We're moving to Wordpress

After 8 years of sharing this space on Blogspot, we have moved platform to Wordpress. It's been a while coming,as Google appear to have left Blogspot to wither on the vine. The lack of an app to update the site whilst on the move and the fact that Blogspot is more or less the same site it was in 2009 were the main reasons for the move.

We hope you'll find the new blog just as interesting and continue to follow us on our adventures!

https://tourdeamateurs.wordpress.com/

Preparatory rides

It's not long now! Excitement is building. In preparation for the trip and the big day (also literally, Day 1 is a bit of a beast!), I took to arranging a series of preparatory rides. The idea being to get us together as a group, both physically and mentally - to test our preparation regimes. How well would they have prepared us for the trip?

I've been getting on my fancy new turbo trainer regularly, Tom has been getting on his and Allan has been going out for rides before it was light in the morning. Tommy has been...um....occasionally coming round to mine for some short goes on the trainer.

The first ride was at Tom's - it was delayed, short of the full compliment (no Allan), damp, missing cycling shoes, and started after we'd wrestled Tommy's inner-tube from the grip of his sado-masochistic wheels. It was also very short-lived - 10km tops.

The second ride, was a 60km ride from my house. Again, we were missing the full compliment; this time Tom was unable to make it and it was windy. We set off and the omens weren't good as we reached Stanton Fitzwarren to watch Tommy struggling up a "hill" - I was worried for the pace of the Trip! We dragged him up the short, sharp hill in Sevenhampton, then up Coleshill and another nasty climb at Badbury Hill.

By the time we'd gotten to the layby at Badbury Clump, I could sense Tom's fatigue. We had originally set off with the idea that depending on how we felt, we could cut the ride short or extend it. I sensed that we'd be cutting it short.

A short while later, this was confirmed as we rode into Faringdon, the first split was upon us and after a short debate we decided on the shortest route home. On reflection it was probably for the best - we'd been cycling with the wind and the rest of our ride was more or less into the wind. We still had a fair number of climbs to go, up and down the Wiltshire Downs. Tom wasn't up for climbing Dragon Hill with us, so we agreed to split and we'd try to catch him up. Dragon Hill is a nasty 1.2km climb to the top of White Horse Hill in Uffington - famous for it's Bronze age chalk carving. It's always a test of the legs and it was no different on this day. We made it to the top and bombed back down, to chase Tom down with a headwind the entire way. I lead out and Allan stuck valiantly to my wheel the entire way - it was tough, but we caught up with Tom just before Ashbury.

I realised that there was every chance of Tom not making it back to mine - the route was going more or less right passed his house - what lunatic would cycle an additional 10km when they could nip home instead. Well, not Tom that's for sure. at the 45km mark, we split and he shuffled off home. I couldn't help but think we'd broken him.

My First London to Paris

Contrary to what has been previously paraphrased about my reasons for never considering any multi-day cycling events, I actually DO like the idea of them. I mean, cycling from London to Paris? Who wouldn't love to tackle that?!😅😅

However, I also have a healthy appreciation of what my body can handle (even when I suffer for it) and, so far, I've been only willing to accept one-day sportives knowing that I can drag myself through the event, regardless of how long it takes me, and then collapse into my bed at the end of the day and sleep it off for the rest of the week.

What I could not (still cannot?) work my head around is the idea that a person can cycle over 100km on one day - giving up blood, sweat and tears in the process - collapse into bed at the end of it, and then wake up the following morning TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN😓😓. Yet, it seems, this is exactly what I've signed up for 😒😒. (I really was caught off-guard when I agreed to this! 😐😐).

This time though, unlike all the previous Sportives I've done, I am going to make a plan😄. Google Maps says that it's 451km from London to Paris

 and so my plan shall follow two principles:

1. I should cycle at least 451km between now and April the 22nd.
2. I should cycle at least 100km on two consecutive days.

There are 16 weeks left and so in order to fulfil that first principle, I should cycle at least 28km every week starting now.

I've done 20k today so I reckon I'm off to an okayish start...😀😀

Paris 2017

I went out for a ride with ex-Logicalis Roadie Allan Murungi the other week. When I'd previously suggested it, Allan had rejected the idea of a multi-day EPIC ride on the ground that it was too much like hard work (I'm paraphrasing).

I thought I'd broach the subject with him again, seeing as the weather and scenery was so pleasant and it seems like I caught him off-guard because he finally said that he would be up for it! A quick message to Tom Barron - who sadly only managed 3/4 of the last attempt due to...well....due to "issues" let's leave it at that - and he was in too. The trio that had previously conquered the Wiggle French Resistance sportive (and patiently waited for my saint of a wife to bring the spare car keys from Swindon to Dover because I'd managed to lose the other set on the ride!) were reunited.

Then at long last Tom Malyon finally gave in to my relentless pressure to get his arse on a bike and agreed that he'd join us too!

So it's on (like King Kong)!

Col du Tourmalet

The toughest ride as well as the most rewarding ride of my life.

This one has been bouncing around in my head since I saw the holiday house on the internet back in January. The thought struck me then "The Pyrenees are miles away, but this would be the perfect chance to cycle one of the most iconic mountain climbs from the Tour de France". I checked with the wife and it's been on ever since.

I didn't especially train for this, in fact with work being exceptionally busy, I've only been able to get out on weekends. So as the holiday approached, my nerves and apprehension about my preparedness started to pile up. The ride I did on Sunday certain had some nasty hills in it, but I still managed to climb them all. I knew deep down that the Tourmalet was a different beast altogether though.

As I went to bed last night, I wondered what it was about this climb that had so appealed. Why was I doing it? I read a number of articles on the web of others who had done it and I started to have some very serious reservations. This is a Hors catégorie climb, "beyond classification". As far as I could recall the most difficult climb I'd done before was a Cat 3. It's the highest paved mountain pass in the French Pyrenees. Here I was having done no serious preparation or hill training about to tackle it. On my own. Yeah, I was definitely starting to doubt the whole idea.

The day started with a few hiccups, I managed to remember I'd left my shoes at the house about 20 minutes down the road and then rode off without my water bottles. I hadn't really studied the route, mainly to avoid fuelling the nerves further. I was aware of what lay before me, but I normally like to go over the route in some detail when I haven't ridden it before so that I know how much to keep in reserve. For this, the plan was simply to get to the top in one piece!

So I wasn't prepared for the first climb of the day, well ahead of the mountain itself. Loucrup came seemingly out of nowhere, but it was a big one; long (2km) and steep (7% avg). I found myself (my nerves still not in check) thinking "if I'm struggling on this, it doesn't bode well for the mountain". I took some courage from seeing some of the names of the General Classification riders from the Tour de France that had gone up that hill this year: Bauke Mollema, Pierre Rolland, Peter Sagan. No mention of Froome! Riding on the same roads as these riders was pretty inspiring.

The climb doesn't officially start until you get to Sainte Marie de Campan, but the climbing certainly starts before you get there. I was feeling fairly strong, certainly easing my way past a few other riders. The weather was hot and there wasn't a great deal of a breeze to help. In fact later up the climb, there were a few sections where there was no breeze at all. This only serves to magnify the experience. Getting scorched whilst you are climbing uphill is no fun at all. The small rivulets that follow the road, seem to taunt you - clear cold water only centimetres from you. I found myself fantasising about stopping and throwing handfuls of it over me, quenching my thirst with it - two water bottles was not enough on a hot day like today.

That heat though did mean that the views were stunning throughout the ride and bode well for the summit. I really wanted a clear view out, just as I'd seen on the TV.

There isn't really a lot to say about the climb up itself, apart from the fact that it is relentless and exceptionally tough. Anyone that has done any amount of cycling will know that one of the worst things you can do when climbing a hill is to look up. However when you have 16km of climbing, it's hard not to. After all, you're there to experience the climb itself. I'd certainly not cycled up anything like this, so I was going to take the whole experience in. I wasn't hugely bothered about my time to complete - frankly the challenge was to get up the thing at all! There was a number of moments where that was brought in to question. About half way in, I was seriously struggling. I was tacked on to the back of 3 other riders, just pushing my pedals around. The heat and lack of breeze was playing a big part in making this section exceptionally difficult. Whilst I'd had a good breakfast, with the long journey and hiccups, I was due some lunch. Instead I just had what energy products I brought with me, some gels an energy bar and some energy blocks, plus my drinks. I believe this played a big part in my feeling particularly weak. I've never been good at managing my energy input and today was not a good day to wing it like I was. I just completely ran out of steam. I stopped, my heart rate wasn't coming down nearly as quickly as it normally does. This let me to wonder if it was me dehydrating - I had been sweating buckets in the heat. Was it the altitude affecting the amount of oxygen I was getting in? Who knows! I stood there for a while, eating the energy blocks and using the first stop of the day to take some pictures.

Panaromic from my first breather

Me pretending I was enjoying myself

So looking up at the next section was a bit of a no-no, but almost impossible to avoid. At the same time, the other thought that keeps playing over and over in your head is that the next section is going to be harder. Not just because you're 1km tireder, although that's true too. No, it's that with every kilometer, the gradient gets tougher. There are times when you're not longer sure you're cycling up. "This feels a little easier, I wonder if it's dropped off", you check your GPS - nope! It's still 9% Ugh.

The other aspect to this climb I hadn't anticipated was the sudden all to real sense of vertigo I got on a number of spots along the route. Generally speaking you don't really get a great sense of the height you've climbed, but when the trees parted at this one section - I almost lost my stomach. It was SO steep and SO high up, and only a tiny wall separated you and your bike from a HUGE drop. There are times too, when there isn't even a wall - just a huge expanse/vista/fall and some tarmac and a painted white line is all that separates you from it. This is especially true as I made my way up to the eyesore that is La Mongie, through the avalanche shelters. You feel right on the edge of the mountain. You pass over this pipe which tunnels the water under La Mongie and there is nothing seperating your tired and weary body from dropping off the edge.

La Mongie, besides being a hideous eyesore introduces you to the final few kilometres of the climb and with it a sharpening of the gradient. Long gone is any shade from trees or avalanche shelters, it's just you and some very hot, steep road. Ahead lies what appears to be an impossible task, to keep going through average gradients of 9.5% - it looks much steeper. You can't even see the route you will take, just the last few hairpins and the ski lift station, signifying what must surely be the summit! It was here that I again felt I had nothing left to give. The legs had had enough, I was gasping for a drink and the lack of shade exacerbated both! It was here I considered turning around and joining the dozens of other riders I'd been watching streaming past, going downhill. This seems like a very good idea. The final 3-4km just felt too far, too hard. Frankly impossible. How could I come this far and not finish it though? I told myself that even if I had to do the walk of shame to reach the top - I would. I pressed on...

It was here I encountered my first free-roaming animals that are a part of this climb - huge cows, llamas and goats/rams. I'll be honest, although I'd taken a few breathers on my way up - I was glad of the distraction which allowed me to slow down a little and overtake them all carefully. Up here, I started to reflect on the journey up - the surprise that with each corner there was even more mountains, but just out of sight now was the summit and the famous dip between the mountains, where I'd seen various Tour riders pass over the line. Where in 2010 the stage finished. I was spurred on to reach the top!

At the final bend, an enterprising chap with a camera snapped a load of photos. Determined to ensure I didn't look a the complete wreck that I felt, I put in a final surge of energy and tried to look as hardcore as possible. We'll see if that worked, I have my doubts. [Edit - OK, they're not too shabby]

On the final stretch before the summit, a slightly older, tough-looking french woman who was walking down the hill shouted "Allez!" at me - I smiled weakly at her but pumped my fist to try to convey that I was chuffed I'd even made it. She said something in response, like "trés, trés bon!" but it had a genuine emotional impact on me. To have finally made it, was quite overwhelming. I wished that I'd have had someone else to share the moment with. Instead I got off my bike, as I did my body hinted that it was ready to cramp up. I phoned Hannah to share the good news with, took a bunch of photos had a brief exchange with an old french dude who was admiring my bike/trying to pronounce "Planet X", whipped on my jacket and headed down the west side of the mountain.

It was nothing short of amazing, the road surface was pretty top notch so it gave me the confidence to descend quickly. Cars pulled over to let me past and I flew down, pedalling almost the entire way down. I noted to myself that I chose the right route, climbing it from the west would have been an even bigger psychological challenge - you must just face a wall of granite for the worse part of the climb! I sped on. In my mind I was replaying Rafal Majka's amazing climb from this year's TdF. Watching him steam down the mountain passing the river at incredible speeds. Now it was my turn. I've always enjoyed descending - I've yet to have an off - so my confidence is unscathed. I overtook a number of cars and enjoyed the warm air whipping at the jacket. You understand why the pros tuck on descents - you get to about 60kph and it becomes obvious that its the air that's stopping you going faster. I didn't tuck, just enjoyed the fast, long descent. Through Luz Saint Sauveur. It was awesome to retrace the TdF in real life.

As tempting as it might be to free-wheel the whole thing, I didn't let up, pedalled as much of it as I could. The descent (as you might imagine) is over - comparatively speaking - in a blink of an eye. 26 minutes of descent later and I found myself looking at the remaining distance back to Lourdes - where Hannah and the kids were patiently waiting and wishing it was all over. I was exhausted and thirsty, but now had to muster up the energy for another hour's riding. But I did and looking back it never feels as bad as it does at the time. I was greeted in Lourdes to cheers and whoops from the kids and Hannah. Feeling like a true champion, I grabbed a bottle of water and laid back on the grass and quaffed the lot. Smelly and shattered, I climbed in the car and we drove home.

Velothon Wales 2015

View this route on plotaroute.com

Tomorrow sees me doing the first edition of Velothon Wales. 15,000 people will set off tomorrow to race 140km around a closed road circuit of South Wales. I'm a little nervous of the big climb heading up to Abergavenny: Ostensibly I'll be doing it with Dan Palmer, but he has an earlier start time and should be quicker than me. Whilst I beat his time during the Tour of Berkshire, I'm certain that he's determined to set the record straight and this time he won't still be recovering from a chest infection! I'm a little nervous, but have a fair amount of hope that with the sheer numbers I'll be able to drift behind plenty of people to conserve energy and hope to be able to get up The Tumble. Once I'm up there I should be fine for the remainder. I've done these distances before, so really shouldn't be suffering from butterflies but nevertheless I am! If nothing else, it should give me a good bit of practise before I hit the Pyrenees in the Summer.

http://www.plotaroute.com/routeprofile/80334

How small we've made the world

Travelling at 180mph in comfort with our luggage, with the Eurostar making a mockery of our efforts, I'm struck by how big the world really is.

I guess part of the luxury of doing rides like this is the time you get to spend with your thoughts and contemplating things. I remember last time being constantly reminded of our place in nature. We spend so little time in our surroundings that we are entirely divorced from them.

When you are on your bike and on a multi day journey with only whatever you have brought with you to hand, your exposure to the elements and your awareness of the landscape (climbing hill after hill does that to you!) start to connect you to nature a little bit more. Now clearly, I'm still stating this from a perspective where every night we had a lovely warm, dry hotel room to check in to. A hot shower and comfortable beds to sleep in. So it's hardly a position of real hardship. More the ramblings of a very lucky human.

On our walk back to the hotel last night we passed dozens and dozens of homeless people, living in tents under an underpass. As well as the luxuries already stated, we had a fair amount of security in knowing that we had the pick of our choice when it came to what and where we wanted to eat. This morning I didn't have to worry IF I was going to eat today, I chose exactly what I wanted.

I'm returning home to my very lovely wife and my four healthy and adorable kids and we all live in comfort. What incredible luck!!

So here I am travelling at 180mph home. The thought that hits me his time is how small we've made this world. When it takes an hour to travel what took us 3 days to cycle, it's hard to miss the comparison. It really wasn't that long ago that travelling even at the pace we just spent the last 4 days doing was pretty much your only option. It limits what you can carry and it limits where you go.

Has the pace of life increased with our ability to travel fast, to get information instantaneously in almost any location?

How are these two thoughts linked? I think our modern conveniences are simply incredible, I'm not advocating somehow turning back time. But we all need to find the time to slow down, to think more. I wish that more people had  what I have. I mean that on a global level, the gap between my level of security and comfort compared with billions of others is not right. I mean it on a very local level too, you don't need to look outside of your local community to find others who aren't as lucky as you. We can help both.

Deep thoughts for a light-hearted blog!

The miles have taken their toll on poor Tom

It is done!!

Wow!!! It has finally came to an end. I would be lying if I said I'm pain free. "My Knee, My Knee" is all Adam heard today. It was hurting from start to finish, my whole body was saying  Why?? Not another day of punishment. But when we made it to Paris all the pain was over shadowed by a sense of achievement. It has been a great experience never yo be forgotten. We have loads of videos and photos to look at to remind us of the fun times and hard times. A massive thanks to Adam for his help and I hope who ever has been following has enjoyed our experience and perhaps if you haven't already done so make a donation to Adams charity link. 

Thanks 

Tom

We made it!!!!!

We are here! I just had a go around the Arc d'Triumph, which is always crazy and let's you know you are alive!!

Just about to head down Champs Élysées to Place de la Concord then on to the Eifel Tower, then we're DONE!

The first baguette!

Been waiting a long time for this, but boy was it worth it!

The house of Vincent Van Gogh?

Stopped for a little rest

Tom's knee is aching a bit and he won't stop going on about it. Yesterday the saddle needed to come down, this morning it needed to go up a bit! If he asks for us to drop it again...!

So to placate him we've stopped for a banana and a pain au chocolat in a shady little bench by the side of the road.

Sorry for not posting the location sooner, the brain isn't firing on all cylinders - I'm quite tired.

Not long to Paris now...only another 50km or so!

Nice views!