Here’s a new one. For the last week or so, I have been completely fed up of my bike.
Since New Year I’ve been training fairly hard for the Paris-Nice trip, and therein lies the problem. I’ve lost 8kg and I’m fitter than I have been for a while. Actually, realistically, I’m as fit as I’m going to get. I enjoy beer, meat and cheese, and I have a busy family life that means I don’t get time to train much. But I’ve also come to realise that there is no amount of training that would ever be ‘enough’. I could ride eight hours a day five days a week and I’d still be thinking ‘that’s all well and good, but how about the incessant gradients/altitude/weather/sleeping out?’ So I’ve accepted that this is as good as it’s going to get, and I might as well enjoy a beer and a lump of cheddar.
Training itself is tiresome. I love my Rouvy and I wouldn’t have made my gains without it, but it is just sitting on a bike in your lounge watching a screen. Riding outside has been a mixture of commuting and increasing challenge; longer distance and bigger loads, working up to riding 150km with full gear last week. It has definitely helped me to feel well prepared for France but -say it quietly – perhaps it hasn’t always been fun.
I realised I needed to go for a ride just for riding’s sake, and I just happen to be in the perfect place to indulge myself.
I have a strong affinity with the Malverns. When I got into cycling, my Grandad – a Worcestershire lad – used to tell me about his trips with his cycling club to Malvern, and further afield to Wales and the south coast. It is also a geological marvel and it’s one of the places that inspired me to become a geologist. I remember standing at the top and wondering why the view to the east was completely flat while looking west the landscape was all rolling hills. And it’s perfect for cycling.
So this morning I reluctantly stirred at 6.45am, tried not to wake the rest of the family, kissed goodbye to Elaine and slipped out of the tent as quietly as I could. Morning dew covered the campsite and my bike, and I was soon rolling along shady tree-lined lanes hoping it would soon warm up a bit. I didn’t really have a plan in mind and it was only when I passed through Upton-on-Severn that I decided I was heading for the hills.
I swung left at Hanley Castle and the road slowly rose up to Malvern Wells. There were a few other cyclists heading in the other direction and we exchanged waves and smiles. It was a beautiful morning to be out, just the right temperature early on and with very little wind. I felt like one of the privileged few to be out enjoying it and I wondered if the riders I passed felt the same.
At Malvern Wells the road steepened and then turned right onto an undulating section that passed through Great Malvern. The views opened up, and an early morning haze over the Severn Vale turned the distant hills a pale turquoise. I swept through the town and dropped a little, before turning left onto a climb up to West Malvern, passing the landmark Clock Tower on the way.
Over the top of West Malvern was probably the best part of the ride, as Sugarloaf and the Black Mountains appeared on the western horizon. Beyond West Malvern there is a lovely road that sits just under the western edge of the ridge for most of the way, and passes through some lovely woodland on its way through Upper Wyche and beyond.
There was a shock in store for me though, as I had planned to turn left at British Camp and drop straight down back to the campsite. But the road is completely closed for major works, and instead I had to turn right. I was soon speeding downhill, but heading west into Herefordshire instead of east into Worcestershire! My legs didn’t mind, but I knew the family would be stirring and wanting their promised bacon sandwiches. I eased my way over the foot of the Malverns at Hollybush, and used the long descent to speed my journey back to the campsite.
Well, what a great day out that was. Just what I needed – a 50km ramble, no preplanned route, no GPS track to follow, no goals around weight or distance or climbing. Just me and my bike, riding wherever my legs took me, a grand old explore.
I think I’m over the bike blues and looking forward to Paris-Nice again!