Distress At Tarleton ten mile time trial.

Distress at Tarleton

Being of the good boy scout mentality I prepared for the evening time trial at Tarleton, run by Southport CC, with great care.

Check my bike, put chest strap (frequently forgotten) for heart rate monitor in bag, club jersey, put heart rate monitor on the bars, also frequently forgotten. Goggles, also known as shades, frequently forgotten, in the bag, check bag for mitts , shorts, (occasionally forgotten) spare tub and co2 inflator, shoes,(occasionally forgotten) good, all there.

Final check on tyre pressures, here things begin to unravel. While inflating rear wheel to around 120 lbs I notice the tub looks a bit mis-shapen, further investigation reveals why when warming up on the turbo trainer there was a slight regular bump on the wheel. The tub was approaching end of life, jeeze what a time to find out, what to do? The answer was my high pressure lightweight wheels I used last year, all I need now is spare innertube and tyre levers. Just in case of a puncture I like to be prepared to avoid a long walk back to the start.

Right, pump up the spare wheels, fit a magnet to the front wheel, there I’ve thought of everything, load up the car let’s go.

I arrived early at the lay by, parked near my spot with a bit of level sidewalk for the turbo trainer, I was second car to arrive and was well away from the other car, over 100 yards or so.

I went for relief at the spot well used by all competitors, came back and could not believe what I saw, a huge van had decided to park right over my level bit for the turbo, four feet from my backend, the guy had a hundred yards to park in and chose to rob me of warming up space.  Jeeze!

I decided to reposition my spot at right angles to the road and managed to level the trainer, just as I had set up the trainer the guy with the van offered to move his van back a bit, politely through gritted teeth I said it was ok.

While going through the pre event ritual I took stock of the wind, quite strong and according to the forecast estimated to be 18 mph, wow it could be a struggle.

I took out the wheels then the bike from the car, put in the front wheel, checked out the magnet placement, yep, the speed is registering, then put in the back wheel.

That dreaded ‘I don’t believe it’ moment came like a lightning bolt, there was no skewer in the back wheel, in my haste to swap wheels I failed to notice the damn quick release was missing.

I sat in the car and reflected in misery, but as I reflected I was mindful that the wind was waving the trees back and forth with strong gusts. I was reluctant to try and borrow a spare quick release fearing my evening of woe may result in further disaster in a battle against the wind resulting in some kind soul wondering if they would ever see their spare skewer again

I decided to make the return home, regretful on one hand and cheered by the fact that I was avoiding more misery battling the wind for ten miles.

I arrived home and watched the last ten k of the Giro, later I received the results from Tarleton by email, I was cheered by the fact Andy Horner was over a minute down on the time he achieved the previous week, not in a nasty way but a realisation I would truly have been shafted by the wind.

Being forgetful can sometimes be very satisfying.   

Tour de Yorkshire, the Clarion and Me.

Tour de Yorkshire, the Clarion and Me.

I have recently watched the Tour de Yorkshire and was amazed at the amount of memories my old grey cells have retained nearly all connected with the National Clarion and Bolton Clarion.

The first stage took me down a memory lane of National Clarion Easter Meets.

Scarborough, twice, Whitby, Beverly, Bridlington.

Scarborough 2004 may evoke memories some members would prefer to forget but this particular meet for me was a reminder of just how important friendship and fellowship is within the cycling and clarion world. It was the year Amy was treated for breast cancer and while recovering we attended the Scarborough meet, where, the messages and goodwill extended to Amy will stay with me forever.

The later Scarborough meet and the Whitby meet were brought to mind as the Tour riders criss crossed the steep climbs and lanes so well known to cycle tourists and quite legendary.

Rosedale Chimney and Grosmont, the former being the most famous, while the latter reminded me graphically of the time we climbed it on the tandem. As we started the climb the local bus passed us, slowly, and the sight of the passengers coming to the back of the bus to watch us tackle the steep obstacle was a bit more than surprising. On the way up we passed a gent with sense enough to walk the hill while at the top we were greeted by a young lady, also on a bike, who greeted us with, ‘yeah ok, say you have ridden all the way up’. Despite Amy’s protest that we had indeed ridden, the young lady was unconvinced.

Whitby, I can’t forget the dismay of the Stockport clarion lads, who had ridden over, waking on the first morning to find a busted soil pipe had been spraying their bikes locked up in the rear yard during the night, yuk!

The meet began with an official welcome by the official Dracula, who of course landed on our shores and began a dark legend. A secondary attack of painful shingles had me wondering if Dracula had paid me a visit during the night.

The tv coverage of the route was superb, both air and ground camera work had me re-living the rides I have taken over the years of discovering Yorkshire both with the National and Bolton clarion. The Yorkshire Dales have always featured on the hostel weekends of Bolton section, so many of them using the Yorkshire clarion club house as HQ. I must mention here we once had the company of Legendary National secretary Marion Lamb and husband Harold.

So, for three days I was transfixed not only watching and admiring the professional cyclists but reliving  and accompanying them swooping down hill and climbing the other side, sharing the grovel and pain plus the ecstasy on reaching the top.

Never have I enjoyed bike racing so much as the Tour de Yorkshire, sheer magic and for me sheer nostalgia.