This was a real tough one for me and I'm still not really sure why. Distance should've been ok, and it didn't seem that hilly. Overambition definitely played a part - I really wanted to finish in daylight and get some sleep before a Sunday event, which in retrospect was totally unrealistic for me. (After the Green & Yellow Fields I think some part of my brain decided "300s finish at about 8pm" was a law of nature).
First stretch in the morning down to the ferry was lovely - particularly the view from that ridge road. I was pushing hard (for me) to try to get the kms in while the day stayed cool - a handful of steep sections but all very manageable. A roads for the start/end and lanes during the daytime was a nice piece of route design.
Stopped for food before the ferry - not really hungry but having heeded the organiser's warning - and somehow things got worse even though my legs were fine. Diverted after the ferry - watched the blue top pair whizz past me only to take the wrong exit at a roundabout, but by the time I'd thought to yell anything they'd gone. Somehow ended up having to go through a wheat field around the edge of a road closure for gas works, guided by an enthusiastic family (wish I'd thought to actually show the son my brevet card) - got rather COR at moments, and picked up an ear in my jockey wheel for my troubles. Bumped into a cheerful chap doing the "double dynamo" who assumed I was doing the dynamo, and told him about the orbital.
Struggled with my eyes somehow (felt they were hurting with the sunglasses on) and in retrospect I must have washed the sunscreen off my face while trying to rinse them, because I must've got sunburned on my face (at the time just felt hot). Had a more substantial lunch at the café control (seeing blue top pair again) and settled in for a long slog westbound - I knew 60km or so had been my limit on previous rides but was hoping I could stretch it.
There was a shop stop that I should've gone for as I was already overheating, but with my GPS showing 26km to the next control as a 24-hour Starbucks I dragged myself onwards, visions of an ice cold frappuccino taking on mythic proportions in my head. As the only(?) recumbent this must be where Laid back lounger passed me? One last climb, then arrived at the village hall and went through the four stages of grief for lack of ice - a volunteer sat me down with a big jug of squash and patiently explained the way to a pub that would have ice - sadly in the state I was in it went in one ear and out the other. Saw the blue top pair for one last chat and thought seriously about packing - if it had been possible to collect my tent and get home before the last train I would've done it with no regrets.
As it was, I wasn't sure a train would actually help - taking the Met into central London would've taken hours. I seriously contemplated following the route to Maidenhead and then taking a train to Guildford, but even at my current pace that wasn't going to save a lot of time. Made a couple of climbs, even with the dynamo on, and found a pub with ice and fancy pizza, which somehow was a perfect fit. Blue tops were well past by then and it was fully dark, but I was sometimes changing places with a rider with flashing lights - they always give me a headache, but I still felt a slight twinge when they peeled off to the station at Beaconsfield. I assumed I was bringing up the rear from then on.
Past Maidenhead I was actually able to relax and start enjoying the ride a little again - full moon was a good piece of planning, and while the distance was intimidating (and I wasn't really dressed right) the straight A-road route was easy to follow. 60km felt like a lot at that point but I never seriously doubted that I'd make it - the numbers gradually ticked down and eventually I arrived - to a ghost town, Paul seemingly asleep on the stage. Not confident in my eyes - and not wanting to wake him even if I was right - I left my card and an email, but then a few minutes later he was up and about. Realising that I needed to be up at 6AM, I hurried to my tent.
Lessons learned are really the ones that I should've known already. My body is pretty good at only kicking up a fuss when I actually do need to stop; I should listen better, 26km is too far to press on if I'm going to be shaking when I get there. (Conversely I should've taken the earlier ferry; there wasn't a whole lot on the other side but I passed at least two pubs and a Premier store that would've done the job). I knew I didn't have time to do both this and my Sunday event (and indeed I was a wreck on Sunday) and that worried me the whole way round; I should've been realistic and either given up on that, DNSed this, or switched onto the 200. I loved the idea of the London Orbital and that blinded me to the cold logistics of it all. And trying to fit in a test of my cyclocamping setup on top was madness.
The one really new part of the experience was the whole "audax is a mental game" thing. Every other ride my legs have been creaking before my head was, but this time it was all mental - maybe just down to not getting enough sleep in a tent on Friday night? In any case, I was just struggling to get out of my head the whole time, and miserable for no clear reason for about half the ride. I found this a harder ride than Flatlands despite being half the distance - I've gotten kind of casual about 200s over the last month or so, and maybe expected a 300 to be equally smooth, so this was a sharp reminder to respect the distance.
Still, any ride you walk away from - ultimately I got round in time, RRtY attempt remains on track, and all that. Thanks to Paul and all the helpers (and apologies for my grouchiness at Flaunden), and hoping to do this again in a year where I've planned my time a bit better.
