A Freshly Minted Roadie

I've been riding bikes all my life, I suppose like many children it was the best way to get around. It was mostly mountain bikes and hybrids, except for a brief run in with a bright orange racer which felt like riding the wind until it dumped me on the road. To this day I haven't worked out how I grazed my belly button but that was enough for me to give up on dropped handlebars and skinny tires.

Me (right) and my best friend, ready to depart for France

The closest I came after that was a very sensible GT hybrid for riding to college which got promoted to grand tourer while cycling through France. Three weeks on a bike with a tent and my best friend, so many happy memories, until the bike was stolen in Paris. I didn't mind though, three spokes had been replaced with string and if I never saw that saddle again I would be happy.

So how did I come to being a new roadie? I am trying to start a new tradition that involves me going on an adventure every year for my birthday in late June. 2014 saw me lined up on the final day of a gentleman's weekend in the Lake District with a hired hybrid bike and a foolish opinion of my own fitness. My friend Ben (who will be a regular in this blog) had found us a route and off we went. I should have figured there would be a problem when his very flash carbon road bike floated out of the boot to land next to my very heavy workhorse.

Ben disappears into the distance

The early pace was fast (e.g. mostly downhill) and then we arrived at the first challenge of the day. Wrynose Pass! This looked long and steep but I had many gears and could put my foot down whenever I liked. Ben shot off all shimmering Lycra and rock solid calves while I settled in for the long haul. In the end it was a lovely walk.

When we met up at the top we quickly shot down the other side racing the cars and thought ourselves the victors. It was a beautiful sunny day, far from traffic, desks, families and the big hill was behind us. Anybody who has ridden in The Lakes knows what came next. 35 miles of constant uphill and down dale, never in  a straight line. Only Jelly Babies and sheer bloody mindedness kept me going. But we made it.

Hire bike returned we jumped in the car for the journey home, pasty and chocolate milk in hand. "How do you fancy doing the coast to coast next year?" asks Ben. "Sounds alright." I reply, and that is where it all began...