I'd signed up Andy, my coach and co rider on my first Classic and Nick, another strong rider from the Coffee Club as my domestiques. The plan was for Nick to pull me along the flats and Andy to pace me up the hills. Things did not however quite go to plan.
Two weeks of wine and cheese in France the week before the ride, meant I would be carrying an additional 0.5 kg up those hills. Nick raised the flag that he too had been off the bike 2 weeks and was below par, and then Andy had to drop from the team! Not the best preparation for what is probably one of the most challenging amateur UK cycling events.
Since returning from France, the weather at home had been as hot as the Mediterranean version I'd just left. It was looking like we were in for a scorching ride, so I ditched the tool box and added a second water bottle to the bike. As the day got closer, the weather seemed to be looking a little odd for the Sunday in question. A black rain cloud and lightening strike had been added to the day's weather chart! The question of what to wear is hard enough when you know the weather, but this added a complexity that sent me into a flat spin!
On the morning of the ride I awoke early and could have been on the road easily an hour before the agreed 6:30 am pickup time. Nick was, however, half an hour late! I don't do late, so this did not put me in a good place. We arrived at the designated carpark to find no marshals. On previous events I had relied on Andy to know how we got to the start. My sense of direction is pitiful. With no Andy we relied on Google Maps to set us off in the right direction.
Numbers pined on jerseys and timing chips affixed to helmets we made our way to the start. We were led out over a 2 mile stretch of suburbia to the timed start on the edge of Dartmoor. I activated my Garmin computer as we crossed the line and the 4hr 35min countdown, the time required for gold, displayed on my screen. We'd had a few drops of rain but nothing to make us think we should have packed our jackets. The sky looked brooding but we were confident any rain would fall elsewhere. Just a few minutes after entering the Dartmoor National Park, the heavens opened and the taps were not turned off until we exited the park some 4 hours later!
The hills were not too troublesome as we picked our way through dismounted walking riders and navigated the scree strewn gushing river beds which had earlier been smooth sun scorched asphalt. En route a rider had misread the conditions on a steep downhill section through trees and an ambulance now blocked our path as he / she received medical attention. At the Princetown feed station I was keen to push on, the rain had ensured I'd not drank dry my bottles, I had packed enough food for a weekend safari and my legs were feeling almost good, but Nick required a pit stop. This brought back memories of my first Classic where it was I who dithered in the feed zone and ended missing silver by a few minutes
Back in the race, we ground our way over the undulating moorland to the finish at Newton Abbot. The home stretch was fast as Nick called out that his computer reported we may just make that gold time and led the charge for home. My computer had given up some time back when the torrent of rain on the touch screen took away any control over the view I may have wanted to see. It was stuck alternating, at the will of nature, between a map of the moor and some configuration data of absolutely no interest nor use to me, I just wanted to know how much time I had left to secure gold!
Riding into Newton Abbot, the sun came out and the rain ceased. It crossed my mind that may be all was going to be OK after all. We secured our bikes in the parc fermé and trotted gingerly over slippery damp flooring into race HQ for our times .. the lady behind the computer terminal gave me ecstatic congratulations .. "4hrs 45mins, you've won Silver!" ... I never heard what followed, but I have a memory of her face dropping when I did not react the way I should to receiving my silver medal. Strava reports my actual ride time as 4hrs 35mins 59 secs .. thus, without the ambulance and feed station delays, I would still have missed gold by 59 secs!
I can now understand how those Olympians feel stood on the second step of the podium. In contrast to the time I won bronze back in 2014, we took no photos of us proudly wearing our medals, we did not wonder the post ride festival adorned in bling .. we just grabbed a sandwich and sat drip drying on a bench under the warming sun, dreaming of what might have been.
