When I started the turbo training thingy it was a case of 'I did 5 miles!' then it became 10, now I whizz out to the shed for a 'quick 20'. And now I'm up to 40. Today I've been on it again and 'only' done 15 miles. It's a great way to clock up the miles, whatever the weather.
However, the forecast for yesterday morning was good, with 'heavy showers and hailstones' forecast for the afternoon. So, best get out in the morning then. I set off around 9 on a new route - up 'Tamsin's Hill' from Machen to Bryn Meadows Golf club, pick up the 47, down the Sirhowy, up to Risca, find the route I missed on my 50-miler from the other direction to Bassaleg, home via the big hills. A hilly 30, I reckoned.
Tamsin's Hill is a swine. From home to the golf club is about 5 miles and at least 4 of them go directly up a VERY steep hill.
You're right, it's still in kilometres. I really must figure out how to change that. I stopped once, very near the bottom of the hill to wheeze a bit, managed to get going on about a 1:5 slope and then didn't stop until I reached the golf club. I think I started off too fast, trying to 'attack' the hill when really all you can do is plod up it as it goes on for ever.... and ever. What had appeared on the map to be a road turned into a stoney track across the top of slag heaps for a mile or so - good job I was on the MTB, albeit with the tyres pumped up for tarmac. My teeth rattled on the downhill the other side of the hill...
I leant my bike on the posh golf club entrance gate so that I could add another layer - going down is soooo much colder than going up - and managed to get the extra layer stuck on my head because I'd forgotten to take my helmet off. Hey ho. Eventually I got everything back on in the right order and away we (that's me and my MTB which I now love unconditionally) went - the next few miles were, as you can see from the cute elevation thing, entirely downhill (yay) and all was well until the heavens opened, torrential rain fell and I was battered by hailstones hitting my head through the gaps in my helmet. It was utterly vile and within 5 minutes I was frozen solid, soaked through and totally fed up. Still, battle on and all that, eh?
Nope. I phoned the Melodeon Master who kindly came and rescued me. By the time we'd got halfway home the sky had turned blue with white puffy clouds and by the time I'd had a very necessary hot bath it was really a lovely day. So I spent the rest of it being grumpy...
All in all, 90 miles this week. Even if only 12 of them were on a real road.
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