Pirate Sun Feb 01, 2015 6:25 pm
One of the advantages about writing in this forum is that you can write about the Saturday club run from your own point of view. I was thinking that if Martin was to compile a post ride analysis he might regale us with the tale of the Cheddar Gorge Ascent from the pointy end. I'll do it instead then and I might give myself a mention.
Firstly though, there seemed to be an incredible amount of faffing, on my part after the puncture I suffered on the way to Sandford. Luckily I had the company of Neil, who incidentally has a big one, to assist me with my quick release. . . . . . yes I was referring to his big pump. Once we had gathered ourselves we found that the group had disappeared into thin air - literally! Consequentially we gave chase, but by the time we hit the Axbridge Bypass the peloton was already at ramming speed. There's never a passing truck to draught behind when you need one. "Hey look, there's a passing truck . . . . ah, Neil's already seen it!" From my point of view his tyre must have been squealing against the lorry's rear bumper. Anyway, as I failed to hear Ivan's pre ride route summary at Priory I was surprised by the left turn at the garage. I then realised that Ivan must be taking us up the gorge, ooh er missus!
Having ranted to Cheddar from the puncture incident I knew that my preparation for climbing the gorge was bollox. However, as Martin and Adrian were bouncing about on the front, eager to take the title I had to attempt to chase. Those two are not competitive at all - no, not really! So, just before the first left hairpin I decided that passing them would be a fun thing to do. 'Fun' now there's an interesting word, defined perhaps by lactic acid, screaming legs and an inability to breathe correctly. Nonetheless, it happened and my comfort zone went AWOL. After the stupidly steep hairpin, when I couldn't breathe at all, I glanced behind and Martin was closing me down, which to be honest was to be expected really! A bit further up and I could hear the distinct sound of somebody behind me, somebody better at climbing than me and someone who's going to dump all over me. He pulled up alongside and passed me with apparent ease. Hang on, who the f@#*s that? Later on I would meet another Paul, also born in Wales and also a threat to those that want to come first. So, I continued to push myself up the long and winding road, being psychologically pulled by Paul and pushed by Martin. Paul must have gained a good 75m on me, but that was all I could allow, so I stayed behind and maintained the gap. Near the top, as the road started to level off I composed myself and channelled my remaining energy into my legs. I was pleased with my overtaking speed, but I knew I couldn't flag now or I would lose it all, so I continued to push and . . . .
. . . he passed me anyway. Well done Paul from Neath, nice to meet you. You know that you’re better off staying with us rather than doing a Sunday ride with the other lot . . . don’t you?