Photo: Brevets at the ready

Lady 1 “Do you think Ian knows how to suffer?”

Lady 2 “Of course not, he’s a man”

Overheard before the start of the Wìllesden Warmer 200km Saturday 24th January. It did make me smile. For the full effect imagine the exchange in Brummie accents.

Despite my general principle of not repeating various cycling challenges (except LEL and PBP) this was my third Willesden Warmer. The last two were in 2019 and 2020. On those occasions I had company. This time I rode the whole route solo. Little did I know that the speculation over suffering would be appropriate for later in the ride.

Just before the off Arnaud came to say hello. Last year we’d had a call to see if could help him with some issues he had preventing him completing audaxes in time. I focussed on the mental side of things rather than all the techie advice he’d received from others. I told him what worked for me and hoped he could benefit from something that I said. For the full effect just imagine his comments in a French accent.

Starting at Chalfont St. Peter the ride out to the half way point at Hungerford was charactersied by being overtaken repeatedly by the same people. As a lone rider I was very quick at the controls so got ahead of many riders before they reeled me in on the next leg, especially those in groups.

Only one incident to report. I had to hit the brakes and shout “Whooa” to avoid T-boning a young lady on her pony when she came out from the bridleway without looking. She was very apologetic. In all the years cycling I’m constantly amazed by the number of people, of all ages, who walk out into the road without looking. It happens all the time.

After lunch in Hungerford the very first left turn had us facing East, into the wind. It stayed that way for the entire 105 km to the finish.

Once again the same riders passed me as we headed to the information control at Kingsclere (131 km). It didn’t help that one shouted “We’ve a long way to go” as he zipped past. Thanks.

I answered the control question on my brevet card, took a quick photo and headed off again ahead of 20 or so faster riders.

To my surprise no one over took me for an hour and a half. I wondered if something had happened behind me or I was off course. It wasn’t helped when I caught a couple of faster riders stopped at the side of the road. Trish said “I don’t think we’re on the right course”. I responded “I think we are, I’ve done this ride a couple of times, it looks familiar”. For the full effect imagine her comments in an Australian accent.

As it was 6 years since I last rode the course I spent the next several kilometres doubting myself. Apart from Trish and her companion, no one else over took me. Where were they? I was feeling confused until I saw a familiar sight, the much less famous White Hart Lane, which I distinctly remembered from before. It was hard work against the wind so maybe they were struggling more than me, surely not.

Approaching the penultimate control in Winnersh (169km) things got worse. I’d forgotten to take my antacid tablets. I have no need of them normally but for any ride over 8 hours I need to them to prevent the discomfort from the acid leaking up through my hiatus hernia. It’s not pleasant.

All I could manage to eat was some porridge. My mind was taken off the unpleasantness by a curious sign in the toilets.

After Winnersh it was only 40km to the finish. But I suffered. It was dark, it started raining, the temperture dropped, the headwind persisted and I kept wanting to be sick with the acid reflux. I felt shit but I was too close to abandon so I just had to put up with it. I used two riders red lights up ahead as pacemakers.

Oh, and did I mention that after a fall on Camber Sands a few weeks ago I get pain running down my outer arm (my amateur investigation suggests the Radial nerve) which means I have to lift off the handle bars very gently before any change of position. I really do need to get professional help to sort it out.

The good news was that one thing wasn’t suffering. My legs. They felt fine which is helpful on a bike. I even managed to overtake a rider on the last climb.

At the finish I was surprised by just how few bikes there were. The organisers had arranged the finishing stickers. There were a lot of stickers still to be applied to the brevet cards. Maybe there was a lot more suffering behind me than I realised.

My finishing time was 11 hours and 15 minutes. An hour slower than my previous two outings but still two hours inside the limit. That was the effect of riding alone into the wind. Or perhaps it’s something to do with being six years older than my last attempt.

I felt bad that I couldn’t eat any of the food that was on offer. All I could manage was a couple of glasses of blackcurrent juice, a quick chat with Trish and to say thank you to Paul and the volunteers from Willesden Cycling Club.

Back at the car, even in the short time it took me to put the bike in and change my shoes I started to shiver. That’s why I just had to keep going.

I found out today that poor Arnaud withdrew at 150 km with symptoms of hyperthermia. Shaking from the cold he rightly decided that the train was the best way to get back. Such a shame.