Le Bonne Anniversaire Tour

Nikki and Nicole report on their epic journey to Coralie’s 40th birthday party in France.

Nellie and Gateau ready to roll!

Day 1 - London to Dover

When Coralie invited us to her birthday party in Northern France, Nicole and I immediately hatched a plan to ride there. Days off work taken, ferries and hotels booked, multiple pages of Google Maps printed and we were ready. We had given Coralie our glad-rags earlier in the week, but even so, managed to both carry in excess of 6kgs on our backs, with Nellie and Gateau riding shotgun.

Top of Cudham Lane

Quick (and, as it proved, not very accurate) timing calculations done, we rolled out of Clapham at a sociable hour on Friday morning. The journey started well. We made good time out of London, heading through Kent. The sun had graced us with its presence and spirits were high – so much so that when Nicole told me the climb up Cudham Lane was “about 3km”, and it turned out to be 7.5km, there were no toys thrown out of prams!

Ideal photo opportunity!

Just after a sunny lunch, the sky clouded over and it began to rain. This coincided, of course, with us heading 5km in the wrong direction and Nic getting a puncture. On examining her tyre, Nic realised that changing it before setting off would have been a good idea, as it closely resembled a colander. We carried on, praying for good road surfaces (which actually, Kent is very good at!) and bemoaning the fact that we were unlikely to find a bike shop on our route. Just as we said that, we rolled over a hill to see a bike shop straight ahead of us! Having stocked up on energy bars, more gas cannisters and a tyre, we felt much more positive, even when the man in the shop told us we had at least 80km still to go.....and it was now starting to get dark. Feeling confident in our lights, especially Nic’s super-powered front light, we pushed on.

Sad face on calling it quits

The sky got darker, and the rain got heavier, and after a wrong turn found us on a dual carriageway, we started to feel less cheerful. A packet of emergency Percy Pigs (consumed in 2min) soon sorted this out and we felt recharged. However, daylight was not in our favour. Our maps had now disintegrated into soggy masses of lines and indistinguishable words and Nic’s front light decided to be not so super-powered and started to fail. Nicole suddenly seemed uncharacteristically happy to sit behind me on the lanes, often asking “Can you see?” Armed with only a £15 commuter light, I couldn’t see a hand in front of my face. However, I knew this wasn’t the time to admit this, so carried on with a cheery “Yep, no problem”, whilst using the opportunity of every passing car to work out exactly where the road went ahead of us and trying not to ride us into a hedge. We finally reached a little village, where a pub sign shone brightly. The lanes ahead of us were pitch black, and knowing that the terrain between us and Dover was quite lumpy and not relishing a slippery, blind descent, we decided the most sensible option was to call it quits. We were a mere 10km from our hotel after all. We managed to persuade a nice but reluctant taxi man to take us, and finally got to our hotel about 8pm. Luckily, room service was available, so we tucked up in bed with huge bowls of pasta and two puddings, finally dry, warm and in one piece. 

Lessons learnt from Day 1:-
1) Riding to Dover takes quite a long time. And it’s quite clever to include time for getting lost, getting punctures, reading maps, stopping for the loo, stopping for water, stopping to eat, stopping for random photos... just generally stopping.
2) Check your bike before you go. This includes brake pads, tyres, lights...
3) Don’t put on 7 kgs. It makes going up hills much harder.
4) It gets really dark in the Kent countryside in October. Really, really dark. And there are no street lights.
5) If you are meant to be on something called a “Lane”, and you end up doing a 2-up down a dual carriageway, you’ve probably gone wrong somewhere. Unless it’s Seven Mile Lane, because that’s not really a lane, more a lorry super-highway.
6) Kent roads are much nicer than Surrey roads. Kent drivers are much nicer than Surrey drivers.
7) Sometimes, if you pray hard for a bike shop, one will appear.
8) Percy Pigs are a nutritional essential.
9) Riding in the rain means you're hard. Riding in the rain and pitch black means you're mental.
10) People outside the M25 are nice, even to a pair of soggy, dirty, smelly girls in lycra, with pink and furry toys attached to their backpacks.

Day 2 - Dover to Lumbres

Boarding the ferry in Dover

Day 2 started well - it wasn’t raining and all our kit was dry having turned the hotel heater on full blast overnight. We pedalled the remaining 10km or so down to the ferry port in Dover where we met with our other two accomplices for the trip, Helen and Jake, who had got the early train down from London. The ferry ride passed quickly with the help of coffee and second breakfast, and by 1pm, we found ourselves in downtown Calais. 

Once again, I wasn’t entirely sure of the distance or terrain to our destination, but the others were happy to put their blind trust in my route. I estimated it to be “about 50km” and “not too hilly”. The first half or so was along canals, so at least we could assume it was flat. Things went quite well, until we hit some rough surface, which felt like we were riding pave. This pave soon turned to cyclo-cross, and I could hear Nikki cursing me under her breath as she bumped over the rough terrain on her carbon race bike, whilst the rest of us were on our training bikes. Worse still, we had taken a wrong turn and only realised when the terrain became unrideable, meaning we had to trace back over said 2km cyclocross section to get back on track. I was certain that my paper-thin slit-ridden Schwabe Ultremo race tyres were going to puncture again, but miraculously, they held up.

After an hour or so of riding, we hit the town of Ardres, where our route continued along some lovely smooth roads across open fields. Then a large “lump” appeared on the horizon. Nikki, not being a great lover of climbing, asked me “Do we have to get over that lump?”. “I assume so”, was my reply. Having pushed over this lump, we were greeting by quite a steep downhill section into the next town, and we all made mental notes that this was not going to be pretty with a hangover tomorrow.

Lovely view from our hotel in Lumbres

There wasn’t a lot of flat before we found ourselves pushing up another “lump”, this time the road up was long, but less steep, as it meandered through a forest. We left the fresh-legged Helen and Jake to chase each other up the climb, whilst Nikki and I spun up and chatted about Bernie Eisel to keep our spirits high. The road then went down once again, on a more gentle gradient than the previous descent, and we once again noted that this would have to be conquered with a hangover tomorrow. Our hotel was a welcome sight at 3.30pm as we were starving. Helen and Jake still had 10km to go to their B&B, so we waved them goodbye and headed straight for lunch, which involved the inhaling of croque monsieurs and fries.

The girls sans lycra

A post-lunch disco nap was chosen over a visit to the spa and sauna in preparation for the main event - Coralie’s 40th birthday party! It was held in a lovely chateau about 10km (by taxi!) from where we were staying. We arrived looking nothing like the stinking lycra-clad cyclists of a few hours earlier. Quite a lot of the guests acknowleged us with “Oh, you’re her cycling friends who rode here”. Nikki and I worked out we both ate “about” 20 canapes, two servings of hot food, 10 glasses of champagne, a few lumps of cheese, and a serving of each of the 3 spectacular cakes on offer EACH. We also decided to test the theory that if you just drink good quality alcohol, you won’t have a hangover the next day, no matter how much you drink.

Day 3 - Lumbres to London

Nikki and I both woke up with headaches, immediately disproving our alcohol theory from last night. However, with almost 8hrs sleep and the sun finally beaming in through our windows, there was not a trace of grumpiness in the room. We decided to forgo the hotel breakfast in favour of sleep, but instead, had Coralie prepare us a doggy-bag of sandwich canapes from the party. So, breakfast consisted of salmon and parsley, cheese and quince, and cured meat canapes washed down with a coffee from the bar, to fuel our ride.

The French countryside

We met Helen and Jake outside our hotel at 11am, Helen already having been for a 6 mile run to drop her party clothes at the chateau earlier in the morning, and riding the 10km of not very flat road to get to us. Almost immediately we were heading up the first long draggy climb, then down through the forest, then straight into the steeper climb, which turned out to be way less evil than we had built up in our heads. The fresh morning air and sunshine seemed to do wonders for our hangovers, as we marvelled how wonderful France was to cycle in, and started hatching plans for a return.

We hit the canal paths soon after, and carefully chose which side to ride on after yesterday’s observations. We (or more accurately I) am clearly not very good at route planning, as we ended up on another stretch of cyclocross terrain, this one with grassy banks and deep puddles. I pushed out a big gear and weaved in and out of the obstacles (is this how you’re meant to ride cross?), hearing squeals from behind as Nikki misjudged the odd pothole and ended up covered in mud. Despite flatly refusing to ever do a cross race (or ride pave), I quite enjoyed the small sections that we encountered.

Well-deserved lunch in Calais

We arrived in Calais at 1pm, leaving us plenty of time for a long lunch in the sun, followed by (to my excitement) cake from the local patisserie. Our ferry wasn’t until 3.30pm, but we wanted to leave plenty of time for headaches, headwinds, misdirection and mechanicals. The ferry ride was a lot quieter on the way home, with a couple of weary cyclists asleep in the corner, and the other two stretching out their tired limbs. The weekend ended with a speedy team time-trial straight off the ferry to the train station to catch our trains back to London. After 300km of cycling, we were in no mood to spend an hour waiting around Dover Priory station!

Lessons learnt from Day 2 & 3:-
1) A road marked on Google maps along a canal is not necessarily a road. It could be a towpath, or just grass, rocks and gravel.
2) Northern France is NOT flat.
3) If you are going to go to a lavish party in France, you might as well ride there, because not riding there doesn’t necessarily mean you will eat less food or drink less champagne.
4) The size of your hangover is proportional to the amount of champagne you drink.
5) Cycling is better in France. Club run on the Continent anyone?

Tales from the track

My last race of the season had to be the Dave Creasy Memorial Six at the Herne Hill Velodrome. Dave Creasy was my first cycling coach many moons ago and I thought that it would be fun to take part in a meeting dedicated to his memory. The event was very well organised by John Scripps and his team.

Entering the Velodrome is a step back in time for a multitude of reasons. I had two of my children with me and they pointed out that the track had been used for the 1948 Olympics. Well spotted! We set ourselves up in the shade away from the other competitors, me with my rollers and the two of them with their tent, mountain bikes, drinks and sandwiches. Every now and again mum would disappear to race. "Did you see me race at all?" I enquired later. " Oh yes, you did quite well in the devil," they replied knowledgeably.

The race programme was excellent. Loads of events for youth riders, senior riders, madison pairs and a womens' omnium. The standard of riding was high and in the womens' events I was able to keep up with the top riders but I could not get past them with my current fitness and speed. There were about twenty of us, so finishing in the top half was respectable.

I loved the racing and would really encourage my pink sisters to try track. It is beautiful in its simplicity! I'm secretly trying to encourage my children , too. They are happy to ride my track bike around the house but prefer the mountain bike trails over at Herne Hill.

Racing complete, I packed everyone back into the car. Two children, covered in dust. Two mountain bikes, a puncture apiece. One child with a nasty wound to her elbow, coming off worst against her brother. Track bike and rider, still in one piece!

Vikki

Surrey League Team TT champs

Nellie sitting happily in the Pearson shop

Last year, we entered and won the Surrey League Team time trial champs, and were pleasantly surprised when they awarded us a rather large trophy (only 3 women's teams). Our mascot Nellie, the pink Dinofrog, has been living in the trophy upstairs in the Pearson Sheen shop all year, so we had to try to defend our title, if for nothing else but to win back Nellie's "throne". It was disappointing to see that, even though the event sold out (30 entries), there was only one other women's team to compete against. A few teams are in Ireland racing in the Ras na mBan, and for others, I guess it's the end of a long season. It was also the last race of the season for Team Pink, and after making a concerted effort to race all of the London Women's League and some of the National Team Series, and having a number of injuries, there were more than a few jaded souls and tired legs amongst the pink brigade. But we managed to scrape up a team last minute, thanks to the help of one of our pink friends, Kate Hewett.

We were blessed with a beautiful hot and sunny day, but not so blessed with the Surrey traffic, with huge bank-ups around Wandsworth and Guildford, meaning we arrived about 25min before we were due on the start line. This gave us just enough time to get dressed, put our bikes together, and do 10min warm-up/practice, before arriving on the start line just as the team in front of us rolled away. I was entrusted with the job of starter, despite my effort last year when I "forgot" that I was on my TT bike, and nearly rode the whole team into an oncoming car on the first corner, as I realised too late that you can't throw a TT bike round a corner like your trusty road bike. I was much more sensible this year, and we got off to a good start on our 55km journey.

The first part of the course was semi-shaded, with lots of twists and turns and a far from smooth road surface, making us all a little cautious. However, we were soon into our rhythm and riding well, keeping tight on each others wheels and changing over smoothly. We got through the first lap in about 45min, which if I recalled correctly, was about 1.5min faster than last year. Feeling much more comfortable on the second lap, we kept the pace high and consistent, and rode as a compact unit, having to slow down only very occasionally for a few seconds to stay together. Coralie and I took advantage of the fact we were on TT bikes and hammered long turns on the front on the flat. It helped that we had already raced on the Kirdford course twice this year, and were quite familiar with the turns and undulations.

Helen, Nicole, Coralie & Kate with trophy and "reserve" mascot

With one last push over the hill in Alford and going full gas to the finish line, we crossed in 1:31:48 - 3min faster than last year, and 7min ahead of the second ladies team from Twickenham. More importantly, we crossed together with our full team intact - we had passed (or were passed by) a number of teams who were down to 3 riders. It was great fun, and we were all pretty happy with our effort afterwards. It was then back to HQ for tea and cake and the trophy presentation - Nellie has a home for another year! Our excitement grew when we discovered that we had equalled the time of the Pearson men's team! I took a photo of the "scoreboard" to start sledging them on our club facebook page. Unfortunately, the organiser informed me the next day that there had in fact been a mistake, and the men actually beat us by 43sec. Still pretty close I reckon. We'll have to wait until next year to try to knock them off.

Nicole

"Holiday" in Jersey

Our trip to Jersey for the August Bank Holiday weekend was billed by the organisers as a “summer holiday” having been moved from it’s usual slot in May. We were told to bring our bikinis! So, we weren’t too happy to be greeted by rain on arrival to the island. Lots of it. The forecast for the following day was “rain or showers… wind with a risk of gales”. Our only consolation was that the same rubbish weather was also hitting the mainland, so it wasn’t as if we were missing out on anything.

Big Maggy's coffee

The plan was to arrive Friday afternoon and take our bikes out for a spin. However, this plan was soon abandoned to be replaced with afternoon tea in our very nice hotel. I must say, the quality of the cakes was very high, although I seemed to be the only one eating them amongst my disciplined team mates. From there it was straight to Big Maggy’s coffee shop to find Tony Moffa, the race organiser, and have confirmed that sign-on for tomorrow’s time trial was in fact 7am… at a place 30min ride away. I already started to form excuses why I might not be partaking.

Saturday - 15km time trial

When the alarm went off on Saturday morning pre-6am, I had a list of circumstances that would allow me to opt out. One was rain. Two was if my team mates pulled out. I did crawl back into bed when a text arrived from Coralie saying she wasn’t too keen, but Vikki, my room mate for the weekend, got me out of bed by offering coffee. It was literally blowing a gale when we got down to the seafront to meet Tony for the ride over to the start. Definitely not a day for disc wheels, although there were a few brave locals who showed up on them.

Not ideal conditions for a TT

Unsurprisingly, the initial field of 60 had been whittled down to about half of that. It went pretty much as expected. The way out was super-fast, with everyone thinking this wasn’t so bad, only to be hit by a wall of wind and struggling all the way home. It wasn’t a pure head/tail wind either, with most the girls especially, being on the lighter side, having difficulty keeping their bike going in a straight line. I’m not the best time-trialler, probably didn’t try hard enough, and deservedly came second last. As per usual, the Pearson girls finished within about a minute of each other, except for Charmaine, who put in a good performance for 8th. Chris was first “foreigner”, finishing 8th overall.

Refuelling

We arrived back at the hotel in time for a full buffet breakfast, which slightly made up for the early start, as did the post-breakfast nap. Then it was back to Big Maggy’s for more coffee, bike tinkering and sitting around, and a walk around the criterium course, followed again by a nap. Eat, sleep, cycle - just like the pros. The plan for the afternoon was to reccy Monday’s road race course. However, the already gale-force winds had somehow picked-up in the afternoon and a more sensible decision to drive the course was taken instead.

Sunday – Town Criterium

On your drops Stephen!

Sunday was criterium day, starting at the social hour of 11am. With the women’s race not being scheduled until 4.20pm, I decided there was plenty of time for my body to digest another full-English. Thankfully, Jersey put on quite a pleasant day, with the wind dropping, the sun shining, and no sign of rain. After a couple of kids races, Malcolm, Chris and Stephen were up in the support race. We enjoyed cheering from the sidelines, with Malcolm (honorary Pearson in Colourtech RT kit) come in 10^th with the chasing bunch, shortly followed by Chris well and truly in the pain box, but still managing to finish and get a place (lapped riders were pulled out).

Zoom in for Chris' pain face

Team Pink pulling round the chasing group

An original field of 47 was down to 25 for the women’s race, with news that some teams had their ferry cancelled from the UK, and a number of others choosing not to race. Coralie, Vikki and I lined up on the start line at the front, or near the front, as you need to for crit races. It didn’t help me on this occasion, as I had major clip-in issues, going from front row to almost last before the first corner. Normally I’m not so keen on a neutralised lap; it is often more dangerous than the actual race as riders jostle for front position, but this time it worked to my advantage, as I scuttled round as many people as I could before the lead car pulled off, knowing that someone would probably attack as soon as it did. I only managed to get halfway up the field, so didn’t even see the lead group go off the front, but put the hammer down for a few laps and managed to eventually get on to the chasing group, where I found Vikki.

Back straight

I really did enjoy the race. I had been quite nervous about racing this weekend with a 10 week old fractured wrist and another that wasn’t broken but felt like it was. But everyone rode skilfully and safely – there were no elbows, unnecessary braking or cutting in on lines. The course was one mile long with 6 corners, and there was a fair sized crowd cheering you all the way round. The announcer added spot primes for both the leading and chasing groups to keep it interesting, and unlike other balls-out races, the 40min seemed to pass rather quickly. I thought I timed my sprint to perfection, getting right on the wheel of the girl who won the TT yesterday as we hit the finishing straight. However, as I went to pass on the inside, she changed her line slightly and, not wanting to end up in the barriers, I pulled up, and finished 11^th, with Vikki right behind me. Coralie was guilty of a schoolgirl error, not locking in her back wheel properly before the race, had two mechanical stops, and could never really get back on to the group.

Coralie jumps back in after her mechanicals

Monday – Road race

I couldn’t believe it when I found out that the road race was also scheduled for 7.30am! That’s two pre-6am wake up calls on what was supposedly classified as a “holiday”. The wind had picked up again, although not as bad as Saturday, and at least it wasn’t raining. The course was quite nice, with one long-ish drag, a descent, a windy stretch along the seafront, and a few corners, but with lovely road surface the whole way, and not a sign of a pothole. There were slightly more starters for the women’s road race than the crit (although a lot of non-finishers in the 31!), with the 3 pinkies being joined by our team mates Char and Kate. 

I had a typical Nicole road race, getting dropped on the hill when riders attacked, flogging myself to get back on, only to get dropped when the hill came up again (too much cake!). On the 3^rd climb (out of 5) I was out, with no hope of getting back on, leaving me to TT a lap and a half solo, before being picked up by a group containing my two team mates, Vikki and Kate. This made for a much more pleasant final lap, with Kate leading out our sprint train to the finish line. Trouble was, she went quite early for such a strong headwind, and Vikki and I wouldn’t let her off the front as she tried to pull off! I fluffed the sprint, but Vikki managed to hold off the Zappi girl approaching on the outside for 16th. Char and Coralie held on to the lead group almost the whole way, but were unable to “shut the door” over the last climb, coming in 10^th and 12^th. Reports from the men’s support race were that a rabbit sacrificed him/herself along the course, flicking through multiple riders wheels on his way to oblivion (eeuwghh!). Malcolm finished 4^th in the bunch sprint, with Chris visiting the pain box once again with quads cramp on the final lap to roll in for 17th.

Exhausted

All in all, a fantastic weekend of racing and a good team outing. We were thoroughly impressed by the race organiser Tony Moffa’s enthusiasm and helpfulness both before the event and during the weekend. It’s on the calendar again for next year. Could someone arrange better weather please?

La Marmotte - Definitely not a mountain goat!

Before I left, a lot of people asked me if I was looking forward to the Marmotte. Not really, was my answer. After all, I don’t really like sportives, and I’m not a huge fan of climbing. Then why are you doing it? The truth was, I chose it because so many people had told me it was the hardest thing they’d ever done, and was one of the hardest sportives in the world, so I figured if I could do the hardest, I didn’t have to bother with any of the others.

My biggest mistake in all of this was complacency. Despite all of the above, I did hardly any proper training for it. Don’t get me wrong, I ride my bike way more than your average cyclist, but after giving up triathlon last year to concentrate on road racing, my whole season had been geared towards going fast for a relatively short period of time on relatively flat terrain. Besides hitting the Surrey and Kent hills over the past two weekends for “cram training”, I hadn’t done anything that would help me get over 4 mountain passes and 5100m of vertical rise. The last time I rode over 5½ hours was the Ironman Switzerland bike leg, and that was a year ago. I also weigh 2.5kg more than I did last year. And I had no real feeding strategy, besides to make sure I did (eat and drink). Sounds like a recipe for disaster!

In the start pen

The day started well enough. The bad weather of the past few days had cleared and we were greeted by a perfect sunny day. Coralie and I started together in the 7:50am (last) pen, and despite her being a stronger climber than I, we had planned to try and stick together throughout the ride. The ride out to the start of the Col du Glandon was uneventful – we were used to riding fast in large packs, and moved from wheel to wheel until I found a couple of Norweigans who looked trustworthy and were moving fast enough. We started the Glandon together, but I knew almost immediately that I was pushing too hard to keep up. I definitely couldn’t talk, and I could see my HR creeping up past 165 (I had vaguely aimed to keep it at about 155-160). After the short descent that split the climb in two, I let Coralie go ahead and we re-grouped at the top in the neutralised zone, which she reached about 10min before me. Despite only being at an altitude of 1900m, I felt nauseous and sick as soon as I got off my bike, and gladly accepted a seat in the La Fuga tent in the hope of recovering. Ian even offered me the bus back, but it was way too early to quit. I knew I probably should have eaten something after 2 hours of climbing, but I felt like I would vomit it back up, so squeezed in a gel, a bite of cake, and some water, before we pushed on down the descent.

The descent off the Glandon is now neutralised, after a death a few years ago. A sensible decision, with steep narrow roads, and the field not having quite spread out after only one climb. We took it safely, but not too slowly, as it was quite painful having to squeeze the brakes all the time, and not the best thing for your tyres or brake pads. I tried to sit up and use my body to slow me down, and get in front of any groups of riders.

It was hot and a little windy as we hit the valley between the Glandon and Telegraph. Coralie pulled us from group to group, continually moving forward and making up time, whilst I sucked her wheel, probably my best skill in cycling! The road was longer than expected but thankfully flat. I felt ok as we hit the foot of the Telegraph, and stayed with Coralie for the first 3km or so, although I told her to go ahead as I got progressively slower. The Telegraph was actually a nice climb, largely shaded, with no steep rises, just a nice meandering 13km road. It was still quite hot though and I got through a mountain of fluid.

The descent off the Telegraph was way too short for my liking, and the cars on the road didn’t help my attempt to catch Coralie (I was nowhere near anyway). And then it was time to go up again. I genuinely thought that the Galibier was a 21km climb, so I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a sign that said 13km to the tunnel. I slugged away for a few kilometres and wondered why I was going so slowly as the road pretty much looked flat. I even stopped to check that my brake pads weren’t rubbing at one point (Coralie later reported that she felt the same!) What makes the Galibier a b*stard was the fact that the landscape was so open that it appeared flat, but really was a 3.5% climb. And there was no shade anywhere, hence it was hot. I looked down at my bear arms (sans sunscreen) and realised that I was going to have a wicked farmers tan tomorrow. And then the wheels really did start to fall off! I actually stopped and got off my bike just after the 10km to the summit sign. Thinking that I probably hadn’t eaten anywhere near enough, I had a gel, some water, pushed my bike along for a couple of minutes, then got back on. This seemed to revive me momentarily, but marked the start of a familiar pattern, except the next time I got off, I also had to vomit.

The road got progressively steeper. I tried to tell myself to push harder on the pedals (thank you Guy Pearson), which also worked momentarily, until I blew up again. And so it went on. At around 5km from the summit, my friend Rory, who I haven’t seen for over a year came past me as I was walking, and stopped to give me a hug. He offered to pace me up the rest of the climb, but I knew I had to take it at my own (slow) pace, so I waved him off. The La Fuga feed station was a welcome site at 3km to go. I stopped and sat down. I knew I needed to eat and drink, but I was feeling so nauseous that all I could get down was a cup of coke and a quarter of a cheese and ham baguette. Definitely not enough. It didn’t occur to me to adopt an alternate feeding plan eg. Fill my bottle with coke, take energy bars or more gels. Instead, I just pushed on as before. In my mind, the clock was still ticking, although it wasn’t technically a race.

The feed stop definitely did revive me, and I managed the next 2km without getting off, until it got quite steep at the end. The view was spectacular, although I felt a little nauseous looking down, but made a mental note that I would have to come back, with friends, tackle one or two mountains at a time, and take photos. I finally reached the top, stopped briefly to don my gilet and arm warmers, before hitting the 42km descent.

I have grown to love descending since taking up road racing, and I had full intentions of making up as much time as possible on the way down, to compensate for my lack of ability on the way up. The road was quite wide and open, and there weren’t too many cars coming the other way. Most people didn’t seem to want to pedal down, so they were quite easy to pass. My new Hed Ardennes wheels rolled like a dream with their wide rims, and I had complete confidence in them (and new tyres) after riding slightly un-trued wheels for the last year or so. I was tucked in, chin on handlebars, as I passed rider after rider, and for the first time that day, thought how much fun I was having!

Nellie, looking over the hairpins of Alpe D'Huez

I got to the foot of Alpe D’Huez with the clock reading 7:45. Right Nicole, you have 2 hours to get your arse up the Alpe! I was glad to have done a reccy with Coralie a couple of days previously, so knew that the first 5 hairpins were a little steep, but levelled off after that. My plan was to take the Alpe two hairpins at a time, which kind of worked until about #14, where I completely lost it. The vomiting/dry wretching was far too frequent now. I was stopping every 10 minutes as I found it increasingly hard to breathe properly. It went a bit like this... slump over handlebars, dry wretch, push bike a bit, stop again, get back on when walking was harder than cycling… repeat. I sat by the side of the road a couple of times but only for 30sec or so before moving again. It was HORRENDOUS. At 5km to go, I did wonder how I was actually going to make it up the damn Alpe. I was tempted to lie down for a while to recover, but looked at my watch and calculated that I had 45min to still get a gold time. Coralie and I had said if we didn’t get a gold time, we would have to do it again (a bit like the 4hr marathon or 12hr ironman), so I kept going. I did some calculations in my head as I pedalled past the 4km to go mark… 10min per km would get me there… that’s 6km/h… I was walking at 4km/h or cycling at 7-8km/h… so as long as I didn’t stop for too long…

The view from our balcony

Hairpin #1 finally appeared and I realised that I was going to make it, and I was going to make it inside a gold time, which I did in 9:39 (2min to spare!). I crossed the finish line completely empty, in fact, I think I had been running on empty for the past 4 hours! I just stood slumped over my bike, obviously not looking very well. Guy came and got me, gave me a hug, told me he thought I was dead/lying by the side of the road/in the broom wagon, took my bike, got my certificate (whilst I collapsed in a corner), then gave me a beer. The F-word came out - never again, I swore.

So, looking back, how did it go so wrong? I simply didn’t give the “race” the respect it deserved, despite quite a few warnings. I thought I would just get away with it, without doing anything specifically to prepare. I think I overcooked the Glandon, which made me feel ill (perhaps also a little altitude sickness?), so then I had trouble refuelling properly, and didn’t have an alternate plan. I probably should have not kept trying to push on when I should have been stopping and trying to refuel, but I tend to approach everything as a race, so with time ticking on, I didn’t want to stop. And I definitely should have done some hills and longer rides in preparation – I know I’m not a natural mountain climber and don’t enjoy pushing up a hill for hours at a time!

My first reaction afterwards was to just quit sportives – I’ve only done three, and I can’t say I really enjoyed any of them that much. However, I’m thinking maybe I should just change my approach to sportives. Coralie is keen to do another big one next year – my Grimpeur friend stormed in almost an hour ahead of me. So, Maratona anyone?? But for now, back to road racing!

Gateau the Marmotte, with my "Or" finishers certificate

Team Series - Oakley 7th July

This race report needs two blogs: one from the sharp end (Kate!), one from the next group on the road (Nikki and Vikki).

Vikki: Nikki and I were on a mission to race ourselves fitter. There were a number of reasons why we felt that perhaps there were not quite enough miles in our legs, but we were up for the challenge anyway! The rain had stopped while we were on the start line. 50-odd riders lined up although the numbers on the backs suggested there should be more than 60, a few dns. Nikki and I were in our own little group from the off, Kate was up the road with the main bunch. Our group worked quite well with an effective through and off, it wasn't long before we were catching a few (puncture/wheel-change victims). Our group grew larger, then smaller again as people punctured or simply climbed off in the atrocious conditions. I don't know how many showers we endured during our 6 lap, 90km race but rule number 5 was applied in abundance. Climbing off did cross my mind but then I remembered I needed some miles... The last lap arrived, I felt I knew the course quite well and decided to lead out the sprint as we entered Oakley for the last time. This really was like our own little race for 10 but I'm not sure if everyone was up for contesting the sprint, in my mind positions meant points for the series. I was second in our group and Nikki 5th. Little did we know that Kate had claimed 11th overall up at the front! Team Pink placed 8th out of 17 teams (Kate scored a hefty number of points for 11th) and we were one rider short of a full counting team. A pretty good day out and also quite amusing when we compared grime lines (not tan lines) at the end!

Going solo

Newest member of Team Pink, Anna, reports on the Richmond Park TT...

This Sunday the London Women's League threw us a curveball. Not only was their latest fixture a Time Trial (hold the gasps), but it came with a start time of 6am. Seeing as the rest of the club were up and out early doors that day for the London to Brighton and back ride, it was probably only fair that we joined in with the sunrise salutation. So, myself, Debs, Steph, Charmaine and Nicole took on the Richmond Park TT. 

Now, I've never done a TT before. I had an inkling I might enjoy it, and confess I was just a weeny bit overexcited when the alarm went off at 4.30am. A quick whiz down Twickenham high street (past the man covered in vom with a kebab in his hand - I'm not joking), into the park and I was onto the start line. For me, the start was an epic event in itself .... "Number 21, you're on the line" - err, who? Sorry, me? What line? Oh I see, that one on the floor. Right- yah. Got it. Smooth McNuff, very smooth... Having my bike held was also a novel experience. I have no doubt that onlookers were mightily impressed as I executed the (soon to be trademarked) 'zig-and-wobble' to begin the 10.4 mile journey down the course.

The next 30 minutes passed in a blur in the struggle to find that fine line between a solid sustainable pace and overcooking it entirely. I can't really remember much else except that the incline up to Richmond gate wasn't particularly conducive to my speed, and that roundabouts in a TT course are just plain inconvenient. 

As I made it across the finish line I took a cheeky look back. I was expecting to see the Twickenham rider who'd set off 30 seconds behind me, but instead Debs came powering up the hill. Free from the shackles of the usual crit and road race shenanigans, we had a feeling she might be in her element on a TT... and we were right. She smashed it! 29:10 - a time worthy of 2nd place in the women's TT category, but counted for 5th in the stronger road bike field. The rest of us weren't (too) far behind and piled in at 9th, 10th, 14th and 18th. In our midst was also a damaged Nicole - fresh from her 'hardnut' crowning at the Velojam, but sporting a severely bruised wrist. All in all, a solid result from the Pearson Pinkies, and one that should serve to maintain our second place in the London Women's League. 

Once the hard work was done, all that remained was for us to toddle off to Nikki's place to catch the Nocturne coverage on TV. All over a civilized protein feast of bacon, eggs, toast & tea, of course. And I was back in bed by 11am. Now that's a real Sunday.

Oh yeah, there were some Pearson boys participating as well. Andy Berridge came 4th with a cracking time of 26:15, only 30sec behind the winner, in what was also his first TT. Chris Rees thought he might have won the "most improved" award after doing last year's TT on his cross bike, but alas, they didn't seem to be giving out this prize this year. Richard Thomas also put in a sub-30 time. Great work by all.

VeloJam - Women's only track meet at Herne Hill

Nicole reports on her first track meet...

Having raced track to a fairly good level “in the 90’s”, I think Vikki had been secretly looking to make a return to track ever since her comeback to road racing a few years ago. So when news of Velojam was announced, I said I’d give it a go with her. There were 3 categories on offer – A for experienced track riders, B for novice track riders, and C for novices to racing altogether. Having ridden on a track on 3 previous occasions, and never raced, I firmly belonged in Cat B. The experienced Vikki entered Cat A, which had a large and impressive field.

Being of similar stature, Vikki leant me her spare bike, a retro 90’s steed, pimped up with new pink bar tape, and also provided rollers for us to warm up and cool down on – having also used them on 3 previous occasions, I was an expert now. First up was a 12 lap scratch race. Ours was quite civilised; we all pretty much rode around together in what was for many, our first race. I found myself on the front with a lap to go, and having no idea of what I was doing, decided to start winding it up... unfortunately not hard enough, and got pipped on the line to finish 3^rd. I was thanked afterwards for a good lead out.

Next was the points race, which was pure evil. I’m used to sprinting once in a race, and then stopping, not once every 3 laps. On the second last lap I said to Tessa from Dynamo that I thought I was going to vomit. However, I managed to pick up some points in each of the sprints and finish 2^nd, but was walking like a cowboy afterwards.

After a quick two lap dash heat (safely though), it was time for the Devil race, probably the most technical of all the races. I saw what Laura Trott did in the World cup earlier in the year, but since repeated sprinting seems to make me want to vomit, I decided just to stick around near the front. All was going well until about halfway through the race, when a girl behind me ran into my wheel, my left foot unclipped, and from there it was all over. Three of us went down fairly heavily. So many thoughts go through your head when you crash, all in a short space of time… “Where’s my bike, I need to get back on the group (then realised I was on a track and not in a road race!). My wrist hurts, my bum hurts, my ankle hurts. Will they restart the race? I need to finish the Omnium, I’m coming 2^nd. There are good prizes on offer”. Then I saw my bike. Both wheels had buckled so there was no way I was going to be able to continue on it.

Vikki kindly offered me her other bike, but said that if I crashed this one, she probably would cry. That makes two of us. I jumped back in for the restart, before I could think about crashing again, and managed a 4^th. The last event was the two lap dash final, where I decided I’d just get near the front and stay out of anyone’s way. Clare from Dulwich Paragon beat me in the sprint again (for about the 5^th time today), I just didn’t have the speed to get round her. So, 2^nd overall in the Cat B Omnium, and yes, the prizes were good! And as a bonus, I was awarded the “Badass” prize, which was an awesome pair of Fast Jacket Oakleys. I couldn’t hide my excitement!

Thanks to Mule Bar Girls for organising such a fantastic event. It was great to see so many women take part (>50), with all standards catered for. Not sure if track racing is my forte  though (I favour a 2hr race minimum), but it’s good speed training, and I’ll definitely give it another go at some point. Perhaps after I get Vikki’s bike repaired… 

Vikki's thoughts on the day... 

When I saw the start sheet for the A cats of Velojam, I thought that there must be some mistake and I had entered the National Championships. Such a huge, experienced field! Once on the start line I tried to forget about everyone else and ride safely without getting dropped. The first race was a scratch race, 15 laps. I felt quite good, didn't get dropped (unlike some of the field, who were lapped) but was not able to feature in the top 6 of the bunch sprint, so no omnium points. The next race was a points race. I used to be quite good at these (in another life), it was all I could do to keep up, no points... again... On to the two lap dash, didn't quite make the final. Finally: the Devil, lots of fun but again no omnium points. Loved it, apart from seeing Nicole on the deck (again) in her B cat devil. I'm sure that she's got a lot to say about that... I think that I'd like to do more track. Wonder if I can fit it in...