I knew it was going to be a good day today. As darkness fell last night on the nerve racking descent in to Stroud, I realised there was something wrong with my brakes when I had an extremely uncomfortable encounter with a lamp post. I'd show you the graze on my face but as discussed, I'm not big on photos that prove how I look without Dior's help. My lovely lady in Boots in Leeds would kill me.
Waking up at 7am in the Close in Tetbury and knowing the bike shop in Dursley didn't open until 10am meant that a well earned Friday morning at relative leisure could be pursued. The best breakfast so far on the Tour. By a long, long way. Which is saying a lot as followers of the blog will know. We know how to do a full english in this country.
Tetbury is somewhere close to Highgrove. Apparently you can spot all manner of royals using the coop if you want to. But get this - the sun was shining - and the gardens behind the Close are quite lovely. Also Prince Charles has a Highgrove shop which opened at 9.30am so there was a spot of pre Christmas shopping opportunity.
The bike shop is Dursley is FANTASTIC. Delta sorted out my battered bike with a whole new breaking system and replenishments. They also pumped up my half pressure tyres. Meanwhile I managed a look around Dursley Church and pedestrianised shopping zone and I can tell you, it's a fine place to while away a LEJOG hour or two. A super gift shop where I could buy a gift for one of my former team that has just delivered a gorgeous baby Zara and I was happy. Refreshed, rejuvenating and revelling in the glory of the sunny Cotswolds.
Leaving The Prince of Wales pub on the A38 at 12.50pm with 80 miles to go, there was a tall order ahead but I didn't mind. The bike was as new and the sun was shining and I made quite a bit of fast hay. The traffic was fast and furious but I hand it to Stroud & Gloucester district council. Miles and miles and miles of safe cycling. My latest love affair with the Cotswolds which began when my former business opened at Aston Down is a committed one.
Today, I've been thinking a lot about how important it is to work in a great team. Over the 20 years of working in one business, people came and went but Good people (and generally most of them were Great people) stayed and stayed and stayed. With locations throughout the UK sometimes the travel to get there could be awful but you were always guaranteed a super warm welcome and a happy group to work with. For me that was the hardest part of leaving the business behind once it was sold. So many fantastic people who have given so much so far who you can rely on in any weather. I like to think they were all my Friends. I do miss you all!
Meanwhile, the Friday traffic started to hot up but some well placed (for me) roadworks and a rare chatty chance Type A Cyclist did wonders for my batting average. Somewhere short of Worcester there was a queue that went on for mile after mile after mile. Wondering whether this was an accident, I started to deliberate whether to carry on or look for another route. Type A whizzes up before me and says 'Where you heading?'. JOG, I say. He laughs - I've worked out why but we'll get to that - and says 'Tonight?' I said, Ironbridge. His face turns pale and says follow me. So we wind through all the stationary traffic for mile after mile after mile, generally on the wrong side of the country road and make great headway. Towards the end of this he says, 'You're not going on the 449 are you?'. Of course I was.
'A LEJOGer was killed on that road a couple of years ago. It's really dangerous. Fast and unsafe for cyclists. Take great care. Good luck.'
Well, it's never a bad thing to be given local knowledge. Think national, act locally I thought. I mean, boy do I know how awful the roads are in this country largely. On the other hand specific warnings are well meant, particularly in the unfriendly world of cycling.
Type A Cyclists are those (generally)blokes who have all the kit, the bike (that they love more than any woman) and the look. Superfit, superdetermined, faster than the speed of sound, they rarely acknowledge your existence except in an irritated, get out of my way, sort of way. Of course, that will be because I don't look like any of them (pink is not in their vocabulary) and never will. They've been inside all week until today because I guess they don't like the inconvenience of the weather.
Type B Cyclists are those that have the kit and are largely Type A wannabees. Again, normally blokes, they have maybe just taken up cycling and haven't yet discovered cycling weekly (there will be one because Type A's couldn't wait for a monthly rag) and are probably taking part in triathlons of varying lengths and wanting to improve their fitness. They aren't friendly either but only because they are still in training. If they join a triathlon club, they will make it. I've seen about 6 of these in the past days.
Type C cyclists have neither the kit, the bike nor the distance gene. They are using their bikes to transit on short journeys to and from home and are normally encountered from town edge to town edge. They use pavements and road the wrong way, know how to beat lights, cut corners, weave through traffic and generally scare the wits out of me.
There are two further categories:-
Students - OMG - say no more.
Charity nutters - me.
Anyway, still tonking on while thinking of all this, I do well until Kidderminster. You can tell a town that has seen better days by the number of letching, leering white van men of about 18yrs old whose only chance of fun is to p*** take. I have developed a Type A aloofness in their regard. Pretend they are invisible to me. After all, I'm riding well today.
The traffic was awful and the roads awful. Everybody had fizz Friday on their minds or Friday-ittus anyway and wanted to be at home, in the pub or anywhere other than work. Fair point. In fairness to me, I didn't want to be on the A449 either but with my support car miles and miles behind, there was either a bat on or stop risk to take. In the end, at 6.30pm as the light faded on the winding roads out of Kidderminster and it got more and more steep, scary, dark and fast on the A449 which I'd been so clearly warned about, I pulled in to a well placed laybe and called it a day. 16 miles short of target but on a short day's cycling in good weather in difficult road conditions, I didn't care.
There's always tomorrow for a LEJOGer.
Happy Fizz Friday Gals.
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