Just Keep Pedalling

Even with a room that had a kettle and tea, it was more of a battle to get woken up and going than usual. At some point in the night a huge thunderstorm had broken across the mountains. I don’t recall whether it woke me, but it was still rolling around when the alarm went off. Although it took me some time to realise what the rushing sound was – at first I thought it was the waters of the nearby river. But on walking over to the window I could clearly see the cause – a heavy curtain of rain was lashing down into the street. The idea of riding out into it did not fill me with joy but having covered so little ground yesterday I knew I’d need too as soon as the thunder had passed. No way I was going to climb back up into the mountains with lightning forking down.

I can’t remember now if my later start this day was intentional or I had faffed with something and ended up setting out later. I do recall though being aware that I was more likely to run out of energy than time with the two big climbs just up ahead. So it could well have been a concious act – realising that I in all likelihood I may be heading for a hotel after the Gavia rather than tacking on the extra 500m or so of climbing over the Passo Tonale as well. Whatever the reason, it’s already beginning to get light as I push the bike back up the ramp from the basement. After quickly jogging up the steps to get back into reception and drop the key off, I roll left onto the main road.

Getting underway was delayed by some unexpected Origami. Last night my bike was the only occupant of the small covered area at the back of the hotel yard. But now, several rows of eBikes are stacked up in front of it. Heavy and locked together, it’s difficult even to squeeze myself past them to where my bike stood behind. Getting it out required a strange tiptoeing dance around wheels and bars with the Niner shouldered to get it clear. Not the ideal start. It was tempting to make a racket kitting up in the yard to wake whatever twats had done this, except it was probably just 4 or 5 of the twenty plus rooms above the courtyard. Having said that, it’s hard to lube a chain and pump up tyres in complete silence, so the end result may have been much the same anyway. Last night before sleep I’d swapped a few messages with Yoli that sum up my physical state and how I’m feeling towards the next couple of days

As I wake I’m looking forward to a day of much flatter riding. Although it’s interesting to note after the fact a big discrepancy between Strava (1,075m) and RideWithGPS (1,870m) in the amount of elevation. Having ridden it (and also because it’s distance & elevation data always seems more accurate to me), I’m inclined to trust the latter. Before we get there though there’s a couple of small matters to deal with: those spiral stairs down; and one last climb out of this valley.

Bollocks

Make that three small matters to deal with.

There is just one thought in my mind as I shower and kit up:

Tomorrow’s behind, Today lies ahead

Actually there’s possibly an extra thought – “don’t fall getting the bike down those steep stairs“.

I need to add a note here on the nature of this entry. The views expressed in the account of parcours #1 are purely my own. They are authentic to my experiences at the time, but it must be understood these reflect as much on my mental and physical state as they do the actual route. I know some riders at the tail shared similar feelings but I’m sure many other riders did not, and enjoyed the challenge of the parcours. I do comment on the nature of the parcours in terms of how I felt as I rode it. But none of what is written here is intended as a criticism towards the organizers of TCR No. 8 in any way.

Once again, I’m dead to the world when the alarms go off. Hauling myself out of the bed I survey the untidy mess of gear across the room. Getting ready today is going to be a two stage affair with the bike down in the garage. First I have to get myself kitted up, for which the hotel has kindly provided me a conventionally easy-to-operate kettle and tea to lubricate the process. Second is lugging bags down to the basement and loading up the bike, passing reception along the way to collect my packed breakfast – which turns out to be an entire paper bag’s worth of goodies. Some of the contents get scoffed whilst I potter around with the bike. The rest gets stuffed in my feed bag and back pockets

Bollocks!