A slow bimble into town today with protesting legs: slow because despite feeling relatively ok this morning whilst walking the dog (don't worry, the rest of me went too), the second I got on the bike they remembered yesterday's milestone ride and protested nearly every inch of the way.
The milestone?
My first imperial century!
It's something I've been wanting to do for a while but somehow never got round to organising. In fact, yesterday wasn't even organised though that's probably the best way as the negative thought gremlins never got a chance to whisper and mutter until it was too late.
The day started out simply enough. A friend's on a week's tour and asked if I wanted to join her for part of Day 1 as she left Taunton and headed vaguely towards Bath. I looked at the map and decided to join her as far as Wells, have lunch and then make my way home, probably jumping on the train at either Highbridge or Bridgwater.
The ride out to Wells was great though we got some odd looks. I was on my Orbea road bike while she was on her fully laden touring bike and I'm sure some people thought I was making her carry all my luggage! I just hope they assumed I was on the winning deal of a bet and not a mean so-and-so. We stopped for coffee in Langport and then headed up and over the only real hill of the day, the summit of which is home to the village of the appropriately named High Ham.
The village church:
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What goes up must also come down and I got up to 36.1mph on the descent, although I did have a major loss of courage on the first bend when I encountered loose gravel and an oncoming van in the middle of the road... No wobbles, just kept my speed in check for the rest of the descent. Shame as it was the only proper downhill for the rest of the ride.
Taken on the outskirts of Wells, looking back over the Levels to Glastonbury Tor:
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(Didn't see the smudge on the lens at the time!)
D'oh!
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Having avoided Glastonbury, we made it to Wells in good time and settled ourselves down at a cafe for lunch before wending our separate ways. I felt a mixture of sadness and envy as I waved goodbye though was also pleased to be able to ride at my own pace. I dare say she felt the same! My thoughts kept drifting towards her as I headed west towards Highbridge and then south to Bridgwater as the Levels are just that - flat, flat, flat and the Mendips tower above you like sentinels. She was making her way over the eastern flank and my view was dominated by the western side but still, they're blooming hilly and I knew how much her bike weighed so I sent her lots of "just keep pedalling" vibes.
The power of positive thought obviously worked for me too as I got within easy reach of Highbridge with absolutely no desire to stop pedalling so turned south and aimed for Bridgwater. I wasn't surprised that my average speed had risen since we parted company but was taken aback at the consistency of my pace. I was managing 15-18mph on the flat and 12-14mph into the wind and kept this up until the last few miles when my legs began to tire (and it got too dark to see the screen!). I just got into a rhythm and off I went. Nice when it happens.
So, having got to Bridgwater I had a decision to make. I could go home via the Quantocks, along the canal or take the long way avoiding both the hills and the misery that is the canal tow path. I opted for the longer route and headed eastish following the River Parrett which is in the final stages of being dredged. It's all quite impressive - just hope it works. There are only a couple of places where you can cross the Parrett, Bridgwater and Burrowbridge being the only ones up that way - you may remember Burrowbridge from the flooding footage. It sits below Burrow Mump which is topped by a ruined church and for weeks was an island in a large and determined lake. Once I crossed the Parrett I was back on "home turf" and the rest of the ride was simply a matter of turning the pedals and, as home got ever closer, trying to find somewhere comfy to sit on the saddle. Now that I think about it, I've only done a couple of 50/60 milers in the last month, maybe longer so no wonder my bum went into shock! It was in Burrowbridge that I realised that the long ride might become a personal milestone and I had to stop myself from checking my progress every few meters, especially once I got tired.
As it was I just about scraped over the century (100.47 miles!) but even so, arrived home in the dark with sore legs, a celebratory pizza dangling from my handlebars
and a massive grin on my face. Still chuffed to bits today and the legs felt much better at the end of the "recovery ride". Can't wait to go to the gym tomorrow ....
I haven't done an audax before and had hoped, but haven't managed, to get a 200km ride in this year so wouldn't mind having a go if you can cope with someone who needs plenty of stops after 80 miles or so.
One of my cousins ended up with that on his cake for a significant birthday. It just happened to be the most alcohol-laced cake I have tried to date so we suspected the chef may have been sampling the ingredients.
(Or should that be C'apeau? 
