Battle Commando
Tell me why two people using a page ripped out of an atlas and no particular idea of a route set out to Hastings at 7.30 am on a wet Sunday in March! To watch the 2008 Hastings Half Marathon of course - which we missed - but what else? Because neither of us would admit that we no longer fancied it -maybe? And because we were only going one way - yes and we needed to get another 100 kms in for De Ronde - definitely. Neil was already wet when he arrived at my house from 5 miles away but that didn't seem to put us off and it probably should have done. We knew we would have warm, dry clothes waiting for us in the car at Hastings. Obviously the marketing on Gortex really does work. We set off at about 7.45 in the end and arrived in the middle of Hastings at about 11.45. 
We were supposed to be in Hastings for about 11.30, an hour into the Half Marathon. It was a war of attrition and appropriate that we were heading for Battle. By Ashdown Forest I knew we'd made a mistake but I didn't like to say anything that would make Neil feel like I was losing it. The forest was eerily quiet (and wet). Every time the map came out it disintegrated more and more and became papier mache. Almost time to start getting the toys out the pram at the point where our excursion down a road on the map turned out to be a bridlepath with more potholes than my Easton EA90-SLXs would like to mention and Neil saying something about it being good Flanders training as he rode away. The toys coming out is not an unheard of occurrence, just one of the things about me my team mates know and love. At this point we were outside Uckfield and decided to get on the A22 to get back on track, ending up on the Maresfield 25 TT course. Another scene of pain. We were outside Uckfield for a very long time because we kept seeing signs that said it was 5 miles away and we never seemed to get any closer.
I was't aware that Battle and Back has the reputation as a hardcore ride. There were lumpy bits followed by downhill bits, then by more lumpy bits and a couple of nasty bits. The colder I got the slower I got too. The uphills were never quite long enough to get warm and the downhills made you even colder. Arriving in Hastings we were starving, soaking wet and freezing cold and there were no signs of anybody or anything to do with the Half Marathon. "You'll pick the signs up from outside Hastings" they said, "it's so well signposted to the parking" they said. "We are on the second car park with the grass on it!" 45 minutes later we found the car with all our warm clothes in it after stopping to ask directions several times and phoning for directions even more times. We were even more starving, soaking wet and freezing cold by now, I'd started to vibrate from the cold. We stopped at a junction to ask for final directions. There were three alternatives from that junction, straight on at sea level, turn around and go back at sea level, the sea itself or climb Hastings' equivalent of the Mur de Huy. When Neil came back with the directions I knew from the look on his face that the car park was up the bloody climb. I don't know why he should find this amusing.
Lots of things went through my head on that ride. I didn't take enough food, I didn't drink enough en route, I didn't wear enough clothes to keep my core warm and I wouldn't do Flanders if it was this wet on 5th April. I can't say it was an enjoyable ride yesterday but we just had to get there I guess. There was no bail out.
We were supposed to be in Hastings for about 11.30, an hour into the Half Marathon. It was a war of attrition and appropriate that we were heading for Battle. By Ashdown Forest I knew we'd made a mistake but I didn't like to say anything that would make Neil feel like I was losing it. The forest was eerily quiet (and wet). Every time the map came out it disintegrated more and more and became papier mache. Almost time to start getting the toys out the pram at the point where our excursion down a road on the map turned out to be a bridlepath with more potholes than my Easton EA90-SLXs would like to mention and Neil saying something about it being good Flanders training as he rode away. The toys coming out is not an unheard of occurrence, just one of the things about me my team mates know and love. At this point we were outside Uckfield and decided to get on the A22 to get back on track, ending up on the Maresfield 25 TT course. Another scene of pain. We were outside Uckfield for a very long time because we kept seeing signs that said it was 5 miles away and we never seemed to get any closer.
I was't aware that Battle and Back has the reputation as a hardcore ride. There were lumpy bits followed by downhill bits, then by more lumpy bits and a couple of nasty bits. The colder I got the slower I got too. The uphills were never quite long enough to get warm and the downhills made you even colder. Arriving in Hastings we were starving, soaking wet and freezing cold and there were no signs of anybody or anything to do with the Half Marathon. "You'll pick the signs up from outside Hastings" they said, "it's so well signposted to the parking" they said. "We are on the second car park with the grass on it!" 45 minutes later we found the car with all our warm clothes in it after stopping to ask directions several times and phoning for directions even more times. We were even more starving, soaking wet and freezing cold by now, I'd started to vibrate from the cold. We stopped at a junction to ask for final directions. There were three alternatives from that junction, straight on at sea level, turn around and go back at sea level, the sea itself or climb Hastings' equivalent of the Mur de Huy. When Neil came back with the directions I knew from the look on his face that the car park was up the bloody climb. I don't know why he should find this amusing.
Lots of things went through my head on that ride. I didn't take enough food, I didn't drink enough en route, I didn't wear enough clothes to keep my core warm and I wouldn't do Flanders if it was this wet on 5th April. I can't say it was an enjoyable ride yesterday but we just had to get there I guess. There was no bail out.
Ham, egg, chips and beer helped in Battle on the way home. But the final insult had to be having to get changed in the back of the car in the centre of Battle and losing my pants somewhere. While the guys were showing me their finishers medals (and impressive times they got too) I was looking for a hairbrush and underwear in the back of a damp car. Is it only the Italians who make cycling look glamorous!
posted by Lisa Scarlett at
19:45
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