The Cambridge Autumnal 200
For the second time in a month, I’m writing a ride report that should have been the start of my new vlog series. Unfortunately, this time it was a somewhat more disastrous happening that has brought me here. I’m somewhat conflicted over how I feel about the day. On one hand, I got the ride done, my card has gone off and there is seemingly no reason why it won’t be validated. On the other, I didn’t really hit what I was aiming for and I had some further disappointment. Before I get into it, I would say that I generally enjoyed the route, there was the odd bit of slightly busier than I’m used to A-road but on the flip side, the quality of the roads in Cambridgeshire were in the main a whole lot better than many of back lanes of the Midlands, so I guess it all evens out.
One thing I did find quite curious when I was doing my route research, was that we were to be passing through the centre of Cambridge. Busting through a reasonably sized city like this is something I’m not at all used to on an Audax route. Once on the road though, I could see why Nick wasn’t afraid to route us through instead of going around; cycle lanes. How many miles of cycle lanes does Cambridge have? And not just the meter wide obvious afterthought, that sudden ends leaving you stranded somewhere stupid that characterises most of Birmingham’s offerings. No sir, it seems like a properly thought out and planned network of routes (at least to the casual visitor) that provides a reasonably safe throughway across the city. Well done Cambridge, you appear to be setting the example that much of the UK should be following.
There was quite a crowd at the arrivée when I turned up with about 10 minutes before the off. I normally like to be there a little earlier than this, but unfortunately, a slight diversion on route and it taking me a little longer than normal to get my bike sorted, meant the 10 mins I lost was the time that I would normally use to grab a coffee and soak up some pre-ride buzz. 92 riders rolled out of Girton, after the briefing from Nick, setting out towards Cambridge on a bright fresh October morning. I’m informed that the previous couple of years had had some pretty woeful weather so I counted myself lucky in this regard. In fact, I have had a pretty lucky summer for good weather. Since I started randonneuring in late July, I have probably ridden about 1250km’s worth and been lightly rained on for about 20km. Result! Cambridge was quiet at this time and as mentioned above the copious amount of cycle lanes made for an easy ride through the city. There was one close call though where a taxi pulled up in a stupendously stupid place on a single lane road right in front of the group I was in, which was then compounded by an even closer call when the twat nugget of a passenger tried to get out…
As we left Cambridge behind a fairly large group had formed on the front, and boy this group wasn’t messing around. Regular readers will know that I like to get in the fast group to start and I’m normally happy pushing along a bit quicker than I would on my own to get at least an hour or two of quick miles done but this was just that bit quicker again. I held with them for about 50mins before deciding to let the group ride away from me. Pacing is the key to these long events. Everyone is different and everyone has to work out what pacing means to them. Back when I was doing 20hour+ mountain bike ITTs, I was often able to go out pretty quick for an hour or two to start but I learnt that a point comes when you need to dial this back and get settled into your soft-peddling, otherwise, you’ll get cooked way too early and spend the second half dying on your arse. Given that I had planned to do my first ECE, an extra 110km making a total of 320km for the day, I thought that using some discretion at this stage was probably a good idea.
It wasn’t long before I hit New Market, passing the racecourse that looked to be setting up for a day of racing. I rode through the town and passed the gallops on the east side and started into the undulations that remained for much of the day. I have only ridden in this area of the country once before, slightly further north where it’s pancake country and I was surprised by how much up and down there was. It’s not real hills by any stretch and actually not unwelcome either as I tend to fair better when there are a few ups to negotiate but none the less I really wasn’t expecting it so it was just a little surprising. Bury St Edmunds was the next place of note. There was a market on and I did contemplate for a moment stopping to have a mooch around but again I had the thought of the ECE on my mind and pressing on to our first control and getting 100km under my belt seemed like the most sensible thing to do.
At Haughley I missed the turning to Old Newton and whilst turning around I saw a rider pass me. As I caught up with him I noticed he had on a Paris Brest Paris Gillet. I hadn’t really spoken to anyone yet today which is unusual for me, so I pulled up alongside and started asking about his PBP experience. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch his name (he’s actually the guy riding 3rd wheel in the photo above) but he was happy to share his stories of the PBP and it made for some good conversation. It was interesting to hear about the event first hand instead of the videos I had seen on YouTube. We rode together until roughly Debenham when I suddenly realised that he had dropped off my wheel and was somewhere behind. This is, however, the way of the Audaxing and I pressed on at my own pace. Time and distance were passing quickly and I was really enjoying the ride. The sun was shining, the wind was at my back, my legs felt strong, what could possibly go wrong?
What could possibly go wrong I hear you cry?!?!! I guess I was somewhere just short of Earl Soham when I reached into my pocket for something… I can’t even remember what… but on pulling my hand out, I felt something else come with it. I quickly realised that it was my camera that I had been carrying in my back pocket. As I glanced down to my right I saw a black shape bounce into the middle of the road next to me. SHIT! Fortunately, the road was empty and I was able to quickly pull over mere meters from where the incident had taken place. Only now this was where I entered the twilight zone. I put the bike on the grass verge, fully expecting to turn around and see a black box sat in the middle of the tarmac, but oddly it was nowhere to be seen. I walked back and proceeded to spend the next 40minutes scouring the tiny grass verge on either side of the road. I guess it was a slightly confusing sight for most who passed. Cyclists are a good bunch though and the number of shouts to ask if I was OK and the 2 riders who stopped, somewhat restored my faith in fellow humans… for at least a day anyway. Sadly it didn’t seem to matter how carefully I looked or how much time I put into it, I just couldn’t find my camera. It was just weird… I was sorely confused and just couldn’t get my head around where it had disappeared to. It was a real shame as not only was it a brand new GoPro that wasn’t an insignificant investment, but I had actually got some great footage that morning, and had even been able to string together a few reasonably insightful sentences without sounding like the village the idiot. I was just so disappointed, and it very quickly sucked all the joy out of what should have been a good day on the bike.
I got riding again and focussed on getting to our first control at Framlingham, to eat lunch and regroup mentally. I got some lunch and chatted with a few riders who recognised me from the grass verge incident. Honestly though, I didn’t really want to talk about it. I knew I had at least another 100km to go with a lump of it being into a headwind and hanging on to that disappointment wasn’t going to get me there. I needed to let go of it and start peddling again. I did just that but my heart wasn’t in it any more. Add to that the 45mins or so I had lost and I decided to just get back to Girton and leave the ECE for another day. 5-6 miles from Stowmarket two lads on the ride passed me, one on a fixie the crazy bastard! They didn’t just pass me though, they blasted past. It somehow woke me up a little and made me realise just how slow I had been riding. Normally the “riding trance” is what I strive for, the meditative state that allows you to knock out big miles without even realising it but this was different. I was in a malaise of sorts that left me deflated and just going through the motions. I needed something to wake me up and thankfully having a few riders to chase, got the blood pumping and my legs moving again. In Stowmarket, a few of us waited for a train to pass and as we left the town I grouped up with 3 other guys who were riding about the same pace. It really made a huge difference not only taking turns pulling on the front but having some people to chat too and a bit of human contact. I shook off the malaise and actually started enjoying it again.
160km in and we got to our second control at the Maglia Rosso Cafe. It came at just about the right time. A break at this point was called for and I really enjoyed a coffee and a piece of salted caramel slice. I sat chatting with Pete and Peter who I had ridden in with as well as another guy who it had turned out had also done the Milden Hall Brevet earlier in the year. He had done the 300km version where I had done the 200km. Like most people, it seems he didn’t remember the heat being as quite as oppressive as I did. I dunno, maybe it was just me that day struggling with the 28 degrees.
I have talked before about how I like the causal camaraderie that occurs on an audax, the chatting on the road or in a cafe, however, one of the best things about it is not feeling the need to in any way change what you are doing and just ride your own ride. However, for the first time ever I wanted to leave with the guys I rode in with. As I waited for them to fill their water bottles I “found myself” waiting which was kind of strange. Anyway, we all got riding and settled into the last 50km or so chatting and taking turns to pull the group along. As it started to get dark we passed through Cambridge. It was Saturday night on the streets of the city and the hustle and bustle was somewhat of a culture shock after the hours of mellow county lanes and quiet. The roads were full of cars and cyclists and I could have almost been back in Birmingham. Several sets of traffic lights and a few wrong turns later and we made it back to Girton, getting our cards stamped and handing them in for validation.
We sat around for a while, chatting and enjoying the post-ride atmosphere. We tucked into the soup, bread and cheese that was on offer. I have forgotten what flavour it was for now, something sweet, maybe butternut squash? Whatever it was it tasted incredible and was a fitting way to finish off a day’s riding. Big thanks go to Nick and the team for organising.
Lessons from this event
The main thing I was pleased with was being able to shake off the mental hit I talked about. Sure I was a bit disappointed and it did effect how I was riding for a while but I was able to let go of it and get on with the day. Why this is of note to be personally is that a few years ago this would have sent me lower than whale shit and I would not have recovered well at all. The reason I stopped doing endurance mountain biking roughly 3 years ago was entirely mental health-related. I lost everything to do with the mental game, from even being able to even face the idea of 20 hours+ in the saddle through to dealing with the inevitable mental challenges on the way. I feel that the way I dealt with my headspace on this ride was a huge step forward for me and my journey of recovery.
Having said that though, I did make a decision to not do the ECE a bit too quickly. I made the call while I was at a low point which is the worst possible time to make any type of decision. This was highlighted to me at the end of the ride when I was still able to knock out a reasonable pace and my legs were still feeling very strong. I totally had the distance in the tank and I really should have knocked out the extra 110km. The lesson to learn here is that you should not make a change of plan simply reacting to something negative, and then set your head in that way of thinking. Wait, and see how you feel when you actually need to make that decision. It is almost always going to be sometime later, once you have more perspective and can make a more sensible and balanced call.
