Boxing day blues

It should not have, but did.

Boxing Day, you know, the day after Christmas Day, well it wasn’t as it was supposed to be.

The NLTTA decided to we needed a ten mile time trial to spice up the festive season and so the event was set. As it was a ‘sign on the line’ event no entry forms were required. Since the event was posted I had long thought, yes, I’ll do it, as long as there’s no snow, no ice and no rain.

Dave Bisset had long since supported the event volunteering to marshal, push off or whatever was required so Bolton clarion would at least be involved one way or another. Now if I entered we, Bolton clarion would be on the official start sheet of the first NLTTA Christmas ‘10’

All I needed was the assurance of a nice summery day for the time trial, and sure enough the good old Met Office duly obliged with a superb forecast for the day.

Wall to wall sunshine, wintery sunshine with early frost, right that’ll do me, I’m going.

Christmas night and the starry skies predicted were not in sight, in fact it was raining, ah well perhaps it will clear during the early hours of morning, it didn’t.

I got up early and began to get my stuff ready even though the clear skies had still not put in an appearance, at least there will be no frost and ice, so what if the clear skies had not yet appeared, they are telling me on the breakfast telly it’s going to be a dry day.

Having been stuffed with turkey, mash, sausage, sprouts, carrots, stuffing, gravy, then topped up with Christmas pudding covered by an unhealthy jugful of cream the day before, breakfast was not really an option, coffee, just coffee.

Car loaded I was off, 9 am with car lights on as it was still dark, not even a chink of light in the darkness overhead, well it’ll be ok, they said so on the telly.

Signing on was 10 am onwards and I was obviously keen as I arrived early enough to claim number one spot at 9.45. A Berlingo told me Dave Bisset had arrived and according to the organiser was already scouting the course, what for I’m not sure, however he was scouting.

Still under a dark grey canopy I optimistically set up the turbo trainer and my bike, ably assisted by a now returned Dave Bisset, who enthusiastically admired my new time trial bike. When I say ‘new’ it is merely the new construction of parts already in my possession hung on to a ‘new’ time trial frame Geoff Smith has been trying to sell me for ten years.

Turbo set up, bike mounted to it, and a few revs to check gears etc are working ok, it was fine but would probably need fine tuning after the first ride over ten miles. Ten minutes into this trial of gears etc it started to rain, I covered the seat with a plastic shopping bag and sat in the car awaiting the dry all day ‘day’ to appear. As I sat there the rain began to absolutely pour down, I looked at the jersey with the number ‘fifteen’ pinned to it, looked through the water cascading down the windscreen at the even darker slow moving clouds, no way I thought, the number would have to be returned and my name added to the dreaded capitals, DNS.

I constantly looked at my watch, the start time was getting ever closer, a few brave souls began to get their bikes out to warm up, warm up, it was cold and very wet. Former Bolton member Sean Warren was one of the first to make a move, is he mad, surely he’s not going to warm up in this heavy rain, he was.

Suddenly the rain stopped, should I or shouldn’t I, that was the question, mad or what?

By now it was too late to start warming up on the turbo trainer so it was packed away and the bike readied for the off. The rain may have stopped but the roads were awash, it was not going to be the comfortable ride the Met had forecast.

At least I was suitably attired for the cold wet stuff, Aldi merino long johns and vest, Aldi waterproof socks, some little comfort was gained by the prospect of dry warm feet even if the other 95% was going to be sodden as I made my way to the start.

Normally I like to get the 77 year old legs moving with a warm up of at least 45 minutes but today it was not to be but the biggest problem would be my breathing, and so it proved. I had been stupid enough, again, to take my inhaler but not use it and I was seven miles into the ten before I could even partially control the gasping, by which time the legs were wondering whether or not to give up. Well it’s only a Christmas festivity ride, enjoy it, it’s only half an hour or so of suffering and think of the calories you will burn off.

The finish line approaches, that’s it, all over, I’ve survived, time? Don’t even think about it, after all it’s only an enjoyable Christmas ride.