Cold towels and a cheer, but it is a beer I’ll take for my reward

This is my fifth Coast to Coast ride and it is has been a great way to gauge my cycling progress.  The first time I rode the course I suffered the last 60km, constantly struggling to stay in the group.  There were no turns at the front from me as I tried desperately to conserve energy and in the last 10km I was dropped with the other stragglers one by one for a lonely ride to the finish.  Once you’ve blown, that is it – game over.  The second event and I was sitting a little more comfortably in the peloton; the third time I was putting in strong pulls at the front and by the fourth event I was definitely holding my own with the big boys.  While I still consider myself new cycling, certainly compared to many others out on the road, I take comfort in feeling how much I have progressed over the last five years.  So what for today – an epic solo breakaway?  Let’s see how the next thirty minutes evolve...

The leading group of 30 or so riders settles into a steady routine: two-by-two, do your turn, peel off; organised.  But then the side wind strengthens – no one wants to be in the right line, coast side, taking the wind. An echelon forms, riders looking for protection from the wind behind others, the left line is pushed out into the middle of the road – riding is now dangerous, the tension is palpable.  Cars overtake far too close, we are taking up too much of the road.  Curses are muttered; an accident is waiting to happen and we all know it but are somehow powerless to prevent it.  The peloton is tense, nervous.  Some riders need to move right and take the wind.  A road captain needs to take charge and sort this shit out – maybe now is the right time for that solo breakaway?  30 kilometres to go, too far.  And then, without a word, the peloton calms down.  Like a school of fish, the chaos settles and the peloton returns to a steady routine.  Tetchiness gone.

20 kilometres to go and a few last short hills for the tired legs.  On my first few Coast to Coast rides it is about now that I fell off – shattered – but today I’m feeling strong.  Let’s smash this group apart – “I’ll go” – did I really say that?  Next turn on the front I put the hammer down, if only for my own benefit.  Did it make a difference?  I doubt it.  Then I see Elton moves past with a knowing tap of Nick’s shoulder: could a small breakaway take everyone by surprise?  But then someone attacks off the front – less than 5km to go.  He won’t make it on his own.  He remains out in front by 30m or so.  No one wants to chase him down, expend the energy on behalf of the rest of us. He will tire on his own accord.  But he isn’t.  Then Richard gets to the front, adrenaline pumping after his chase back from his puncture, “no way I’m letting that bugger win – I saw him holding onto a car in the mountains!”  Ahh, doping in cycling exists, whatever the level...

Ten riders left for the final km – I’ll have a pop!  No – didn’t accelerate with enough.  Maybe the new bike really would make a difference, or should I have thrown my water bottle to lessen the load like the pros?  A sprint it is to the line but by now I’ll take finishing with the big boys knowing that I’ve finished stronger than before.  400, 300m to go – no chance.  I’ll take 6^th.  Was that Elton up ahead?  Nick is close behind.  At least we put the most kilometres in today... 

We arrive to a welcoming reception at the Le Meriden hotel in Fujairah – cold towels and a cheer, but it is a beer I’ll take for my reward.  I feel pleased with myself: 240km today, my furthest to date, and a strong finish.  Until I met Kath afterwards who ran the route!  Running the same Coast to Coast 220km route having set off the night before – chapeau and hats off indeed!  Amazing! Now ultra-running; that gets me thinking...