So a second training escapade has been concluded, a total of 6 set off (Mark, GB, James, Tim1, Neil, and yours truly), and a mere 2 completed in full (Tim1 and some other bloke). Having set off from New Mill church after an interminable wait for James to manage the 20yds from his abode, and GB to do a spot of weight training with a filing cabinet, we dashed the first yard and a half in a bunched sprint before climbing steadily (all excepting GB and Tim who with inexorable lack of haste steadily disappeared into the distance telling tales of daring do and passing a rather large cigarette holder between them, Tim not believing his pipe would light too well in the inclement weather).
The air was full of snow, though Mark taking the role of optimist declared the main reason for showing his knees with a distinct lack of leggings was because the weather forecast promised a balmy 8 degrees after 10am!
Having warmed our legs we reached the Crossroads, scuttled across the main road and climbed into the fog snow and low cloud. We sauntered whilst hiding in the horizontal snowfall, on the underside of the windmills, not that we saw them as the fog swallowed them whole.
To Millhouse we fell and via a circuitous route headed for the Upper Don Trail. As we sauntered towards it we saw, a fine entrance over a low gate and through a paddy field the trail itself. As an unknown jest we joined the trail here and as Mark and I turned to watch the troops clambering over the gate, we espied a fine wide entrance a whole 10 yards up the trail in the direction of travel. Oh how we laughed at this jolly jape!
To show our impertinance, Lance and Bradley left us for dust and the rest of us sauntered through snow, ice and mud to Dunford Bridge. In order to recoup our deficit it was suggested that maybe we could utilise the bus that was idling at the stop, but after a short discussion with the driver we were left with no option but to climb again, to pass over Winscar res and up to the splendid view of nothing that was the pea soup at Flight hill. (Tim had obviously decided enough was enough and that we all required motivational and speed training, and as such launched snowballs at us with the his free hand at an alarming rate of accuracy! Have to say it didn't work).
We again set off for lumberjack country and after Mark had made a slightly injudiscious comment about Jennys potential T shirt and Blokes on a Bike, set off downhill through the fjords. Tim showed how you mount your steed when clearing 5 bar gates in Batley and to be fair everyone thought he was a bit of a smartarse!Mark handed out the tablets (mine was pink!) and we found fresh impetus for a brief second or so.
Onwards through Hades we fled and the first true war wound was to aflict James as he exited velocipede in an untoward manner, putting not only a hole in his flesh, but also his brand new shorts!
The snow was now turning to Sleet, and the chill factor was hitting us hard, with Mark's bare flesh doing a good impersonation of GB's union flag headwear despite the Mud.
We passed plantation and headed down the track to the foot of Brownhill and Yateholme which was a good bit of fun but encountered a small dismount from Mark. Passing walkers accused those of us at the rear of being old men according to our colleagues, but heh we got there.
We couldn't head to Yateholme due to work on the Reservoirs, so we chose downhill, passing a couple of intrepid walkers picnicing in the snow and I caught sight of a cormorant on Holme Styes res.
As we hit the road again Mark abandoned with Blue feet and ice pack knees, (to be fair he had ridden to the church for the start) and GB shot for the low ground in order to make an appointment in Liverpool!(or so he said) The rest of the intrepid band of frozen, wet cyclists headed past Dobb school to Cartworth, and Wards Banks, were we took a shortened route to the top of Washpit. As we hit the flatlands before Underbank, Neil had a minor panic attack as he saw the hills again, but he kindly paced me up the hill to Cinderhills as he walked alongside as I rode.
We crossed the playing fields and took the "crow flies" path, which was somewhat damp. In fact scuba gear was called for as we rescued Neil from the rising water, added to the obstacles on the path, damp frozen feet was definitely the order of the day. Over Cliff we shot and gathered at the end in a uniform orchestral chorus of cold squeaky disc brakes and headed at Speed past Seans abode shortly after which the four became three.
The church once more rose into sight and James finally met his match as Sude hill and home made it into sight. Tim by this time had his bike in the car had extinguished his 83rd cigarette of the day and was ready for home.
The clock still stood as before at five to ten and we never did see the balmy heights of 8 degrees.
All in all not a very long ride at just over 22miles, and with conditions of participants and weather a time of 3hours, 19 minutes average speed around 6.6 miles per hr was slow but excusable.
However as Mark the motivator states as his mantra "every mile training in the Mud, Snow & Cold is worth two in the dry and warm!" So really we did about 45 miles and to me that shows we are absolutely on course!
Racing
