Generally speaking, I like to plan my rides a bit in advance. Knowing I was going on a family holiday to Southwold on the Suffolk coast I would normally check the sportive.com calendar in advance for local events. But work had got in the way and it was only on the Saturday morning after arriving at the seaside that I thought to check out what was on. The good news was that one of the Wiggle Super Series sportives - The Only Way Sportive - was somewhat nearby.
After a little negotiation with the management, I got the necessary pass to bugger off on a Sunday morning to go cycling and at 6am the alarm kicked me out of bed. A quick bowl of muesli and a glass of apple juice later, I was on the road by 6.30am. It was an hour long drive down to the start point, which was the Weston Community Stadium, home of Colchester United. This was something I was particularly pleased to see as the Super Us are my second team (after the mighty Arsenal) and I have twice been to Wembley to see Col U, albeit at a slightly lower skill level than I normally get with my Emirates season tickets.
The car park was already packed with cars and - still in my civilian clothing - I immediately went to registration to get registered. I was directed to the 'on the day' line, which was extremely long (the organisers later told me that it was a record number of turn up and rides for them and they had been taken by surprise). Some judicious queue negotiation (it's a lot easier without cleats on and half the people seemed to be still snoozing) meant I was signed up with my timing chip and race number pretty rapidly and then I went back to the car to get changed, discover that I had left my Garmin behind and put some more air in my tyres. Somehow I had managed to park surrounded by female competitors, which meant I had to be extra careful wriggling into my bib shorts in the front seat of the car. If someone had told me 20 years ago that I would be doing this at before 8am in a car park in Essex I'd have questioned their sanity. And yet this was what was happening.
All set and slightly alarmed not to have a bike computer, I was ready to roll shortly after 8am. We were given a briefing about road riding etiquette and then off we went. Swiftly I realised that there were not that many people who were planning to ride at speed and I latched on to two riders from the Wealden Cycling Club (from East Sussex) who looked like they knew what they were doing. They rapidly drew clear of the starting group and we rode as a group of three, taking turns on the front. After about 15km we chatted a little and they asked me if I was doing the Epic route (98 miles), which they assumed I was. I explained that I was only doing the Standard (74 miles, 121km) as I wanted to get home and see the family at a reasonable time. About a mile later one of them - they were called Andy and Andrew but I didn't work out which was which, I was thinking of them as black rear hub and white rear hub - said that I was setting a slightly too high a pace for the Epic distance and I happily said I would ride a bit more tempo. However it soon became clear that they were happy to leave me on the front, knowing I was riding 24 miles less than them. After around 16 miles the Epic/Standard split was signposted and after a brief thought that I might go with them as we were riding well together we went our separate ways, wishing each other good luck.
I soon regretted that. From riding with two good riders who were prepared to take their turn on the front, I was left on my own and I found myself largely riding the next 18 miles on my own. There were relatively few riders on the Standard route at that time and none of them going at the same pace. When I arrived at the feed stop in Lavenham there was one other rider there, although in the next three minutes it did fill up with some more riders. But they were all people I had already passed and none of them were proper candidates for a train that would get me home with minimal effort.
I set off wondering if perhaps some speedy cyclists would come past and I could latch on to the back of them but there was no joy. I was on my own and spinning away at a steady rate, although thanks to my lack of Garmin I didn't know my speed or heart rate. There's actually a lot to be said for that state of affairs and it actually makes for quite a pleasant ride to be able to look around and enjoy your surroundings, rather than staring at the statistics on your stem.
A few miles off the first feed station I found myself slowly reeling in a rider out in front of me. He seemed to be going roughly the same pace but just fractionally slower and it took me a while to haul him in. When I made the catch I greeted him and I decided I needed a chat and we rode together for a while. We seemed to be well matched and in the unspoken way of sportive riders we decided to ride together for a while. Over the next few miles I found out he was called Simon, he lived within a mile of the start of the sportive and he worked in London for a fund manager (I do remember its name but probably best to leave that detail out). Simon was a good person to ride with, ready to take his turn on the front and also pushing the pace a little, but there was one issue that was tricky. Simon had two enormous bogeys hanging out of his nostrils. Now, dear reader, tell me what the correct etiquette is for sportive riding when someone you have only just met has a pair of ginormous snot balls dangling from his nose?
I am afraid I took the easy route. It is hard to tell a total stranger that they are nasally challenged. Perhaps I should have. The sportive photographers along the route may have lost a sale when he comes to look at his visage and find that it has a couple of hinderances. Who knows? Anyway, we happily span away and even picked up a couple of extra riders on our mini train, a couple of miles out of the second feed stop, after 60 miles. Both of those riders, one of whom was wearing Dutch team shorts and looked like he might be a strong rider, looked like we had pushed them pretty hard.
A brief fill up with a banana and some jelly beans and then we were on our way for the final 14 miles. The two extra riders came with us for a short while but I was pushing hard on the front to get home and when I glanced back just Simon was still with me.
The last stretch home contained a couple of steep climbs and I had a small pang of regret on the first one that I had sworn that I would get round the route in just the big ring. In retrospect I am not sure what I was thinking - aren't gears meant for hills? - but it seemed like a good way to test the legs and build strength. It did mean that on the steeper sections my legs were suffering a little. Simon gapped me by about 10 metres on the first climb and I think probably eased up a little to let me get back on but on the second climb I could tell we were both probably a little knackered.
Not knowing it, I asked Simon how far it was to go and he said it was less than a mile. Shortly afterwards we came over a bridge over the A12 and turned sharp left into the stadium car park and I got into the drops for a completely unnecessary sprint to the finish line. Without my Garmin I had no idea how long I had taken but it turned out I had done the 74 miles (121km) in 4:19 for an average speed of 17.14 miles per hour (27.58km/h), over a course that had 2,516 feet (767 metres) of climbing. Gold time was 4:46 so I was well within that, which was pleasing given how badly I had done in the Maratona slightly over a month earlier. It was funny that after I finished a woman in the car park commented that I must have found it a lot easier than the Maratona (I was wearing the jersey from that) and I have to say it was comparatively a stroll in the park. The fastest finisher of the Standard route finished in 3:31, according to the official results, which was pretty speedy if true (it's possible they rode the short course instead but had entered the Standard).
It had been a very enjoyable ride. The route was largely along small country lanes and there had been little traffic, the only major obstacle being plenty of combine harvesters. The route was extremely well signed and all credit to UK Cycling Events, who run the Wiggle Super Series of sportives, for plotting a great route and for making sure that at no point did I wonder if we had strayed off course, which is unusual for a sportive. The route took us through pretty villages like Hadleigh, Lavenham and Stoke-by-Nayland and was a very good advertisement for the beauty of the Essex/Suffolk borders. The feed stops were reasonably well stocked - the standard bananas, jelly beans, fig rolls, some slightly dry flapjacks, water and energy drinks - and the only thing I thought was missing were signs saying 10 miles to go and 5 miles to go, which I always think gives riders a psychological boost at the end of a ride (although these would have been unnecessary if I had taken my bike computer).
Although I didn't have to pay to ride as I had a press place, I would have happily paid £35 for the sign posting, feed stops and the T shirt that is given to all finishers (and a medal too). Others may quibble about the price of sportives but with 311 riders taking part in the Epic (98 miles), 177 doing the Standard like me and 189 doing the short course (51 miles) it is clear there is a strong demand for such events and plenty of people also see it as good value.
And so finally, what should I have said to Simon about his bogeys? After we had crossed the line I felt I had to tell him and I think he was grateful for the information. Now I am wondering whether I should have said something 30 miles earlier!
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