The Club Ten Champs.
Since returning from the Scarborough Easter
Meet I began to cough, a dry niggling cough that seemed insignificant to begin
with. The cough was dry so I dismissed it as a cold due to lack of mucus and
blocked runny nose. However the cough began to be so irritating I could not
sleep, night time seemed to make matters worse.
As I was due a blood test, my annual PSA count
that allegedly checks progress or lack of, my prostate condition, I asked for a
doctors appointment fearing by now a chest infection.
The doctor listened to my tale of woe,
consulted the desk top PC then began to write. First up was a card to present
to the walk in centre at Bolton One for an x ray, second was a prescription for
an inhaler to help my wheezing. On my x ray card was the information that I was
an ex smoker, time to worry?
I picked up the inhaler on the way out and went
straight to the x ray dept, despite a good number of people present the service
was surprisingly quick.
Friday evening I was informed by the doctors
surgery my x ray revealed a chest infection, pick up medication on Saturday
morning, antibiotics had been prescribed.
The medication had the name Amoxillin on the
box, a bit of worry crossed my mind, wasn’t this that I once reacted to years
ago after a visit to the dentist. No matter, start the treatment, the cough by
now was a real pain, real heavy coughing that made the ribs and stomach hurt. I
was relieved that the medication would work quick time, wouldn’t it?
While all this was going on the club ten mile
championship was upcoming, the Tarleton tens were starting and I had entered on
line a month in advance, crikey, if this doesn’t shift I won’t be able to ride.
One week on and as the last tablet of the
medication taken, I was in a desperate situation, something had to be wrong,
the antibiotics had not worked and what’s more I was worse than ever. The ribs
were aching from the non stop coughing and my stomach felt like I had been
doing six pack crunches non stop, oh the pain.
By one thirty in the morning my chest was caving
in, the inhaler was empty and I was breathless, it was like my insides were
expanding against my lungs and was on fire, jeeze, I’m having a heart attack or
a violent reaction to the antibiotics.
In desperation I got into the car and presented
myself to the A & E department, god I hope it’s not full of drunks.
I was seen to in quick time, only one drunk and
one overdose case. A blood pressure test then a double dose of nebuliser fed
through a mask to ease the breathing, a chest x ray and a blood test, wow, I’m
doing well. All this takes time however and night becomes early dawn, the young
doctor apologises for the time taken but explains he is awaiting the blood
results, at last they arrive.
As before the chest x ray revealed nothing
other than clear, that’s a relief, but, the chest infection is a viral
infection and a virus does not respond to antibiotics, at last an explanation
that solves the mystery of why I was getting worse and not better. Coupled with
all this coughing and infection was the fact I had suffered an asthma attack
that exacerbated the problem, hence the wheezing and breathing problem. The bad
news was the virus was medically untreatable, it would clear up on it’s own, no
time table, but it would go eventually. So the good news was my chest was,
apart from the virus, clear, but how long before the coughing would stop was
anybody’s guess. Over the counter cough tablets etc from the chemist would be
the best bet but I was given tablets for the painful ribs and six pack.
Another trip to the doctors in an urgently
sought appointment led to a prescription for the treatment of the asthma
problem that was not helping the chest virus, two differing inhalers were
obtained that eased the wheezing but did little for the continuing hard cough.
So what’s all this preamble got to do with the
club ten champs? Well despite my problems I really wanted to ride the event, as
unprepared as I was. I had hoped to ride a couple of the evening tens at
Tarleton in preparation for the event, after all we, ( I ) had thrown down a
challenge to Bury clarion to encourage inter club rivalry. At least I had the
sense to step back from riding while coughing and limiting myself to a couple
of gentle rides just to get out in the fresh air. As a result I had been
virtually cycle inactive for a month, even my turbo trainer was sulking at me.
Friday night before the Wigan Wheelers ten at
Garstang and I had the best nights sleep in a month, I slept the whole night
through and awoke to a cough free morning. What a relief, I had been agonising
over should I ride or should I not ride, that is the question, now I had a
clear answer, I would ride. Wise or unwise remained to be seen, but to hell
with it you’re only seventy five once.
Now how
do you tackle a ten mile time trial with no training whatsoever, easy, if you
can ride ten miles or more, and I certainly can do more but at a relaxed pace.
As Dave Bisset frequently jests, ‘ I will try to break the hour’ for a ten, but
without jesting it is a good guide if you desperately want to ride, and I did.
Turbo training and past time trials have taught
me that I have a high heart rate during time trials, to average around 180
beats per minute is quite normal for me, so all I have to do is ride well
within my comfort zone. I set myself a target of around the 160 mark though
warming up on the turbo pre event even that seemed optimistic.
Riding down to the start in an easy gear my
computer was reading 28 mph, wow, then I was passed by a guy going twice my
speed, I realised that something was amiss. I had changed the battery prior to
riding and through squinted eyes managed make out the letters KPH instead of
MPH, the computer had gone back to default, what a shame I was now back down to
earth with the emphasis on easy not hard.
Being early to the start I continued to limber
up easily on a quiet circuit close to the start and with an eye on the watch
counted down the time to the off.
I was now fully aware of just how windy the
afternoon was and despite lots of blue sky and sunshine there was a chill in
the air.
A headwind start up the slight incline from the
54321 countdown made me even more conscious of the need to keep my heart rate
in the required range. The 160 I found difficult on the turbo trainer in warm
up was passed within the first half mile, here we go again. Reaching the first
level bit I tried to control my pace and heart rate, it was difficult, it may
have been a level bit but the strong headwind did its best to turn it into
another incline.
The going was now easier with slight downward
inclines but my heart beat refused to believe it and promptly sought to find
its own level, soon 170 plus was on the clock face. Despite this high level I
was not uncomfortable, sure my legs were feeling it but surprisingly no where
near what I expected.
About a mile from the half way roundabout
traffic ahead of me began to slow and hazard lights began to flash. In the
middle of the road lay a crashed motor bike along with lots of debris, the
unfortunate rider was lay on the roadside surrounded by people I assumed to be
giving first aid.
I threaded my way past the obstacle and resumed
my battle with the wind, the incline up to the roundabout and my ever
increasing heart rate.
Circling the half way point I now looked
forward to the ‘easy’ return with a nice tail wind, surely the old heart rate
would welcome this respite and behave in a reasonable manner. The other
contestants were obviously having no such problems as they passed me at speed,
my mind blocked this out with ‘it’s your pace that counts’ keep in control.
The easy trip back was minimally interrupted
again by the traffic tail back at the accident scene then it was back to the
duel between me and my heart rate. During this ‘easier’ return leg the inclines
pushed the heartbeat into the 180’s, again with no discomfort but I was
thinking only of getting to the finish, too high a heart rate would risk a
massive blow out and a complete loss of legs. I tried to regain a more
conservative pace to eke out the reserves, I managed a little reduction along
with a reduction in pace but I was intent on a flourishing finish. Surprisingly
the legs were holding up quite well, hurting a bit but no sign of ‘jelly legs’
and this allowed a bit of confidence of making it back.
The same incline from the start was reached and
I gave as much as I could down to the finish, heart rate be blowed as 186 was
reached, a breathless shout of ‘69’ to the time keeper signified an end to my
personal battle to complete the club ten mile championship. Time taken was
secondary to a feeling of elation at having done ten miles at a pace above the
pottering rate I have been condemned to over the past weeks and I survived.
You will by now know we have a new worthy
champion in Dave Owen, congrats to him, and congrats too to Mark Ainsworth
having the presence of mind during his ride to recognise no one was helping the
injured motor cyclist in a proper manner, Mark gave up his chance of a medal
with an act of humanity too little seen today.
William Cocker also supported the event to gain
the silver award in a very respectful time for a complete novice, well done
Will.
Tales of time trialling up and down the country
are probably numerous, I don’t consider mine to be unique but oddly not too
many are recorded, boring or not, it’s my story.
