Saturday's ride, which actually started on Friday evening, was dedicated to helping a friend (I shall call her Mrs B) achieve her first ever 400k. An old friend of ours, PJ, who has had serious health problems, turned up, and we set off at 2230. Very soon we passed someone who had face-planted the road and was being looked after (embarrassingly I didn't realise it was another friend).
We settled down to a steady pace, four of us (including another 400 virgin) chugging along. Dawn broke and we were grateful for the warmth of the sun. But it got warmer, and then hotter, and we forgot about being grateful.
Still, the pace was sufficient and we sailed along in a cloud of sweaty optimism. We got to Chepstow for 230k—over halfway and in reasonable time. The next stage was short and easterly. Our speed dropped and we were grinding along with mounting doubt.
JD, controlling at the cafe, reassured us that we were in plenty of time compared to some riders the previous year, though we were last on the road.
Off we went southwards and the pace did not pick up. Mrs B was getting tired; our other novice had shot off, worried about finishing in time. The three of us made a ragged gruppetto, one then another stopping to pee or peel off a layer, then regrouping.
At the final control things looked less rosy. We were tight for time. Mrs B urged me to press on and finish within the time-limit (27hrs). PJ, less fit after illness, was content to plod along. I calculated that I could hang around for a few more miles and still make it, so I stuck with them, grinding out tired kilometres.
The next section involved some busy A roads, and Mrs B was weaving a little, so I sat behind and further out. We got nearly to Glastonbury, about 50k from the finish, when she announced that she couldn't continue, being too tired. I sprinted into the town and found the nearest thing to energy drinks that were available at gone 10 in the evening (Coke & Dr Pepper from a take-away, if you wish to know) and took them back.
They were both content to stop and rest for a while; I had 50k to go and a little over 2hrs in hand, so I said goodbye, took her car-keys, and left.
There was one stonking hill just before the finish, so I had to make allowances for that. Upping the pace significantly, after many hours of plodding, brought new and interesting aches. Over the Levels I maintained a good speed. Into Taunton Saturday-night revellers got in the way, but that was a brief interlude.
I turned off into the dark again and followed the lane that rose and fell until the last hill proper arrived. I ground my way up it, feeling suddenly rather weary. It seemed interminable, a couple of lights high in the sky signalling the top. The top was a cross-roads and I checked the time: 12mins left. I time-trialled the last winding lane to the pub finish.
One window was lit. The door was still open. J and the owners were sitting chatting. They seemed surprised to see me, checked the time, and announced I was a minute inside the cut-off. So card stamped, a drink and some food consumed, then I had to find Mrs B's car in the pitch black and find PJ and her.
I drove slowly (unfamiliar car, tired driver) back along the route, worrying about missing them in the one-way sections, and was just leaving the town when... there they were.
We piled the bikes in the back and drove to the pub, which was now in complete darkness. We got PJ's bike out and he wandered off to find his tent. I fumbled around in the darkness and found my bike, and we set off for home.
Mrs B managed 388k within the time and is already looking for a suitable event for her second attempt. I get to add a new record to my palmares: my longest ever 400k at 26hr 59min..
