After my morning ride on Thursday I was feeling utterly knackered. I had been feeling great over the last couple of weeks, riding and running with reckless abandon, but I guess it caught up with me finally, because I spent the remainder of Thursday and all day Friday lying around not doing too much of anything and feeling wasted and leg-heavy. Everyone needs recovery time, so I took the opportunity to potter around and take things easy, hoping to be recovered enough for Saturday morning.
And Saturday morning started early. 3am early to be precise. Brad and I had to be at Beecroft Station for a 4am start and by the time we had finally sorted our food and festooned our bikes with lights the night before, there was very little time left for sleep.
The ride started very well, leaving around 4.10am we had about 15 or 16 riders bunched together in the pre-dawn blackness, rocketing along the M7 bike path and then taking to the roads to get to Picton. It was cool and fairly flat and we weren't exactly pushing it, ending up at the first rest stop at Picton at about 7.45am feeling like it had passed in an eyeblink, not having got off the bike once.
There were two minibuses there with our bags in them (it was a very well organised ride) and so after grabbing more food, sunscreen, hats and filling water, we took off after 15mins. Now the sun was up and the started warming. We stuck to quiet country roads which were pretty much traffic free, although the surfaces were completely dead and there was a lot of up and down. We all got pretty dry after a couple of hours with the temp getting into the mid 30s, but thankfully at that point one of the buses appeared as salvation, giving us a few minutes to stop and fill up. The field had split by this stage and Brad and I were riding with three other blokes- Matt, Ricky and Howard - at the front end.
The second rest stop was lunch in Bundanoon at 185km. 11.45am we rolled in and Brad and I sat in a shady spot polishing off the pasta we'd bought - unsure of the vegan options at the local cafe.
We hung around a while and helped fill the big water bucket on the bus, finally setting off again after about 40 mins, which was just long enough for our arses and legs to seriously protest getting back on the bike. This was when things started to get pretty tough.
We had another stop at 250km, so 65km away, which doesn't sound like that much. But my lord this section took forever. Dead roads, lots of climbs and pretty barren sandy bush through Bungonia which wasn't exactly inspiring. The temperature on my bike computer climbed to 41 degrees and stayed there for the next few hours (I initially thought that can't be right, but we heard later that the daily high for that area had been 41). Apart from seeing an enormous wombat carcass and a huge goanna feasting on it, there wasn't much to break the monotony. Oh, did the mention the hot, dry, strong headwind. Tough stuff.
If that wasn't bad enough we started to run out of water a long way from the checkpoint. The water we had was hot enough to brew tea in. And there wasn't a single thing resembling a human settlement. As we sipped conservatively, feeling our bodies dehydrate with every climb, things felt pretty grim. With 4 kms to go before the checkpoint the bus came by, but we thought there's no point stopping now so we did the last couple of climbs and staggered in to lie in the shade and skull about 3 bottles of water each. 3.30pm with 250km done. Still 41 degrees.
Time flew at this point, by the time we'd drunk our fill, reapplied sunscreen and grabbed more food it was 4pm and time to roll. The other three boys took off a few minutes earlier, then Brad and I. The undulations continues, with short sharp climbs one after another that my shattered legs just didn't want to manage anymore, even in the granny gear. After a while I couldn't stick with Brad at all and even though he kept slowing and stopping for me I told him to go ahead and just finish the thing. We was still riding strongly and was soon off in the distance.
Shortly after, things got good again. The headwind settled down, the hills became less frequent and much less steep and the countryside opened up to glorious wide fields. The day cooled by a couple of degrees and I was able to just cruise at my own pace and cadence. Suddenly I felt sensational, absolutely shattered in the legs and butt, sure, but knowing I would finish (and I was still averaging over 90rpm and over 30km on the flats, which was more than enough for me at this stage) and stoked to be experiencing riding solo through the countryside.
Pulled into Goulburn just before 6pm, for 297 km, then did a quick lap of town to make sure I got over the 300km mark, finishing just after 6pm. Total just under 14 hours, about 11.50 in the saddle. Stoked.
Even managed a lovely 35km ride through the fields on Sunday morning before riding home. Mission accomplished.
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