Saturday, November 9, 2013

The art of going out

"Are you really going to go out in this?" asked The Stoker as the wind battered on the window. I supposed I was but I have to admit to not feeling up to it. The beginnings of winter have hit Fife and I have yet grow accustomed to the idea. As much as anything it's the increase in paraphernalia required to go cycling; lights, extra top layers, longs, overshoes - it's a faff!
Last Sunday was particularly hard. I had an opportunity to ride for as long as I wanted without feeling guilty that we weren't out on the tandem. And at the moment that's useful because I've set myself a tough by-the-end-of-the-year mileage target that's only going to get harder to hit if the weather turns really bad. However the weather wasn't playing ball with a strong westerly wind that was going to make going anywhere hard. I know you should ride into the wind at the beginning of a ride and home with the wind at your back but it's tough if that's the only reasonable choice.
The wind was also making a mockery of my plans for the day. I had planned to ride over the Tay Bridge and into the hills between Dundee and Perth; a first foray into territory praised by one of my pals who happens to live that way. But if you've ever crossed the Tay Bridge on it's cycleway you'll know how narrow it is and I didn't fancy that with the wind. That left me riding my local roads and try as I might I just couldn't get excited about the prospect.
But targets are targets and I knew that if I didn't go out I would end up being disgusted with myself for wasting an opportunity. It wasn't as if the roads were flooded or icy or anything that would really make me pause before going out. So out I went, plan-less.
I'm not good going out without a plan. Leaving St. Andrews my inner monologue was going something like this;
"Cupar and back would be fine",
"Cupar and back, then Crail and back would be fine. I've always wanted to do those rides back to back" (there's some truth in that),
"Go at least to Craigrothie before turning for Cupar and home",
"What about Freuchie by Chance Inn. Home by the flat roads",
"I hate the road after Chance Inn",
"You need to get some miles in. After all 80 WAS the plan for today",
"Ok, I'll go to Freuchie".
On the way to Freuchie

I tell you now that getting to Freuchie in that wind was hard work. But it did the trick and by the time I got there I was prepared to ride on to Falkland and then on to Newburgh via Auchtermuchty before heading for home. Round 1 to the voice that wanted to get some miles in. On the way to Auchtermucty more persuasion came from the owner of that tricksy voice as I rode into Dunshalt.
"Not much of a challenge this, esepecially as we're not doing much in the way of miles today",
"It's fine. It'll be about 50. We can always tack some on to the end",
"Still not much of a challenge. How about going up the hill from Strathmiglo and over to Abernethy, then Newburgh and home",
"It's really fine",
"The road between here and there - not cycled that yet"
"Oh, alright...."
That new bit of road wasn't easy either. Back into the wind and an bit of an interesting surface made it more challenging than I would have liked. But it was ok and getting to its end left a little trip down the main road to Strathmiglo. As I was approaching the junction where I would join the busy A91 for 200 yards or so another cyclist popped out in front of me. A little bit ahead but tantalisingly close. I assumed they would be turning right and heading to Auchermuchty but, no, they went left. That meant one thing. They were headed up the same hill I was.
That was the best bit of luck I had all day. A target is a target and there's none better than another cyclist on a hill. Being a little too wide for my height, climbing is not something I excel at but I do derive some perverse pleasure climbing hills even during the activity; not just at the top. I determined that I wouldn't rush to catch my quarry but I would put the bike in the correct gear and spin my way up the hill. If I caught them so be it but I deemed it unlikely.
The road twists and turns so spotting the man in front was a game in itself but slowly and surely he hove into view. I knew I would catch him. And about halfway up I came up to his back wheel. He knew I was there. He couldn't have failed to know I was there; this hill makes me breathe! I came alongside and we exchanged pleasantries before I left him. I knew I was on for a good performance up this hill and I was determined to keep the pace (slow as I am) up. I ignored my heart rate, the legs felt good and I soon crested the top before enjoying the slam dunk of a descent to Abernethy. All really good fun. Thanks to whoever you were; I hope you enjoyed the rest of your ride.
From the bottom of the descent to Cupar my ride became tougher mentally because althoughI had the wind behind me my Garmin speed sensor started playing up causing me a few stops before I finally unpaired the sensor which left me blind to my cadence. I'm a ride by numbers kind of guy and I hate not being able to see what the various stats are. It's me, it's the way I ride, I make no apologies.
By Cupar though my mood had improved and I set myself the little challenge of getting up the hill to Pitscottie in the big ring. This also means a cassette sprocket with no more than than 21 teeth. I don't like cross-chaining. And again I worked hard. Then for the big encore I decided that I was going to go for a PB on the downhill stretch of road from Blebo to the edge of St. Andrews. I know it's sad but there's a Strava segment there and I have been hankering for a while to improve my time. Surely this wind would be favourable enough.
So I rested up from Pitscottie to the top of this stretch. You can't rest entirely; there's a couple of little ramps to get up but you can take it easy-ish. So I did. Then the work started. A good downhill start with the wind behind and I was soon over 30mph. Then the flatter section where I had to keep the speed up before a little rise. The wind wasn't perfect here. I could feel (and see on the Garmin) that the heart rate was rising.  I try to stay in control. Over the rise then another helpful slope to pick up speed on. Here it is very important to keep you wits about you here as there's a busy cross roads on this section. I was on the main road and had right of way but cars can't always judge just how fast bikes are going. They don't really expect one to be doing 35mph. I shook my head at a driver sitting at the crossroads and he took my meaning and stayed where he was. Thanks. A little bit more downhill and then the long painful finish which is flat. This is time trial territory. I told my legs to shut up, almost gave up, refused give and pedaled on. Then as I came around the last corner the winds came right onto my back and pushed me on to the speed limit sign and the end of the segment. In Scots parlance I was gubbed. All for 4 seconds off my best time as I discovered later. Great fun though. And very, very silly.
I rode home. And you know what? All told I had a good time. It really is all about the going out.

The Ride

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