Challenge Colm: Glasgow To Edinburgh Century Ride

Wooft! What a day! It had all the highs and lows you could expect from an endurance event at this time of the year in Scotland. And I make no apologies for my blatant wheel sucking at every opportunity.

Started the day off bright and early heading to register at 06:30, then meeting up with Ross, Mark & Martin. In some Bizarro World way, it was dry & relatively windless for the start of the ride! After the usual ramblings over the microphone, they started letting us go in waves, and we were off in the second wave, at around 07:11. Sadly I think I double tapped the start button on my garmin at this point, so didn't have it going.

The first section out of the city was a meandering stop/start through the traffic light ridden south side, but eventually we were out & into some familiar countryside, thanks to those GTC group rides. Down onto the A77 and the weather had most definitely turned for the worst and lo! we were heading into the gusty wind. I dropped off the back of the pack me & the guys were with when we hit a climb, and there was no way back for me for a while, cos struggling into that wind on my own was horrific. A few solo cyclists or pairs came past me, but I didn't have the inclination to try and catch onto them as they were all going quite hard. Then next group that came past however, I latched onto the back and tucked in for some blessed relief from the wind, if not the rain.

The pack stayed together for a while, until the guys at the front's mate made it back from his pit stop, and then then put the foot down and took off. which started the fragmenting of this particular group. Without a strong rider at the front, the pace dropped noticeably and then a few people started dropping off the back. As we hit the roundabout for the time trial turn I pushed up to the 3 guys at the front who were starting to draw away and clung on as best I could for a good few miles. I dropped off the back of them on a climb (the story of my day, sadly) so it was back to a face full of wind & pushing on.

A little while longer & the route turned off this south west heading road to head out south east, so surely that'd ease the wind? No danger. Heading down through Waterside (I think that's where the guys were waiting for me to catch up) and Moscow there was no let up, and as Loudon Academy approached, the rest stop was greatly needed.

After a quick caramel wafer & banana stop, my water bottle was refilled and a wee mechanical check because my rear bearings were sounding like there was a stone rattling around inside, and then we were back off before the chill could set in.

We dropped into Galston then out east along the A71. At Newmilns I noticed my cycle computer had reset itself due to the pissing rain, so checked my Garmin so that I could keep track of time for my gel schedule (around about every 50 minutes I was aiming for). Oh. Shit. Its not running. Oh well, better late than never I guess. It wasn't too bad along that road to be fair, but when we turned off towards Dungavel is when the road surface turned to shit and there was still worse to come.

I lost contact with the guys again somewhere along the road, and plowed on cursing the wind blasting me in the face, and caught up with them again briefly (possibly around about Glengavel Reservoir), but again got dropped on a hill and then the mental horror show kicked in. On my own, with a brutal wind blasting me with the pissing rain right in the face, Jo's aptly named Humour Failure was in full effect. I have never wanted out of anything so much as I did at that point. My brain told me several times, "What the fuck did you think you were doing signing up for this, you're clearly not ready". On several of the climbs I was so close to tears that if someone had passed me and said something I might've just burst. If I'd had to stop for any reason, I doubt I could've made it back on the bike at that point. Even the downhills were little relief - on a couple of them I tried freewheeling it so I could catch my breath, but between the shit road surface and the wind I was slowing down drastically when I stopped pedalling. To make things worse because I'd been forcing myself down onto my bars so much they'd twisted down, so I was having to lean forward more, which left me in a precarious feeling position.

But I knew I had two options, stop at the side of the road a broken man, waiting to catch a cold, or plow on through the distress, so I obviously chose the later, trying to silence the doubts with a mantra of "nothing will ever be as bad as this, nothing will ever be as bad as this".

Eventually I got through this hell section of road and turning left at Muirkirk got me out of the wind for a time, and my spirits bounced back a little. The section on from there to the second fuel stop in Douglas was not too bad apart from feeling very nervous that my bars were going to spin right forward away form me. Eventually we rolled into the fuel stop sodden & cold and in need of some food. Sarnies & more caramel wafers were the order of the day & the bike mechanics quickly got my handle bars back where I wanted them. I also knew that I had to do something to break the mood that was threatening to wreck my ride, so I think it was here that the yellow lenses got put on. Before we started off again, I got out of the wind for a bit, but my body just went into the shakes, but the only way to get heat back into my muscles was to start moving again, and off we went.

Again it took a while to get the blood warmed & moving well, but at least the wind wasn't quite as bad, though we were getting some nasty crosswinds that threatened to take the bike away from the unwary. The yellow lensed glasses were doing the trick & making everything look brighter and less miserable which helped and the road surface was a million times better so the speed lifted, but then were turning off of this lovely tarmac towards Carmichael & the sadistic 80m climb over 1k, not long after the 60 mile marker.

As we reached the bottom, my nerves were shot and I started weakly before a gust from the side nearly took my wheels and my bottle crashed. Just managing to get my right leg unclipped at 2km/hr I narrowly avoided dropping the bike (and me). Then, it was just a long walk.

The guys were again kindly waiting for me at the top of the first bit, so we pushed on up the hill and over the otherside (where Mark got himself attacked by an errant wasp).

Oh. Steep downhill. Wet. Gusty wind. I'd better take this easy. Naaaah, its a straight line.

I picked my line that would take me through the minimum puddles at the bottom, cranked on a little then tucked as aero as I could and let gravity do its thang. The grin that this brought managed to erase more of the mental anguish that was still kicking round from earlier, and I topped out at 72.8km/hr. Had it've been dry & less windy, I would've got way faster.

The road rolled for a while now past Thankerton, but at Quothquan a long draggy climb started. I'd managed to convince myself that Carmichael was the high point of the route, so this on tired legs with a still fragile mental state was torture; over 120m of climb over 12km with very little respite was excruciating for me, particularly factoring in my general (but slowly improving) suckiness at hills and the fact that one I hit that 60 mile mark I was pretty much in new territory for me on a road bike. Somehow I managed to fight back a little, refusing to lie down and accept that big back ring, pushing myself onto smaller gears at every opportunity, even if it was only for 30 seconds before I had to drop. I. Would. Not. Break.

Topping out, the guys had hung back for me, and then we took off down hill. There was one significant climb to go, but I managed up it in reasonable time, then it pretty much was downhill all the way and little risk of losing the guys, and the fun stayed on the ride eventually. Head down, tucked in, blasting up short inclines with momentum carrying me over. Even the bout of gas I had to get rid of before it turned to vomit can't really bring this stretch down for me. There were still some inclines that made me slow & curse & beg to be over, but the 80 mile marker was replaced by the 90 mile marker in next to no time and the smiles were up and the end beckoned.

I'll wash over the little incident with being in the wrong gear as I came over the timing mat, so couldn't get up the hill and subsequently following someone the wrong way. The finish from the mat was on the end section of the 9 mile Edinburgh family ride, which brought us in through Murrayfield stadium itself where the photo op was taken, and then out again to the finish line, for medals and goodie bags.

I've done it. Yas!