In a Funk to the Pirates Ball

I had my doubts before I set off on a 195 mile ride south east to headline Maui Waui’s Pirates’ Ball with my band 'Klonk'. Two weeks previously I’d crashed out of my first proper mountain bike race loosing both wheels on a fast right hander. Lying winded and bleeding across the track it hadn’t occurred to me that it might take weeks to recover. It was now two weeks later and I'd already missed The Racing Collective’s Trans Wales event so I was determined to get a decent ride in, hence heading south today.

 

Jen had prepared my bike with a new crankset and fast tubeless Formula Pro tyres, I was all set for Friday morning. The weather forecast promised a southerly headwind for later in the day so I was keen to get as many miles covered before the wind picked up. Once through Barnsley's rush hour and out past Rotherham I cruised past blossoming fields of oil seed rape and through Sherwood forest under blue skies. The wind strengthened and I dropped low on the aero bars to cheat its pace robbing intentions. Newark was gridlocked by roadworks, I cruised past the last two hundred cars that had passed me, my Hope freewheel an irritating reminder  of progress to the motionless drivers. East of Newark I was dumped onto the A47 by routing app Komoot. Selecting ‘road cycling’ as my route type meant mixing it up with every lorry bound for East Anglia from the A1. Riding for hours with an injured back against a 15mph headwind whilst HGVs pass within centimetres of your elbow requires particular endurance skills that I haven’t yet mastered. This experience turned my mind to the TCR (Trans Continental Race) that I’m riding later this year. What if riding across Europe was like this? Had I committed to 14 days of this purgatory? Why? What was the point? What would the TCR prove? 

Big questions and yet no answers, despite the hours passing. Normally long rides are THE place to answer big questions but today they eluded me. A flat tyre in Kings Lynn and the featureless Fens did nothing to buoy me up and the pace suffered as I kept finding reasons to stop. 

Nearing the Suffolk coast I was at least riding on scenic lanes but I was still counting down the miles to my destination, I was not enjoying the ride. 

I ditched my plan to ride home on Sunday, I did not want to ride another mile of the A47 and I didn't want to slow my recovery so I took the offer of a lift from bandmate Tom.

Reflecting the following week I realised that I'd have to pay closer attention to my routing in future and given the choice I should take shorter mountain routes over longer flat alternatives. The TCR is a once in a lifetime opportunity to test yourself and overcome all adversity, and that includes training rides. Bring on the next one...