Saturday, 10 August 2013


Hell Ride:
Coming back through Mordi, I said g'day* to Cam from Bike Gallery. He in turn asked me if I'd been dropped by the Hell Ride. I had, and to my continued shock, I wasn't ashamed of it.

The ride down was solid, as the pace was good and I wanted to be up the front. It wasn't just about training, the bunch was big, and the local motorbike mounted police who were out monitoring our progress were occasionally pressing lights ahead of us to force mid pack reds. Anyway, the point is, I was up the front, I was pulling turns, and I was feeling good.

I was feeling so good that I cruised past the pack into the bottom of Olivers, telling Bensley to get on my wheel in the process. I hit the bottom of the pinch, setting a decent tempo, then standing when the first couple of riders felt confident enough to attack. I hit the top of the climb in the usual fashion, pained, and got ready for the usual suckfest of the false flat as I closed the gap to the 1 or 2 riders that were clear. One of those riders, Bensley, kicked and just like that I was in trouble. The gap grew, and furtive glances behind me left me with the conclusion that no one had the legs to help me close it. By the time I hit the bottom Baden Powel, you know, the start of the last ramp, I was slightly panicked (the data says I was already 4 beats over threshold). The pace continued and eventually the elastic broke, leaving me to stare at the lights at Canadian, hoping they'd stop the bunch and let me catch up.

They did... sort of. They caught half the bunch, which let me roll back up into contact... but that front group was never to be seen again. So it was me and 30 or so other solid guys rolling turns back home to copious coffee.

Strava link.

D: 102.4km
A: 403m

PMPW: 96kg

* ok, so I called him a hubard and told him to stay left... with the biggest grin on my face I could muster.

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