The Next Challenge... by Skye_Trekker

Last weekend was the closest I had ever come to bottling a race.  The 10 days running up to the Etape were a disaster - my OH got shafted yet again with his leave rota as the replacement crew couldn't get visas through in time, and it did occur to me at that point that I could take the easy way out and use that as an excuse not to go.  And I did consider it I was so nervous about the race...  I had no bike either for that time as it was in for a pre-race service and as I didn't actually get it back until the day before I was due to leave for Pitlochry I could just see a complete disaster unfolding before my eyes.  In the end after a huge amount of dithering on my part RB2 stepped in and offered to stay overnight with the kids on the Saturday, so it was with some dread I picked up my bike and headed off at 6am last week to Pitlochry.  

The Weather Gods were not being kind.  The rain pelted down and the wind buffeted the car for most of the 4 hour journey and I was trying hard not to imagine what it was going to be like spending that kind of time on the bike the following day if the weather stayed the same.  I got to the campsite and pitched my car - after comparing the inside of my trekkers tent to the inside of my car the car won easily in the comfort stakes.  With the boot & middle seats folded flat I was able to fit the single mattress from the campbed in with lots of space to spare so that's what I ended up doing.  And as the wind whistled through the trees that night I actually wondered how many of the tents were actually still going to be there the next morning...

I couldn't eat any dinner on the Saturday night and I ended up going to 'bed' about 9pm just in the hope I might get some sleep over the following 7hrs or so.  Surprisingly I did. And, even better I didn't wake up to the sound of rain hitting off the car roof when the alarm went off at 5am.  Added bonus.  Burnt made myself some porridge on the flame thrower masquerading as a camping stove and got as much liquid inside me as possible before trying to decide on what cycle kit to wear. I took more with me for that one race than the 6 kids did to Aviemore at Easter.  I had every eventuality covered   It wasn't very warm at 5am and the day didn't exactly look as if it was going to improve much, so with a lot of deliberating and changing I settled eventually for 3/4 lengths and a waterproofed jacket that I can take the sleeves off if by some minor miracle the sun put an appearance in.  (needless to say, it didn't...)  Then, at 6.15 I left the campsite with a thumping heart to see what fate had in store for me.  My group was due to set off at 7.31 - there was a delay, but with4000 cyclists already in front of me it was hardly unexpected..!  Got going slowly, then checked the Garmin as we passed the campsite only to notice I had pressed 'lap' instead of start - so my time was already going to be out.  Not the best start... 

Hand on heart I remember virtually nothing about the following 5 hrs. I have been looking through race photos posted on FB and I'd swear they weren't taken where I was cycling on Sunday.  Everyone was talking about the wonderful scenery and hills etc - all I remember is being fixated with the Brooks saddle on the bike in front of me and feeling sorry when the rider went into the first feed station at 20 miles while I carried on...  The next stop was at just after 40 miles, and I'd already decided to stop there as it was at the bottom of the dreaded Schehallion and I thought giving my legs a break for 5 min would be the sensible thing to do. I managed to take a gel and half a bag of peanuts (there is only a certain amount of sweet stuff I can cope with on a long ride) before pulling back out into the road - only to find myself tucked in behind Mr Brooks saddle again   A mile or so further on came The Hill.  The timing mats bleeped and I was off.  The hill is 7k so I paced myself for that distance, thinking the timing was fromthe very bottom to the very top.  It wasn't...  It was only timed for a near vertical stretch of road.  I actually heard I was approaching it before I saw it - all I could hear was the frantic unclipping of cleats from pedals as the riders saw what was ahead of them.  It wasn't nice.  I let out an "oh sh*t", as the 2 riders beside me laughed - then they were silenced as I left them (and Mr Brooks) for dead.  All my hill training paid off and I was up and over the next timing mat before I knew it. I was a little disappointed (perverse, I know).  I had been having BIG nightmares about this hill for months and it took me all of 10m47s to climb...  The rest of the hill carried on for a few miles afterwards, but by then I was kicking myself for taking it easy during the first 40 miles to save myself for the climb. 

There was a steep descent after, and marshals were out with flags part way down the hill - we soon saw why, there had been a really nasty collision and as I passed, a rider was being stretchered into the ambulance.  I took the rest of the hill a bit slower than I normally would have after that.  The final feed station was around 60m but I was on a roll and wasn't stopping.  I'd almost got the hang of opening a gel at 22mph and getting most of the contents in my mouth (and not in the face of the rider behind me) and felt I could easily carry on to the end without another pitstop.  We'd been warned there was a final 'sting in the tail' for the last 6-7 miles back into Pitlochry, with another short, sharp climb followed by a succession of rolling hills - and as I approached it I realised exactly the road we were on as I'd cycled there last summer when I tooked the kids to PGL.  I am SO glad I knew what was coming - it was a brutal end to the race...  My thighs were screaming, the sweat was pouring off me and I could hardly breathe - and judging by the riders beside me it must have been the same for them too.  It hurt..!  But even after 75m+ I found Ihad the energy to keep going and I passed the finish line in 5hr21.01 - 25 min ahead of what I'd hoped for and 9 minutes faster than I could ever have dreamt.

I loved it.  I don't think I've had as much fun as I did on Sunday in a long time.  I love my medal and I loved the race.  It was brilliant, and I'd love to do it again.  I only hope that the road closure issues with some locals don't cause the 2012 race to be cancelled.  It wasn't as elitist as I thought - I reckoned it would be full of the cycling equivalent of Liz Yelling & Mo Farrah, but it wasn't.  There were road bikes, hybrids & MTBs, there were touring bikes with panniers (one even had a basket at the front) and there was one couple on a tandem.  So, with a bit of training is doable by most.  Any takers for next year???