Fred Whitton Challenge 2016
"The Fred" is an iconic cycle sportive in the Lake District area of northern England. You have to be organised to even get to the start line, and this year I actually managed it. I entered the ballot for a place in December, and was lucky enough to get in. I trained as much as I could in the winter and spring, though the weather was bad, and time was short, and we don't have nearly enough big hills near Windsor where I live. I booked a hotel (last minute I admit, and 17 miles from the start) and a day off work afterwards, and so was all set.
Did I mention it is the hardest one day cycling event in the UK?
To start with, I'm going to concentrate here on all the things I got right, before moving on, in feedback tradition, to what I could have done better.
Equipment
I had my specialized Tarmac SL3 serviced a couple of weeks before the race as the gears were slipping - I got a new chain and rear dérailleur. There were no mechanical problems on my ride. I bought a new rear tyre, Continental Gatorskin, and took it for a test in the week before to make sure I hadn't pinched the tube when putting it on. I didn't change my bike shoes and cleats at the last minute, even though it was tempting as I had them sitting new and shiny at home - that would have been a dumb thing to do before a 112 mile ride. I have been wearing the same shoes for 12 years, and a change might have caused unknown issues. I wore exactly the right clothing for the conditions, and never felt too hot or too cold. I had arm warmers that I removed about half way, and a long sleeved rain coat in my pocket that I didn't need (but was part of the instructions).
The Start
I got up stupidly early, as is the way with these things, and had eaten most of the hotel packed lunch by 5am. Anna, Lyra and I left at 5.30 and were in Grasmere by 6am. I felt sorry for waking them, but they needed the car during the day, and it was too far to cycle to the start. Registration was easy, though the bike number was flimsy paper which didn't look like it would last the day (it did, but only because there was no rain). I got some photos, said my goodbyes, and was on the start line at 6.40am. I needed to go 57 miles by 12 noon, or else I would be eliminated. I could have started as late as 8am, but that would only give me four hours, and I wanted to be safe.
That's all a long winded way of saying then, that nearly all my planning was good, and I got to the start line with everything I needed, and fit and rested ready for one of the hardest days riding of my life. I'll come to the not good planning bit in a minute.
It was a perfect day for riding. There was very little wind all day, dry roads and no rain. The temperature in the morning was almost balmy, and I felt really good on the first seven miles of flat riding to the bottom of the first climb up to Kirkstone Pass. It wasn't terribly steep, but this is where I had the first inkling that my gearing was wrong.
The views all day were amazing, but the sun hadn't actually come out from behind the clouds yet so I didn't get the full effect at the top here (I took the car back the next day for another look). The descent was steep, bendy and potentially treacherous, and though I was already going quick quickly, I heard a shout of "on your right" as someone hurtled past me going much too fast. We had marshals warning us to be very careful, and as I approached a corner I suddenly heard shouts of "stop", and "slow down", and only just managed to do it and avoid hitting the rider in front - riders behind me were having similar difficulties. I don't know for sure who was lying in the road just beyond a massive piece of rough tarmac, but I'm pretty sure it was the guy who had overtaken me moments before. People were trying to help him already, and I heard some of his club colleagues shout to each other to stop. I cautiously moved on.
The biggest hills of the day are Hardknott and Wrynose, but you have to ride 90 miles and climb about 2000m to get there. I knew I would finish the 112 miles, but I had watched people climbing Hardknott on YouTube, and was worried about them, so I didn't push very hard - this I think was a mistake. There was a massively long boring descent at one point, along a wide straight road. People were overtaking me, but I was conserving energy. I could have made a bit of time there, considering what happened later.
I grabbed some food at the first stop of the day at Buttermere, and made the cut-off without any fanfare soon after. It had taken me almost four hours to get there. If I had started the ride at 8am, and had stopped to fix a puncture or other mechanical, I'd have missed it; so the early start was a good decision.
By the second food stop it was very sunny and warm. I ate what I could but there wasn't any food to stash in my pockets for later except bananas (well, I could have put a cheese sandwich in there, but that might have been a bit messy). I took as little water as I thought I could get away with, I didn't want to drag and extra half kilo up Hardknott.
So far the day had been quite competitive. Lots of people racing past me downhill, jockeying for position on the flats, me taking back lost places on the up-hills. On a quiet lane I looked around and realised everything had gone very still. The road was almost empty, my speed was down to 25km/h and I could see some riders behind me but they weren't catching up. Hardknott was close. We all felt it and wanted to put it off for a bit.
This is the hill where I fully realised that my bike's gearing was not going to be good enough for me. I'd been watching other riders spin up hills beside me all day, while I was standing on the pedals in my easiest gear straining to keep the wheels turning. As soon as the gradient kicked in, I knew I wouldn't make it, and decided to walk. I wasn't alone; it looked to me as if maybe half the riders were walking here. I was very disappointed. It was really hard work to push a bike up a 30% gradient in cycling shoes, and I would have much preferred to be riding. After the steepest bit I got back on and rode a little, but then it got steeper again, so I walked again. I cycled the last bit too. Looking at my 24.44 minute time for the climb, and times friends have done, I estimate I lost about four minutes by walking. Not too much really. But if I had known I wouldn't be able to make it, perhaps I could have ridden a bit harder earlier.
Not long after, I reached Wrynose. Very annoyed at myself, and knowing this was the last big effort of the day, I really went for it. It has horrendously steep bits, hitting 25% gradient, but somehow, by using the full width of the somewhat narrow road, and staying upright even when my forward speed was down to barely 5km/h, I did make it to the top of this one without getting off the bike. Very happy and relieved. I even managed a wheelie at one point.
During the descent, the tendons in my forearms started to scream at me. I'm not used to that much braking, and climbing, and non-cyclists don't realise how much strength you actually need in your arms for that. I made it down, and around here found a man of similar ability and tucked behind him for a bit. I was going to overtake, but he was going just a little to fast, and it was only when we got to a small hill that he slowed down and I got my chance. He didn't follow, so I raced on. I saw a sign "3 miles to go", and got some new energy. My water had just about run out, but I had one gel in my pocket - I wouldn't need it!
The sign was a lie.
I started to get tired, I'd had nothing to drink or eat for a while, and saw a group of riders coming up behind me. The breakaway seldom beats the peleton. They went past and I saw my former rival in the pack, and jumped onto the back. They were going fast, and I knew I'd get home quicker if I could hang on. I'd been riding for 7 1/2 hours, but found more energy - this was fun. I opened my gel at speed and got most of it into my mouth, this helped. The pack grew as we overtook more people, but we also lost some. As it expanded and contracted, sometimes I'd have to really sprint to get back in.
The woman leading us had pink handlebars. I'd seen her a few times during the day as this was quite distinctive, and only about 5% of riders were women. She seemed to be on a mission, and didn't need or want any help at the front. We joined the main road into Grasmere which I recognised from driving it in the morning, and I felt relieved to be close to home. The three mile sign had turned into 10 miles I think.
Anna and Lyra were there just before the finish line to wave me in, and I was happy to finish strong in a time of 7:48.27. I had a welcome pint of beer with them to replace the lost fluids, and a rather unappetising pie which nevertheless disappeared rather quickly - perhaps I was hungry.
Strava Link
Strava tells me that Emma Craghill is the name of the woman with the pink handlebars - chapeau to you. I was the one who said thanks just after the finish line.
Did I mention it is the hardest one day cycling event in the UK?
To start with, I'm going to concentrate here on all the things I got right, before moving on, in feedback tradition, to what I could have done better.
Equipment
I had my specialized Tarmac SL3 serviced a couple of weeks before the race as the gears were slipping - I got a new chain and rear dérailleur. There were no mechanical problems on my ride. I bought a new rear tyre, Continental Gatorskin, and took it for a test in the week before to make sure I hadn't pinched the tube when putting it on. I didn't change my bike shoes and cleats at the last minute, even though it was tempting as I had them sitting new and shiny at home - that would have been a dumb thing to do before a 112 mile ride. I have been wearing the same shoes for 12 years, and a change might have caused unknown issues. I wore exactly the right clothing for the conditions, and never felt too hot or too cold. I had arm warmers that I removed about half way, and a long sleeved rain coat in my pocket that I didn't need (but was part of the instructions).
The Start
I got up stupidly early, as is the way with these things, and had eaten most of the hotel packed lunch by 5am. Anna, Lyra and I left at 5.30 and were in Grasmere by 6am. I felt sorry for waking them, but they needed the car during the day, and it was too far to cycle to the start. Registration was easy, though the bike number was flimsy paper which didn't look like it would last the day (it did, but only because there was no rain). I got some photos, said my goodbyes, and was on the start line at 6.40am. I needed to go 57 miles by 12 noon, or else I would be eliminated. I could have started as late as 8am, but that would only give me four hours, and I wanted to be safe.
That's all a long winded way of saying then, that nearly all my planning was good, and I got to the start line with everything I needed, and fit and rested ready for one of the hardest days riding of my life. I'll come to the not good planning bit in a minute.
 |
| selfie at the start |
The views all day were amazing, but the sun hadn't actually come out from behind the clouds yet so I didn't get the full effect at the top here (I took the car back the next day for another look). The descent was steep, bendy and potentially treacherous, and though I was already going quick quickly, I heard a shout of "on your right" as someone hurtled past me going much too fast. We had marshals warning us to be very careful, and as I approached a corner I suddenly heard shouts of "stop", and "slow down", and only just managed to do it and avoid hitting the rider in front - riders behind me were having similar difficulties. I don't know for sure who was lying in the road just beyond a massive piece of rough tarmac, but I'm pretty sure it was the guy who had overtaken me moments before. People were trying to help him already, and I heard some of his club colleagues shout to each other to stop. I cautiously moved on.
The biggest hills of the day are Hardknott and Wrynose, but you have to ride 90 miles and climb about 2000m to get there. I knew I would finish the 112 miles, but I had watched people climbing Hardknott on YouTube, and was worried about them, so I didn't push very hard - this I think was a mistake. There was a massively long boring descent at one point, along a wide straight road. People were overtaking me, but I was conserving energy. I could have made a bit of time there, considering what happened later.
I grabbed some food at the first stop of the day at Buttermere, and made the cut-off without any fanfare soon after. It had taken me almost four hours to get there. If I had started the ride at 8am, and had stopped to fix a puncture or other mechanical, I'd have missed it; so the early start was a good decision.
 |
| what a great view |
So far the day had been quite competitive. Lots of people racing past me downhill, jockeying for position on the flats, me taking back lost places on the up-hills. On a quiet lane I looked around and realised everything had gone very still. The road was almost empty, my speed was down to 25km/h and I could see some riders behind me but they weren't catching up. Hardknott was close. We all felt it and wanted to put it off for a bit.
This is the hill where I fully realised that my bike's gearing was not going to be good enough for me. I'd been watching other riders spin up hills beside me all day, while I was standing on the pedals in my easiest gear straining to keep the wheels turning. As soon as the gradient kicked in, I knew I wouldn't make it, and decided to walk. I wasn't alone; it looked to me as if maybe half the riders were walking here. I was very disappointed. It was really hard work to push a bike up a 30% gradient in cycling shoes, and I would have much preferred to be riding. After the steepest bit I got back on and rode a little, but then it got steeper again, so I walked again. I cycled the last bit too. Looking at my 24.44 minute time for the climb, and times friends have done, I estimate I lost about four minutes by walking. Not too much really. But if I had known I wouldn't be able to make it, perhaps I could have ridden a bit harder earlier.
Not long after, I reached Wrynose. Very annoyed at myself, and knowing this was the last big effort of the day, I really went for it. It has horrendously steep bits, hitting 25% gradient, but somehow, by using the full width of the somewhat narrow road, and staying upright even when my forward speed was down to barely 5km/h, I did make it to the top of this one without getting off the bike. Very happy and relieved. I even managed a wheelie at one point.
During the descent, the tendons in my forearms started to scream at me. I'm not used to that much braking, and climbing, and non-cyclists don't realise how much strength you actually need in your arms for that. I made it down, and around here found a man of similar ability and tucked behind him for a bit. I was going to overtake, but he was going just a little to fast, and it was only when we got to a small hill that he slowed down and I got my chance. He didn't follow, so I raced on. I saw a sign "3 miles to go", and got some new energy. My water had just about run out, but I had one gel in my pocket - I wouldn't need it!
The sign was a lie.
I started to get tired, I'd had nothing to drink or eat for a while, and saw a group of riders coming up behind me. The breakaway seldom beats the peleton. They went past and I saw my former rival in the pack, and jumped onto the back. They were going fast, and I knew I'd get home quicker if I could hang on. I'd been riding for 7 1/2 hours, but found more energy - this was fun. I opened my gel at speed and got most of it into my mouth, this helped. The pack grew as we overtook more people, but we also lost some. As it expanded and contracted, sometimes I'd have to really sprint to get back in.
The woman leading us had pink handlebars. I'd seen her a few times during the day as this was quite distinctive, and only about 5% of riders were women. She seemed to be on a mission, and didn't need or want any help at the front. We joined the main road into Grasmere which I recognised from driving it in the morning, and I felt relieved to be close to home. The three mile sign had turned into 10 miles I think.
 |
| Finish Certificate - no medal |
Strava Link
Strava tells me that Emma Craghill is the name of the woman with the pink handlebars - chapeau to you. I was the one who said thanks just after the finish line.
