Into The Valley Of Death Rode The 43....

St Gotthards Ride Stats - you have to see this!

A reasonably good nights sleep - the bunk beds at the Darma Bunker seemed to bring about a snore free night, but drinking all this water is causing a few nigh time trips to the bathroom!



Everyone is suffering with a common problem – by this morning the lactic acid build up in our legs has reached epidemic proportions and no one can get up without walking like a 70 year old. I’ve always visualised acid as a liquid substance but this lactic acid stuff seems to be made of lead and filling every part of my upper legs!


Last night a small disagreement was underway in my body as to which part of my anatomy was causing me the most pain. My knees and my backside had fallen out trying to out-do each other. By this morning it had turned into an all out war, each one of them desperate to beat the other in seeing just how much they can hurt me. The battle lines have been drawn and they are determined to fight until the end in order to win. What’s worse is that I know there are other body parts just waiting to see what happens before they decide to enter the fray – will they side with one of the key protagonists or will they try and steal victory from two weakened opponents at a later date????


Leaving the shelter of the bunker is not for the feint hearted – this morning is much colder than yesterday. You can tell this, and also that the guys are expecting a colder day when you see all the experienced riders donning arm warmers, tights and base layers. Not much sun cream to be seen on the arms and legs today!


While we’re getting ready to go some of the Maltese guys are talking to the Italian watching us – I have no idea of what was said other than hearing the words St Gotthards and him laughing out loud!


Alan gives his briefing and I think today will be the day that sorts the men from the boys – I expect the likes of Marcel, John, Pierre and Jez to be the kings of the Mountain. With a few final words of encouragement we’re off.


Every morning I like to start with visualising the end. But with no idea what our day by day destination looks like I have decided to picture arriving at Old Trafford, meeting Sir Alex and, of course, seeing Claire again. I can’t wait and this always serves to motivate me and also make me a little emotional. Not the Sir Alex bit. Ok, well maybe a little.


The conflict between backside and knees erupts again, and for the first 5km the firepower is immense! My knees open fire with their aching and clicking, while my backside returns fire with, well what seems like fire actually. The only saving grace is that it takes my mind off the lactic acid in my thighs which decide to save their pain for another day.


I still struggle to get my head around the psychological concept of endurance sports like this. To my mind, and the “get it done now” mentality I have it still makes no sense at all when I hear all the seasoned pros around me saying take it easy, conserve energy, slow down! If you are on a flat road why not go as fast as you can? Of course, I know the logic behind it, slow your heart rate, use less energy, burn more fat, but I just don’t like it to be brutally honest.


We’re about 10km out from the start and heading up a hill when I suddenly re-realise that this is also an individual sport as well as a team one. After two days of riding as a group quite happily I remember that when the hills and mountains come it also becomes all part riding with yourself and your own demons in the head. I need to re-focus my mind quickly to get ready for not being able to rely on everyone around me for the St Gotthards climb.


Having made that climb, my first experience of a proper downhill, and I realise why people love this sport. It’s a huge descent! And goes on for 5km – what seemed a lot at the time. The roads were long, with a few windy bits and we hit a top speed of over 70km/h. Just amazing – all of us grinning like Cheshire cats as we hit the flat.


So, 20km in and another 64 to go until we hit the checkpoint for the St Gotthards time trial. I ask you. Who decides to make one of the toughest mountains in Europe harder than it is? Alan bl**dy Curry, that’s who! Yes, a time trial to “make it interesting”.


We plough on, the weather turns less warm. The clouds roll over and the sun disappears. Has anyone seen Lord of The Rings?


Actually, as we rode the mountains closed in all around us. It was like we were riding into the point of a V, moving ever closer to the challenge of the Pass. It was like riding into the Valley of Death, and the certain torment that came with it. Dramatic eh??


At this point, the backside was winning the battle for Botha and I was riding out of the saddle as much as possible to avoid the indescribable pain of sitting on my supposed gel filled saddle. Gel filled my arse!


I’ve written before about using milestones to help get me through training, but it’s been difficult here to be honest. Everything is unknown and so big that it makes it almost impossible to see a 10km lap in context, but anything longer is too far ahead to be of use in helping get you through.


The re-starts from checkpoint 1 and 2 both see a recommencement of hostilities for the upperhand between knees and backside which start in a blazing firefight each time, and continue relentlessly.


Leaving checkpoint 2 we start the time trial at 84km. The top is at 97km and I have no idea what lies in wait for us. We set off at 30 second intervals, knowing that the time trial is secondary to just making it to the top at all.


We have approximately an hour and half of hell in front of us. The climb is pretty much all cobbles – very pretty but bl**dy useless if you’re on a bike! As I said, I’d been looking to get out of saddle as much as possible to rest but by now it’s more painful sitting back down again afterwards that I decide not to bother anymore.


I have my GPS set to record laps every 10km, but on this climb it should have been set to be every 100m instead. The climb was a relentless series of twisting road. Keep your cadence above 80! Keep your heart rate at 150! Now I knew that going harder would mean I didn’t make it to the top at all. Not that obeying those rules were a guarantee that I would make it anyway.


The climb was all in the head. Roger, Chris, Evan and Dan all moved away steadily. Lee and Lenny went the other way, while Nick and I ploughed on, about 50 metres apart. Neither one of us with the physical or mental energy to do what it took to ride together, let alone follow the others!


John, Pierre and Nigel overtook us at some point or other, I have no idea where. But the climb was so steep there was no sense of failure to be overtaken by anyone. It was totally a personal challenge.

I lost count of the number of times I wanted to stop, but thought I’d never get going again. 7km up, 8km up, 9km up. Maybe just a short break? No! Keep going! At 10km we saw John, Pierre and Nigel ahead resting. Fabulous! If they can do it, it must be ok!! “Hey Nick, shall we stop?”


They said to stop and stretch. They also said “f**k the time trial an d f**k Alan” – I said that’s what I’d been doing for the last hour!!


I swear that stop saved me. Stretching my legs for a few mew minutes before re-starting made all the difference, and we set off again with new energy. Let’s not get carried away – still only 10km/h but I was happy to be moving at all.


The last 3km we had nothing to focus on but getting to top, pedal turn by pedal turn. Just keep going. Ignore the fact that my legs are now so over flowing with lactic acid that it’s almost coming out of my mouth.


2km to go, another bend, and another. 1km to go, more bends, more cobbles. Then we see Eric, the photographer – we made it!! No! A false dawn - another 7 minutes apparently. Around the last bend and it’s about 400m uphill to the rooftops of the restaurant. It looks like 400km! As we get closer we see the cars. And then we see the yellow jerseys of Dan and the others.


Then we see Soner and the stopwatch. We’ve made it. I think I swore, but couldn’t honestly say for sure. But I am suddenly aware of how cold it is – I’m sweating but chilly all at the same time.


We’ve earned a leisurely 45 minute lunch and a long sssstretchhhhhh.


Roger was fast. Chris rode most of the way out of the saddle. Frankly “Un-natural” is the only word for anyone that can do that.


Lunch over, we’re back out. It’s really cold and getting colder. It feels miserable to be honest and I’m not looking forward to the last 50km.

Jackets on and off we go. What a surprise – the ride down was AMAZING!! No cobbles, just long sweeping downhill roads through the Swiss mountains The first downhill is a 10km downhill before flats reaching speeds of up to 70km/h again. Lee hits over 80km/h – I think my GPS is on the blink as it tells me I did over 110km/h. If only!


I am sure we all looked like something from Hot Tub Time Machine in our luminous yellow jackets, screaming down the swiss mountain side. Fixed grins – not just from enjoying descent but also from wind and cold. Not unlike parachute jump, I’m sure with g-force on our faces. We’re now on the German side and you can tell the difference in the signs and change in style of the houses. The cloud has turned to rain.


From 97km to 145km is mostly downhill at speed, in scenery from a chocolate box lid. We even have clanging bells from milka cows to ride to. It rains steadily for the last few km but everyone is happy - singing to ipods or singing to singing from ipods.


We get in and shower. Sadly I washed my ipod and found out the hard way they’re not waterproof! Silence from now on :(   The routine starts again, and we have another long day tomorrow – nearly 200km again.


But today was unbelievable. The toughest thing I’ve ever done by miles. Followed by the most exhilarating thing when I was least expecting it. The personal challenge to keep going was a real achievement for all of us that will last in the memory for years.


Writing this is proving to be a challenge of its own. By the time you get in you are drained physically, mentally and emotionally. Trying to write coherently is not easy. There is all sorts of stuff going around my head and it comes out in all sorts of random order. It’s a bit like those beach games you see on an 18-30 holiday when you make someone drink a shot, put their head down, spin round a pole ten times, and then tell them to run in a straight line. Instead they stagger into the sea and collapse. That’s me, apologies.


What? The time trial results? I thought I said it was a personal challenge, not a race! If you must know....


Marcel came in deservedly first, Steve Chetcuti an excellent second, Roger P in third and Chris “honker” Watson in fourth. Me? 14th in 1 hour and 26 minutes. Over the moon to have broken 1 and a half! Dan strolled in 8th in 1 hour and 18 minutes, with Evan one place ahead. Of course it’s a race Lenny!!!!