| Will the Beast claim a hat trick?? Well I have another year to get into training and defeat this cruel monster. Once again, build up was non existent, with no riding at all since the Autumn Epic due to work, dark nights and the weather. Not to worry, its only 65 miles, I can just tootle around for an average time. Or so I thought. With everything packed it was glorious drive to Minehead on the Saturday, an once checked into the hotel and checking the weather forecast for the hundredth time that day, it really was going to be a wet one. Pre event meal was with my good chum and fellow Cycling Plus team mate Karen, and event organiser Marcus accompanied by a journalist. After pizza and wine and some very interesting conversation, it was time to retire and consider that having the second bottle of red wine that night was not such a good idea. The 5:30 alarm call combined with wind and rain trying to enter the bedroom window assured me it was going to be a wet day. A hurried breakfast and short drive to Butlins in the dark damp blustery conditions did not dampen my resolve however; I was going to finish this one. As we know the start was delayed by an hour and the 100 mile route abandoned, not to worry, I wasn’t doing it anyway. Off and away in the first group I managed to hang on to them until the first climb, and then my HR went skyward and seemed to stay there all day. Not to worry, press on my son you will get there. The roads were wet, and the copious amounts of mulch on them made for some interesting times when trying to get out of the saddle and climb. Dunkerey Beacon was more of a massacre than a climb, people falling off, people climbing off, people being forced off by stalling riders. The cattle grid claimed a fair few victims that day. Then it was onwards towards the ford, and it was only as I was half way over I realised I was there but it was dry. The next climb out onto the moor was hard, wet and seriously windy. I think the forecasters were reporting gusts of up to 60mph, well it felt like it. But at the same time, it was also beautiful to look at> to see the swirling clouds and horizontal rain as it pinched your face, really weird. It felt like riding in a jet wash, and certainly you could not have got any wetter. Time was ticking away very quickly, and I couldn’t believe how slow I was going. After a few gels and energy drink my legs were feeling strong, but the dark little demons in the head appeared from nowhere. With my waterproof gloves totally sodden, feet now wet even after wearing my new waterproof bootees (my arse) and feet getting cold, I started to feel the elements in a negative way. Demons must have been wet in my head also, and I switched from Mr Positive to Mr Negative after every pedal stroke. Do I jack in? Do I carry on? I really was in two minds. I had some really good moments climbing to the top of Countisbury Hill, I felt strong but with three hours already on the clock, and trying to work out how long it would take to complete the next 40 odd miles, I was erring on the side of abandonment. The descent down into Lynmouth was spectacular, and scary. I never knew you could grip a saddle with your botty cheeks. There was so much mulch on the road it was a test of how much brake pads you had left, and I could see a grey metallic sludge building up on mine as the water, road much and grime slowly ablated the rims. Once down into Lynmouth the decision was made to abandon. 3 ½ hours to do 25 miles was not going to get me a medal, so once again with a heavy heart I found a seat in the full sag wagon. At least this year I was not the only rider to seek solace in a warm dry tranny van, and looking back over the moors it looked more like the retreat from Stalingrad than a cyclo sportive. Eventually back at Butlins it was a quick dry down and a cuppa whilst I waited for the bike to be returned. I managed to catch up with my chum Karen who had soldiered on only as Karen can do, and she achieved a silver award, which was rather well deserved considering the conditions. Was I too downhearted for not finishing……no. My coach, mentor and all round good pal Joe Beer came to the event, took one look at the conditions and cleared off back home! So will I return? I think I have to. I have decided to only ride a few events I have ridden before next year; I want to ride new roads and different challenges. All of my rides that were DNF in 2006 were beasted in 2007, and the Beast remains the only event undefeated. So next year…. Brace yourself Exmoor Beast, you will be tamed I promise you. |