I keep going because the mountain won't
give up. I pedal harder and harder because the mountain won't
complain about cross winds, unfamiliar chainsets or a spiteful sun
sitting high in French sky.
I fire up another sprint, pushing my
power output into the 320 watts territory as sweat surges out of my
pores. My tongue lolls madly out of my mouth and my heart rate rises
into the red zone. It is a Monday afternoon and I am enduring another
interval training session at the local gym, as part of my preparation
for this July's ascent of Mont Ventoux.
As well as creating a sweat-streaked
monster in the depths of Lewisham PureGym, my training for the epic
climb has revealed the good, the bad and the ugly of cycling in
Britain.
 |
| Early days: a Sunday spin leads me to an out-of-town retail park |
Since buying my first proper road bike
in January (the undersized Carrera MTB travesty I used in
Manchester has been successfully erased from my memory) the pure
joy of speed has lit up my hours in the saddle. The poise and control
of the dropped handlebars, the grip when accelerating out of a corner
and the blessed relief in shifting down to the small ring when climbing are all
fantastic sensations for a road rookie. Even donning one's first pair
of bib shorts has its own vaguely kinky thrill, quite apart from
their aerodynamic benefits.
Despite these delights, some persistent
problems prevent cycling from becoming an automatic choice for London
commuters. The capital's roads remain a mixture of pristine and the
precarious, with hazardous potholes and inexplicably gnarly gravel
roads popping up fairly frequently if you take routes suggested on
Google Maps.
 |
| How the pros do it: Alberto Contador and Chris Froome do battle on Ventoux |
As well as physical hazards, London
cyclists have to keep an eye out for the city's other road users.
While most drivers are now at least aware of the existence of
cyclists, there is some way to go before pedal-powered travellers get
parity of esteem on the road. A significant minority of motorists are
still prone to gamble with other people's lives in order to shave a
few seconds off a journey, pulling out without warning.
Other commuters actually drive
relatively safely, but seem to live for confrontations with cyclists,
beeping their horns manically and leaning out of windows to hurl the
sort of invective usually reserved for someone you've caught in bed
with your spouse.
While the recent hot weather in London
might contribute to drivers' frayed tempers, it makes for ideal
training for my upcoming ride in the Provence region of southern
France. Recent temperatures near Mont Ventoux have hit 37 Celsius,
with the fearsome Mistrale winds from the Mediterranean also
contributing to the mountain's unique climate.
 |
| In the heavens: the summit of Mont Ventoux |
As well as the recent continental
weather in London, my training efforts have been blessed by the
digital gods, in the shape of some interesting new apps. Strava, even
on the free version, lets you track your pace against other users,
creating some occasionally ill-advised sprint sections on the streets
of south London.
Since leaving my last job, I've even been able to contort the gig
economy to the benefit of my training, using Deliveroo to earn money
whilst clocking up the hours in the saddle.
The ride itself has already raised over
£900 for the Campaign Against Living Miserably, which is a brilliant
effort. With two weeks to go, you can add to these heartening
tributes to my great friend Matt Robinson at
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Thomas-McMahon2
.
