My first 12-Hour

Several people asked my during the preceding days about how I felt about the event. I am afraid that my answer may not have been what they were looking for. There were no sleepless nights or panics. I tend to just put these sorts of things out of my mind until I get to the start line.
After all you have done the training (err no) and all you have to think about is the food (lummy what do you take?).

So I arrived on Saturday night with half a supermarket of food and still forgetting to pack my usual breakfast.
Lisa had thoughtfully booked us in to a Motel so that we did not have to drive up that morning and we would all be together. Something the 24-hour team didn’t do.

All I can say about the start is that it was dark and early. But at least it was not raining.
I watched the others set off ahead of me. Brian wishing me luck and shaking my hand before he to headed off into the gloom. According to the Handicap he was favourite and he had done plenty of training to ensure that he would win the event.
My only team order was to ensure that I got to the finish circuit. Ahead lay a long road and what comes after 100 miles is a great unknown because I have only ever ridden that far.

The first leg was a never-ending dual carriageway. And it was a long lonely ride. At one point I wondered if I gone off course, but was soon reassured by a Cycle event warning sign.
The strong head wind made me glad that I chosen to start the event on the Lo-Profile bike with a Disc Wheel. There were a few raised eyebrows at the start but this set up works for me when it comes to a head wind.

Fifty miles passed very slowly but I figured that what ever I did was going to be a PB so I just kept an easy pace. Then the Heart rate monitor went down and I had no idea if I was going too hard. (For the benefit of several readers I set this up and was trying to not go higher than a certain figure.) I became more concerned when I started to catch other riders including all of the KPRC except Brian who seemed to be pulling out a gap as I sighted him at each turn. But I felt fairly comfortable so I maintained the pace.

As I left the first circuit there was a little confusion as the marshal shouted straight on. I think he meant left so I had to stop and check to see if I was on the right road. Just ahead were Pete and Jackie with a spare bike. I had planned to change from the Lo-Pro to a road bike at 80miles and just as well too because the chain was jumping off some of the gears. Something had stuck to the rear block.
At the changeover Pete said that I was not far behind Brian and it occurred to me that I might be able to catch him. One lap later saw the 100-mile board and I felt so comfortable that I upped the pace a bit. What ever I did now was unknown and all I have to do is get to that finish circuit. When I passed Brian I got a real lift. Sad to report that he was suffering with his back. Obviously my plan to change bikes and positions was a good one.

The next circuit was awful, and I wish that I changed back to the Lo-Pro because it was on a never-ending leg into a head wind. I could feel it dragging me down and my shoulders and back were really aching from the strain of it. Just before the turn Jackie and Pete handed up food. Pete pointed out that I should have used the inner ring on the hill.
Thanks Pete, I had actually forgotten that I could do that.

The next circuit saw me sail past Duxford Airdrome several times. Interesting things were flying around. At the start of the circuit more food awaited and the supporters club were comfortably located at a Pub on the far side of the circuit.

Finally, finally we get to the finish circuit. I look at the watch and realise that there are still two hours or so to go. There are plenty of helpers offering sponges and bottles, unlike Lisa I decline.

At 11 hours I puncture!
The traffic on the short section of the A11 that we were using was worrying me. Lisa had said that she had no problems riding on the inside of the rumble strip, so I was doing the same. I am not happy doing this, as first you are effectively riding in the gutter and it is full of rubbish. Secondly traffic on the main road will try to stick to its lane and come even closer. I often felt like I was going to be sucked under some of the Arctic’s.
Anyway I punctured and lost three or four miles. Seeing the some of the other riders coming past caused me concern that I may lose the club championship. I got just enough air into the tyre to get to the car parked about a mile up the road. Where it could be attacked with a track pump.

Then I was off again to try and recapture the lost miles. I can’t recall how many laps I did. I tried to make a note of the timekeepers, as Lisa’s instruction was that you have to go to the next timekeeper after you run out of time. Now there were some places where there was loads of people shouting of numbers and reassuring beeps that made it pretty clear that this was a time check. One check had a number by it and that was also clear. But there were people out there who writing things down that were not timekeepers. And there were also uneven gaps between each position.

“Eight minutes” was shouted out.
I thought that I had only four or five. Another timing post flashes past. I look at the watch. The next comes past, was that seven or eight minutes. I try to catch the timekeeper’s eye but he doesn’t look up.

I go on.

The edge of the road is empty for what seems like miles.

I see Lisa and Pete parked up. They shout out “we are here”, I shout back “where is the timer?”
But my words are lost in the wind.

I ask the next marshal, he shrugs.

Someone is standing by the road with a watch and a pad.

“Are you a timer?” I shout,

“No keep going”

Ahead is a guy with a car. Beyond him is Lisa. Beyond that is another two miles or so before the large group of people with the bleeps and shouting of numbers.

“Are you the timekeeper?”

He looks at me startled.

“Yes, yes you can stop”

Thanks to all the marshals, the timekeepers and of course the helpers.
As I sit here writing this 3 days later, my legs still ache and certain other parts are non too comfortable. I have done it now. I don’t have to do it again. But I wonder, that if I did it again could I go that little bit further….

As the bike was getting loaded on to the car for the short trip back to HQ, two Spitfires flew overhead. Perhaps it was a victory salute, or like us they knew that it was time to head home for tea and a Bacon Sandwich.