You might have noticed that I've stopped putting the word 'Lockdown' in front of all my posts. The reason is simple: we're not in lockdown any more. In fact, give or take, I've never been in lockdown. From the get-go I've been riding my bike out into the sticks in what can only be described as amazing weather from the beginning, even in March/April when, traditionally, you might expect rain and cloudy days. Not in 2020 as I'm sure you all know.
At the beginning of lockdown as you also know, I wasn't seeing much of Andy. It made sense to 'socially distance' ourselves, but as we were saying this morning, the whole thing has been over-hyped by the media and is probably nowhere near as bad as it's being made out to be. First, you've got this whole thing about the statistics and the fact that a death is counted as a COVID death even if, say, you were diagnosed as having the virus and then got knocked over by a bus. I mean, how inaccurate the figures must be! And that inaccuracy fuels fear and that gets the media going and it's a vicious circle. I still don't know anybody who has or had the virus and I don't know anybody who knows somebody who's had it either. Perhaps it's all a big lie. Who knows? And who cares? As I say, I've never been locked down. The bike equals freedom to me, I've been riding over 100 miles a week throughout the summer and the minor inconvenience of queuing in the supermarket car park, well, that's all it is, a minor inconvenience.
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| The Rockhopper at Tatsfield village, Sunday 27 September 2020 |
As the days have gone by, the restrictions have lessened. People started eating out on the government, pubs have re-opened and now, of course, they're all about to close again as localised restrictions have been applied in certain areas, thanks mainly to the 'covidiots' who have ignored all advice from the beginning (and I include members of the Government itself, namely our idiotic Prime Minister and his odd sidekick Dominic Cummings). Johnson (look, the man's a nob, right?) boasted about shaking hands with COVID sufferers before going down with the disease and nearly killing himself. I'm not sure whether Cummings had it or just thought he had it, but either way we all know what he did: he drove hundreds of miles to the North East of England, with his family, and took the scenic route via Barnard Castle on the return journey; the man's a complete arse.
Anyway, as the summer progressed, Andy and I were getting fitter and fitter. Andy lost two stone and I haven't really weighed myself although, as I said to Andy this morning, I've taken to eating around two to three bowls of Alpen every day, the first one at the crack of dawn (around 0600hrs while listening to Steve Allen on LBC) and then, perhaps, another one mid-morning or just before lunch. I love it and I'm buying a family pack to ensure that I don't run out mid-week. I hasten to add that I'm buying the 'no added sugar' Alpen and not the full-on original.
The riding over the past six months has been fantastic and I'm getting fitter by the day. I know this because I'm finding I have more energy whilst riding. Today, for instance, I rode to Tatsfield Village to meet Andy (Phil was going to come, but said it was too windy; and Geoff, who joins us occasionally and always arrives by car, simply couldn't make it). For the past few weeks, Andy and I have been meeting at the Tatsfield Churchyard, taking full advantage of the amazing weather. As you also know, if you're keeping abreast of my posts. we've been meeting at Tatsfield and not meeting at the green and riding together. I think we would both agree that this is far the better option as we get the time to ride at our own pace. I've noticed - and this goes back to my point about increasing fitness - that I'm getting to Tatsfield within around 40 minutes and my ride there is much faster than it used to be; I'm finding hills easier to tackle, especially the incline on the 269 just beyond Ledgers Road. In fact, talking of being able to ride segments of road faster than ever before, Strava tells me that I'm a local legend on the stretch between Sanderstead Waitrose and Mitchley Road or Avenue or whatever it's called. A local legend! What the hell does that mean? Not much, I'm guessing, as I've yet to see people pointing at me or asking for my autograph or reaching for their mobile phones to take a shot of me. But still, I'm a local legend.
So getting on to our Sunday rides, they're absolutely fantastic. Today and last week we rode to the Tatsfield Village. Why? Well, last week it was because we wanted to check out the tearoom that we thought would be open. I was hoping we could go in there and sit around drinking tea and munching biscuits, but no, it didn't officially open until 0900hrs as, again, I have mentioned in a previous post. Fortunately for us there was a coffee machine, and by 'us' I mean Andy, myself and Phil who joined us. Phil was on his restored Honda CB750 and when we departed he promised to be there this week, but bailed out at the last minute because of the high winds. Geoff never made it either. Today, then, it was just Andy and I and we diverted from the planned ride to the churchyard because I'd ran out of tea and thought I'd buy some at the shop (which doubles as a teashop after 0900hrs). But of course, you all know that because I've already told you.
I really look forward to the Sunday rides, mainly because it means conversation. A lot of my mid-week rides are solitary (in fact, all of them are) so it's nice to be able to chat to somebody before riding home, although on the solitary rides there's no time to chat or do anything before the return ride because there is no 'return ride', it's all one continuous loop. There were times during the summer when I reserved Saturday for a longer ride, to the lakes or to Dunton Green or Redhill, and these rides would involve a stop somewhere, like on the green in front of the pub facing the lake in Chipstead village in Kent, or in Bojangles at Dunton Green (see previous posts) or, if I'd riden to Westerham, I'd stop on the green (in the days before the caffs were open) and take my time sipping a mint tea while watching cars and bikes and people as they passed by on the A25.
Something else I've been really enjoying is the commute to work in Redhill during the week during the week I'm supposed to be in the office. I had no intention of contributing to the economy as Boris was insisting so I rode in three times - Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday - and while it was fairly exhausting on the return ride (White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane or Road or whatever it's called) it was exhilarating in the extreme, even if I did find myself in bed around 2130hrs. Mind you, getting up at 0530hrs was a bit of an ordeal, although I managed it without too much fuss, packed everything into a rucksack and headed for the office at 0630. It takes one hour and 10 minutes and then I have a shower and start work. You can't beat it, or rather it was unbeatable while the sun was shining, but now the weather has turned and we're in to 'autumnal' conditions (think wind, rain and colder temperatures) it's a case of getting out the waterproof trousers and finding a waterproof jacket and some gloves or simply not bothering and spending money on the train instead. I want to bother, though, because I don't particularly want to give any of my hard-earned money to the Government in the form of extortionate train fares. Alright, I buy a beef and horseradish sandwich in the supermarket for a meagre £2.25, but that's my limit.
On the week when I'm heading into Redhill on the bike, my mileage goes through the roof. I'm well over 80 miles when I reach home on the Wednesday night and then it's a case of motivating myself to do a long ride on Saturday morning to knock my total over 90 miles. I'm happy if I ride around 85 miles, so anything over that is a bonus. This week I think I managed something like 83 miles. I rode to Redhill twice last week (on Monday and Tuesday) and on Tuesday I took the Sustrans route home, bumping up the mileage from 24 to 31 miles. See the previous post if you want to read about Sustrans Route 21, which was the route I took, but I doubt I'll do that again on a ride home from work. It doubled the ride time from just over one hour to just over two hours. In fact, this week has been piss poor. Since returning from Redhill on Tuesday night I didn't ride again until yesterday when I met Bon at Woodmansterne Green (roughly 10 miles). As I say, I rode around 83 miles this week, mainly because I didn't ride on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, which is a bit of a shame.
Another part of my conversation with Andy this morning was all about how far we ride during the week. Andy has been doing short rides of around 10 miles and sticking close to the house in case of bike problems. I've been riding further (between 12 and 18 miles). However, should a problem arise for Andy, he walks home with ease. If anything happens to me while on Washpond Lane, the walk home would take a long time, possibly an hour or more. Andy's shorter close-to-home excursions, compared to my rides into the sticks, have their own merits. A daily 10-mile ride soon accumulates, add on the Sunday ride to Tatsfield and you're starting to look at around 65/66 miles, throw in a ride to the lakes and you're weekly total is getting close to 100 miles. Now that the weather is closing in I might start following Andy's model of short, close-to-home rides during the week, a longer ride on Saturday morning and then, of course, the great ride to Tatsfield to meet Andy and possibly Phil and Geoff on Sunday.
On today's ride to Tatsfield I had a few issues, the main one being no tea. It meant buying some in Tatsfield so I texted Andy to say meet there and not the churchyard. I didn't have a mask on, but the guy in the store said it was fine if I kept my distance, which I did. Tea purchased I waited for Andy to arrive. It was a blustery and grey day, but I can't say I noticed it, I was more interested in being out there in the fresh air, powering (yes, powering) along the 269 heading for Botley Hill as the branches of trees and bushes on either side of me swayed to and and fro. It wasn't that cold, certainly not cold enough to wear gloves, but I'd started to think about preparing for the winter weather. In fact, I need to find my balaclava and my gloves and I might have to start wearing the rusty-coloured old jacket hanging in the wardrobe. It's old and torn and makes me look like a tramp and it goes with my long, straggly, unkempt hair that hasn't been cut since before the lockdown. Could I let it grow until the end of the year? Well, only if there are no business trips.
We headed for home and once again I joined Andy to ride along The Ridge and into Woldingham, something I wouldn't have done pre-lockdown. I was fit enough now to take Slines Oak Road in my stride, thanks to hills like White Hill Lane and Tithepit Shaw Lane. We parted company at the top of Slines Oak Road and vowed to meet again next Sunday. I reached home around 1000hrs and got on with the rest of my day.
