Jess On A Bike

Now that over a week has passed I’m starting to forget how much my body hurt after 12:30 hours of none-stop mountain biking. I’ve still got some numbness in the tips my little fingers and my leg and back muscles are still a bit tight; but even the day after the ride I was already thinking about my next attempt.

So by the title ‘attempt #1′, and me talking about 12:30 hours of riding, you might have guessed I didn’t complete the double. At best I was being audacious in attempting to complete the double without having done a one way trip, at worst I was being stupid. On the day cycling 100 miles from Winchester to Eastbourne, off road, over nearly 4000m of hills felt like a huge achievement.

In reality I gave up well before I was finished; a bit like a steep climb, when you give up at the sight of the task ahead. How many times do you actually ride right up to that step you know you can’t get up only to get unseated in an attempt to make it over? Possibly never, we usually psych ourselves out on technical climbs. It was the same for me on the South Downs Way; only as I approached Eastbourne the yawning chasm of the 100 miles back to Winchester seemed like more than I could comprehend. I know the mind games, I should just look one hill ahead and take it one climb at a  time; but the mind games weren’t playing in my fatigued brain. This all came to a head as I got to the top of Swanborough hill and I met the most windy conditions I had seen all day. In spite of reports to the contrary, I had taken careful note of the weather conditions; I knew it was going to get windier in the afternoon and more so as I approached Eastbourne, but there were also strong indications it would drop into the evening. But on the top of Swanborough Hill all I knew was that I was tired, without outbound miles still to do and I was facing turning around into a gale with teeth.

Maybe my mistake was recording my capitulation video, it gave form to and crystallised the idea of giving up at Eastbourne. I think saying the words into that little camera on the back of my phone was the very point at which the population of neurons in my head saying, ‘giveup’ began to outnumber the population saying, ‘keep going’. I thought about Elizabeth, and her uninvited and undesired struggle with cancer, my reason for doing this. I thought, I’ve miss judged my training, I’m not ready, this will have to be training for another attempt. It was surprisingly easy to justify once the balance of power had shifted in my head. Yet before I recorded the message my justification for doing it was that it would be a good place to film it ‘if” I gave up.

To the Pub

From Swanborough Hill I rode down into Southease and called Danielle to arrange a lift home from Eastbourne. As if to mark my disappointment with myself it also rained on me for the first time that day.

View From Firle Beacon

Having finally made the decision to stop at Eastbourne I enjoyed the ride over Firle Beacon immensely, the golden evening sun light gave the hills a special texture. Only having the sheep to share it with wasn’t a problem, my eyes were greedy for this kind of beauty after being so task focused the rest of the day. I’d relaxed, and no longer cared about pace even needing to take enough time to allow Danielle to drive down from the North Downs. So it was in a mood for savouring the special moments of the ride that I came across two small black furry creatures on the trail ahead of me as I climbed out of Alfriston. As I got close I realised they were badger cubs, how often do you get to see wild badger cubs? I stopped and got off my bike thinking they would scurry off to their set at any moment. They just continued what they were doing, foraging amongst the rocks and stones of the bridleway. They were about as big as a large rabbit with that soft fuzziness  to their fur that puppies have. Their faces were so pointy, with their beautiful badger stripes already very distinctive. There little eyes met my gaze, but they went straight back to their business, unconcerned by my presence. So I moved closer, all the time thinking if I should get my camera out. It wasn’t until I got to with in about a meter and half of the closest one that it started to reluctantly move away up the bank side. It didn’t move far, I could have reached out and stroked these little youngsters. My experience with adult badgers is that the word ‘tame’ has been replaced with ‘aggressive’ in their lexicon, so I kept my hands to myself. After I’d walked by, too tired to get back on and ride, I looked over my shoulder to see them both resume their foraging.

This was the last but one climb, and it took a caffeine laced energy gel to get me back on the saddle after the badgers. This was the second one, and my already upset stomach was really sick of the whole enterprise. On the other hand I was riding again, and albeit at a slower pace I felt like I could go all day. So I zipped down into Jevington, well actually rode the brakes, my mind was feeling a little slow. I must have still been under the influence of the caffeine gel because the final climb felt almost easy. With a slow brain and failing light the final descent down into Eastbourne felt lightening fast. I was tired, but there was still part of my brain saying, ‘turn around you still feel ok, you could make it back to Jevington, and after that…’, the rest of me was looking and feeling like this:

The end of the SDW

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Almost every ride has moment of zen. A feeling of being at one with the bike, the trail, the weather, the surroundings and even the little Garmin chirping directions from your handlebars. Everything is working together and you have the feeling of making exactly the right amount of progress for the effort you’re putting in.

Sunday’s training ride definitely had moments of zen. For the first three hours I felt good, like I could ride forever. Having a tummy full of pasta was probably working in my favour. So even in the wet ground conditions from the previous days rain I was making good progress. I’d planned to ride bridleways to most closely match the South Downs way for my big ‘double’ attempt this summer. To get the distance in I’d had to zig-zag around on trails I’m not so familiar with, so the Garmin was on navigation duty. “Chirp-chirp: Go South-West”, “chirp-chirp: Go West”. I remembered drawing all the points the day before, and here was my friendly, dumb navigator reading them back out to me. Really muddy sections seemed to come in manageable lengths, and hard packed lines seemed to be there for the riding on miles of trails.

After three hours, I ran into an error of planning; a byway popular with four wheel drive enthusiasts. It was a 7km slop-fest impossible to ride without using raw strength, exactly the conditions I hope I won’t meet on my South Downs Double attempt. I climbed my way to the top of the hill hoping to get some rest on the same byway back down the hill; another zig-zag that had seemed trivial on the map the day before. Deep ruts, thick mud, and a hidden under-surface of wheel shaped holes made for a slow and uncomfortable descent. I’m not sure what the opposite of zen is, but this seemed fit the bill. Crushingly, looking at the map again there was a footpath following the line of the byway just to the east, I’m sure I could have ridden that at 6:30pm in the dark on a Sunday without upsetting too many walkers?

After four hours I was back onto trails I know well in the Pitch and Holmbury Hill area. A few last minute route changes made on the fly, and I had upset the Garmin to the point that it thought I wasn’t following its route any more. It stopped talking to me. I felt lost without its beeps and chirps. My sense of progress had become tuned to the semi regular spacings of my course plots in Tracklogs.

I continued another hour, now on familiar trails, knowing exactly how long each part of the rest of my journey was going to take. In the cold and Dark at the top of Holmbury Hill I decided this training ride was over, so I called in a lift and headed to the Volunteer to wait in the warm by the fire. Looking back on it, although my progress was down from the first three hours, 21 km in the last two wasn’t bad given the long slow byway section and the long slow muddy climb up Pitch Hill.

It was a good training ride, ended at the right time. I’ll save the heroic efforts for the main event.