Bliss it was that morning to be alive, i thought, as the morning sun hauled itself over the hill and bathed the house in sunshine. And tough it was to find the Cannondale, hidden under a few dust sheets, the remains of my mower and shock/horror a hibernating hedgehog. (Note to self – must store items better… ) But i felt well up for it as i loaded the bike into the car. Yes, it may be mid-February and bloody cold but someone somewhere has blown the road ride schedule out the door and down the street. It only feels like 4 months ago we last assembled at Luis’ house to witness the engineering miracle that is attaching his bike carrier and once again it took us a good hour to get all four steeds locked and loaded and on the road.
Mission accomplished its off to Brands Hatch for this 70-mile event, new to all of us, called the Kentish Killer. And the name did indeed fit the plot. Without spoiling too much of the story now, this was a no-holds barred gloves-off slug-fest for man and machine. Cunningly incorporating every uphill slope in the region in its route plan and leaving some of the best inclines for the last 10 miles… In fact a route-plan so cunning you could assume a French accent and pretend you were on the Etape (except for the cold weather of course, well, that is, unless you did Stage 2 last year).
The great thing about an event kicking off in a place like Brands Hatch is the sheer quality of the location. Loads of parking, loads of toilets (Human Race please note), registration in 30 seconds, and off you go. Lovely. On the road about 8.45, just as the ice is melting on the roads.
So the first 20 miles fine, no problems, the team doing its best to keep together with our usual two frontrunners, Top Gun and Puss hanging back with Oli and myself wondering how best to let them go without looking like losers. Its always nice to ride a couple of hours as a team which leaves plenty of time to split up during the latter art of the race, and in fact the boys headed off as we crossed the M25.
Now i’ve not road-ridden much with Oli, him being one of those ironman types, and we exchanged a few minutes of careful tactical pushing to see if either was willing or inclined to rush off. Luckily we were both half asleep, myself through a unexpected bit of socialising, Oli having spent half the night repairing human bodies in casualty, and came to the conclusion it would be warmer to ride together.
Miles 20 to 40 were picturesque and drove us (not literally, we were on bikes you see) through Weald down to Penshurst and Groombridge (possibly not in that order) and the out onto the Ashdown Forest, where, i have to say it was bloody steep, cold and windy. At this stage the level of chatter we had maintained for the first section had decayed to the odd grunt, a sure sign of fatigue creeping in and the need to concentrate on just turning pedals. I always feel a bit miserable in that 2.5 to 3.5 hour period, and am best left to get on with it. Oli suggesting i might want to head off, something i’d rashly contemplated earlier on, but it was dawning on the that being an ironman doesn’t always imply you’re a good man with a creased shirt, rather that you’re a tough nut with a bike.
No doubt we were pleased to turn at half-way house on the forest, but i could see our Avg 15mph was starting to dwindle downwards as we headed back up north. Mark Beech and heading up to Hever was lovely and almost inspiring, enabling us to get that second wind going and work together at the front. However we did seem to pick up a pack of drafters who made no effort to get to the front, a bit poor really. But i’m not bitter.
How pleased were we to get the marshalls message of ’7 miles and 1 last hill’. I expect a few people heard this. I have to say my legs detected what can only be described as a ‘second hill’, flicked in maybe as an afterthought, and here i was starting to hear some bitching from our peleton as cramp was kicking in to most people’s legs. And here i have to give credit to Oli for sheer effort up the climbs, he doesn’t do lazy climbing, which is something i’ve perfected, instead he pushes hard and the force is clearly with him. I was gutted to take two 30-second rests on the last climb but we rejoined and were very relieved to see the end in sight.
In the meatime Stefan and Luis crept in what sounds like 30 minutes earlier, with Luis grabbing 10th place Gold and Stefan, fresh from his 8th week ski-ing this winter, seemingly with the same time but saying how tough he found it, only 11th. We are not worthy!
For the B team, coming in at 4hr 52′ish, Oli got a Bronze 67th and i dodged a Silver 68th, having cunningly taken the space of someone in the 60+ age group. Cheers Brian. Top tip that…
So, a nice hot meal and a pint each to recover, we leave North Kent and say thankyou to the organisers for getting us out of bed and on the road so early in the season. We were blessed with great weather, this would have been another level of pain in the rain, but it was brilliantly marshalled and clearly a lot of planning had gone into make it a great day… thanks guys.
