5am and the alarm goes off. Beary eyed I drag myself out of bed and move towards the kitchen, thinking ‘this is a Saturday morning, what am I doing!’. Coffee on, weetabix and milk in bowl, toast made (mmmm Marmite), and I sit down to eat breakfast with Newstalk on the radio (repeat of ‘The Right Hook’ from some time in the past). Finish up grub, jump in the shower, then pull on my cycling gear. I’ve decided on base layer, bib shorts, jersey, buff and training jacket -after all, the weather can’t get that bad can it?
I fill my bottles, stick them on the bike and hit the road, meeting Barabbus on the way, and get to Phibsboro in a couple of minutes where there’s 4 or 5 lycra glad folk standing around. This must be the start for the Virginia 300 -a permanent Randonee route over what seems like half of Ireland. Looking round my companions, I felt a brief moment of being out of my depth. There were 2 Boardsies I know are a lot stronger than me, and 4 experienced Audax riders who I suspect will be stronger than me, and one unknown quantity -Rugadh, a Boardsie, but not one I’ve ridden with -is he strong, or bricking it like I am? While I’m at the eyeing people up stage I notice everyone’s in tights or leg warmers and varying amounts of jackets etc -have I under dressed? Oh well, no time to worry about that now, lets get this show on the road.
We roll out about 6.30, and head for Ashbourne. This first part is pretty uneventful, except for a puncture by Rugaha before we even leave the outskirts of Dublin, but we make it to the Co Meath town in decent time. It’s at this point that I realise my Garmin has crapped itself and hasn’t been recording -bugger! now my measurements will be about 20k off, and I won’t get a nice ‘Distance: 300k’ on the display.
It was at some point outside Ashbourne that the rain started in earnest, and while it dampened spirits a little (groan), we still were making good time, and were quite happy. That is untill just after Carrickmacross. There’s a section of dual carraigeway between Carrick and Castleblayney that was just miserable -a driving headwind that chilled everyone to the bone, and the rain was falling harder and harder. Barabbus begain making noises about calling in the cavalry at Castleblayney, not due to fatigue, but simply down to being poorly dressed and freezing, and if I’m honest, I considered it myself. It was not a fun part of the journey at all.
We rolled into Castleblayney about 10.30, and fell upon the hot counter to get some sambos into us (fried egg, potato farls and backon in mine), and some hot tea, as well as wringing out our clothes a bit. Emty and myself managed to persuade Barabbus (with the help of my buff) to give it to Virginia, and to decide there, as everyone was saying that the worst part was now behind us, though looking out the petrol station window at the driving rain didn’t fill me with confidence in the accuracy of that statement.
Thankfully, by the time we had refuelled, the sun had decided that it was a good time to get out of bed, so we left for Virginia hoping that the improvement would be permanent. The biggest downside is getting back into the wet clothes you’d greatfully taken off not all that long ago. It was about this time too that I realised my feet were freezing, and that I couldn’t feel my toes -they were just a block of icy discomfort.
Still, once I got back about pinky, I was still feeling strong so we started down the road. I put on a bit of speed just to get the blood flowing in my legs, and looking round a few minutes later I realised I was on my own. ‘Oh well’ I thought, ‘they’ll catch me soon enough, we’re all going the same way’, so I just tried to get into a rhythm and keep on trucking. The road from Castleblayney to Virginia is quite lumpy, and so it’s hard to get particularly smooth, but I was managing fine, and cycling within my abilities at a pace I knew I could sustain, and was making good time. The sun was out, and the wind, while annoying, dried my clothes quite quickly, the iPod was on, and I was singing along to something, when all of a sudden this massive dog appears at my side, baying loudly and running alongside the bike, pushing me over to the other side of the road. Nothing would stop the fucker chasing me, not even a squirt from my bottle, and he kept station for 400 or 500 metres, easily the longest I’ve been followed by a dog in a long time, and it raised the heart rate more than anything else did yesterday!
Eventually, I made it into Virginia, and after a couple of minutes one of the Johns arrived, with the others a couple of minutes behind them. A bit of food in the garage (though no sandwich for me for some reason), and we hit the road again for Mullingar.
The Mullingar leg was the worst one for me. The road was very rolling which I hate, and in trying to stay with a John, Barabbus and Emty I was having to push it up the hills, and brake on the downhill side, and a conbination of that, tirdness and possibly lack of food made me slow down big time. I lost the three of them at some point, and sort of dawdled in limbo for a while before the second John came up behind me. We cycled together a bit, but then he dropped me too, and I was left meandering along a dead straight road beside a bog that was rolling annoyingly, yet straight enough to show me how much I was dropping back. The headwind didn’t help either, and it wasn’t long before my thoughts turned to stopping. My old hip problem from last year started to flare up badly, and I was in pain, and going slowly, and was pretty much miserable.
After a long period of suffering, I came up to the guys in front who were fixing a puncture, and was very glad of the excuse to stop. I drained what was left of a bottle of water, got an anti-inflammatory from Barrabus and had some sports beans (very sugary jelly beans -I love ‘em!), and started turning the pedals again. Once more I was dropped, but not as badly, and it was only 20km or so to the Mullingar bypass, so I decided to see how I was when we got there.
The garage on the bypass was welcomed with open arms, and the expensive chicken and stuffing sandwich tasted better than anything I’ve ever had before, and the carton of milk was pure nectar from the gods to me, and the sit down was very welcome. Emty had arrived a few seconds ahead of me, but we noticed that Barabbus and a John were nowhere to be found. A phonecall discovered that they were at some different garage, but that they’d come and find us, so we had a few minutes to sit and wait for them.
Leaving Mullingar and heading for Trim, I was worried that I would be dropped as quickly as I had before, but maybe the sandwich had a load of EPO in it, or something, but my legs magically appeared again, and I was feeling great! We got into a good chain gang at this point, and were averaging a good 30kph+ for the 45k section between Mullingar and Trim -which is impressive after 210k+ already done. The time flew by into Trim, and we had a quick stop there to get a receipt (the way the permanent Randonee’s work is that you get a Brevet card with the route in it, and you collect till receipts with the town name and time on for each control point -in this case Castleblayney, Virginia, Mullingar, Trim and Phibsboro), and send it off to the Audax Club Parisien, who will verify it, and issue a medal if you want one.
The final leg from Trim back to Dublin was fine and quick, and we were working well together, and we hit the finish point at about 8.30 -14 hours after leaving, and tired but happy. A few minutes of mutual congratulations and photo taking, and it was time to get home to beer, shower and food.
Knowing my luck though, about 400 yards from home I got a bloody puncture! Oh well, at least it wasn’t at the start!
