HOW TO HAVE A HAPPY CLUB RUN

CLUB RUNS MATTER

This article appeared in 'The Wheeler' in November 2008. Now, in February 2011, the West Suffolk Wheelers & Tri Club has been addressing the topic again. I thought this might refresh a few memories - and be of historical interest for new members.

Every club that has regular club runs and a club magazine has articles moaning about the conduct of this core activity of our sport. Our Clubruns are currently very successful, and there are what these days we call challenges associated with this success.

First, a bit of history. I'll start when I joined the Wheelers seven years ago, shortly after moving from Cambridge to Suffolk . I loved cycling on the maze of lanes and was thrilled that all the good stuff began almost at our garden gate in Norton. For the first three months I went back to Cambridge for the Wednesday ride I'd done for ten years, and took myself off on Sunday mornings on my own.

Exasperated by the sight of her husband's impression of Nobbie No Mates,Susan whispered "Find a Club" then "Why not try the West Suffolk Wheelers?". After a quick Website check I phoned Peter Heath and joined the only club run in town. I was welcomed. When I turned up the following Sunday, I was greeted warmly, as if I was already a long-standing member. There was only one run. The fitness range was pretty wide, and tensions could develop, and many members gave up the idea of going out at all, convinced that they'd never keep up.

This meant that though there was only the one run, the most we could muster would be eight or so, an average ride would be about four and I remember the occasions when it would be my turn to be The Only One. So discipline wasn't an issue. We rolled along in a neat enough bunch, everyone knew what to do when we singled-out for traffic, and we'd take it in turns to ride on the front, watching Brian Starr rolling along about a quarter of a mile ahead. Brian having joined Stowmarket & Dist CC, his part is now played by others (who know who they are).

In the past three or so years things have changed dramatically.

New riders have been joining the main ride at a steady rate, to the level that when 18 riders turn up outside Woolworths, [bear in mind; that was then, this is now] there could still be some absentees.

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest and around four years ago, Neville Pettitt offered to begin a 'slow-and-friendly' ride to encourage back onto their bikes those who'd been intimidated. We marvelled at his self sacrifice and public spirit. He warned that he might not be able to do it every week, and we discussed how the leaderless riders might cope, and whether it was responsible of us, as a club, to expose them to riding un-chaperoned. These days, this ride often has as many as a dozen riders (some of them 'resting' from the faster run) and is lead by either the doughty Mark Eastwood, or by that champion tea-drinker, scone-scoffer and all-round good egg John Steed. The two rides became known (unsurprisingly) as 'Fast' and 'Slow'.

Eventually, these titles were considered too judgemental (and possibly elitist) so we settled for 'A' and 'B'. Then Justin Wallace, who has very sensitive antennae for this sort of thing, and could feel the inherent superiority that could be assumed by a ride that was 'A' rather than 'B', re-branded them 'Espresso' and ' Cappuccino' (also known as Expresso and Cuppaccino - a version that makes a lot of sense, whilst offending linguistic purists. What's not to like?). Also, there is now a regular 10 to 12am Saturday ride for children, absolute beginners and those who are just after a gentle amble. This ride starts at Moreton Hall Community Centre. [another update, there is also a Latté run from Nowton on a Sunday similar in pace to the Saturday ride which, incidentally still doesn't have a name]

And then there is The Wednesday Ride from the bus stop opposite Thurston Post Office [Update; New Green Centre in Thurston]. This began as the warm milky drink before an early bedtime, but is now a shade more bracing at times.

So now, we are where we are. Although there are a some problems with pace on the Cappuccino (those 'resting' Espresso riders), it is the Espresso that is probably the hardest to organise (I hesitate to use the word 'Control). With a large pool of riders, some only able to attend occasionally, we don't always know each other's names and certainly don't know who is very experienced and who has only just started to ride seriously. These days it is more common for a comparative beginner to turn up with a high-end bike and all the kit, and I'd tend to assume they knew what to do, and I'd be reluctant to insult them by offering basic advice. But advice is often needed.

What we really need is a few fuss-pot know-alls with good voice projection, or, on second thoughts, maybe not. The old hands, whose knowledge would be useful, are reluctant to appear to be throwing their weight about, for fear of appearing to be fuss-pot know-alls and those who've been around for a medium amount of time aren't sufficiently certain of their ground and worry about making fools of themselves.

Oh, what a complicated business all this interpersonal relationships stuff is. Some sort of order is vital with such a large group of riders on the open road. Let's begin at the beginning of the ride. Most exits from Bury which head South or South West involve a fair bit of climbing. Take these early ascents gently to allow every one to warm up. You may be feeling really strong, and not notice the pace you're setting if you're on the front. You may be one of the :-

Strong Riders. If you are, then you have a responsibility to keep things calm, not hand out a pasting. Just because you punctured early on in a race the day before, you don't have to destroy the hapless guy alongside you in the first two miles of the clubrun. You probably have the ability to tow the group nearly all day long, but it's best, in general, not to.You'll get bored, and gradually wind up the pace. Things go wrong when the strongest two or three ride off the front by a few bike lengths. This means (a) that there are now two sets of front riders which makes no sense at all or, (b) the other riders accelerate to close the gap - and the riders at the very back start to suffer. The acceleration needed increases the further back you are. This rise in pace can also be caused by :-

Half-Wheeling . One of the leading pair rides with half (or more) of his front wheel ahead of his partner's. The partner will probably move up level. The 'half wheeler' then moves ahead again. Don't do it. Ride level with each other and at a steady pace (which could be fairly fast so long as everyone behind is OK). I have come across riders whose half-wheeling can be dealt with by the simple expedient of allowing their bottom bracket to be level with your front hub. Makes conversation a bit awkward - but if you play their (often subconscious) game for long you'll be incapable of speech anyway.

Another method that we have been following lately (with variable amounts of success) is to change the personnel on the front at three or four minute intervals. Assume that we are riding in two parallel lines. When it is time to change, the outside rider pulls ahead of his partner and, when safe to do so, moves to the left (check that the rider alongside knows what you're doing and why). The next rider then pulls forward. If this rider is not feeling strong enough, he can pull straight through and, when the next rider comes alongside, just ask them to go through as well. This has an additional, social, benefit. We have set up a cocktail party on wheels (without the alcohol. Or the party). Try to find out other riders' names ( God, I'm getting seriously patronising here – but assumptions can be dangerous). I find that I have to do this most rides, simply because I've forgotten (for instance) the name of that friendly bloke on the Bianchi. Long ago I realised that people don't mind being asked, that it was only self-obsession that made me more worried about appearing foolish than by an inability to refer to someone by their name. It's difficult to rely on catching someone's eye when cornering at 23mph in the middle of a group.

Discipline. There, I've written that word. Don't assume that I'm referring to top-down 'do what I say' or even "when I say 'jump' your only question will be 'how high?' ". This discipline is the self discipline of the group as an entity. Think before you change direction, concentrate on what is happening around you in the bunch, please don't swerve around obstacles. There should be warning given from the front, and passed on down the line, to give everyone time to move out (or in) smoothly to avoid that pothole or pile of poo. A violent swerve can take out the rider behind you (look, I know that he shouldn't have his wheel overlapping yours, but it's safer to assume he might. And his front wheel just might be alongside your rear because you'd braked before you 'switched' him and he had to avoid you ). Try hard to maintain 'station'. A following motorist may get the impression that the untidy-looking mess of riders ahead are 'all over the road' or 'riding three and four abreast' when in fact it's just that the two columns of riders are in an elongated 'S' shape. When there is a call to 'single out' for following traffic don't slow down more than is necessary to let the rider on the outside move in. He will accelerate to place himself alongside the gap between you and the rider ahead. You only need ease up enough to let him in. I have ridden in groups where there is a convention for one or other of the two files to pull forward. Where there has been an agreed leader, and there are a few visiting riders, a call of "Single out; right front!" really does get riders organised. In the days when everyone had experienced National Service, this approach would have been considered entirely normal. These days such a 'command' might be considered too prescriptive.

When you are on the front, and meet an obstacle such as (say) an approaching vehicle on a narrow lane, try not to slow down or suddenly brake; this can cause a pile up behind you. Avoiding action should be first priority; there is nearly always a gap for a single rider. Often, a new but strong rider will be nervous of riding close - or "too close" as they may feel it. This is a skill that just has to be learned. It really isn't optional. Practice is the only way to gain confidence. Try to ride between two and three feet behind and avoid 'overlapping' the rear wheel in front (especially on the gear side. Think about it). Riding on the inside file can be scary because that's where the potholes mostly lie, and you've little room for manoeuvre. The tempting cure for this is to ride between the pair in front - but then that pushes your outside partner into the traffic. And you look like four riders abreast instead of two pairs. Start by trying to pick the outside file. This is good practice for positioning yourself. You'll find it possible to have more control of where you are than you might think.

I think that covers the main points. Perhaps I'll do an update in the next edition. [ Update; I didn't, because there wasn't]

SJH

2011 Suffolk Punch Reliability Ride

Report on the West Suffolk Wheelers & Tri Club

Suffolk Punch Reliability Trial
Sunday 6 February 2011

Last Sunday, 85 riders signed on for the annual Suffolk Punch reliability trial, organised by the West Suffolk Wheelers and Triathlon Club. The record number of entrants was partly due to riders wanting to catch up with their training after the hard winter; but perhaps mainly because the entry fee had been waived, and riders were asked for donations towards the East Anglian Air Ambulance – who had provided valuable assistance at a club-run accident in early January.

This year’s Suffolk Punch followed the same 55 mile route as last year’s - and took riders out through Hawstead, Lawshall, Shimpling, Hartest, Hawkedon, Clare, Stradishall, Wickhambrook, Dalham, Ashley, Newmarket, Moulton, Ousden, Hargrave, Whepstead and back through Hawstead. Plus a 40 mile option which missed out the Dalham/Newmarket loop.

First to arrive back at Nowton Village Hall were Ron Fisher, Jonathon Sjolin and Steve Willet, having covered the 40 mile route well within the 15 mph average speed time limit. It was good to see Ron riding so well, as he was one of the three riders injured in the January accident. 16 other riders made it back inside the 15 mph average, while 14 came in at 13 mph and another nine at 11 mph.

Next it was the turn of the 55 mile groups to arrive back. Hot on the heels of the 40 milers, were five riders from the 18 mph group, who had made light work of the strong winds and endless hills, and returned in under three hours: Jonathan Howe, Brian Phillips, David Giffin, Dale Sturman and Simon Daw turned in a remarkable performance. Remarkable too was the performance of the Wheelers’ rising young star, Alan Trolove. He had hung on to the flying quintet until the climb up through the Newmarket Gallops, where he lost contact. He stayed focused and came home with two minutes to spare for an 18 mph average. Brothers James and Paul Rooke also rode strongly to get just inside the cut-off time. Lee Sturman didn’t quite make it; however, for much of the ride he was alone with no one to share the work into the wind.

23 riders achieved the 15 mph average, three the 13 mph (including the Wheelers’ resident photographer and artist, Stephen Hill, who in spite of laying awake the night before memorising the route, managed to go off course and clock up the extra miles that made all the difference to his time), and two the 11 mph. Eight didn’t finish the ride and three were outside the time limits.

Another successful event, made even better by the generosity of the riders who contributed almost £600 towards the vital service provided by the East Anglian Air Ambulance. Thanks also to the cake-makers and tea ladies, who helped in the riders’ recovery process.

Justin Wallace 7 February 2011

15 of us lurked about near the New Green Centre in Thurston - the car park was locked (presumably a Seasonal Issue) so those in cars were parked provocatively - but not a problem of our making. After so much ice following quite a bit of snow, we were pathetically grateful for the single-figure positive temperature and thick mist. Personally, I'd have been content with driving rain and half a gale after a month off the bike. Peter was in charge, and had emailed the hard core the day before to warn us that the ride would be at a moderate to modest pace because (a) Peter has had back and chest problems in December, and isn't feeling quite the thing, and (b) because he apparently accosted a young runner called Mary Narey recently and persuaded her to come and join us on her bicycle for her first ever ride with a group. Turning into quite the Derbyshire Don Giovanni is our Pete. One to watch. I say no more. Another to watch will be Mary elle meme who kept up well in trainers and toeclips, and will be a very handy climber pretty soon (though tall, Mary doesn't look as if she has problems fighting gravity)

We kept to fairly main roads to avoid possible remains of ice, but as far as the standard of driving we witnessed it was turkey season. At least three vehicles, at various times, charged into the gloom to pass all of us, only to meet another vehicle coming the other way - both cars coming to a halt (luckily)on each occasion. One Turkey managed this twice - the second time the small truck approaching him broke with convention, and didn't stop, so it was a very near miss indeed. Many cars passed while going round blind bends. We saw far too many displaying no lights - including a dark blue saloon with blue light on the roof! On our return journey we took to larger lanes rather than smaller main roads, and the first car we met immediately pulled to the side of the road and stopped for us to go through. There's a lesson here, maybe.

We experienced the Dawn of the age of the puncture, as the poor girl suffered two within half an hour. Her bike had been serviced by Nathan (he delivered it to New Green - what service) and the first punctured tube was replaced by Richard Farrow. I'm not making any sort of a point here, except perhaps that Dawn is innocent. Anyway, the second replacement tube survived the remainder of the ride. And was fitted by RF. Why am I writing this rubbish?

We rode through Lavenham and on (eventually) through Monks Eleigh to tackle the climb followed by false flat that would take us to our Café of the Year 2010 at Hollowtrees farm, Semer. A break formed on the climb and, with some determined work by Ron Fisher and Justin we managed to drag back Glenn Morris who was gamely making a solo bid (on the same fixed gear of 72.5" as myself) for the Café Prime. Now lined-out, Justin was doing a handy impression of an egg whisk as he showed the beginnings of his Marmotte form. Just don't Peak too early Justin. Justin's son Jack was commendably tolerant of his Dad's juvenile behaviour, even though he had to suffer with lack of quality miles, and riding about twice as much bicycle in the form of his recently commissioned Bob Jackson. Tea was welcome, and we were welcomed warmly by the wonderfully cheerful staff.

Out into the gloom again, and back down to Monks Eleigh, along to Lavenham and thence home via Preston, Brettenham and Rattlesden (almost). Back by 1pm, with 46 miles on the clock (it's looking a bit pale around the display, so may need a new battery, so maybe I really did 56 or, even, 66?). A quick hose down for the bike, lunch, and a deep, hot bath. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.

What with gloves and five layers of clothing, I couldn't handle the camera well enough to adjust the white-balance. It would have sounded a bit precious to bring everyone to a standstill just to make an adjustment. So, no picture. But there may be one if I put this on the Blog, I feel a drawing coming on

SJH

Wednesday 15 Sept 2010: A Dawn Flight

There are cultures where it is the convention to talk of your "miserable house" , "ugly, ill favoured wife" or "unsuccessful and untalented husband" so that you don't incur the wrath of whichever spiritual omnipotence (a.k.a. God) that you worship. This may have been an unfortunate misunderstanding of the expression "The Lord thy God is a Jealous God".

As an extension of this, we will sometimes avoid making remarks that might sound pretty crass if things go badly "I haven't had a puncture in months" "I never hurt myself badly if I fall off my bike" "I feel invincible today" or "I know, this is all going SO well, let's invade Russia".

Tempting fate, giving a hostage to fortune, speaking too soon.

I did that today. Chatting to Ron Fisher I said "back in the 1980s we used to be pretty worried by very strong wind, but these days it never crosses my mind to (say) cancel a ride because of a brisk breeze". About half an hour later, poor Dawn D'Amarco was blown sideways, and fell head first into a deep ditch. Sorry Dawn.

The remainder of the ride was conducted slowly and with caution. We had tea at the Lakeside Café at Onehouse (that may not be the correct name, but it IS a Café, and it IS by a Lake. The sun was now out, and still had enough warmth for us to spread ourselves around outside. There was a definite French feel to the set up. French people a passionate about fishing (among many other fields of endeavour) and Cafés by fishing lakes are frequently encountered, and they tend to be basic. If I say that this one was basic, I mean them no harm. It was friendly and informal in a manner that lacked any hint of self consciousness. And the sun was shining, which always helps. Under normal circumstances I would consider it too close to home for a 'proper' tea-stop. On this day it was just what was needed.

SJH

Ride For Luke, 12 July 2010

The reason for this short but enjoyable ride was a sombre one. Luke Southgate was but one of the casualties of the war in Afghanistan, but to his parents on the Mildenhall Estate in Bury he was everything, their hero, their son and their loss.

West Suffolk Wheeler and indefatigable Ultra-Man triathlete Simon Bourne had just returned from a multi-charity ride, accompanied by friends based at RAF Honington, which had taken them from the Rock of Gibraltar to Bury, with a tribute to Luke as the mainstay of his efforts. We were there on Angel Hill as representatives of the Wheelers, invited by Simon to lead a ride over the final miles to RAF Honington.

Now, Simon has connections. He served with the RAF Regiment (whose base is at Honington) as a PTI (Physical Training Instructor) in the 1980s, and subsequently with the Police in Bury, again as a PTI. He could be described as a man hard enough to be able to teach the hardest men how to be hard. These two parts of his life meant that not only were we allowed onto Honington base, but also we were escorted all the way by three Police motorcyclists and a Traffic Car. Simon and his partners on the 'RockRide' looked remarkably fresh, despite 1,600 miles that included 35 degree temperatures through Spain and hauling themselves over the Pyrenees.

There were, as far as I could ascertain, 20 WSW riders in full Club Colours, plus RAFCC members and Police cyclists making a total that the East Anglian Daily Times claimed to be 50 - and who am I to contradict that respected Organ? We had been promised a Police Escort and, by Jove, we got one. Three motorcyclists whizzing to and fro, stopping traffic at lights and roundabouts, plus the car following behind. This luxury took some getting used to - the automatic reaction to these hazards being to slow down in preparation to stop - but we soon got the hang of it, and decided that this was the one missing element from our Clubruns. We turned left onto the Mildenhall Road Estate, and negotiated the traffic-calming system that seemed to be based entirely (and thriftily) on the use of neglected potholes, to reach Luke's family's road. His family were gathered in a group on the verge outside their house, clapping and cheering. We felt very moved and extremely humbled - after all, we'd only ridden from Angel Hill, and felt unworthy. It was Simon and friends who had done all those sweltering miles.

As we rode along, I was asked by Forrest McCracken (weapons systems specialist in USAAF, recently returned from Afghanistan, Wheeler for over a year) "what's the significance of Gibraltar?". I flannelled a bit then moved up the peleton to ask Simon.
"Rock Apes" he said. "Used to be based on Gibraltar in the early days, so the RAF Regiment are known as the 'Rock Apes' ". The link will fill you in with two versions of this.

As we entered the Base, we passed the Primary School; all the teachers and pupils were lined up on the verge waving, cheering and clapping. Again, we Wheelers felt that we should be keeping a low profile. There was, understandably, a bit of a delay at the gate, then were escorted by a landrover round the whole of the perimeter road. It's around four miles! The hangar that was our destination was, well, huge. Like an aircraft hangar, in fact, and it contained yet another cheering crowd, this time mothers and pre-school children. Even more moving. Some of us driven to pretending to mop the sweat from our brows as we dabbed our eyes.

A tremendous experience.

SJH

A Cautionary Tale; (Never Volunteer)

On an elevated roundabout over a stretch of A11 which was, with its off-white concrete carriageways, reminiscent of the first Autobahnen of1930s Germany (only a thundering Auto-Union setting a speed record was missing), I was doing my time in the service of our sport by pointing down the slip road as each rider rounded the corner.

After 20 minutes of combined photography and arm-waving, my panama hat was lifted from my head by the strong Southerly wind, and flung onto the tarmac between me and the traffic-island. Instinctively, I leapt from the verge to pin down the escaping hat. My sandal hooked itself on the raised curb and I was propelled in an arc to a two-point landing; those points being right knee and the palm of right hand (which was still clutching my camera). This hand-camera combo hit the hat dead-centre. So at least I had range and direction spot on. There was blood. From hand to camera and from knee through trousers. And the camera seems to be mortally wounded, with internal injuries, though bearing only the tiniest scar on one corner of its case. It had, however, vomited its battery onto the tarmac.

Well damn, is what I say. Over the following two and a half hours I had time to dwell on the well-spent morning, unable to take photographs to make the time pass, and glancing at the blood oozing through my best fifteen year-old Gap chinos.

The event? Well, there is the (probably apocryphal) story of the journalist interviewing Abraham Lincoln's widow after the President's assassination at Ford's Theater in 1865 "But apart from that, Mrs Lincoln, what did you think of the show" - in other words, momentous though it all was, the National '100' had ceased to be my main concern.

The event? (take II) The CTT National 100 mile Championship was won by a thundering Auto-Union called Michael Hutchinson in a very fast time indeed (which may have been 3 hrs 26 mins). The chap from the Chelmer CC who started just one minute ahead of Hutch at 149, took about an hour longer to finish. Don't get me started on seeding for National TTs. Too late, I've started so I shall finish: they insist on approving what you've laid out, then criticise the end product when armed with hindsight in the form of a result gained by a rider several days after the start sheet has been published. The point of all this rambling rant being? We had to hang around for a very long time at the end, and I wasn't in the mood.

Also, Julia Shaw broke womens' event record with another extremely fast time that I am ashamed I can't remember, So well done everyone. Just remember, cycle racing can be dangerous - even if you're only marshalling.

Mind how you go now SJH.

Espresso Ride 27 June 2010. Wickham Market three ways.

First I must apologise for lack of photos - I didn't notice that my camera was set to video, so snaps are tiny video clips. I'll maybe check them. Secondly, I would like to acknowledge the help of my son, James, (right) without who's co-operation I wouldn't have got extremely drunk on Friday night(Falling-over-in-the-garden-in-slow-motion-at-4.15am- but-avoiding-the-pond drunk) and wouldn't have started this ride, 30 hrs later, still pretty severely dehydrated.

We were 14 in sunny Cornhill, namely (in no particular order) Paul Callow, Barry Denny, Julian Colman, Julian Long, Ron Fisher, Ron Fisher's Optician (CTC T shirt - Ron later confessed that even he couldn't remember the poor guy's name) Richard Stiff, Stephen Cleale (who turned for home about 5 miles short of the "tea break")Deane Hill, Richard Farrow (on another trip from Marlborough) Adi Grimwood, Jonathan Howe - fresh from an upside-down End to End ride ('JOGLE' ?), and myself SJH. With the wind south-ish but promising to be changeable. Julian bravely took the initiative and announced an outing to Wickham Market, leading us smartly out of town in a generally eastwards direction. Adi then hit the front, and gave every impression of re-living his Lotus Series at Hethel the previous Wednesday, dragging us all in his not inconsiderable wake at a rate equivalent to covering over twenty miles in a single hour.

The pace remained rapid most of the way to Debenham, where occurred the first minor difference of opinion on the route. I suggested a 'right' that cut a corner and avoided a blind junction, but Julian prevailed and we took the two sides of the triangle and passed the exit of my suggestion. To Julian's credit, he acknowledged his error. His other error was to admit of any error at all when leading a ride. When this sort of problem arises, and you're faced with that tricky blind right turn, you take the ride left. Without pause, thus putting the smart-arse (me) firmly in their place. You then face busking a route-recovery over the next few miles - but everyone on the ride still has faith in you, so it's worth the effort. After all, at the end of the day, what it all comes down to, if you think about it, not being funny, is; if you were worried about extra distance you wouldn't have left Cornhill on the first place, now would you?

There were a few dissenting voices drifting up from the rear of the peleton at one or two route-choices, but overall, I felt we were well on course. At one point, however, I heard Deane voicing a strongly negative view of a left that we were taking. It later became obvious that he'd gone his own way, and taken Richard Farrow with him.

We carried on until, about to pass Easton Farm Park, we stopped and thought about going there for tea. This was vetoed because of the likelihood of Deane and Richard waiting for us in Wickham-Mkt. Shortly, we swept into Wickham Market market square, hot, thirsty and ready for scones. The Café was shut. I've found a photo of happier times; a Wednesday, when it was open

We piled into a Newsagent/Sweetie shop for what sustenance we could find. Adi found 'Quick Energy ' Capsules reduced to 50p each. He and I bought two each. Since it said on the label 'do not take more than one dose per day' we took it that they would be effective. I put one in my bottle (re-filled with water from a pack that Julian had bought for two pounds. Thanks Julian, I owe you a Tea) and necked the other as soon as I got home. Adi also found the ice creams, and bought what I think was a Magnum Double-Caramel. Sugar-rush or what?

Richard Stiff won the Samaritan Award, for pumping up the rear tyre of a young man who asked for help. Apparently he had gone to a 'cycle shop' round the corner, and the man had said "I'll sell you a pump, but I make my living selling bikes not mending them". One day (we thought) he'll get his comeuppance (if there is any justice in this world. Oh dear, he probably won't, then).

A short stop then, 15 minutes, tops. Retrace to Easton and - guess what? - well most of you were there, so you know that we split properly this time. This wasn't a trial separation, it was a divorce, decree absolute and all. I'm still not certain how I came to be following Adi, Richard Farrow and Julian Long on the left hand choice, but I fancy that it was because it was the way we came out. The right-hand faction had their choice endorsed by Ron's Optician who Knew Routes due to lots and lots of Audax-ey rides (so Ron told me on Wednesday).

Just as our sinistral breakaway reached what I knew to be the route home, Adi took us in a curve, back onto the Wickham Mkt- Needham Mkt road which he felt would be quicker. Well, it was certainly faster. As we started a 'through-and-off' chain, I could feel that I was fading fast (or should that be "slowly"?). Adi gave me aid at this point. Usual stuff about concentrating on the wheel in front. I've tried that a few times, and I can now reveal that it doesn't work unless one ALSO has a bit of energy left. Adi could now see that "the power of the will" was useless without "the power of the legs" and was kind enough to push me a few times, which was help most gratefully received.

By Needham Mkt I'd run out of drink and needed a shop. No shop. But a pub! the image of a pint of shandy was irresistable. Down in two goes, never touched the sides, as they say. Others trouped in for health-giving mineral water, and there was good-natured merriment at my expense (I think that was what it was). Tottered home with the help of my chums with 74 miles completed. Tried to look human at family lunch. James had been rowing at Cambridge in the morning - but then he had 7 other blokes to help him, so it hardly counted.

SJH