Taking the racing line on the 125Km New Forest Rattler
Camping in the New Forest is a wonderful experience. Sometimes the native wild horses snuffle around in your tent for food and end up wearing it as a ceremonial headdress, or, as in our case, some years ago a squirrel ate one of our nutty breakfast bars (such a cliche) and very noisy it was too. None the less, it's great to be so close to nature. Something which was quite unnatural however, occurred at about 4.00am, when my wife and I were abruptly awoken from our deep slumber by the screeching of tyres, an engine under heavy breaking and the inevitable loud dull thud of a moving metal object hitting something sturdy and unmovable. We didn't dream this, as many of those lucky enough to be camping in the grounds of Moyles Court School will testify. As the car was heard reversing, albeit with a slightly less than healthy noise, we assumed that the occupants were unharmed and so returned to the arms of Morpheus for a further 3 Hours.
On awaking at 7.00am proper and feeling very well rested, I opened the tent to reveal a different world to the one that I had last seen on zipping up the door. Cyclists everywhere, people running around with clipboards, ladies serving porridge and tea and most essentially, Claud the Butler (http://www.claudthebutler.co.uk/) was serving his most excellent array of coffee, cakes and smoothies.
I stumbled out of the tent and over to the porridge stand. I have a pre-ride routine to adhere to. Before any cycling in the morning, I make sure of eating about an hour beforehand, followed by a cup of tea and a glass of diluted cordial. This regime has served me well in 2012.
Lara ensures that I have sun cream applied on all my exposed areas- factor 50 as it was due to be very hot and in fact temperatures reached 30°C. I knew I'd be under the sun's harsh rays for at least four and a half hours and sunburn is not fun.
People start shuffling their bikes towards the start line, so I make my way over the field and join the others wishing to make an early start. 8.30am on the dot and we were off.
The route was fairly flat, with only one hill of significance and perhaps two to three sections which could be described as a moderately long steady ascent with nothing more than 6-7% to offer. I had decided to try and maintain a high tempo and had trained to do so in North Yorkshire the weeks previous.
Straight out over the start line and off towards the Red Shoot Inn. I found rhythm fairly quickly and was soon enjoying the pleasant surroundings of the new forest. One of my favourite descents is in the New Forest, just before you get to the M27 underpass on Furzley Lane. Its beauty is in its alpine feel and smooth tarmac. I seem to remember that it went on for a long way - not so today, its over in a flash. As are the first 25 miles. It took me about 1hr 25 minutes at an average of about 18.0 mph or 30 Kph for metric enthusiasts. Luckily I had made my drink a bit too strong, so the first feed station was an ideal opportunity to dilute it down to normal strength. I had a flapjack too. The second 25 miles went past fairly quickly too. I didn't feel like I was pushing it, but I must have been my average was at about 17.8 mph. I felt good. I was mixing it up with a couple of groups, passing through twee villages . I had been pedalling at nice even cadence, not too high, but high enough. 2Hrs 50 mins have gone and were two thirds of the way around. I stop for 5 minutes at feed station 2. I take on an energy gel - my second of the day and refill the bottle. I stretch out my legs and pop a flapjack into the fuel tank.
Away we go for the last leg and its not too long before I feel troubled in a physiological way. It was hot and I started to feel if not unwell then a bit depleted. This is commonly known as hitting the wall. Despite the stunning scenery, I must say that I noticed very little about the next 10 miles. I just fuelled up and hydrated. Even the most innocuous of climbs became demanding. I told myself that I must ride through the discomfort. The photographs of myself along that 10 mile stretch, tell the story of a man in need of a finish line.
Feeling Better - standing up to put the hammer down.
At about 5 miles from the finishing line came Blissford Hill. Not particularly long, but it does weigh in with a 25% gradient. If I could make it up that, then the ride would be a coast from there. 11 miles to go, 10 miles, 9, 8. I kept counting down the miles, knowing that Lara would be waiting for me and hopefully with an ice cold drink. I reflected on our good life together, keeping my mental state positive. Then Blissford Hill arrived. I couldn't get a long run up for it as two cars were coming up the oppposite way. There was also a bit of a bottle neck of cyclists too, choosing, probably sensibly, to walk up the hill. I rode it out in the lowest gear (34,28). Standing up to push me and the bike over the pinnacle. I had made it! and best of all, I felt better - enough to crack the last 5 miles at a pace more familair.
With the finish line in sight I put the hammer down. I saw Lara waiting and clapping at the side of the road with other onlookers. I felt emotional. I gave her a salute. An amazing ride in a beautiful corner of England. 4hrs 30 minutes, averaging 17.2 mph. I think that deserves a celebratory drink.
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