Monday, 24 June 2013

Dartmoor classic 2013 : Pull back the curtains & smile

How do I blog a sportive I've done three times before? Last year I started my blog post on the Dartmoor Classic by saying that I was running out of things to say.

Here are some descriptive (ish) blog posts from the past:

2010

2011

2012

There was one thing that all the previous rides of this most wonderful of sportives, by and large (what a great expression, eh Princess?) had in common. Warmth, and sunshine. I know that's two, but it's a cause and effect thing.

Which, in the oblique, or maybe acute, way in which my brain functions, reminds me of what a work colleague said to me on Friday evening. We were on one of those, "let's go for a quick drink as a team" jaunts. A diet coke for me, something a lot stronger for the rest. HR does that to people, really you have no idea. Anyway, as is the way of, um, people who have spliced the main brace, she told me she though I was straight-laced. And no, it was an honest, well-meant comment, but I was taken aback. I thought I was so bohemian.

Speaking of main braces, you'd have had to pack it away completely yesterday on Dartmoor. Windy doesn't really cut it. For the first 35 miles it was like cycling in a wind tunnel while someone throws buckets of cold water all over you. Then roasts you with a heat lamp, all in the space of a minute.

The first 35 miles are the toughest, and also the most beautiful. But all I was looking at was the road. Headwinds do that to you, especially as the sunglasses (don't laugh!) kept fogging up so I couldn't see. So I took them off and the rain shot-blasted my eyes so I couldn't see. And on, and on.

And I was all on my lonesome. Early on I seemed to have a bit of company on the flat. But like many things in life, it was all behind me. But I've been spoiled on recent sportives by the company of Mark and Jennifer, and despite their celebrity status, it is really nice to have someone to natter to, share the work, and grumble about all the things that annoy me. And have them take the piss out of me of course. Mind you, it was so windy that I don't think we'd have heard each other anyway, but it would be comforting to know they are there.

Until it came to the hills, when all was blown to pieces and I really was all on my own. The marshaling and organisation was superb as ever, which given the conditions was pretty vital, and there was a lot of sensible riding too. Which made a pleasant change. We even had a few sheep and cattle moving faster than us at certain points.

Eventually I arrived at the stretch I was dreading, the seven or so miles across the exposed moor from Hexworthy to Princeton. Nice it was not, and by the time I rolled into the latter and the feedstop, I was shivering and a miserable. And, well, bored. You see, I've done the ride three times before, knew what was coming, knew that I would do it, probably in a bronze standard time (again!) and arrive home looking like a teenage dirtbag.

Whereas, if I bailed onto the Medio route, of 68 miles, I'd have a tailwind straightaway, probably an open course with few riders about for the descent to Moretonhampstead, always nice particularly in cross winds. And be back home early for added brownie points.

I haven't counted them, but I think there's 68 there.

So a no-brainer really. I wasn't so much put off by the challenge, more by the boredom and unpleasantness of knowing what was to come. I missed out the 39 mile section in the middle, did the best bits and got home in time for tea.

And did the final section pretty quickly too, ably assisted in part by the wind, and without eating anything either. I had eaten for England the night before so I didn't want to be greedy. It took me 2 hours 53 minutes to get to Princeton and just over two hours to get back, if you discount the 5 minutes I was there.



On the way back I ended up amongst the Breeze riders, all doing a 35 mile taster sportive for women only. It was a bit like being in a Monty Python sketch in reverse.

At the start of the event the field was evenly split between Grande and Medio, but by the finish, 1601 had taken the same course as me and opted for an early bath, compared to 674 hardy souls who did the full distance. I take my hat off to them for sure.

As an added bonus I managed to sneak into the silver category, courtesy of a total ride time of 5 hours and 5 seconds. I'm trying really, really, really hard not to be irritated by those five seconds. But it is difficult. Still, being the 432nd finisher out of 1601 is quite an honour!

Ride with GPS  shows a lot less climbing than my my Garmin route which recorded a total of over 7000 feet of climbing. So tough.

And it's not unfinished business, but I do intend to do it again. This time with a posse, and in the sunshine. Because it's the best sportive, bar none. And I'm not going to debate that with anyone.






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