The training of a (few hundred) thousand revolutions starts with a single rotation
Although my birthday had been a week and a half before, Friday was the day for the birthday knees-up at the Dover Castle. The pub is about ten minutes north of Oxford Circus on Weymouth Mews , because you could stand outside if it was too crowded within and was bound to be less rammed than the pubs in Fitzrovia and Soho. In the event the place felt like a can of sardines carelessly left in the pocket of a dead gangster hidden in the boot of a car going through a car crusher: there wasn’t much room to breathe. Outside, an arctic wind whistled down the cobbled mews, so we after a few foolhardy minutes we had to squeeze ourselves inside.
The Dover Castle is a Samuel Smith’s pub, so dead cheap. I started with their famous ‘Fat Man’ Alpine Lager, before sampling a wheat beer in a long curvy glass and then another lager in an even more curvy glass, which made the previous one look like Kate Moss standing next to Scarlett Johanssen. The affordable beer meant I was pretty pished, pretty quick. I remember talking about the time Lucy met the original Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds – Lucy O’Donnell, a girl who went to school with Julian Lennon and reputedly inspired the song. LSD Lucy now works as a nurse and my mate Lucy, who works as an estate agent, once sold her flat for her. A curry seemed the best way to round the evening off.
There was to be no late night debuachery, as Saturday meant ‘cyclismo’. I went to spin last Saturday, and for a run on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but the London to Canterbury ride is slightly less than 10 weeks away and other than that I’d done no real training. After an early-ish start I set off down to Richmond Park soon after 11.
It’s 10 miles from London Bridge to Richmond Park, with a quick detour to Earlsfield to pick up Tom, and the ride goes down the reassuringly wide A3. Only for the last two miles does the road turn into a busy dual-carriageway. I met Tom, who’s doing this frightening 120 mile ride too, 13 years ago on a BUNAC summer working-vacation in Santa Cruz, California. Last year he did the marathon and two weeks ago the Thames Tow Path 10 mile run; he’s sport mad and has a horrifyingly high base level of fitness.
Each lap of Richmond Park is 7 miles, which I at least started with a nice little woosh of adrenaline after crossing several lanes of speeding traffic on the A3 at Robin Hood Corner. The first thing you notice is that you are not alone. There are hoards of multi-coloured, lycra-clad, hunched over cyclists speeding like bullets interminably around the park. I used to live nearby for a few years and I had no idea that it exerted quite such a pull on cyclists, but thinking about it it must be the best place to train in London. Hampstead Heath is lovely, but not the place to cycle at speed.
There are hills to struggle up and speed down, a 20 mile speed limit to prevent lunatic drivers and ice cream vans to provide light refreshment. Yum! We did two laps aiming at an average speed of 17 miles an hourand then came home, making it a 36 mile round trip. We’re aiming for an average speed of 17 miles an hour because Tom, who’s also the best at maths out of the two of us, says that will make our (fearsome) 120 miles will take a mere 7 odd hours…of solid cycling.
When I got home, my heavy legs definitely felt like they had done some exercise. That was with two rests at Tom’s, both out and back, and half an hour in the Royal Park eating raisins and apples after our first lap. Gosh, we only went a quarter of of the (intimidating) 120 miles. Some way to go then.
As everyone knows there is no rest for the wicked, and still less for the wicked cyclist. The girlfriend was moving flat, and I was to help.