Well, that was good.
No. I'll re-phrase that. That was very good.
I'll start again. That was fan-dabby-dozy BRILLIANT!
But I fear it may've been the last time we do the marathon route ride (of which more later).
Firstly, a big thank you to all those who made the silly o'clock effort, and winched themselves up onto Blackheath for a dawn to die for. Or get your watercolours out for......
It is your esteemed company, people, that made today's ride what it was.
Seven of us left just after half six and made our way around the course at a fairly relaxed pace, and although the traffic was Sunday-morning-light, we didn't really achieve traffic-free until around mile 15 on the Isle of Dogs.
From there it just got better and better.
When we reached Upper Thames Street we encountered our first pockets of resistance.
Some in uniforms which should be obeyed.
Some in uniforms which shouldn't.
We found the best way to make progress was to ignore them and proceed as planned, all of us eventually making it through this first gauntlet, to enjoy the delights of the Blackfriars underpass, and Victoria Embankment where we received cheers of encouragement from quite a few bystanders, as well as being the focus, literally, as we were panned when we passed phalanxes of cameramen.
By the time we reached Bridge Street and Parliament Square the shouts of 'Guys! You need to get off the course! The race has started!' had intensified significantly.
My suggestion that we got a wiggle on, was met with a marked increase in cadence as the six of us moved as one, entering Great George Street and Birdcage Walk apace.
The road ahead was clear so we took advantage, Andrij and myself at the front of our small peloton.
As we wound round the bend in front of Buck house, one of our number was scalped by a soldier.
For him the war game was over.
As the end on The Mall hove into view I could see a dozen, maybe more, marshals in white chinos and red blazers blockading the entrance to the finishing line, milling around aimlessly, there was no way we'd be able to ride through them.
'Andrij' I said 'Let's give these guys a scare'.
So, from around 200 metres we sprinted for it ....
Gradually (thankfully) there was a parting of the Red (and white) sea and we shot over the timing mats elated and grinning like very grinny things.
There followed a little confusion as we left the finishing area, and then stood around collectively marvelling at What Good Fun That Was.
It was at that point that we were approached by the lady dressed casually in black,toting enough access-all-areas laminates to sink a battleship...
'Can you tell me how you arrived at this footprint?' she asked
We looked back at the finishing line we'd just crossed whilst dwelling on what she actually meant.
'Oh, we started at Blackheath about two and a half hours ago.... ' one of our number quipped helpfully...
'It's my job to ensure that this area remains sterile' she continued, puzzling us further as to her choice of expression, and causing me to wonder if I was listening to herbal verbal...
'I have royalty here today, and none of you are supposed to be here, so how did you get in?'
There followed a very, very nice telling off, during which we surpassed ourselves at shoulder shrugging and looking sheepish.
She was clearly unimpressed that her sterile footprint had been breached.
I'm not sure I helped when I told her how nice and supportive everyone we'd encountered en route had been.
That's twice now that I've managed to cross the finish line of the marathon route, on a bike.
Thanks to the above encounter, I think today may be the last time that happens.
After this we decamped for a hearty breakfast and lots of tea at the Island Cafe in Southwark, where we were joined by Handbag.
We then went our separate ways, I headed for Tower Bridge to see my niece* looking very good at the 12.5 mile stage of her first marathon.
A fantastic way to start a day.
Thanks again to all who came.
*EDIT 4:21 BTW.
Dead proud, me.
