Yesterday (Saturday) I cycled 25 miles or so in absolutely perfect conditions - bright sunshine and a quiet but refreshing breeze - to and from Saundersfoot, Pembrokeshire, to register myself for the Tour of Pembrokeshire. My bike was rolling very nicely with a fresh new chain and brakeblocks and a general cleanup and I was feeling good. My speed averaged at just over 14mph for the trip, pretty good considering the steepness of a couple of hills.
Today (Sunday, obviously) I woke at 5.30am, had a hot breakfast of fried eggs and beans on toast, packed a saddlebag with food and tools and set out for the start line. It was raining, and I soon discovered it was also windy. I'd nikwaxed my windproof top, and the rain was rolling nicely off and my armwarmers were keeping the chills at bay. My legs, however, were soon completely numb from the knees down (no exaggeration). I got to Saundersfoot later than expected due to a 9mph average speed, and only had a couple of minutes to get in line for the first bunch to go. I'd met my friend Paul at the line, who was acting as a motorcycle marshall. He thought I was bonkers to even turn up.
Carbon-framed bike straddled by lithe-limbed and callow youths streamed past me up the very steep climb out of Saundersfoot, and continued to do so for the rest of the morning, though not quite as frequently.
My original intent was to beat my previous long-distance record of 95 miles in a day, and complete the 117 mile long course. I didn't care what time I did it in. However, it was now patently obvious that conditions were about as unfavourable as it gets, and that there was going to be no letup within the forseeable future. I had the option of shorter 80 mile or 60 mile courses, but they all ran together for the first 10 or 15 miles, when the longer course split off to go up and around the Preseli Hills. When we came to the junction I had no hesitation in selecting the easier option.
When I say "easier", I of course mean "shorter". There was nothing easy about it. There is no word for flat in Pembrokeshire.
After around 40 miles, we reached the first Feeding Station. I'd already stopped for a snack about 5 miles back, but was ready for a little rest, and further fillage. Free food is free food.
I think I'd decided then that as the route passed within a few hundred yards of my house I wouldn't be going any further than that. There didn't seem to be much point. When I reached Pembroke Dock I'd covered just over 60 miles, in 6.5 hours, with a couple of lengthy stops, in terrible conditions. I'm happy with that, for now.
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