymondham then Hart's Farm Road and to Wymondham Station. We noticed that our new Morrisons, that is in mid build, is opening on the 4th August which is really soon bearing in mind that they have only been building for 5 minutes, seemingly.

At the roundabout, under the railway line, I headed left up Rightup Lane where Hubster said 'bugger all this' and headed home up Silfield Road (:laugh::laugh: I had the house key :laugh::laugh:) I rode over the footbridge spanning the A11 and off to Silfield Street, doglegged up Long Lane and managed to get out of the way of a tractor and trailer who I don't actually think saw me at all as he was looking at his phone and had headphones in his ears. I rode home via Silfield Road and then into the close to turn my GPS off before darting through the back alley and to my place for a nice cup of tea and a sit down on a un-unachey bum.

30.05 miles in 2:18:18 so a 13mph moving average. Pleased with that on a nice hot day :sun:
 

Ollie W

Cycling pls
Location
Southampton
My ride yesterday was a 26 mile guided Skyride around the New Forest. I rocked up with my friend Jake at Green Park in Millbrook after attempting some bike maintenance that, as it turned out, was a bit of a stupid thing to do. Our ride leaders briefed us and then asked us to separate into a slower group and faster group. Now, Jake and I have only tried 25 miles once before and that was our fun (if hilly) Sport Relief ride in London where his saddle kept falling off (a fellow riding buddy evidently missed a height restriction with his car and bike rack...), so we were a bit skeptical at attempting this ride in a fast group, but after some cries of "how fast is fast" we decided to go with it - 13 miles an hour is what I usually average on a downhill section so it couldn't be that bad, right...?

As we exited the car park and moved towards the A35 and Totton the fruits of my maintenance labour began to show. My chain, lubed using the Mickle method, was lovely and clean and didn't make a sound. I had, however, removed and replaced the front wheel on my Boardman CX Comp (now adorned in lovely 28c Gatorskins) to make sure it was aligned properly as the disc brakes were chugging a bit and the front wheel was clanging and making a vibrating sound when I rode on anything other than smooth tarmac. I must've done something wrong when replacing this (and I don't think the chain lube spray helped) as the vibration was still there (probably slowing me down) and the brakes were spongy as anything, hardly working which was strange for disc brakes. As I braked more towards a stop they started squeaking loudly - clearly I need to learn a bit more about bike maintenance! This was particularly fun as we cycled through Totton towards the water at Eling and passed Staplewood, the training ground of some insignificant local football team that sold most of its players to Liverpool.

After about ten miles we were out to the open forest and ascent after ascent met us. I was behind a lady who was clearly struggling and attempted to go in front to give her a tow, only to be met by a calamitous headwind. After grinding out the next mile or so the ten of us in the faster group paused at the summit for the obligatory photo and the lady decided it was probably best to go in the slower group from here. Another ascent was soon upon us and the ride leader suggested those of us with more testosterone than sense should try a sprint race up the hill. I got to about 2nd place before the dreaded bonk hit me and I spent a good while panting up the rest of the hill, begging to be towed. Alas, nobody was willing to help! We carried on through Lyndhurst towards Midhurst and the obligatory cafe stop with about 16 miles gone. It was quite nice to chat to the ride leaders who clearly knew their stuff and were doing this for the love of cycling; I may well have a go at ride leading myself when I'm a bit more confident.

The last ten miles were full of descents and our group pushed hard, only being interrupted by one lady in a big Mercedes who felt obliged to shout at us for daring to ride more than one abreast. For the record, there was plenty of room. Suddenly the road became gravelly and full of potholes and I'm sure my front wheel is now out of true, though I've yet to properly test it. After the last few miles back around Totton the ride was over, way too soon for my liking!

I'd definitely recommend going on the Skyrides, they have really great ride leaders and the routes are pretty awesome too. I feel a bit more confident about having a go at a 40-50 miler soon with the aim of taking part in my first Friday night ride to the coast of sorts when they do Reading to Lymington in September, followed by my first sportive in the New Forest in October. I just hope that I can stop myself from breaking my bike so often...
 

PatrickPending

Legendary Member
Location
Leicester
Another my ride yesterday...208Km from Blaby up to Staunton in the Vale taking in a fair few villages and going up on a route I haven't ridden before. Came across a road race but didn't see any cyclists....was disappointed the bloke with the chequered flag didn't flag me over the finishing line :sad: . Got a soaking at Denton - hid under a tree for the worst of it then off up to Staunton and back to Blaby taking in my hilly route (Croxton, Saltby, Sproxton, Owston....). Tiring but was ace! I think these little fellas I saw at Skeffington on the way home thought I was mad......
 

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Berties

Fast and careful!
tractor.jpeg


didn't even clip in before not only one of these ,but two came around the corner first got stuck then the second caught the corner,then 25 metres latter they stopped and one lorry dumped its oil all over the road ,one driver pulled me over asking if i knew the where abouts of his destination,in his double dutch i pin pointed his destination and being the good chap i am rode to the farm and got them to send out a mechanic and a pilot to get them to their destination,with my good deed done i treated myself to a 100km ride,a bit windy above 200 ft ,but i love Monday afternoons not so busy as the weekend
 

Saluki

World class procrastinator
@Saluki
Try lowering your handlebars about half an inch to relieve the pressure on your sit bones,
I know it may sound weird, but by leaning very slightly further forward it should help to take the pressure off.
Ah, that would require technical knowhow that I don't have. I have to take the PX to my LBS as I can't find what is causing that bloody click that I can hear.
The Selle Italia is just bloomin' uncomfortable I think, the Spoon is much nicer. I am considering putting my Spesh BG Riva on the PX, it's on my Defy at the moment and I've never had a moment's problem with it. I think that I might have a good old faff with saddles before I start messing with the front end as it feels fine on my wrists. I have proper problems with my wrists so I don't want to mess with the position if I don't have to.
 
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