Bonking in Dear Old Blighty!

It's been a fair while since I got round to posting anything, the hiatus has been caused partly due to my inactivity - for which I have already (and no doubt will again) paid a highj price as you will see - and cos I spent the two weeks over the Holidays in my homeland across the pond! December 20th MLW, child 2 and child 3 and Yours Truly headed off to England for Chrimbo with the folks!

England was pretty much as usual, cold damp and dreary. Arriving on the winter solistice (shortest day of the year) we couldn't understand why it was going dark at 3:00pm!!

Planned for plenty of riding in UK - nice mtb trails near the in-laws house (Cannock Chase) and one of our nephews (of whom I will speak later) is an avid road cyclist so some riding on the cards there. Of course plans and reality are so often radically different and so it was only a minor shock/disapointment that exertion in the UK was in reality one short run and two road cycles.

MLW's sister, the avid cyclists mother, lives in Cambridge which is (darn sarf) as far as a midlander such as myself is concerned, so it was a fun car trip south down the M6 and A14 to Cambridge on the day after Boxing day (i.e. Dec 27). That Saturday the cycling nephew and I finally go out on our bikes. Let me give you some background. The said nephew (Chris) is 15 years old, but is 6 ft 3 inches tall and weighs in at a feather light 140 lbs. He has been cycling for about 3 years and is a bit of a phenom as far as I am concerned! Last visit home he gave me a goood test on the road and that was back when I was kind of in shape. Fair to say I am nowhere near in as good condition now as then and Chris is only getting stronger - never come across anyone who can pack so much food away and stay so rail-bloody-thin. Standing next to him in the hallway just before we leave I really feel (and to be fair look) like a short fat bloke!

The weather for the ride is pretty challenging, not too cold, mid 50's, but bloody windy and damp. Its the wind that really does for you, several sections of the ride were up grinding uphills, not steep but draining - especially when the feild hedges have bee removed and there is no shelter from the strong gusting wind. Chris sets off at a cracking pace pulling for the first two miles at about 21 mph. Eventually I decide I'd better take over and am very despondent when the speed drops dramatically almost immediately to a rather embarrassing 17 mph!! It could be a long day I think as I really dig in just to try and get back to an acceptable speed. In the end it turns out that I probably took the lead just at the wrong time as we share the pulling duty to a degree, though Chris does the lions share I admit, and there are sections (with a head wind) when we are doing 14-17 mph on the flat and others where we chug along at 20+ mph (tail wind). In the end it is a short but satisfying ride approx 32 miles with an acceptable average (17.2 mph) given the weather conditions.

Saturday afternoon is were it all starts to go a bit pair shaped for me (though I wouldn't know this for another 20 hours). Having exerted myself pretty hard in the cold and damp of England I develop a severe wheeze and have a very constricted chest - the cold damp air and 2 hours of gasping have irritated my lungs. Secondly I really have no appetite when we get back and end up missing lunch and not eating again until dinner (BIG MISTAKE). Saturday night I end up on a blow up camp bed in one of the children's rooms as my chest is so tight and wheezy that i am keeping MLW awake! It is so bad that when I finally sleep I have the "Claustrophobia" dream I always have when I can't breath! I have to go to work in a subterranean room and the only way down is a tiny elevator that I have to crawl into so my knees are up round my chest. All the time in this tiny elevator I am gripped with the fear that when it stops I will not be able to get out as the doors won't open - strange old dream!

Fortunately next morning, after a few rasping coughs, my chest clears and I throw on my cycling gear and throw down a small bowl of cereal (have you guessed where this is going yet?) before heading off on the local club's (Cambridge Cycling Club) weekly group ride. There are three rides on offer - touring, advertized as around 40 miles at 12-14 mph; intermediate, 40 miles at 14-16 mph or sporting advertized at 40-60 miles at 16-18 mph. After yesterdays performance (which Chris insists was harder than the group ride normally is) the sporting ride looks very do-able and Chris is planning to do it so "Old Fat Uncle" can hardly duck out!

The group of cyclists that show are a revelation - so much different from the group rides I have been invloved with in Maryland. Whilst in the US evryone seems to ride a new high(ish) end bike and look very lea and fit the group in England really are a real "rag-tag" band. Real mix of youngish through pretty dams old guys, wearing a real mix of clothes (some even without helmets) and the bikes are a huge cross-section from rusty fixed gear bikes, through mid 80's steel frames to the "usual" Trek, Cannondale staples. The winter weather conditions mean that no-one rides their high end stuff from October till April as the road gunge that smothers all moving parts of a bike in winter really eats drive chains.

One thing the guys i the sporting ride do have in common however is - cor they can't half ride a bit! old and young, mild mannered and very out-going and confident, they share the ability to scoot along at a fair old clip. Initially I feel bloody great, mixing it wit the pack and with even Chris and me taking our turns at the front pulling. At one point my (and Chris's) inexperience in group rides show as we misinterprete a hand signal by one of the guys pulling to tell me that he wanted me to take over for him indicating an obstacle on the road. By the time I have realized what he really meant and Chris and I have jumped to the front we have been castigated by the guy leading the ride! "Bloody concentrate" were his exact words.

For two hours I felt like a real cyclist! Then all of a sudden things were not right! On a gentle hill all of a sudden my legs started feeling heavy and tired. I tried to keep tempo but slowly I drifted off the back, only a few yards and I quickly regained the group when the road flattened, but it was a bad sign as the traditional "mis-ride stop" was still over ten miles away. Evevitably on the next hill the same thing happened and on the next it was worse, first a yard lost, then two, suddenly I was off the back! Ten yards lost, then my will to go on just abandonned me! I looked up to see Chris drifting back, initially I think he is suffering too but then I realize he is just heeding his Dad's words not to leave Uncle DogzBollux behind. "Just go Chris" I implore him "I've got a map, I'll just find my way back to the house!"

The I endure the final ignominy of the dropped rider, the ride leader - a guy with no helmet (which at this moment I am so glad I didn't admonish him for earlier as I had been tempted to), glides back to me and with his hand on my saddle pushes me back into the group! All the while I am pleading with him to just go and leave me! I know the sad truth that even if I get back to the group I am now feeling so wretched that it'll only be a second until I'm spat out the back again. Even his shout of "Easy on the front" isn't enough to avoid this happening as I am a broken man!

At the next junction, with me begging incoherently to be left to die a slow and lonely death, Chris is dispatched to lead me via a short cut to the cafe where the group will stop for snacks. Chrsi leads his fat,old and knackered uncle Bollux throuh a few small villages at ever deminishing speeds (I swear at one point I was doing 12 mph on the flat!) towards Waresly. The realization that I may have well and truly "bonked" drfts across my mind at glacial speed. I feel absolutely dreadful, gritted teeth, unable to talk and an absolute desperate desire for food. I am literally fantisizing about cake and as we pass a field where leeks are being harvested I have to fight a strange desire to get off my bike and eat a raw leek there and then (I blame my Welsh heritage).

Finally we reach the cafe - by which time I am barely functioning at all - there is a bloodyline waiting to be served! I have to almost physically stop myself from barging people slowwly ordering cups of tea and crumpets out of the way in my rush to get a piece of cake and devour it! Eventually I end up sat at a table with a large slice of Bakewell tart, a large latte, a bananna and an energy bar. I have just sat down when the rest of the group arrive - having done an extra 7 miles! After the food and a ten minute sit doen the change is amazing, I actually feel human again. The only strange thing is that my mounth feesl a bit odd. Finally it dawns that during my teeth grinding stage I actually manages to chip a large chunk off one of my front teeth (one of the ones I had replaces after a bike crash a few years ago). BUGGER, that's going to be expensive to get fixed!

After the stop I am a changed man. from here we only have 12 miles to go and with new energy stores I am happy flying alonf with the wind at our backs at 20-24 mph. In no time we are back at Chris's house, we bid the reast of the group a fond farewell and a Happy New Year, and my English cycling adventures are over for 2007. Final tally is about 48 miles at 17.4 mph - so longer and faster than the day before (so much for an easier ride Chris!!). First time I have ever bonked - hopefully the last, really unpleasant - still knowing I can push myself to that level of discomfort and continue to ride (however slowly) is kind of nice.

In all the English riding has put into sharp focus just how bad my conditioning is after months of no hard riding and not enough running. With the New Year upon us I have made my resolutions as far s what i want to achieve running and biing this year - a bit of a bloody challenge from this starting point.

Happy New Year ALL