Unfinished Business

Yesterday I rode the longest single day's ride in terms of distance travelled that I have ever done. Longer than the last day of Land's End to John o' Groats by just over a mile, the 122.24 miles I spent cycling to, during and from the Somerset 100 charity ride, were a blisteringly hot experience.

It was also the culmination of four days riding in a five day period, with a total mileage of about 250 miles. Mendip Mackem was my partner for the day, and it must have been something about the early start that made us both absent-mindedly fail to record all our routes properly. But fortunately MM is a technological genius, he may disagree, and it may all be relative, but I was doing my best impersonation of an old fart when he was explaining how to splice files together, or something like that.

He has created a route based on our average speed, or thereabouts, times of departure and arrival, and exact route of the actual ride. Our routes to and from were pretty direct and I won't trouble you with them, suffice to say the former was a bit speedier and easier than the latter. By the time I got back home I was conked. Technical term. Not only had it been a long day, but man alive, was it hot. MM drank over 6 litres of water, his poor northern body not used to sunshine and temperatures above 15C. Not only that, but as he wears shorts and just a cycling top in winter because he is so hard, he has nowhere to go within the realm of decency once the mercury starts rising.

I fared slightly better with my Mediterranean blood, honestly I have a lot to thank that ancestor from Nimes for. Now I know why I like the hot weather. Je suis tres cuit. That's French by the way. Aussi, je suis absolutement crevee. I once used those words at the top of Superbagneres, and the woman in the cafe started a conversation with me. That will teach me for trying to be a smart arse.

A lovely route, and a lovely day with lovely people. Not a word that gets used enough in my book, lovely. But this day out is one where the riders are all super friendly, super polite and the organisers from Somerset Cycling are just wonderful. And it raises money for my favourite charity too, so just has to be ridden. Some nice hills, some wonderful views, and the parcours, c'est fantastique (also French).

Which brings me on to next Saturday. And next Sunday. And next Monday. The Tour of Wessex has loomed larger and larger since I bailed out of days 2 & 3 last year. As with 2011 I'm entering on my own, apart from the hundreds of others doing it. It's a psychological battle to ride three very long days like that on my own. I'm sure I can do it, I did the route in 2010, and I'm way fitter than then. As long as I eat loads and remember to get up, and stay rubber side down, I can do it.

But I want to enjoy it too. This post has more than a hint of the confessional about it sometimes. Typing into a computer is so impersonal I forget that 6 people actually read this blog. 7 if you count my sister, when I remind her. So what I would really like are some questions from those readers. What questions should I ponder on when I trundling those 329 miles next weekend. Preferably insightful, preferably open, and preferably with more than a hint of a dilemma about them.

I promise to think about every single one of them, and give you an answer next Tuesday when I type up the blog.