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.

Did I mention hills?

Training day…

A couple of weeks ago I got my cycling top from MS Society. With the latest bike (I’ll get round to the pitfalls of bikes eventually) been serviced at Specialized Kingston, I thought I’d better get round to some proper cycling round Surrey.

So on an early Friday morning, where I’d usually be getting ready to head to work – panniers etc, I slung the saddlebag on and off I went. Through Esher, up Oxshott, yes I was being one of the weekend wheelies – but on a Friday!

Heading out of the burbs on a sunny weekday morning is wonderful. The majority of traffic is heading the other way and those going your's seem to be more relaxed as they note the ever-growing queues the other side of the dotted lines.

I was only ever really going out for a couple of hours but as I hit the Leatherhead bypass, I had butterflies and it wasn’t just the hurtling down at 40mph that was causing it. Could I get up Box Hill? If I couldn’t get up Box Hill, how on earth could I even think about Leith Hill?  I have done some hills before but there is something about those two, which made me gulp.

As I looked up at the south face of Box Hill, I took a deep breath. I'd walk up that hill with the dogs, I’d bombed down it on a sled, and yes I had cycled up it but that was some 29 years previously.

For the experienced cyclist, they saw this…

That’s not what I saw…

 Pushing onwards and upwards, I heard the tell tale click of someone who could afford better shifters. Looking behind, swish, swish, swish, swish, four club riders sped past me as my legs span and span hoping to keep up my own momentum.

I looked up to see them disappearing round the bend of the first Zig, thankful that they would probably be in the fast set rather than my probable start group.

As I turned the bend to head towards the Zag, I felt the presence of another rider – seriously, when roads are quiet you do sometimes get with the Jedi in realizing someone is approaching  - Amazingly, I could still talk.

“Mate, I’d overtake me if I were you,” I wheezed.

“I’ll try, but I’m not that much faster to be honest,” he wheezed back.

Liar.

He passed me and headed up the long stretch to the final Zag, his legs pumping as he occasionally stood up to gain speed. A few minutes later he was gone.

I on the other hand was down in the granny gear, pedaling merrily away, looking at the sights around me in the hope of distracting myself. 

Round and round span my legs but strangely, as I headed around the Zag, I realised something – I’d done it.  Without stopping, without having a heart attack, without wheezing like an asthmatic in a marathon, I had got up Box Hill.

I had beaten one of the hills that I feared. According to Strava, I had averaged 8 mph. With a steady pace, I was top of the world.

Of course, there was still Leith Hill to come….

Training weekend: 3 rides

3,700 calories

Av speed 15.2 mph

Top Speed: 38.7

Total elevation: 2,839 feet

Total time in saddle: 5 hours 50 Minutes

Not so much because it's there...

...more like it’s in the way.

So there I was, being passed by five year olds on stabilisers but feeling great with it. But then I had an idea…why not cycle to work? Sure you’ve only been back on a bike for a month or so. Sure, your idea of speed has a tortoise looking in contempt at you but why not? Surely I could do it?

So first I had to plan a route. Being on a hybrid meant that I could veer off-road down tracks and bridle paths rather than stick to the tarmac.  So which route?

The route I chose took me through a couple of bridle paths, Nonsuch Park and onto the A232. I thought, hey that will be fine! But I didn’t count on one-thing…hills.

When I mentioned this on Cyclechat, a local lass on there said “What hills?” They may have not been hills to her, but to me they were Cols. They were Alpine passes.

I see these towering mountains of doom, these Everests, thinking of how on earth was a big fat bear meant to get halfway up, let alone over the top…

Others see a speed hump.

So I did what I have done since the start and hit the web. All of a sudden I was confronted by some really weird language – cadence? Grinding? What on earth was everyone talking about?

As far as I could tell, all those cyclists spinning like loons had not, unlike me, dropped down too many gears but were increasing their spin – this is cadence. Good cadence is meant to mean good climbing. Grinding was when you are in too big a gear and you slowly pedal..your..way..up (I think...trust me, the gearing on bikes appears to be the reverse of cars!).

So I went on a practice run. After risking limb at Chessington and a nice jaunt through Nonsuch Park, I hit the A232.

The one thing you will notice when you start is that all these roads that appear flat, are not necessarily so.

There you are pedaling away but then you suddenly start slowing down, So you push up a bit and you still slow down – bugger, it’s an incline. But that’s OK. It will soon be over.

Not on this road. After the lights, there is a slope up. Argh! And from a standing start. You push, you weave but, but, before you know it, you’re at the top.

Amazing, King of the Hill. I can do this, you think as you freewheel down the other side.

Of course what you forget is that a lot of Surrey runs on ridges, that means ups as well as downs.

Just pass Sutton, there’s a hill that even now can get to me. It doesn’t matter if you’ve managed to get your speed up on the previous downhill, gravity is your mistress and boy is she angry.  About half way up, my legs start moaning. I am now standing, bobbing and weaving and thinking the chant that goes into everyone who’s rubbish at hills' heads at this time: “Don’t stop, mustn’t walk. Don’t stop, mustn’t walk…”

But you’re out the otherside. Again, that elation when you haven’t stopped. Sure, you’re riding at 5mph, your legs are now jelly, your heart is beating like the timpani section and Niagara falls seems to have taken root in your helmet, but you’ve done it…until the next one.

Now, most of Ride London is fairly flat but for a big lump like me, I have to start training to get past Pyrford, Leith Hill, Box Hill and Wimbledon Hill. On top of that you have the ups and downs round Oxshott which, although slight, can happily sap my legs.

Some people have asked why should they sponsor me for cycling. After all, I cycle every day to work. But not only is it 100 miles – and having to maintain a minimum of 11.8mph  -  but, according to Sportive Cyclist I will be climbing 4,325 feet (1,318km).

And I seriously don’t like hills.