Stage 10

Seems hard to believe that the ride is starting in under 3 weeks from now. My training has very definitely wound up a notch or 2 in the last few weeks.

80 mile plus rides now seem quite normal and I seem to be coping with fairly strenuous efforts on consecutive days. That said the most I have attempted is 60 miles one day and about 100 the next. It may sound trite but there is no doubt that it is the last 40 (or 30,20 or 10) of a 100 mile ride that is the hardest. Shame there is no training method that lets you go out for 2 hours and ride just the last 30 miles!

But it's getting too late to be concerned about my state of preparation. I'll just have pretend I'm a football manager and take one day at a time, Brian.

I'll be taking inspiration from the GB Olympic cycling team of course. Spoilt for choice there. Not that I profess to have anything like the speed of Jason Kenny, the thighs of Chris Hoy, the exuberance of Laura Trott or the sheer amazing talent of Bradley Wiggins. Hope I don't have the bad luck of Victoria Pendleton either. What was that all about, relegating her when she was simply trying to stay upright despite her opponent's best efforts to elbow her off the track?

And that inspiration won't just come from the 2012 squad. Today I had the privilege to find myself riding with Phil Baynton. If that name isn't immediately familiar it is probably because he comes from a era of British cycling when the science of "marginal gains" was unheard of as was celebrity (well, apart from Tom Simpson perhaps), money and advertising endorsements. Nonetheless Phil Baynton had a very successful career as a pro cyclist, both in the UK and on the super tough Belgian scene. The highlight of his career though was finishing 4th in the 1972 Munich Olympics.

Today he was just another rider in the 100 mile sporttive I rode in the Cotswolds. About my age, but he looked a lot younger. A group of 4 of us formed on the road for no better reason than we had started in the same group of 50 and were riding at the same pace. We each take a turn on the front for a minute or so while the other 3 recover in the front man's slipstream. Then the pacemaker pulls over and drifts to the back of the impromptu 'team'.  It's called riding 'through and off' and has the dual benefit of being very efficient and also sociable.

Anyway, the 4 of us rode the last half of the ride together and as we talked it emerged that one of us had quite some history. He spoke about  his career of course and so very nearly getting to the Olympic podium, but also about the events which overshadowed the Games and everything that year. It will be recalled that these were the notorious Olympics where 11 Israeli athletes and coaches were massacred by a group of Palestinian terrorists. Phil was still clearly affected by what he saw with vivid memories of the events, mainly centered around the person on the roof attempting vain to negotiate with the terrorists.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I love cycling. It is a huge leveller. It makes no difference who you are or what you do, or what you have done in your previous life. The person riding beside you could be a knight of the realm or an ex-con. You are in the moment and all that matters is getting up this steep climb, getting safely down a long twisting descent on potholed, gravelly roads, or sheltering in a large group as you batter against a horrible headwind on a long, flat exposed section. All you need is for the other guy to take his turn on the front for a few minutes more until it is your turn again to pull the group along.