Well, it was the first big test for me. Having failed last weekend to do my 20 mile ride, this week's challenge was Reading to Hungerford, a ride that turned out to be 36 miles. I left at 2.30 and was in Hungerford in time to know that England's time in the World Cup was over.
I set out confidently, armed with water, wallet and a bike lock. I headed out from Woodley to Shinfield, cutting across the motorway before reaching Junction 11 of the M4, which would have been a life threatening move. Unfortunately, things look very different on a cycle, and I missed my turning, taking a three mile detour to get back on track.
The sense of relief when I found my way was profound, and the first ten miles were possibly the toughest to motivate myself - I didn't seem to be able to get put of Reading. After cycling for the best part of an hour, I was finally running parallel to the M4 and on my way to Theale. Even though this part of the world is just 20 minutes by car out of Reading, there are some beautiful wooded areas, and the trees offered fantastic protection from the blazing sun.
I also made a wry note that even though this area was highly rural, there wasn't a 'Chelsea Tractor' (4WD) in sight.
It was notable at this stage how few cars there were on the road. From there on in until I arrived in Hungerford, I knew that our boys were playing well from the animated shouting coming from pubs and houses along the way.
At Theale, which will be the lunch stop when I cycle the Action 100, I went to get something to stop my stomach gurgling. I have heard people recommending bananas, but they seemed too heavy. I plumped for a packet of peppermints, which just me thirstier and added to the nausea. Lesson learned.
Theale to Thatcham was the next stretch. As I was pedalling along the A4, cars started shooting past as if possessed. I rang home to find out if I'd been really slow and the match had finished, but no - the loons who nearly had me off my bike were simply heading to a new destination for the second half, or off to the 'offie' to replenish stocks.
I was holding out hope of a quick stop for a cup of tea at my sister's house in Thatcham. She was, of course, out.
Rather than cycle into Newbury across the industrial estate, I went through Shaw, which I knew would take me up hill, but the thought of freewheeling down the other side was just too alluring. I'm glad I did. The gorgeous old mill house cottages that for years I've thought 'one day' (and kick myself because I once let the opportunity to buy pass) have been developed and now look lovely, but not a patch on the old cottages with their large courtyard in front - which was obviously far too prime a piece of land to leave untouched. So I've stopped kicking myself on that front. (It's great - getting fit and absolution all in one afternoon!)
Coming around the tradffic system when I hit Newbury was a bit hairy - and I'm not convinced I didn't commit a major traffic infraction by shooting red lights. But no harm done and I was soon through Newbury and facing a sign saying 'Hungerford 8 miles'.
Now for the rest of the ride, the scenery, pretty cottages, woodland and yes, even racing glimpses of the M4 had kept my mind off the hard saddle, occassional cramps and the fact that my knees, to which I had liberally applied factor 45 before leaving, were going scarlet where my cycling shorts had ridden up. (These shorts, incidentally, paid for themselves a million times over - the tops of my legs remained sweat and sore free for the entire ride.)
But the A4 between Hungerford and Newbury is bleak. Coming down the hill from Benham Valence I was, I suspect, mildly delusional. With fields full of corn and pretty flowers, I was trying hard to remember which tune used to accompany the Timotei ads. (It was the flowers and sunlight in hair, along with the fact that I was now seeing everything in soft focus where my contact lenses had smeared with dust, pollen and salt.)
But there are only so many minutes you can spend before acknowledging that this particular stretch of road is bleak. My mind turned to roadkill. I passed several rabbits (many in pairs), hedgehogs, squirells (also in pairs) a fox, a few birds and a pheasant. Amusingly, there also seemed to be huge numbers of England flags. I can only assume that they fall off speeding cars.
Anyway, back to the A4. It's long and almost straight. No trees. No buildings. Just the open road. Which is appealing in a Maserati, less so on a Raleigh. I felt elated when I reached the Halfway House, only to come to the crushing realisation that this was only halfway. Between there and Hungerford was only road.
Without anything else to hold my attention, the cramp in my knees felt bad. I peeled myself off my bike for a few minutes and stretched, had some water and gave myself a stern talking to.
I expected to feel elated when I reached the outskirts of Hungerford. All I felt was relief. Just a mile or so more would see me at my mothers house.
I could tell from the faces on people leaving the pubs, from the subdued silence, that the England game had been lost. A man with a mobile phone pressed to his ear leant out at me as I passed saying "did you see it, did you see it."
And so I arrived, hot, sticky, but very intact, in Hungerford. I rang home to let my husband know I'd arrived safely. He accused me of having caught the train, a though echoed by cost centre senior (eldest son) when I spoke to him. I think they think I shan't make this ride.
So anyway, I've done it. My first big test. 36 miles through some of Britain's loveliest countryside, along part of the route that I'll actually be cycling when I do the ride.
I've learnt that this is far more about mental state than physical fitness. That I need to invest in some cycling gloves. That I don't need to angst about a lack of toilets (I know, but it was worrying me more than drinks etc which i know are all provided) And that if I don't get a wiggle on with some serious training, it's going to take me 11 hours to complete this ride.
