If you like climbing – and I do – then The Maratona of the Dolomites is a tailor-made sportive. The 138km full course offers barely any flat sections, so forget about who is or isn’t doing work at the front, forget about getting in a group; it’s about controlling your effort and staying hydrated in the heat. Neither of which I was very successful at on the day.

For mountain scenery, this is the most spectacular sportive I’ve ridden. At every hairpin you get a new panorama of lush valleys and jagged peaks. Especially early in the morning, when shafts of sunlight poke through the gaps in rock towers and light up patches of road – it’s outrageous.

It was nice to have a chance to appreciate the views; this, together with the fact that I wasn’t able to blow my energy reserves too soon, were the only up-sides to the serious congestion at the start of the ride. In all other respects the sheer number of riders starting together (8,640) was frustrating and dangerous. I spent 3 hours riding in a massive cavalcade of slower cyclists, pointlessly jostling for position, wary of errors on the descents.

Very busy roads - but stunning views.

Jonny, Millsy and I started together, but pretty soon it was just Jonny’s wheel I was trying to follow up the crowded slopes of the Passo Pordoi. That Ironman-wingnut Mills had done a triathlon on the Friday before; this was to be a long training ride for him.

The first 7 passes all felt easy, but somehow Theobald got the early jump on me. Suddenly he was nowhere to be seen amid the mass of jerseys. I caught him exiting the Belvedere feed stop at 83km. With the crowds and the views, the day had felt more like a charity ride than a sportive. But by now my legs were buzzing and my head was full of the Giau.

The event is really all about this one climb. As I remember it, I began the ascent in the lead, Jon on my wheel. We had a good tempo, and passed many. The sun was full-on now, and perhaps 30 degrees. I had a problem with my gears which meant the chain wasn’t sitting on my top 26 ring, and kept slipping down one, so I was fiddling with the barrel adjuster with sweating hands whilst climbing. There was complete silence from the mountainside. The gradient was unrelenting, and brutal.

35 minutes into the climb, the invisible elastic tying me to Jonny’s back wheel stretched one last time, and snapped. He had one bike length, then two, then he was beyond the next hairpin, then out of sight. The ascent and the heat was pushing me into a physical and mental state I’d not experienced since riding the Galibier last summer: pins and needles in the face, and a sick feeling in my stomach rising into my throat.

Summiting the climb, I should have stocked up on more food, but instead I reeled past nauseating piles of jam tarts and banana halves, grabbing bizarre things I never normally consume on a ride – like plastic cups of coke. I had one gel and two enervit squares to last me, and somehow I thought it would be enough.

Possibly descending from the Passo Giau to Pocol.

I descended hard, hit the foot of the Passo Falzarego, then bonked. My morale sank too – riders were passing me, Theobald was way up ahead, and I was annoyed with myself for not eating properly. The Falzarego should have been my climb: 10km long, it’s gentler than the Giau, a more gradual ascent that I would normally have powered up. I pulled over into the shade, pissed, consumed everything I had on me, and started climbing again.

The Passo Falzarego has an evil sister: the Valparola. Just after the drinks stop at what you think is the top of the climb, the gradient kicks up for just over a kilometre. Millsy told me later this little feature nearly finished him off; to be honest I can’t really remember how it was for me. I do remember gunning final the descent, though, and passing the finishing banner 18 mins after JT. Final time: 6hrs 39.

Grimacing in the final km's

I’m planning to ride the Maratona again. It’s a great event, flawlessly organised and well supported by the locals. It’s also excellent value for money. Entry is 50-odd euros, but you’re showered with freebies before, during and after the ride.

Finally, if you’re looking for a place to stay, check out these apartments. Drop Norbert Nagler a line and tell him I sent you…

It was freezing cold on the start line at 7.45am on Sunday, and it didn’t get much warmer, despite some bright sunshine as the day wore on. It was a ragged start; I got a lot of cold air into my lungs straight away, my heart rate pounding up in the 170s – it felt like my body was under a lot of stress. This feeling of stress never quite left me the whole 70 miles of the course. We were all taking short pulls at the front to begin with but everything felt a bit giddy. Then we hit ice, several big patches. Duncan went down, later joined by Jonny.

The first half of the ride, I just felt strain, so I tucked in behind Jonny and a strong-looking rider in a Cannondale top. After the feed-stop, I felt stronger, and made up for my poor contributions to the pace early on by taking a long stint into the wind. I could feel it coming back, the feeling of lightness, of floating on the effort.

At about the 3-hour mark I started to tie up. We’d hit a modest hill at around 2hrs 30, which had separated myself, Theobald and Cannondale from the others. I knew if I lost those two, I was most likely on my own to the finish, so I did everything I could to cling on, but closing the gaps became too much. Swearing at the wind, I roped myself in to the bottom of Ditchling Beacon, then climbed it without further incident. Final time: 4hrs 06 – 7 mins faster than last year, this time without going wrong.

I’ve done more riding (in pure hours on the bike) than I had this time last year, but notably less high-quality training such as intervals. This is potentially the reason for my lack of any kind of explosive pace. I remember feeling really full of beans last year; this time around, I felt easy on the hills, with reasonable stamina, but not that much power. My leg injury could have played a part. I’m half a stone lighter than last year (10st 10 vs 11st 6) – so that’s maybe a factor. I guess since my goal this season is the Maratona in July, building a base with plenty of hills, without hitting the intervals too early, will hopefully pay off in the end.

A short footnote for Millsy – he had a shocker. Training to within an inch of his life, he had to do a long run and a ride the day before, then flatted at the start of the sportive. His grim-faced expression in the photos tell the full story.

• Puncheur 2010 results

The current conditions just north of Potters Bar.

Yesterday was my first ride out of the new decade. Following a period of 2 months out of the saddle (a trip to Nepal was partly to blame), which itself included a 2 week drinking marathon (the party season) and a 1 week eating marathon (the Mucklow family Christmas), it wasn’t surprising that my form stank.

My leg strength deserted me; my heart rate pootled along in zone 2; my blood sugar levels bonked as my stomach craved cake and turkey trimmings. Compare this graph from yesterday (peak HR 157):

Heart rate graph 2-1-10

with this one from 18 July last year (peak HR 177).

Heart rate graph 18-7-09

I remember this ride. I never blogged about it because I was just back from La Marmotte and I couldn’t be bothered. But it was the ride of the year. I was out with Millsy on a 4hr+ circuit from Sevenoaks (possibly the Hell of the Ashdown route). I was rested from my trip to France, but still held the form from months of training. I was hitting the hills hard, and just kept feeling stronger. Then came a truly epic half-hour stretch in the closing stages of the ride, on a gradual climb up to Sevenoaks Weald. My heart rate climbed from 160 into the 170s, and I recall looking down at my wrist to check the effort and seeing 177. There was an almost other-worldly absence of pressure.

But back to yesterday. In a nutshell, I followed Millsy all the way up to Woolmer Green, whereupon he binned it on the ice, and I followed his bloodied carcass all the way back to London. My flabby core is so out of shape that it’s all achey today, and I’m saddle-sore into the bargain.

Looks like more snow’s on the way for Wednesday’s ride – sweet!

One of mine from Japan.

Millsy and I had a good ride out from Denham today. The weather was overcast, and a bit chilly even in 3/4 fleece-lined bibs and Rapha long sleeve.

We did 67 miles – longer than the distance on Google maps owing to an early map SNAFU on my part – in 4hrs 15. I felt OK, but as the hours wore on I was treated to an extended viewing of Millsy’s ass as he showed some solid form on the flat. I still had the edge over Whiteleaf Hill though.

As a sportive route, Reigate is not a classic. It’s very technical, and you have to be constantly on your guard for changes of direction and signposting. Even in a group of local Redhill CC riders, we still went wrong, as did Millsy, who lost 10 minutes to a missed route marker.

Tactically, I had a good ride. Millsy and I started at the front, and as per the plan I got quickly into a strong group that stayed together all the way to the first feed station at 54k. Soon after the first feed a whole bunch of us went off course – not from a fault on our part but because the organisers were scrambling to divert the route and had yet to put up the correct signage. Either way we stopped to map-check, reversed and made it back on course. Bizarrely I then caught up with Nick, who had dropped off the back earlier on.

There were some good climbs in the second 54k, including the less steep side of Toys Hill. They were always going to feel tiny after the Ventoux, and basically I powered them all. I haven’t felt so strong climbing since the final ascent of the Bwlch on last year’s Dragon Ride, when I flew past a hundred or more riders on my way to the summit. That feeling, when your heart rate is high but your breathing isn’t laboured, your legs are just pumping out the revs without soreness or fatigue, your sugar levels are fine, you know you’re still within your threshold and you could still lift it a couple of notches if pushed – and you look back and no-one’s following you any more… that’s the feeling you spend months training for.

So I hammered the hills. On the descent of Toys Hill I was just behind a guy who binned it hard into the grass verge on the opposite side of the road. I stopped to check on him and by the time I was ready to set off again I was off the pace and had to chase hard to catch up with my group at the second feed station. From 108k I clung on to a mixed group of Redhill boys and others who pounded out the final 30k, three of them doing the work and myself and another guy hanging on the back. A few times I nearly lost contention, but managed to stay with it until the finish. 

I figure from the results that I came 5th. There were a few others who appeared to finish quicker, but looking at the splits, and based on the fact that no-one passed me all day, I reckon they must have done the mid route. e.g. if someone rode to the 2nd check point in 15 mins faster than my group, but then rode the last leg slower than we did, that would seem to indicate either that they got a flat in the final stages of the ride or that they rode the mid route and didn’t declare it at the finish (which is cool – I’m just, you know, making that clear, ahem).

Few easy weeks now before Dartmoor, awaiting training instructions from el Joe.

From my experience of frequent UK road riding, my number 1 recommendation would be White Lightning Clean Ride.

If you ride regularly an oily chain is the bane of your life. The stuff gets everywhere. Clean Ride is the only lube I’ve found that is effective whilst keeping the chain clean.

You still need to rub the chain clean after each ride, and re-apply before the next one, but it’s a good idea to do this anyway to keep things rolling smoothly and prevent grime accumulating.

For longer rides, apply lots, wait 20 mins, then re-apply.

For long, hard, wet rides, you will need a tougher lube. If I’m going longer than 4 hours, I use White Lightning Epic Ride, which is not as clean but will ensure your chain doesn’t dry out, cause friction, and slow you down.

Just by the way, avoid this:

It says it’s clean, but actually it’s much thicker than White Lightning, and ends up black and messy in no time.

Here’s the route I rode Saturday with Jock and Millsy. I started out from Archway at 8am, stopped off at Regent’s Park to pick up Mills, then met Jock at 9.15 at the café on Richmond Park. I made it all the way round Crawley and back to Epsom for about 3.30, I guess with about 30 mins of breaks / map-checks along the way.

Unfortunately it was a day of injury niggles for my two comrades. Jock actually bowed out after riding 2 sides of Richmond Park – he has shin-splints and an Ironman to do in 3 months. Mills had a back-of-knee issue that saw him head back north from Rusper for a more sedate 80-miler.

The 100 mile route (which includes the 6 miles back from Waterloo to Hornsey Lane) takes a pretty decent line out via Richmond Park, Kingston, Esher and Cobham, where it finally gets properly rural. The big drag over to Ewhurst from Shere gets you going, then it’s mainly flat until the little spikes around Ardingly. The killer is the climb up Pebblemill Road from the station at Betchworth. I’d swapped my 13-29 cassette for my older Veloce 13-26 so it was a real grinder. Then I sat down for a break on an ants’ nest.

If this route sounds like your cup of lukewarm SIS maltodextrin, check out the route of the Granfondo Luciano sportive on 28 June, which I followed parts of.

Yesterday’s 114km sportive, my 3rd of the year, marked a new milestone in my training calendar. At just 4km longer than the Puncheur a fortnight ago, the Burgess Hill Classic was significantly hillier, with Kidds Hill after 45km and (contrary to what one rider was saying at the first feed station) a draining series of short, steep climbs from about the 80km mark. 

Millsy and I set off briskly. After about 5 minutes my heart rate was up in the 160s where it stayed until the 39km feed station (I really tried to chill out but it didn’t work). About 45 mins in I took off after another rider in a Geneva Investment Group (GIG) jersey on a fast downhill run. Mills remained with the peloton. GIG and I put in a strong leg together before joining the back of a larger group, with whom we rode at a good tempo up Kidds Hill (HR 176) and beyond. The next climb blew our group apart, and I ended up stranded between a faster group and a slower one, playing cat and mouse with some guy wearing Ron Hill tracksters. GIG was toast – I didn’t see him again. 

After the first feed station I should have tried to join another group but ended up solo again. I had a couple of chances to latch onto quick riders, but one duo just blew me away, and another I missed in a moment of minor route confusion at a triangular T-junction. 

In retrospect, a critical stage of the event came at the final feed stop in Ardingly. Earlier, I had mistakenly refilled my bottles with water instead of energy drink, and by 92km I’d finished all fluids and my head was pounding. What I didn’t know when I stopped into the hut for a refill was that I was then in 18th place overall. A decent-sized group must have passed me at that point, although I never saw them. 

Back on the road, I finally caught the wheel of a fast rider who passed me with about 10km to go and together we ripped along to the finish. Final time 4hrs 18, 26th out of 232 – although missing out on Gold by 3 minutes. 

Meanwhile, Millsy had encountered a cruel mechanical banana skin, blowing out the sidewall of his back tyre shortly after Ardingly. This effectively ended his ride, but luckily his Dad drove out to the rescue from Henfield. Unlucky Millsy: based on his splits he was on for a 4:40 finish.

The Charing X – Sevenoaks train ride could be the new Waterloo – Epsom. It takes about as long, and being the good side of the river Thames Charing X seems much closer to home than Waterloo. Sevenoaks is a very civilised station and there’s a ramp outside for smooth entry and exit. Nice.

More importantly, Kent and the Ashdown Forest offer an excellent variety of riding. The roads are quieter than the environs of Dorking / Leatherhead, and, crucially, the climbs are steeper. On a toughness scale I would put Toy’s Hill above any of the hills further west in the North Downs.

Detailed North Downs climbs toughness chart pending.

Below is the HOTA route, embedded courtesy of Route You’s rather sucky javascript tool. Why does the title take up so much room? Why is the map so small? Why does the text trigger a scrollbar? Why does Route You’s embed conflict with a Google Maps embed in same Wordpress post? Ask Route You.

We bumped into Jock at the top of the zigzags and finished up with a brisk 20 min scramble back to Epsom. I still had more in the tank as well. Can’t wait for the Puncheur next Sunday…