Weekend warriors

On every Saturday and Sunday, weekday workers hit the roads and do battle.  We battle against wind, weather, gravity, and the friction of rubber against tarmac.  But, most of all, we battle against each other … and against ourselves!

The weekend ride is the highlight of our week.  It's when we toss aside the stresses of work and concerns of family life and get in touch with what is our primeval selves.  It's when we feel real and truly alive!  When you're struggling up that hill, half-blind with sweat and gasping for breath, desperately afraid of being mown down by those behind but still in the hunt for the blurred figures just ahead, there is no room for any other thought.  The convoluted layers of social responsibilities and expectations laid down by millenia of civilization are stripped away, and all that matters is survival.  Most important though is pride.  We need to hold our heads high in that small band of brothers and sisters that we are part of, and it is this pride that keeps us pumping away on the pedals.

Most of my blogs have been about my long-distance races or training for them.  But today I decided  to take my camera along and join my friends in the 60/40 group, one of three cycling groups that leave from Paraparaumu each Sunday.  I've written about the 60/40 group before, but with no photos (Riding with the 60/40 group - part 1, Riding with the 60/40 group - part 2).  I've also written about and taken photos of the ride we did today, but with no other riders (Training and the place of long rides - part 2).  Today I was going to do the whole thing properly.

I started with the 60/40 group almost three years ago and have been riding with them off and on ever since.  What drew me to them was their friendliness, and this is something that keeps me returning.  Although my relationship with most remains on the level of cycling buddy, they are all important to me and I care a lot about them.  Indeed, I need them.  Whenever I'm feeling cut off from people through too many long training rides by myself or being particularly stressed at work, Helen would tell me to recharge myself with the 60/40s.  It always works!

Ride briefing from Russell

Janice, Russell, John and Doug

Shane, Howard, Guy, Viveca, Simon, and Martin

As usual, we met at 8am just outside Paraparaumu's Bike Barn.  I think there were 14 of us there, with a 15th joining us as we rode past the Raumati turnoff.  The route was to be the 95 km around the Akatarawa block, consisting of Paekakariki hill, a  choice of the Moonshine or Haywards hill, and the Akatarawa hill, but with the extra challenge of Kaitoke Hill being thrown in today.

The ride begins along the flat No. 1 highway.  The pace is not usually intense, as we're still warming up and also getting re-acquainted with each other and catching up with the news.  The group has quite a spread of abilities, which tends to be fine on the flats, as the stronger and fitter members do most of the work at the front.  However, it becomes apparent when we hit the hills.  And what a scorcher of a hill Paekakariki Hill is!

Gill

Howard

Gary, John, and Viveca

Russell

Guy

Martin

Shane

Adam, Doug, and Iain

You cannot ride Paekakariki Hill easily.  It's just too steep!  But we all give more than just the minimum required.  For some of us, it's a real struggle and we try desperately not to get too far behind.  For others of us, the race is on as we compete to be King or Queen of the Mountain.  I rarely come first, but like to be as close to the front as I can.  Today, however, I was struggling, still recovering from last weekend's ride.  I was thankful to take advantage of my decision to take photographs and stopped off just short of the top to take shots of each rider.

We tend to wait at the top for each rider to arrive, with some of the stronger riders often going down to accompany the slower ones up.  Then it's an all-out pace down the winding hill to the Battle Hill turnoff.  It's a struggle to shelter in the bunch, let alone lead it, as it twists and turns at speed down the road.  Finally we make it to Battle Hill, where it's time to re-group and have a few bites of food as we wait for the dropped riders.

Regrouping at Battle Hill turnoff

Simon eating that staple of cyclists' diet - the humble banana

On the way to Pauatahanui

From here it's on to Pauatahanui, usually riding together as a group and at pace.  When we really get it right, we even get a rotation going, but usually it's just several of the stronger riders in front swapping turns with each other.  If necessary, there's another regroup at Pautahanui, then it's on towards the Hutt Valley, crossing the range either on the Haywards or Moonshine hills.  I much prefer the Moonshine, as it's away from the traffic, is far more scenic, and is tougher, being longer, higher, and characterised by a “false flat” for much of the way.  Today, most of us turned left to go up Moonshine Road.

Today's ride was somewhat messier than usual, with people having different plans and using the ride for different purposes.  Some rode on while others re-grouped, and different people used different routes.  There's nothing wrong with this, but it did mean the ride was not the typical ride that I was hoping to describe in this blog.

I stuck with the main bunch, staying at the back to take photos.  I then rode up Moonshine Valley alongside Janice and Andrew, chatting with Janice about her plans for an all-night group ride later in the year.  They dropped me on the hill though, but I entertained myself using my camera to terrorise those I caught up with.

Andrew (not me) and Janice on Moonshine Road

Still on Moonshine

Gary and Viveca

Viveca and Gary

Howard

Regrouping at the top of the Moonshine Road

We were then down the very steep and windy other side and on to the Hutt Road, making our way along the valley towards the Kaitoke hill.  The bunch remained intact until Brown Owl, where some  hung a left and returned home over the Akatarawas.  Seven of us continued on to Kaitoke Hill.  No photos from me, as it was a bit of a struggle.  Adam was ahead, with Andrew trying to manage his gap with him.  I in turn was trying not to let Andrew's gap increase, only to be pipped just before the top of the hill with one of Janice's typical last minute surges.

The ride back down was fast and we were soon ourselves turning off onto the Akatarawa Road.  We broke into two groups, with Adam, Andrew, Janice, Gill, and me in front, and Simon and Viveca not far behind.  I could sense Andrew really biting at the bit, but Adam was having a great chat with Janice, generously sharing his huge bank of top experience with her.  As a result, the pace was a lot less intense than it might have been.  I still felt very much in recovery mode, so was thankful.  No photos from me again, despite the stunningly picturesque ride.

On to the Hutt Road

Passing huge groups of mountain-bikers on a 20 km event to promote cycling

We've done Kaitoke Hill and are now crossing the river to start the Akatarawa Road ride.  Adam and Gill, Andrew and Janice.

A final re-group after the Akas.

So the Akas were topped and the seven of us descended the other side.  Now, for me, this is the absolute highlight of the ride.  I don't know where my daughter, Raewyn, has got most of her riding talent and toughness from.  It's definitely not from me.  But when I remember my ecstacy charging down that long, steep hill, accelerating past other riders and taking corners at speed, I'm sure that there is at least the insiest bit that is genetic!

And the most important part of the ride, of course?  The coffee afterwards.  Shared effort and experiences makes for great camaraderie!  It's something we all enjoy and there is definitely no hurry to rush home!

So that was it, pretty much a typical 60/40 outing.  When not doing my Randonneur rides, I'm definitely going to be recharging myself with my good friends of the 60/40s, weekend warriors all!

After-ride conviviality - what it's all about!  Iain, Martin, and Russell

Russell, Doug, John, Guy, Iain, and Martin

And, finally, group photo!

Riding the Pahiatua Delight with the Kiwi Randonneurs

My third ride with the Kiwi Randonneurs and a step up, being 300km this time.  As with the other rides, this was an absolute delight … with the very appropriate name of “Pahiatua Delight”.

The word “delight”, however, doesn't quite sum up all there was about this or any long-distance ride.  In fact, no single word does.  What I want to attempt to do in this ride report is give an inkling of what it's like to do these rides, at least from my perspective.

Any long-distance ride definitely has its ups and downs.  For me, the biggest down (and I'm totally exaggerating here!) is the thought of getting up early in the morning to start the thing.  The day before, I woke up bleary eyed as usual and went through my daily routine of cursing having stayed up so late the night before and not being able to sleep in on a workin day.  And then the sudden realisation – tomorrow the alarm clock would be ringing at 3:30 am!

Actually, when it happens, the early rising isn't too bad.  Everything's been organised the night before, so the plans are quickly put into action.  After weetbix and a quick shower, I was soon driving over the Akatarawas and Rimutakas to Martinborough.  Craig McGregor and Chris Little were already there, but I ignored them until yet more routines were completed.  First was stopping off at the loo for bowel evacuation (which pretty much sums the process, as it's rather annoying being caught short out in the bike) and applying that shammy cream.  Then it was making up my drinks, applying sunblock, and getting the bike and gear ready.  Finally, jobs done, I went over to say hi to the others.

Pre-dawn at Martinborough - getting ready for the ride.  Wayne, Ed, Jeremy, Craig and Chris

Eight of us were down for the ride, but John Keene couldn't make it.  In fact, we passed him early on in the ride pushing his bike back to Martinborough, his tyre having been shredded I think.  Besides Craig and Chris, the other riders were Jeremy Rowe, Wayne McDermott, Ed Allen, and Mike Parker.

As we set off, there was a hint of pre-dawn light on the horizon, the time being a few minutes past 6:00 am.  We rode together pretty much all the way to Masterton, some 50 km away.  This is really beautiful countryside, but it was slightly too dark to take photos.  Sadly, when it did light up, the camera battery had died.  So no more photos from me from after Masterton, but luckily I've been able to use some of Chris's photos.  Unfortunately, they will probably be out of order as I'm not sure where they were all taken, but have a look at the wonderfully scenic views of the skies, which seem to be a theme of many of Chris's photos.

Early dawn peloton

Chris and Wayne

On the way to Masterton (and sadly my last photo)

So how did I feel setting out on a 300 km ride?  Absolutely fine!  I've done rides of this distance and even longer before, and wasn't at all fazed by what lay ahead.  In fact, I was really looking forward to it.  There's a sense of excitement in setting out to explore new country and I was even anticipating those gnarly hills that I'd seen in profile on the ride map.  I think the key thing for this was that it wasn't a race.  I would ride my own ride, not feeling pushed and panicked into meeting deadlines.  If I felt tired, I would stop.  If I felt like riding hard, I would do so.  It was going to be a fun day!

But a long-distance ride is …a long-distance ride.  It is very much a mental game.  Pretty early on, I was feeling quite uncomfortable on my saddle.  I couldn't quite work out why it was happening so soon, and then it clicked.  I was carrying a back pack and it was relatively heavy.  It was weighing down on me and my skinny butt was getting bruised on the saddle.  A lesson learnt and something to change for next time!  But my mind had somehow got into a negative rut, and when I worked out I had left my training wheels on instead of changing to my light-weight, easier-geared racing wheels, I felt a sense of dread.  As I said, it's all a mind game and really depends on how that emotional part of the brain processes all this information.  Any way, later on when I found myself just riding and not even looking at the scenery, I forced myself to look around and managed to shake myself out of it.  Problem solved!

On the outskirts of Masterton, I stopped to turn off my front and rear lights.  I didn't want the battery running out!  I then followed the others.  Soon after, I heard a bit of a commotion ahead and wondered what was happening.  As I rode up, I saw a young man walking along the other side of the street, shouting and acting aggressively.  He then saw me and started charging.  “Okay, here we go”, I thought, as I held my line, looked him in the eye (or at least that general direction, as I couldn't see very well with my glasses), and prepared for impact.  But, as is usually the case in these situations, it was just a feint and I rode on.  Early morning in Masterton!

I wasn't racing, so continued riding at a slight distance from the group, foregoing the temptation to catch up to share their drafting benefits.  I was curious to see how long it would take to catch up to various members.  Jeremy had left us ages before, and now it was Chris and Wayne at the front, steadily increasing their gap from the rest of the group.  Fairly early on, Craig stopped to sort something out, but seemed fine as I went past.  I then caught up with Mike and passed him after a brief exchange of courtesies.  After a while, I saw Wayne by the side of the road, fixing a puncture.  I felt for him, as it stops a ride's momentum and puts a slight dampener on things – I can never pump the tyre back to its previous pressure and tend to angst about getting another puncture as a result!  He told me to continue as he was fine, but I did feel somewhat guilty as I left him.

Mike passed me while I was having a leak by the road.  When I caught up, I invited him to draft behind me, but he said he was happy doing his own thing.  He dropped off a bit and I thought I wouldn't see him again.  But he kept his pace up and we ended riding together all the way to Alfredton.

Somewhere- and look at that sky!
(photo from Chris)

Mike and I cycled up the 20 km Whangaehu Valley Road, ending in Alfredon, about 90 km into the race.  Once I had jolted myself out of my sombre mood, I really enjoyed looking around and immersing myself in the wonderful views.  It was a shame the camera wasn't working, but I was taking photos with my mind, much of which of course I've since forgotten.  One particular funny thing was seeing a field of bright green crops standing in contrast to the dry surrounding fields, then suddenly noticing the shaggy white heads of sheep dotted aound the crop, almost totally hidden.  It looked like a Where's Wally puzzle!

Wind was to be a feature of this ride.  The calm start to the day had been all too brief.  By now we were riding right into the north-westerly, it's strength no doubt intensified by the contour of the valley.  More on the wind later!

At last we were at Alfredton.  While Mike sorted his stuff out, I wandered around the school trying to find a source of water.  This took a while, but I eventually found some and mixed some more drink (Horley's Replace) and filled my water bottles.

By this time, Craig and Wayne had arrived, followed by Ed, who we hadn't seen since near the start.  After everyone had refreshed and sorted themselves out, we set off again, turning right and heading for the Pongaroa Pub, some 145 km from the start.

I usually defer to others and fit in with what they decide, but there didn't seem any rush to start, so I rode off with the others following.  My plan was to ride at a pace I was comfortable with and let the others draft behind me if they wanted to.  After a while, I looked back and noticed that Wayne was still behind me, with Ed a bit behind, but no sign of the others.

Wayne and I rode together for quite a while.  I would be on the front for a while, but as I got tired and slowed down, Wayne would take over.  I actually hate drafting behind other people – it spoils the view and takes away my feeling of independence – so when I was sufficiently recovered, I would go back to the front again.  And so it would continue.  It was fun riding with Wayne and helped the time go faster.

By this time, Ed was riding with us at the back.  There was quite a funny moment when we crested a hill and Ed came charging past and went off into the distance, staying ahead for quite a while.  “What was that!”, we said.  After a while, he slowed and allowed us to catch up, feeling really embarrassed.  “It was a freak alignment of the heavens!”, he said.  Of course, we didn't let him off without a bit of gentle teasing!

Sky and land - somewhere
(photo from Chris)

I'd ridden this part of the route in the opposite direction about a year ago.  However, being well into a 400 km training ride, there was much that I was unfamiliar with and it was wonderful reacquainting myself with what seemed a totally different vista.  There was one thing I hadn't forgotten however, which was quite a long and steep hill.  Every hill we started, I would look for clues as to whether it was THE hill.  Finally we came to one where it was obvious - the road just kept going up and up!  I had no intentions of breaking off from Wayne and Ed, but I was definitely the stronger climber.  After a while, I realised that I'd put some distance on them.  When the hill was finally crested (and disappointingly, no camera!), I pondered whether to wait, but decided to go off on my own pace.

So it was that I rode the rest of the way to Pongaroa, where we had our first stop to get our card clipped.  I actually arrived sooner than I thought, which was a pleasant surprise.  I noticed a bike propped up just inside of the alcove of the Pongoroa Pub and walked in to see Chris just finishing off his Kiwi Burger and chips.  He said that Jeremy had been at the same stage of his meal when he arrived.  So I went in to order my own burger and chips, said goodbye to Chris, sorted out my gear, and waited for the others.

The others took ages to arrive.  Wayne had suffered another puncture, as had Ed.  When they arrived, both also found problems with the outer casing of their respective tyres, so spent a while doing repairs.  It was quite a long break as a result, but one I really didn't mind being part of.

Now was the time for the real challenge of the ride.  I wondered how my tired legs would cope with the coming hill.  The road was narrow and windy, empty of cars, smooth and very picturesque – just made for riding!  We were immediately into hills, but the big hill lay ahead.  After a while, I noticed a solid wall filling up the horizon.  “Surely that's the Tararuas!”, I said to Wayne, but he confirmed my fear.  No, that was what we had to get over.

With our mixed hill-riding ability, we quickly became spread out.  Wayne was just behind me, Ed a bit further back, with Craig and Mike out of sight.  It was pretty much a constant uphill pedal, with that hill-wall remaining unbreachable ahead.  What made things worse was the headwind we were battling into.  I was conscious of Wayne drafting behind me, which considering it was a hill shows just how strong the wind was.

After a while, I noticed I had dropped Wayne, so eased up until he caught up again.  It wasn't a race after all!  However, when you're struggling, there's usually only one speed you can go, which is your own speed.  My cadence is always pretty high and I find it difficult to slow my legs down (I'll need to add more low cadence / high load work to my training).  As a result, I again unintentionally opened a gap with Wayne.  But by now I was well in struggle mode, so decided to continue on.

There was a lot of climbing, but I still saw that bush-clad hill range close ahead.  I'm not sure that we ever did crest it, as the road travelled up along the side and suddenly it seemed that the climbing was over.  It was very picturesque with the rocky terrain, but there were no great views to proclaim a successful ascent.

Definitely looks like a hill to me
(photo from Chris)

And another one
(photo from Chris)

It would be great one day to do the down-hill bit with no wind, but it was a bit of a struggle on this ride.  I rarely changed out of the small front sprocket.  Eventually I was down the bottom of the slope, passing a quaint collection of a few houses, crossing the river, and wondering whether we'd also be crossing that next range of hills just ahead.  Thank goodness we didn't and I eventually slogged my way into Pahiatua.

We had to get our clip-card signed at Pahiatua and I was also going to get some refreshments and fill my bottles.  I cycled from one end of the town to the other, trying to find an obvious place to wait for the others.  There wasn't much around, so I went into a dairy to get what was needed.  Finally, with milkshake in hand, I slumped down against the wall outside the dairy and waited.  I was pretty tired and glad for the rest, keeping an eye out on the road while I leisurely finished the shake.

Suddenly, the heavens opened and it started to pour.  Thank goodness it didn't last long, but the drizzle continued.  I was pretty cold by now and had no idea where the others were, so decided to continue on.  So it was back onto the road.  The Randonneurs stay off main highways as much as they can, which is great.  It does, however, mean that you have to be careful in reading the ride instructions.  Luckily I didn't make any wrong turns, although I had to force myself to be confident in my direction taking and just continue riding.  It wouldn't have been much fun retracing all that distance!

Wow!
(photo from Chris)

The big hills were pretty much over by now.  Sure, there was an extended distance of false flat with the odd hill bump, but things should be a lot easier from now on.  I remember the scenery being as picturesqe as before, but sadly have already forgotten much of what it looked like.  One reason I've forgotten is that it's already several days since the ride.  However, perhaps the main reason is that I was beginning to really feel the distance by that stage.

Now the going was getting tough for me.  With more than 200 km covered, my legs were sore and tired and my arse hurt.  It was difficult to get comfortable.  On reflection, I think I was also bonking, so will have to watch my nutrition more vigilantly next time.  And this, for me, is the essence of long-distance cycling, its defining moment.

Up until now I'd enjoyed the more pleasant side of things – the hills and scenery, the pace and speed, and the company and other wonderful new experiences.  But I could do this from the car or on a club ride.  Things get quite different once exhaustion sets in.  In a way, it's a privileged position to be in, because you know you can do it, whereas others don't.  There's also something primeval about focussing intensely on the simple and very physical goal of just continuing on.  Strangely enough, I also (at times!) become acutely aware of things around me – the beautiful countryside, the startled eyes of sheep, the rocky hills and sound of water in passing streams.  I love the countryside and for some reason, when I'm feeling absolutely exhausted, I feel a really close connection to what's around me.  It's all pretty surreal.  Indeed, in a couple of my tougher races, out of  nowhere I've been overwhelmed by an almost religious sense of joy and ecstacy.

Not that I was anywhere near those intense stages here, but it did remind me of them.  I was also acutely aware that all these good things were just a few precious gems amongst bucket loads of not so nice stuff.  And this is where the mental side comes in.  Dwell on the positive and purge any negative thoughts.  Distract yourself.  Accept any hurt and just go with it.  Whatever you do, don't angst about the distance still to go!

Farm land somewhere or other
(photo from Chris)

And more bucolic scenes - somewhere
(photo from Chris)

It took slightly longer to get to get to Eketahuna than I'd thought, mainly because it was an indirect route through back roads.  No card to get clipped here, but I felt in need of a stop.  A brief pause at the local store to buy water and coke, and a much appreciated seat while I enjoyed the coke and restocked my bottles.  Less than 100 km to go now.

The scenery continued to be lovely, but with the detail again forgotten.  Finally I was back in Masterton.

Card clipping time again, so I stopped off at the dairy, got the card signed and bought an icecream.  I also had a bit of a chat with the Indian shop-keeper.  I love these brief encounters with other people.  An Indian shop-keeper in Masterton, an Indian assistant at the Eketahuna store, and a lovely Chinese woman at the Pahiatua dairy.  All friendly and uplifting for me.  It's fun making connections between our respective planets; they definitely must think someone who would choose to cycle all day to the point of exhaustion pretty alien.

With icecream in hand, I found a spot of sun (it was getting cold now with the wind, although the showers had cleared ages ago), and plonked myself down to enjoy its sweet, creamy delight.  I wasn't even half way through it when I was surprised by three fast cyclists charging by.  There was Craig, Wayne and Ed!  “We're going to McDonalds”, yelled Ed, as they whizzed past.  Apparently Craig had pushed a fast and unrelenting pace all the way from Pahiatua.  Those many thousands of kilometers he's ridden over the last year have definitely made him the (Energizer) bunny that never stops!  Mike had found the going a bit too tough and had pulled out at Pahiatua, but it's definitely a learning game and he'll be back even stronger.

After sorting my stuff out, I rode off to say hi and bye to my three mates at McDonalds.  I just wanted to finish the ride, get home and have a shower, but I also wanted to say goodbye, as I didn't think I'd see them again until the next ride.  They're great guys that I have a huge respect for and know I'll see lots more of.

I know from past experience that the last 45 km is tough.  Well, it's actually every easy, but you think you're almost there when you're not.  After all, 45 km is still 45 km and you are pretty darn tired!

Looks like a dusk shot to me
(photo from Chris)

The dusk was stunning.  I even noticed it in my tired state, although I'd have to force myself to enjoy the view.  Suddenly I noticed my front light's battery warning signal turn read.  Oh no, will it last?  I rode through the dimishing light and into the dark with the light off as much as I could, only turning it on for the downhill bits and if there was an approaching car.  Because I worked on keeping my expectations down, Martinborough came as a surprise for me, arriving sooner than expected.  The time was 9:15 pm, 15:15 hours after we'd set out and, I see from my new Garmin, 12:50 hours in total on the bike and a distance of 315 km.

As I rode in towards the square, I heard a shout.  There was Chris waiting at a table outside the pub.  It was great to see him.  He'd finished almost two and a half hours before and had been worried about what had happened to us.  I went into the pub and ordered an orange juice and a Knickerbocker delight for the two of us.  It was good chatting with him while we waited.  Then suddenly there was Craig, Wayne, and Ed.  Mission completed!

Knickerbocker sundae at the Martinborough pub!
(photo from Craig)

Chris, Craig and I stayed on a bit, finishing our snacks.  The pub was full of boisterous but very pleasant young women, the main reason being a hen's party in full swing.  A couple of curious groups even came over to have a chat with the three lycra-clad, sweaty-looking gents outide, being pretty impressed by what we'd just done.

And that was pretty much it.  All that was needed was the drive back.  After two hours of driving (including stopping for a pie), I arrived back home at 12:30 am.  The last bit of the drive was a fight against sleep, but there was no fighting it once my head hit the pillow!

I can't wait until the next time!

Riding the Apiti Hills with the Kiwi Randonneurs

I don't want to over-kill this blog with reports of regular rides, but have decided to put something about my second ride with the Kiwi Randonneurs, even though I've already written about the first and that was only last week.  Two reasons for this - it's a quick way to share the photos and the scenery was wonderful.  Maybe a third reason too - I love writing (and reading!) ride reports.

The ride was 200 km through the Apiti Hills, from Feilding to Mangaweka and back again.  The route north was along the Pohangina Valley East Road hugging the west side of the Ruahine range, with the route back being straight back over the Apiti Hills.  The elevation contour was one of a constantly rising height until about two-thirds to Mangaweka, with a decline to Mangaweka, and the opposite in the reverse direction.  Punctuating this pattern are sudden drops into river valleys and sharp climbs back into the hills. http://www.kiwirandonneurs.org.nz/routes/1214/route-apiti-hills-200

There were seven of us at the start, a collection of experienced and relatively new randonneurs.  We rode together for about 25-30 km at a friendly pace.  It was great having a chat with people I'd not met before and catching up with others.  Because I'd brought a camera along, I would dart away every now and then to take photos of the bunch or stop for scenery snaps.

My intention with the camera was not only to capture the scenery, but also to force myself not to be so manic in going as fast as I can and riding to the point of exhaustion.  If I have a camera, I would have to stop to use it and should spend more time looking around for potential shots.  While using these rides to increase my physical and mental toughness, I also want to do them for the sheer joy they offer.  I also don't want to spend days recovering from them.

Leaving Feilding - Jeremy, Tim, Wayne and Mike

Simon and Wayne

The flats surrounding Feilding.  Ed has now joined us (in red).

Happy riders

I had no idea how the ride would proceed in terms of placings ... not that randonneuring is about placings!  I knew that Jeremy would ride off at some stage to do his own (very fast) thing and I suspected that one or two of the riders might ride at a somewhat slower pace.  My intention was to stick with the bunch and have fun, taking photos and just enjoying the whole experience.

The Pohangina Valley East Road is a beautiful rural road meandering some 35 km through rolling country.  There was very little traffic, which meant we could ride much of it two-abreast.  As expected, Jeremy at some stage effortless glided ahead of us on one of the longer hills, not to be seen again for the rest of the ride.  A bit later, Tim stopped off at a small rural school to restock his water and I didn't see him again either.

While on the topic of water, my own approach to this ride was to be risk-adverse in regard to water, clothing and lights.  I had four full bottles of fluid and my back-pack included a wind jacket, polyprop shirt, and lights (should I be caught out late with a mechanical).  I suspect that the others may have suffered from their fewer bottles as the day heated up, but all this equipment does increase the weight.  I've since learned that Wayne had the side of his tyre ripped open but was saved by some equipment from Simon, so I see there's something else to add to my stock.

The hills of Pohangina Valley East Road - Wayne, Jeremy, Tim, Mike, and  Ed

Ed

Mike, Simon and Wayne

Looking towards the Ruahine range

I found myself stronger than the others on the hills and would wait up a bit, but after a while realized that I'd even edged away a bit on the flats without meaning to.  I pondered whether to slow down and wait, but eventually decided just to keep up a comfortable speed and leave it to the others whether or not they wanted to join.  I ended up riding by myself earlier than anticipated!

Actually, I felt strangely happy and free riding by myself.  It's great riding with others but I'm a fairly solitary being.  It's a wonderful feeling getting into the rhythm of riding, undisturbed by others, being one with the bike, trying to get the most out of that wonderfully efficient machine you're on, feeling your speed, having a sense of purpose and a joy of knowing that, although the mission is tough, you're up to it.  Because I wasn't racing (um, I'm not entirely sure about that!) and wasn't too tired (yet!), I just lapped up the wonderful scenery around me.

A quick Google search tells me that much of the countryside is on mud-stone.  This means that the rivers and streams carve great scars through the earth.  So although much of the ride was on rolling hills that gradually got higher and higher, every now and then there would be a steep descent  to a river with a steep climb out the other side of the valley.  These steep climbs mounted up over the ride - to a total of 3100 metres according to one of the rider's bike computer.

On my own!

Getting higher and higher

Iconically beautiful!

Riding down a valley on one side ...

... and up again on the other side.

Although I said I wasn't racing, part of me must have been.  I was always conscious of where the others might be.  Initially I would check behind every now and then to see if I could see anyone.  Later on at the two compulsory stops to get my brevet card signed, I was very aware that the longer I stayed, the more likely people were to catch up.  I really wouldn't have minded if they did ... but perhaps there was a small, petty, vain side of me that did.  Shame!

It's quite fun riding a road you've never done before, especially a long and tough route.  The obvious reason is the scenery, but the other is that your mind is always ticking away, making tiny calculations about the distances and terrain still to go.  Eventually I arrived at the highest point of the ride and it was a joy to realise that it would now be mostly downhill to Mangaweka.  The final descent to the Rangitikei River was fun - a long, narrow,winding road strewn with mud-stone chips that had fallen down the sheer slopes beside the road.  This was probably where Wayne had torn his tyre.

At Mangaweka I popped into one of the two cafes.  "Hullo! How are you?  Great day, isn't it!"  It pays to be friendly (even if you're feeling pretty done in!) and it's a great way of interacting with other people.  After buying some coke and asking the two cafe ladies to sign my brevet card, I asked if they knew where I could fill up with water.  In response, they enthusiastically took my bottles and filled them with water from the fridge, wishing me good luck as I left the shop.

About to cross the Rangitikei River to the village of Mangaweka

What goes down must come up - view from the other side of the Rangitikei River

And onto the other side after a second crossing, now on the home run!

From Mangaweka, it was 10 km westward on the No. 1 highway, before turning off and descending to the river, crossing it, and riding up into the hills again.  The next bit would take me up to the highest point again, before descending back into Feilding.  I had to stop a few times to check my bearings, but managed not to stray off track.  Some of the route was on the same road that had taken me to Mangaweka.  As I faced another one of those steep descents and ascents from a river valley, I wondered whether I'd be doing all the other valleys the route had passed through.  Thank goodness, that was the only one!

I was definitely feeling it in my legs now, both the quads and the hammies.  I had to really focus on good technique as I rode up the steeper parts, as when you lose the strength in your legs it's very easy to injure yourself by putting too much pressure on your knees, and also to hurt your back by not using your tired core muscles.

I'm pretty sure that this is the top of the last major hill.  Yay!

At last I had peaked what proved to be the last major hill.  The going was still tough however, as I was now pretty knackered and it was hot.  Flats are a great break from hills, but they can be tedious and time can drag, which is not fun when you're tired.

At long last, I got to the village of Kimbolton.  What a lovely place it is.  I waited behind a queue of people at the cafe/bar, having a friendly chat with some of them.  I then bought some water and a huge glass of juice, which was an absolute delight.  But finally, with brevet card signed and juice finished, it was time to hit the road again.

From Kimbolton, the road is pretty much down-hill for the whole 30 km back to Feilding.  I was sure that there would be some nasty hill providing a last sting of the tail, but no.  Sweet, but a drag.

 At last, there was Feilding, although it took a while riding through the outskirts.  Another stop at a cafe to get the final signature of the brevet card, an L&P lemonade on a table having a great time answering questions from a young lad on the next table - "Did you come first?"  "Have you ever come first?"  "Second?"  "Where do you usually come?"  "At the back of the pack?  I come first in my races!"

From there, it was back to the car to chuck my things inside and (carefully!) put my wonder machine on the rack, then a drive to Liz and Tim's, where Tim had cooked a curry for the riders - the most incredible curry I've ever tasted!

Oh it's so great to be alive!  What a fantastic sport!  I was very pleased at how I'd done.  It was an absolutely splendid ride in terms of the terrain traveled.  I was also pleased with things on the physical and mental side.  Although I'd pushed myself quite hard, I felt my body was definitely toughening up.

In the end, my time (including stops) was 9:14 hours over the 205 km.  Jeremy was more than one and a half hours in front at 7:38 hours.  Three riders were just under an hour behind at 10:09 hours, with the remaining two riders being 10:58 hours.  Although second, I'm not necessarily the second strongest, as I think I was more in racing mode than those behind me.  It's going to be a lot tougher on the longer rides, as 200 km is the shortest ride done by the Kiwi Randonneurs.  I'll definitely have to slow my pace and ride more sensibly.

Riding the Eketahuna Dash with Iain Clarke

This is a ride report I wrote for the Kapiti Cycle Club about a great ride I did with my friend Iain Clarke.

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Normally I'd put this up on Facebook but, civilized man that he is, Iain Clarke is a stranger to that vice.  We both had a great ride on Saturday with the Kiwi Randonneurs (https://www.kiwirandonneurs.org.nz/).  It was a 205km route from Martinborough to Eketahuna and back again, taking the back roads and not retracing any of our steps.

Iain, the bastard, wanted to keep up a good fast pace and I was the poor sucker that was to accompany him.

We started at 7 o'clock on what was a pretty chilly morning but with 32 degrees forecast for the day.  Our pace over the 50km to Masterton was fast but unhurried, following some really picturesque rural roads on what was starting out as a beautiful, clear day.  Five of us were together just before Masterton, but after that our ways parted.  Iain was not going to wait for anyone, as he was well set on his mission of grinding Andrew into the ground.

From Martinborough to Masterton - Iain, Myles and Jay

The 45 km ride from Masterton to Alfredton was great.  Really beautiful scenery and a wonderful riding road. It's a gradual up-hill most of the way and was into a slight northerly.  My devilish mate had the intention of keeping the speed at 30 kph for as much of the road as he could.  We kept up a good pace all the way to Alfredton School.  I think that we were both feeling it, especially towards the end, but we still kept up a witty and easy conversation, albeit with mine being somewhat forced towards the end.

(As an aside, I was amazed when Iain mentioned riding the 300km Tararua block with Mark Donald and Mike Proudfoot and Mark keeping the clock at 40kph up-hill and into the wind for hours.  Perhaps not surprising really given his great accomplishments!  Something I can only dream about!)

Between Alfredtown and Eketahuna were three juicy hills and this was where my pace really slipped off.  After being polite for some brief moments, Iain would get bored with my slow progress and move quickly and easily ahead of me, meeting me at the top of each hill for the sole purpose of humiliating me on the next one.

Thank God, we eventually made it to Eketahuna, the 110km mark and slightly over half way. We stopped at the shop to buy some water and refreshments and get our brevet card signed.  As we were about to leave, four other riders arrived (Craig, Simon, Jay and Myles).  All of us were feeling the heat.  The sun was definitely drilling down, even though the time was just a bit past 11 o'clock.

Restocking at Eketahuna

It should be easier from now on, as the remainder of the ride would be more down than up and we would have a northerly at our back.  Indeed it was easier, except I hadn't reckoned on one thing - that bastard bouncing bunny of fitness and wit I was riding with.  "You're just saving it for near the end, when you'll speed ahead for line honours!"  "Your long-term endurance is going to kick in soon!"  Iain just looked so fresh and good-humoured, whereas my witty repartee had well and truly dried up and all I could manage to respond with were grunts.

The route took us along a few side roads west of Eketahuna (presumably to take the ride up to over 200km) before crossing SH2 and onto Opaki-Kaipororo Road, a lovely route that took us most of the way back to Masterton.  Wonderful riding here that I would recommend to anyone.

The road eventually spilled onto SH2 again for the 7km back into Masterton.  We stopped off at a dairy to get the brevet card signed again and enjoy some more refreshments.  My apple juice was quickly gulped down and, as we began to get ready to go, our four pursuers wheeled in.  I know that Iain was gunning for a good average speed, but the route on the back roads back to Martinborough was a bit tricky and I was worried about taking the wrong road.  This shouldn't be any problem for tough novice randonneurs like ourselves, but this particular randonneur had recently developed an adversion to even the thought of spending more time on the road trying to make his way back to the correct route.  Thank goodness, Iain agreed to my suggestion that we go with the other four, as two of them had a good knowledge of the route and their speed seemed similar to ours.

Masterton and only 45 km to go - Jay, Myles, Simon, Craig and me

So, whew, more time for rest!  When I saw our new companions hoeing into dripping double-decker icecreams, I just had to join them.  "Good way to cool down inside", said Simon, and I couldn't think of a better excuse.  The sun was ferocious.  You could feel it's strength just by moving your arm back and forth between shade and sun.

Eventually, we were off.  No moaning or anything, except what was echoing and booming within the confines of my skull.

Initially the pace was somewhat slowish and I felt worried about Iain's goal for the ride.  We crossed the river and turned left into a brisk headwind.  I was pleased that Iain was at the front, as it would hopefully sap his energy and stop his persecution of one Andrew Morrison.  I was very happy sitting behind him and Simon.  However, after a while, Simon sensibly thought it was time that someone else started pulling their weight.  "About time you did some work", said Iain, wheeling behind me and leaving me all by myself in the front.  Prick!

It was definitely tough at the front and I wondered how long I could keep it up.  After having his fun, the hilarious bundle of satanic joy that was my riding buddy moved up beside me and we continued on side by side.  Iain was definitely on a mission.  His aim was an average for the ride of 27 kph or higher and we were close to that but not quite there.  We set a pretty good pace, or rather Iain did, with me struggling to maintain my place at his side.  We dropped the others a few times, but they managed to get back behind us.  Eventually, after a slightly larger rise, Craig came charging down the other side like a man on a mission.  "Sorry Andrew, I can't let this go", said my companion and ... my now "ex" companion ... sped after Craig.

Iain caught up with Craig fairly easily, pausing no doubt to chat nonchalantly with him, put him off his guard and make him think that he's a really nice guy, before crucifying the unsuspecting man by leaving a disappearing trail of dust into the sunset.

As an aside, I should add that racing and tactics are not a randonneuring thing.  It's all about self sufficiency and the sheer hell of enjoying the wonder of the open road for hours and hours and hours ... and days and days.  We don't want any contagion from the petty vanities and low morality of road racers and road racer wannabies.  I say "we" because, even though I've only done this one randonneur ride, I plan to do a lot more this year.  So I want to distance myself from the likes of Iain and his ways. The devil lives inside that man.  And me?  I just don't know what came over me.

So, the bastard had taken off, but I was in the hunt for Craig and I definitely didn't want anyone to catch up with me.  I think it was about 15km to  Martinborough and I would have loved to have just stopped or, at the very least, eased up the pace.  But a devil's apprentice has to do what a devil's apprentice has to do.  So with one eye to the front, to see Craig tantalizing close but not close enough, and the other eye to the back, to find the other three remaining safely out of sight, I graunched (made up word but sounds just right!) those final kilometers out.

At last, there was Martinborough and there was Iain, outside the petrol station with an icecream in his hand.  I congratulated him as I stumbled into the station, grabbed an icecream myself and got my brevet card signed.  I could hardly talk as I came outside to join him and clumped around in my cycle shoes, trying to stretch my legs which were feeling stiff and sore.

Iain - 205 km done and dusted and still smiling

The others had passed without seeing us as I was getting through that icecream so, when I'd finished, we went and joined them.  Hands were shaken all around.  After putting our bikes away, Iain and I met our riding companions in the pleasant coolness of the shade outside the pub.  With beer in hand and venison burger ordered, it was an absolute pleasure to sit down with my friends.  A while later, we were joined by four more riders.  What a great bunch of guys these randonneurs are!  It was sheer joy sitting there, sipping my beer, and being part of it all.  The only thing marring it was feeling well and truly bombed out and blown apart by the ride.  But that's often how you want to finish a ride isn't it ... or at least how Iain wants me to finish a ride!

Let me end by thanking my good friend for a great ride. It was wonderful riding with him.  Iain, good friend that he is, has said that I have to manage three 300km rides with him without exhausting myself before he even considers crewing for me should I attempt 8 laps of Taupo.  I agreed with him and, stupid prick that I am, am actually looking forward to them.

Oh yes, and Iain did get his 27 kph, and some more too!

Celebratory drinks!

Mental toughness

My friend, Brent Atkins, asked me to write 800-900 words on "Mental toughness" for a newsletter he is putting out.  The newsletter is for the "No Shadows" bike group, something that was started by Stu Downs and has been taken over by Brent following Stu's death.  I'm definitely honoured to be asked.  And over-joyed, as I love writing.  So here is what I said.

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I’m honoured to have been asked by Brent to write an article on mental toughness.  Presumably he asked me because of my involvement in long-distance cycling, a huge part of which involves the mental side. 

Frankly, I don’t think that mental toughness is a big deal.  The hardest step is actually the first one, something that any member of “No Shadows” or any group of cyclists has already taken.  That’s simply to get out of bed when the alarm rings, don your lycra, and arrive in time for your group ride.  Through that act alone, we’ve shown ourselves to have the gumption, motivation and self-discipline required.  Few people make it that far.

But presumably Brent wants more from me than just that.  So here are four things that I hope will help you further exercise and strengthen your (already strong) mental side, especially in the area of cycling.

Lesson number one: aim high and really want it.  Mental toughness follows desire.  If you want something badly enough, you’ll do all you can to get it.  What should help here is having a clear idea of what you want to achieve from cycling.  Be honest about it.  Don’t be too unrealistic.  Being as fast as Lance Armstrong without the aid of drugs won’t cut it.  But equally, don’t sell yourself short.  Be ambitious and be passionate about your ambition!

Lesson number two: only by pushing yourself will you discover how mentally tough you are.  And you’ll be surprised at just how tough you find yourself to be!  But you won’t discover this unless you try.  And when you do, you’ll find it an amazingly uplifting, world-changing moment.  If you think back to the group rides where everyone’s really buzzing when they get back to the café, it’s not the easy rides that have done this.  It’s the tough ones where people have given more than they thought themselves capable of.  Raise those self-imposed limits of yours on just how much you can take.  It’ll have an amazing impact on your cycling performance.

Lesson number three: do all you can to make yourself a good cyclist.  It’s not only about mental toughness!  Mental toughness can give you an edge and make a difference, but it can’t make up for poor training, poor equipment, poor planning, bad strategy, and so on.  So go easy on yourself and take a balanced approach.  Cycling is not about continually being on the rivet, with constant pain and suffering.  You should work out when you need to push and use that mental toughness you’ve developed, but that’s not all the time.  It needs to be supported by all the other strands of the fabric that makes an excellent cyclist.

Lesson number four: work out which techniques help make your mental side easier.  There are tricks that can make pain and discomfort more bearable, and I’m not talking about drugs here!  Some cycling books give you advice on this, especially those on long-distance cycling.  Many top long-distance cyclists also seek assistance from head-coaches (aka psychologists).  But in the end, what works is a highly individual thing.  It’s something that you need to try for yourself.

Regarding the fourth lesson, the key part of my own strategy is positivity.  It’s amazing what you can put up with when positive, but your world just crumbles away when you’re negative.  Distractions help too, and there are lots of things to distract you, even if it’s just focussing on technique.  From experience, I also know that pain is finite, that it’s not the pain but your perception of it that is the killer, and that even in long races I surprise myself that something I think is insufferable at one moment can the next moment be forgotten and replaced by something else.  In the end, I also know that negative feelings and bad perceptions of pain pass; that I just need to endure and ride through them and things will get better.

Let me end by saying two things.  First, mental toughness is a vital part of being a good cyclist.  It will make all the difference to how well you do.  It’s also important for self-respect and earning the respect of others.  Second, there’s no getting away from the fact that pain and hurt is … well … pain and hurt.  So, in the end, the best bit of advice is contained in the Velominati cycling rule that is the most often quoted in long-distance cycling circles – cycling rule number five.  “Harden the fuck up!”  Says it all really!