Six Days

This is it, six days to go. Six days before I climb 1,400 ft (edited as I CnP'd wrongly, thanks W00hoo!) over 100 miles before collapsing in a heap in the Mall!

That’s if I finish.

Long view on the weather is either cloud or sun but to be honest I could be a meteorologist sometimes as I predict that there will be a possibility of sun, wind and rain but a lesser chance of snow as this is Southern England at the beginning of August.

I will be staying in Wapping before heading out at around sunrise to head north to the Olympic park, where helpfully I am on the other side of the start positions to the north east of the park in the green zone.

At 07.54am, I will join 25,000 other lunatics riders, I will head thorough the City into Westminster, Kensington, Richmond Park, Kingston, Hampton Court past my dad having his breakfast at Martin’s café, Walton, Weybridge, West Byfleet then Pyrford.

After Ripley, comes Horsley, Clandon then the first real climb with Newlands and the first real descent the other side. Turn at Sutton Abigner and a gentle climb into the lovely Holmbury St Mary before dropping again then a sharp ramp to Leith Hill.

Here I will cough out my other lung - which will hunt down its sinister twin left there on previous training rides - before the fast descent back to the A25 after a surprisingly annoying ramp. Right towards Westcott hitting 40-odd mph before Dorking then Box Hill. Slip into something comfortable and spin the way up the zig zags before descending again through Headley hoping not to crash on the fast left/right turn. Up into Leatherhead, struggle past the Bear, through Oxshott and bomb down to the A3. Through Esher, wave at dad if he’s at the Scilly Isles, resist temptation to turn into my road go indoors and have a lie down, Kingston, up the nasty Coombe Lane (not as nasty as its namesake but deceptively naughty when you’ve hit 85 miles or so in a ride) and the newly surfaced Worple Road.

Hope a mate has bought a beer out from the Alex, wish they hadn’t as I struggle up Wimbledon Hill, regain composure though the Common then downhill through Putney, Kings Road, Embankment, to be met by my wife and daughter somewhere past the secure zone in the Mall.

Since the turn of the year, I have (lost Strava details and short trips notwithstanding) ridden 3,500 miles, spent 244 hours and 21 minutes in the saddle and climbed 66,056 feet over 232 rides. 

I have had one service, one new chain, one cassette change and two new wheels thanks to the stars at Specialized Kingston who have had to put up with an impatient, often-confused man through these months.

I have bought shorts, lycra tops, gloves, panniers, CO2 pumps, cleaners, helmets, oil, grease, tools, socks, buffs, pumps and bottles.

I have lost around two stone in weight, I have something I believe are called muscles forming on the former continental fat shelf that was my belly.

I am no Captain Marvel by any means, but in six days’ time, I will be donning the orange, white and black of the MS Society and ride out to do something that eight months ago, I would have scoffed at if you said I would be doing Ride London.  

Please hit the button below and sponsor me or tell your friends to do so and feel free to follow my progress on the Ride London site this Sunday.

My name is Simon Miller, my rider number is 36927, I am riding because a friend suffers from MS. I am riding because MS sufferer John Hicklenton decided to make a choice in Switzerland.

I am riding because others cannot.

Going the distance

When I was a small cub, your bicycle was your passport to freedom. No longer did you have to rely on your parents to get to the library or to go to the nearest shopping area, you were free.

You’d jump on your bike and you were off. It is a cliché because it was true but in those days, you’d head off at sunrise and return at dusk.

These were the days of ET and BMX, of jumping on the bike and thinking nothing about heading into London on the A3, yep the A3 that blistering, thin fast road where nothing as really changed except the speed limit and cameras. We would happily head along it on the way to London and the comic shops and marts.

I even decided to cycle to Brighton to see if I could do it, not realising that you don’t go via Guilford, adding an extra 15 miles to my ride.

Distance, and time, was nothing to us.

But something happens. In those years from invincibility to mortality, distances start to appear longer. How long? You’ve got to be kidding?

Of course the lack of bike fitness at the start doesn’t help – where cycling five miles appeared to be a very quick way to the cardio unit – but even so, as you start and progress, distance still seem immense.

When I decided to start increasing my distances, I scoured the maps like Livingstone looking for the start of the Nile. The big journey into the great unknown.

I started going on every increasing circles wither to Richmond and back or through Molesey and round to Hersham.

The circles got bigger, I included pathways such as going through the Hinchley Woods and back round via Oxshott, across fields into Cobham. The distances each week getting larger.

And then the day I crossed over the M25.

I’d gone through Cobham and past the Plough  - an old haunt of my late teenage years – then there was a bridge on the rise. I had crossed the border, I was out of London and its burbs.

I had an immense sense of achievement and that continued when I turned round further east and headed back down Downside and came back in towards London.

If I didn’t fancy the country lanes, I could head towards Heathrow and the sprawling mass of North West London, or simply head into London itself.

As part of my training for Ride London, I have been taking segments of the course, 20, 30 miles, pushing up my range and seeing what my limits are.

Some people may now think that for me 100 miles should be a synch. I really wish it would be. I really wish that all that mileage, those hills, ascents and descents alike, the timing constraints – you must ride an average 12mph – but to be honest I don’t know.

Eventually I will attempt the route before the actual day, find out what speeds I can do over the distance, what foods I will need, what are my weaknesses (Hills!!!!) and strengths, what will hurt and where.

I may collapse in a puddle of effort and sweat.

Hell, I may do that on the day itself.

But whatever happens, I will pick myself up, walk up those hills if necessary, and finish the course.

Because a year ago, I was a bear on a clapped-out second-hand bike, scared of my lack of fitness and the lack of miles. I was a bear without a road-map and had no idea that riding for MSSociety in August was going to be the next destination.

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A Leith Hill Ride

For my second hill training, I bravely said to myself “Now it’s time for Leith Hill.”

Of all the hills on Ride London, this is the one, this is the most notorious, the one that will skin a bear alive…or so I have been told.

A Leith Hill aside: When we were cubs, my dad used to take us to Leith Hill with the dog. We would park up and then there would be a climb, literally a climb up the side of the hill until you got to the top with the Tower making it the highest point in the South.

So I knew it was tall but, unlike Box Hill, I had never, ever, cycled up the top of it so had no idea whether it was as ‘lethal’ as it was made out to be.

To warm up, I cycled to Ockham from Cobham, an incline that in previous times would see me stopping to catch a breath but was now a fairly gentle double mph ride over to the Muddy Duck then downhill past the pro-greenbelt posters to Ockham then West Horsley.

The beauty of where I now lived was that it didn’t take too long to hit country lanes. Of course, they bring a significantly higher risk than the urban environment – with speeding cars, far more blind corners and less exit chances -  but to see the fields, various kites etc flying overhead and the looming presence of them there hills pleased the soul.

So I popped up at the Epsom road and I could either turn right towards Newlands Corner or go straight over the roundabout towards Shere.

Consulting my phone it looked like I could cut across to where I wanted to go – excellent.

Or not.

You see, what I didn’t know is that that route was a masochist’s favourite. One of those routes that those weird people who love cycling up hills, purposely seek out. Seriously, take a look at them. That stare as they contemplate another ascent, where words like Cols are not swear words, where the descent is not as sort after as the reverses.

As the angle of ascent got steeper and steeper, I seriously thought of turning around and heading over Newlands – For those in the know, I had yet to experience the joys of Newlands Corner yet! – but heart pumping, sweat a sweating, time suspended, legs like lead, I kept going,

As I watched flowers grow, bloom then fade and die – such was the speed I was managing on the ramps – I really thought how the hell was I meant to cycle up Leith Hill. I was an idiot to even consider doing this feat - a grade-A pillock.

Then the hill leveled out and then descended. Oh sh….

Ducking down on the drops, I felt air pressure shoving my face backwoods, wind tearing at my tear ducts, as gravity increasingly pulled me to my doom.

I had thought it was fairly fast on the descent to Leatherhead at Box Hill but this seemed a completely different matter. Realties bent and wiggled in and out of few, each small dent in the road yawned like gaping chasms,, the road bending and stretching ahead and around me as the descent continued.

Until, the speed slackened, the wind died down, reality snapping back into shape as the bike hit the level. I had survived.

Following the death descent, I cycled over to Holmesbury St Mary’s, imbued with a renewed sense of vigour and hope. Nothing could be as bad as that climb. After twice checking to see which was my turn-off, I was hit by a massively sharp ramp that quickly dragged me down to the granny gear. But it was short and soon I turned right onto the main ascent.

I was surprised. Very surprised. This seemed even easier than Box Hill. A steady 10mph up to the top and that was that.

Into the warp speed again, internally screaming forgiveness for my pass sins, hoping that my family would be cared for as the background shifted red, I popped out on the Horsham Road…

Again…

I had only gone up the wrong bleeding side of Leith Hill.

So making sure of my route was added to the many things needed for my Ride London armoury, I cajoled my weary legs up over Coldharbour, Dorking, then Box Hill and headed home.

Promising myself that the following weekend I would do that damned hill properly.

Training weekend: 2 rides

3,097 calories

Av speed 15.3 mph

Top Speed: 39.6 mph

Total elevation: 3,763 feet

Total time in saddle: 6 hours 40 Minutes