I can barely remember the last time I failed to finish an audax ride, for anything other than total mechanical breakdown. I think it may be the time I tried to do Sheila Simpson's 164km dark peak/white peak grimpeur on my £200 hybrid bike with 2" wheels when I was a fat lad who'd barely been cycling three months. The Peak District was to be my downfall once again.
I should have listened to my body. I was signed up to ride The Irish Mail, a ride I've been looking forward to for yonks. Last night I decided I was too tired for a 4am start to get there, so I'd do a 400km perm instead. I didn't stop to think why I was dropping out of a ride I was looking forward to so readily.
So the plan was to ride to Leeds and back, testriding my Midlander event en route.
From the outset it felt wrong. I've had trouble digesting food the last few days. My breakfast sat funny my stomach whilst I headed towards Uttoxeter, leaving me feeling almost nauseous by the time I got there. I've been having trouble with reflux for a few months now, and it was making it difficult to keep fluids down.
The 47km section to Longnor is beautiful, hilly, and almost completely wiped me out. I was tired, bad tempered and glad to finish. A cake and sandwich did the power of good, but the climb to Cat & Fiddle left me drained. I had a pint of cola at a pub, which I promptly threw back up. I was a third of the way round and felt dreadful. I took a left, descended to Macclesfield, and came home.
It was so frustrating, but I realise now that I'm chronically tired. I've clearly got a reflux issue that needs looking at, but I'm wiped out after a lot of training, riding, and not nearly enough sleep. The Bryan Chapman knocked me for six, and I clearly haven't recovered.
Oh well, you live and learn. Tomorrow I shall walk the dog and tend to the garden. No cycling or training for two weeks, methinks.