Yesterday myself and my lovely friend Laura headed to the high street in Brentwood and set up our bikes on turbo trainers to cycle for 6 hours.  We were doing this to raise awareness and fundraise for Macmillan.  Macmillan are the chosen charity for the Newcastle to London ride we are taking part in next month.  They are there to support you after a cancer diagnosis and help you take back some control in your life. From help with money worries and advice about work, to someone who’ll listen if you just want to talk, they’re there.

We thought this was maybe something different to do and lets face it when you see two crazy women sitting on stationery bikes in your local high street it probably sparks a little curiosity.

We spoke to lots of people as the day went on including a man who has been battling leukemia since the age of 5 and it was very touching as he was with his mum who has also had cancer and they thanked us as they said without people like us raising awareness and funds for the charity they would not have received some of the invaluable help they have over the years.  Most people know someone who cancer has affected unfortunately.

We both have turbo trainers though the most I have done is 90 minutes and so there is quite a difference between that and 6 hours.  I knew this was going to be tough. And painful.  Riding on the road for 6 hours is very different but on a turbo there is no natural movement, no need to get out of your seat, no moving round corners or no getting out of your saddle so basically you get pretty sore and numb pretty quickly.

Now there is no nice way of saying it but I am sure you know what I mean when I say numb and sore – I mean our backsides and our lady parts. Sore.  Very very sore.

We were taking hourly selfies as we went on and I will admit when we got halfway there was something so great and yet also so depressing knowing we had to do the same time all over again.

We giggled through most of the day but we were both fairly certain that was delirium setting in.  There was laughing and lots of singing.  There is a song with lyrics ‘I can’t feel my face when I’m with you’ and I started singing this to Laura though the word face was replaced with…………….another word ha ha.

The worst part (apart from feeling violated by our bike saddles) was the final ten minutes that seemed to be the longest ten minutes ever.  This was shortly followed by a swift removal of ourselves from the bikes.

It was worth it though as we raised almost £300 to add to our sponsorship and got in 6 beneficial hours in the saddle covering over 100 miles.  We still have a way to go and any donations are most welcome – http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserPage.action?userUrl=Scrambled_legs_go_cycling&faId=656649&isTeam=true

Can’t say I am particularly excited at the prospect of getting back on my saddle tonight for a recovery ride!

Thank you to everyone who donated yesterday or even took to the time to come and talk to us – we had lots of people who I think just thought we were made for taking on such a challenge and you know what we are but the best ones are!

There is a cafe in Essex called The Blue Egg and it has become a bit of a haunt for cyclists over the years as there is a really really really really really really really really slim chance you may just see Alex Dowsett or even Mark Cavendish either there or whizzing past in a lycra-clad blur.

I have been meaning to get out to this place for over a year now but with one thing and another – mostly I don’t know the route there – I had not yet made it…..until yesterday.  Off we set, myself and Helen making the mistake of leaving in the middle of the school run and rush hour when traffic is at its worst but once we were out on the country roads it was fine.

Our route would take us out to The Blue Egg, see us stop for tea and cake and then return home.  It is about a 75 mile round trip from my house.  But it worked out to be just over 90 miles as we got lost several times.  I have a fancy Garmin 1000 Edge which can navigate using turn by turn instructions only it failed in an epic way and just told me I was off course for the entire route.  Thankfully I had sent the GPX file to my friend Helen and she was able to lead the way using her phone.

The ride also gave me the opportunity to try out the new club kit from Romford CC, which was amazing and really comfortable.

The file we were using I actually pinched from Strava from someone I knew who had been recently though after almost 20 miles we were being told to cycle (our road bikes) across some fields and then realised for the next 20 miles the route was in a complete straight line.  Assuming the people on the route we were trying to follow must have lost GPS signal we navigated our way staying as close to the blue line as possible without having to go across farmers fields.  It was a good job Helen was there as I would have probably had a toddler type tantrum and decided to to a different route I knew or just head home.

The sun was shining, there was no wind, most of the roads out were country roads with very little traffic and we pretty much flew down there!

The cafe is in Great Bardfield just a little on from Little Easter, which we cycled through and I decided I would like to live there – the cutest little village!  It had chickens, goats, pigs, a bakery, cafe, gift shop and flower shop.

Oddly enough we both had jacket potatoes but that just gives us another excuse to go back for the cake, which can only be a good thing – I mean who doesn’t like cake?

We set off after having a quick chat with two men asking where we were from and the mileage we were doing.  They seemed pretty shocked and surprised and we had a few well done girls and some other slightly patronising questions about fluids and gels though I am sure they were meant with the best of intentions.  They set off and shortly after we flew past them but ended up riding in a little group for a couple of miles, which was actually really nice.

The route on the way back was in polar opposite conditions of the way there and we battled the wind for the entire way back, taking it in turns to sit on the front and share the load, wondering if we were going to make it before the rain started as the sky started to get darker and darker.  Im thinking next time to head back the way we came as I’ve heard the route back tends to be rather blowy all the time.

We didn’t see either Alex Dowsett or Mark Cavendish but maybe we will next time.  The cafe is a perfect location to cycle out to and then back in order to get the miles in and we had a lovely day in the saddle and its all training for our endurance ride Newcastle to London!

As part of my training for my endurance ride (Newcastle to London in 24 hours) in August, on Sunday I cycled from London to Brighton, like many others, only in a moment of genius (I actually mean madness) we decided we would also cycle back to London.  Now normally I do my blog post to publish on a Monday morning only you will notice today is in fact Tuesday and the reason is because I was broken – mentally, physically and also in my lady parts.  Anyone reading this who doesn’t cycle will be pulling a face right now at my last comment and anyone who does cycle will be nodding with complete understanding.

Before I go on I will tell you I wondered how to write this and if I should adopt the proper blog post etiquette or whether to just Lisa it and have it warts and all.  You will not be surprised that I thought sod it you are going to get every gory detail.  So I warn you now this post has swearing, a lot of swearing, brutal honestly, and explicit content so should you wish to read a review of a product this blog post is not the one for you.  If you are looking for some honesty, mixed with some humour and finished off with my very own tears then continue reading.

We (Helen, Steve, Adam, Alain and I) started by cycling to Upminster and then heading to Liverpool Street where we then cycled across to Clapham Common where the event starts.  Now I am not a cycling professional but have done a great number of events/sportives to date and I knew London to Brighton was a charity ride for the British Heart Foundation so I knew there would be a mix of riders of different abilities and had heard that it gets pretty congested in parts.  I didn’t realise just how congested and getting out of London was really hard work.

What I’ve not mentioned is that I also knew that this ride went up and over Ditchling Beacon.  I have driven over this and I did so pretty much catching flies with my mouth wide open wondering how anyone would get up it on a bike.  Knowing I would be one of those crazy people trying to do just that made me conduct a bit of research.  I had looked up the climb on Veloviewer, Strava, Google images and also You Tube from a cyclists Go Pro camera.  Some may say this was sensible, you know being forewarned is forearmed?  Well that’s not the case!  It was not sensible it was retarded and made me panic for most of the week leading up to the event so much so that I barely slept the night before and I cried before I left home, cried explaining to the others at the train station my concerns and had to take a moment just before the Beacon itself.  Silly cow.  This meant that my first 50 miles were fuelled by nerves.

Nerves and the fact that I was having some mechanical issues with my gears skipping and got told my chain was dry so we managed, before Ditchling, to find a kind mechanic at a rest stop and ask him to lube me up ha ha

Steve decided he would ride with me up the climb and so off we set.  And I did it!  I didn’t need to stop, didn’t need to rest, I did it.  I would love to tell you it was actually fine and I was worrying about nothing but it is a b*tch and is a tough climb.  Only two people overtook me on the whole climb, Steve was amazingly supportive even when I had a wobble and said I might have to stop and he said no keep going so I did.  He kept telling me I was almost there and I just kept barking at him when? when? when? and he said the end is just round the corner and I started barking at him again where? where?  Then I saw my friend Helen and was like I did it!  If I am honest I think people kept out of my way purely down to my heavy breathing (it is a sound of itself to behold and grimace at) probably thinking good god let this poor girl get to the top before she coughs up a lung and other internal organs. 

I cried at the top and so did Steve – me because I conquered it and Steve because he is a big girl.  Steve and Helen said to me at the top isn’t the view worth it?  Most people would smile and say yes.  Me, I said yeah I could happily look at a photo and miss the climb – I was just being honest!

Getting to the finish i felt i well and truly earned that medal.  As I knew it was a charity ride and people did it for fun I had underestimated the ride itself and was surprised at the number of tough climbs on it, not so surprised that a lot of people have to walk them.  On my Strava I titled it the Oh My F*cking God ride – it was very apt.

Pretty disappointed at the number of participants who cycled through red lights, on the wrong side of the road, round roundabouts the wrong way, completely surrounding cars in traffic and carrying their helmets!  Why have a helmet and carry it – what good is it being carried rather than on your head – sorry but it has to be said – idiots!  No wonder cyclists have a bad name – we are not all like that I promise you.

We headed out of Brighton along the coast and stopped in a pub for some lunch before we embarked on our journey back.  I stupidly thought that Ditchling would be the worst and it would obviously be plain sailing on the way home.  Helen politely told me it is pretty much the same for the way back.  My heart sank and I think my lady parts wondered why I was punishing them.  What had they ever done?  They are just there minding their own business and bam full day in the saddle as punishment for what exactly?  Sadistic b*tch!  I was giving poor Steve some graphic descriptions as we cycled along that I will spare you from but you get the gist. Between my descriptions and his sudden outburst of burps we made quite a pair!

About 7 miles later Helen had warned me about another pretty nasty climb and told me we were now on it.  I said thanks.  I didn’t mean it.  It came out of nowhere and got pretty steep but I conquered it and if it was not going to be a quick ride due to all the climbing then I would at least do it justice.

That was until we went past our turning and changed route and every b*stard climb in the South Downs crossed our path.  I couldn’t enjoy any of the descents as they were pretty steep I was almost always on my brakes (I have the blisters on my hands to prove it) and I knew whenever we went down we would climb even more to get back up – that was the gist of the ride – don’t get complacent on the bike as the area had every intention of trying to destroy my very soul – I am fairly certain I left it on a climb somewhere.

You’ve heard me talk of a hill near me called Old Church Hill (which I also refer to as Old Church B*tch) and as we entered a road I had a sinking feeling we were going to come across another hill of the same sort.  I was wrong.  Instead we were faced with Old Church Hill’s sl*ttier bigger sister complete with aunt, mum and siblings.  The width of a car, overhanging trees, poor road surface and steep ascents round every bend and about 4 or 5 times as long as Old Church Hill.  I got half way up and had to put my foot down.  I was gutted, I had beaten the Beacon but this arsh*le climb got me.  I then got back on but again further up I struggled and stopped just to see that over the crescent was the end so again got back on and finished.  It was worse than the beacon and not just my opinion we all agreed.

I should point out that we missed a turn so the rest of our journey was via Helens phone navigation who hated me and clearly wanted me to die on route as we got to a turning that looked almost vertical.  The picture below is pretty damn accurate.  I was pretty grumpy by this point my right knee was swollen (need to check my cleat position) and quite painful, we were all sunburnt, wind burnt and it had started spitting with rain.  I said lets just get on with it and I will do as much as my legs (with 115 miles of climbing in them, could do).  My logic on these climbs was not to look up but to keep my eyes on the floor a few metres ahead and just spin.  Until I looked up about a third of the way up and just saw road with no top like a stiff middle finger saying f*ck you Lisa I will beat you and I threw all my toys out of the pram and announced I was done and got off my bike.  Then I cried again as I completed the walk of shame up the hill, telling Steve who had cycled back down that at the next train station I was getting on it as we were lost I was sure of it (we weren’t lost as the navigation on Helen’s phone was guiding us but as I said before I believed it hated me and wanted me dead).  It was worse than the beacon and not just my opinion we all agreed.  That feeling of walking up to three people patiently waiting for you is not something I ever wish to repeat and I was half upset and half embarrassed in equal measures.

Only we could find two hills worse than Ditchling Beacon.

Then we saw a sign for Croydon and Croydon meant London.  This meant I didn’t need to tell the others to leave my dead corpse at the side of one of the climbs, continue without me and drag my bike back with them.  I pulled up my big girl knickers and carried on because, well I am selfless like that.  I know I know you are reading this thinking wow shes amazing right?  I knew you would be – everyone apart from those that were cycling with me who probably thought shut it you grumpy cow.

Even the London roads were painful with so much stopping and starting for traffic lights and avoiding people in cars who seemed to just be oblivious to four cyclists – this is why I don’t commute!

It is all training is what I keep telling myself and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that bullsh*t.  I see that now just not at the time.

My husband came to collect me from the train station and I got home, showered and went to bed with my knee propped up on a pillow.

The End

ps if anyone describes London to Brighton as a fun ride they are a sadistic liar

pps did I mention I f*cking hate hills?

ppps when the weather says overcast I will take sun cream anyway in future to avoid the above lobster result

pppps this is the last one I promise,  all of the above is training hours and miles for the main event and if anyone wishes to sponsor us myself, the other ladies and my lady parts would be very grateful

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserPage.action;jsessionid=lIDVZXnYiLpJR-wZ+abj9uhA.lgvappprod4:server-one?userUrl=Scrambled_legs_go_cycling&faId=656649&isTeam=true