Knees, tan lines, boy-racers and bonking

So I have the bike, I have the gear and I have the mission. There is just the small task of getting fit for it. Nothing would be more embarrassing than collapsing in a wheezing, sweaty mess ten miles out. So with a combination of personal pride and not wanting to disappointment my sponsors, I began my training in earnest in early February....that gave me about 18 weeks. Loads of time.....

Far from it....by the end of February I was off the bike and wearing a knee support on my right and very swollen knee. Several painful and expensive trips to the physio and I was diagnosed with ‘misaligned patella tracking’. A common ailment with cyclists where the outer upper quad muscles of my legs were stronger than the inner quads....resulting in them pulling the knee cap over my knee joint and rubbing up and down as I pedalled. 3 weeks later I was allowed back on the bike after slowly building up my inner quads in the gym. Now I had 11 weeks training remaining. I was running out of time...

I slowly eased back into the rides and built up to my first century ride in early April in the Cotswolds. Quite the eye-opener it was tough to say the least. But despite the rather demoralising and often humiliating points (being overtaken by girls and having to get off on the really steep bits) I had reached quite an important marker.

What followed was an 8 week blur of early morning rises and lost weekends, mind-numbingly boring laps of Richmond park, constant abuse from chavs in suped-up Fiesta’s, and journeys down pretty much every country road in Hampshire, Wiltshire, Dorset and Surrey. But it slowly built up the strength in my legs, and I began to find myself not walking up the hills so much, and only getting overtaken by the occasional girl....which was allowed as everyone needs a carrot.

I began to understand the joys of draughting (sitting behind fellow cyclists, who take the brunt of the wind whilst you expend up to 30% less energy behind), the techniques of ascending and descending steep sections, and the huge importance of fuelling yourself by eating and drinking constantly whilst on the bike (essential to avoid ‘bonking’ or ‘hitting the wall’...something I came close to experiencing a couple of times).

Things were going reasonably well .... I was getting faster and stronger and could now even do back-to-back 100 milers (although I walked like John Wayne for a few days afterwards). I lost weight incredibly quickly and had to compensate by eating enourmous carb-loaded meals. I also began to develop the infamous cycling tan - not something to be proud of as it gave you incredibly defined tan lines where you had been wearing your shorts, top and gloves.



But then disaster struck...my left knee started to act up similarily to my right back in February. A lack of stretching and overtraining were to blame and three weeks before I was due to leave for France I was told to stop my training altogether and repair myself, otherwise I wouldn’t even make the start let alone complete it. I had a final and very gentle ride on the knee last weekend and everything appears to be back to normal. I hope - but have I done enough?

To be honest....I haven’t. Nothing like enough. Since I officially started at the beginning of February I have spent nearly 145 hours in the saddle and cycled exactly 2,267 miles (of which 13 rides were of a 100 miles or more). Depressingly this means in the 5 months of training I have managed only 31 miles more than I intend to complete in just 22 days! Oh dear...out of time.

But in the words of one particularly vocal chav as he manfully roared past me.... "France is that way mate!"

Training is over .... time for the real thing!