It seems fate that I joined the posse when I did – just in time for a ‘wildcard’ entry into the Caley Etape.
Roll back to March when my Orbea and I first met; I have to be honest and say I didn’t try that hard to get a place. I just thought, well, that it looked a bit too much, too soon. I’m only a girl, after all (which, by the way, is pretty apparent by my shocking driving, witnessed first hand by ironman and bigman, thank god it was only a mini posse that night…)
To hang! I thought, life’s too short! What’s the worst that could happen… sore legs? Well, I’ve done many a hill race where I was sure there would need to be an amputation afterwards. I could handle it.
I’d had my bike serviced on the Monday, new cleats (I think I thought I could run in them at one point) and training had been going well. Up till then the most I’d ever done was 70 miles in 5 hours. I’d make it a fun day, I thought, chat, eat and watch the world go by. I was sure I’d make it back in about 5 ½ hours, just in time for lunch. I sold it to Chris on the promise of a long lie till then.
And so it was.
We met the posse in a top secret location to share plans, investigate goodie bags (no Chris; that isn’t a gel) and have our nutritionally balanced pre race dinner. (The cullen skink was a great tactic, one timely belch and nearby riders would fall off. I have a lot to learn from the Ironman.) Chris in particular got into the spirit of the carb-loading with a choc fudge cake. Do not underestimate the energy requirements of the support crew.
Tack talk made me nervous, so the posse led me to their top secret bike bunker to loan me a spare inner tube. I saw the intricate mechanics of bike labelling and marvelled already at the colourful array on offer. Some old, some new. But no others with green handlebars. I felt slightly smug.
We had decided to stay in a hostel. It was a step up from camping, or so you would think. I don’t think those campers had a sleepwalking granny around. Let’s just say, I’m glad I had adrenaline to rely on. The good luck texts from fellow skyriders started coming at 6.30. Sitting in the car in cycling kit, eating my honey nut shreddies and banana, I felt the sense of adventure welling up inside me. A couple of months ago, I didn’t even have a bike and now, here I was. Flipping madness :)
A final decision on layers (3 thin ones with armwarmers and my waterproof stuffed in my jersey). Food, check. Water, che…. shit no water! Took my shoes off and dashed back in. Another quick bathroom trip. Wrestled with overshoes then decided against them. I’d borrowed them in case of bad weather but just didn’t feel comfortable. Gosh, look at the time; I’d better be going, I need to find Dave! Off down the hill, could hear a slight commotion, then - BAM!
Wow, so colourful! So chattery! Like a big cross country event… only… much cleaner… more clothes… and with bikes attached. Oh, hang on! There’s Dave in his Team Sky shirt… wait, hang on, no its not. Ah, there he is, definitely him, as he has the matching socks too (and so this went on, until I realised that about 50% of riders had at least one Team Sky item of clothing on… d’oh!)
Oh wait, they were calling my wave. Right, left, what? Where? I still hadn’t found Dave, thought out any kind of strategy or looked at any maps. Bugger it, I’d just have to go. I’d be back for lunch in no time.
So off I went. And went and went. Passing all sorts of folk. Up over the Queens View. The piper was a welcome sight. I waved and gave him a thumbs up. Christ, he was out on a Sunday morning before 8am and had probably been doing a wedding last night.
I got a bit frustrated at the hills, having to slow down to deal with some bottlenecks. For once I was glad for some descents. I guess it’s the payoff of starting in the last group; the upside of course is that you pass people all day.
In my naivety, I thought there’d be plenty of banter and group work (a maxi-posse, if you will) but somewhat woefully, found myself in my own company most of the day. Well, I say on my own. But most times I turned around to find a train behind me. It made me chuckle. Well, I guess I was tanking it compared to most people in that group. I passed the time by monitoring the numbers. Anyone under 2000 had obviously had a puncture and as they set off again, I tried to match their pace. I seemed to weave my way though any 4000’s and into the 3000’s quite quickly. Before long it was totally random and I was surprised how many people had dropped off the pace. There were still no pals to be had though, as soon as I caught up with people, I seemes to pass them.
My only tiny bit of strategy and recollection of the route map was that schehallion was soon after the Tummel ended. With that, I chowed down a flapjack whilst still flattish. Oats, as the rest of the posse will contest, are our friend.
I had been excited about Scheallion and was not let down. It made my legs feel alive and I smiled at myself. I nearly burst out laughing to hear the groans of grown men in parts.
I smiled and waved at everyone the whole way around, thanking them for the support. Everyone was so friendly. I had a real lump in my throat at times, especially with the kids. Rattling bells and banging pans. Heartwarming. ‘It’s a girl! One professed to her mum loudly ‘Look, she’s going really fast’
That really made my day. I hope she got on her bike later too :)
Somehow, it was only 10 miles to go. I texted Chris. Then 5 miles to go, another text. Wait, it can’t be? I’d been looking out for Logierait and managed to change down and stay in the saddle. I’d saved plenty of energy so seemed to zip up. Even then, I was still passing people. Whats this? One mile to go, surely not? I’d had to stop to fiddle about with my bike computer at one point, but surely I couldn’t have done it in under 5 hours?
Pitlochry! Mats! Crowds and clapping and Chris waving and taking a photo. Unclipping from my bike I said a silent thankyou for helping me around. It was my longest ride by 11 miles, but you know what, I felt pretty good.
I met a couple of fellow skyriders who assured me that actually I was closer to 4 ½ hours… what, me?? Double checked my computer, maybe they were right, you know!
Chris met me with a huge hug and - THE BIGGEST SCONE I HAD EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!!! A scone of dreams. Which I wolved down with gusto. I could only have ever dreamed about a scone that size. Seriously, I would’ve traded in my medal for it.
Overall, I did 4.37. I was 6th in my age category, 78th female and 1570th overall. Pretty good considering I wasn’t racing!
Next year, a better starting position and a bit of riding strategy will make all the difference I think. I've some goals in mind but will revisit them a bit closer to the time. Heavens, there’s a couple more sportives, the Etape du Tour and, who can forget, the Col du Carnock before all that again though :)
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