35Km long, 25Km wide, 150Km around, Lough Neagh is the largest lake in Ireland and Britain and the third largest in Western Europe. On Sunday 29th of August I’ll be cycling around it with 1,500 other idiots in Northern Ireland’s largest cycling event.

Once again, I’m using the event to raise sponsorship money for RNIB NI via my Sponsor John! website. Last year it raised £650! I’m late to the party this year as I wasn’t sure I was going to be fit for the challenge, but any money raised in the 30-odd days that remain is welcome.

Sponsor John! Help me raise money for RNIB NI!

First and foremost, please consider making a donation to this worthy cause! Donations can be made easily and securely online via credit/debit card or PayPal account. All payments are handled on PayPal’s industrial strength secure servers so no-one will ever see your card details.

If you have a personal or business blog or website of your own, any donation will earn you a link from the sponsor list displayed on the sponsorjohn.com front page. Sponsors are listed in order of amount donated and time of donation so those who make the largest, earliest donations will appear higher up the list!

As well as donating your hard earned cash, you can help by telling your family, friends and colleagues about the sponsorjohn.com website and linking to it on blogs, social networks, forums and so on.

For more information and to make a donation, please visit the website, or feel free to email me at 2010@sponsorjohn.com if you have any questions.

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Antrim Road, Belfast, this morning.

I didn’t see what the gap was at the end. 39 seconds perhaps?

Still, it doesn’t matter really. It’s not a race, is it?

Oh, one other thing I should mention. I was in recovery pootle mode.

Take ‘er easy, Blue Ribble. I was.

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Fast, Slow, Fast-Lost, Slow ... around the Ards Peninsula

The weather on the peninsula was much better than last week; still overcast, but not nearly as windy or humid. Good! But still, it was a slightly subdued bunch that set off from Newtownards down the coast road to Portaferry again. Apart from Allan, who was his usual cheery self, and set a brisk pace up around 20mph. That fairly woke me up and got last night’s MEAT digesting.

In fact we averaged over 18mph on these first 20 miles, a pace that was pr0bably helped by a few hill sprint contests. I don’t normally go in for those so I must have been feeling better. Graham, who normally drops me, was hanging on the back having a bad day, and I think welcomed the food stop at Portaferry.

So far so good, then we got lost coming out of Portaferry. I say “we”, but it was Cap’n Navigation here who was leading, so really … well you get the idea. I’d meant to take the A2 to Cloughey but we ended up on the decidedly more minor and circuitous Ballyblack Road. Cloughey was reached in the end but at the cost of a few extra miles and some hills. I’m sure the lads appreciated the detour though. It was fun, right? Lads? Hello?

Out of Cloughey and on the coast road to Ballyhalbert – a road who’s surface wouldn’t be out of place on the Paris-Roubaix – we continued to make good time until at around 30 miles in there was a snapping sound from the back and Graham fully dropped off, his off day getting worse. I also got hit in the head by some kind of flying buglet, which kind of half stung me in the impact I think, and at any rate forced a dismount and helmet removal to check for damage. An easy pace was maintained to the next food stop a few miles down the road in Millisle.

From there it was a climb up to the top of Movilla Road and a bit of a slog into a headwind across the top until we dropped back down into Newtownards and the end of the ride. Allan took the honours for the final sprint, darn him.

Despite the rough start I was pleasingly pleased with how I did on today’s 48-odd mile loop. I wasn’t totally exhausted at the end and I’d put in a good base pace and some hard sprints in the early sections too.

Today was also the final stage of the 2010 Tour de France. It’s been a tough three weeks, sitting watching it, and I wish I’d brought some Champagne out on the ride with us to celebrate. I’ll have to remember that for next year.

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The route was a simple clockwise loop, starting from Newtownards then following the A-roads (and a couple of wahaay-roads) to Portaferry, Strangford, Balloo, Whiterock, Comber and back. I’d ridden parts of this loop before, but not all of it and not the whole way around, and believe it or not I’d never been on the Portaferry ferry before either, so today promised to be a bit of an adventure for me.

Look, I don’t get out much.

Strangford Lap Adventure!

We set out from Newtownards in less than ideal conditions. It was sticky hot, like the start of an eventful night in a bad detective novel, and we faced a respectable headwind too as we made our way down the Portaferry Road along the shore. I was very quickly very dripping with sweat when I stopped to fix an early snakebite puncture. Lovely.

It could have been worse though. We did at least have the rain to provide some cooling.

The run to Portaferry was uneventful, then I got a go on the ferry to Strangford, and after a quick comfort stop we were off again. The wind was behind us now, but the hills out of Strangford and on into Balloo still had bite, and Allan was struggling with shoulder cramps brought on by (we think) an awkward bike setup. Also a squeaky pedal, which was very annoying. Sort that out mate. We stopped a couple of times to try some field adjustments, but our tinkering didn’t do a lot of good.

A 35mph descent from Killinchy into Whiterock, in the rain, with a right-angle left at the end and nothing but rocks and water beyond, livened things up a bit as we left the A-roads and wound our way along the coastal back roads towards Comber. Allan was really struggling with his shoulder by now and had to sit up constantly, and I’d run out of water and was cramping, so this (hilly) section was taken at a verrry leisurely pace.

Eventually we returned to the main roads and took the A21 from Comber back into Newtownards again. Spotting another cyclist in the distance released some untapped energy and we hammered along, until I blew up a mile or so from the finish with a nasty cramp. Ease it on home, big lad, that’ll teach you to run out of drinkies.

One question remains: every other cyclist or group of cyclists we met seemed to be on an anti-clockwise lap as opposed to our clockwise option. Is there something I’m missing?

52.6 miles and 3,200 feet of climbing, completed in 3:27 for an average of 15.4 mph. Happy with that.

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I spotted your orange jacket in the distance and gave chase, but you held your speed and took the corners more aggressively than I dared in the wind and rain, so the gap remained. I caught you at the Dargan Road lights but you stamped on the pedals and took off again. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 mph along Duncrue Road, uphill and into the headwind; I was too far in the red to keep up and you got through the lights before me, and before they changed. Last I saw you, you were diving into traffic along Nelson Street. Cheerio then, I could use the break.

Your leathery skin, zero-body-fat looking face, calf muscles filled with steel cables and suspiciously yellow trainer looking rear tyre make me think you spend a lot of time riding bikes, and that I should spend more.

Chapeau!

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Firstly, and by far the worst, are the idiots who are tearing up the Ardoyne area of north Belfast at the moment. That stopped me from getting to Cave Hill again, as I suspect it would have ended even more badly than my previous attempt.

Next, we have a cut-up and near left hook from an idiot 4×4 driver as I crossed College Avenue on to Millfield in Belfast city centre. She wanted to make a left turn to Divis Street, cut in in front of me then stopped dead in the queue for the lights. I had to stop similarly dead to avoid a collision, and then maneuver out and around her. Driver: oblivious.

The final idiot appeared immediately after that as I was making my way along Millfield. A car behind me revved its engine and roared past sounding its horn, and I could also see the driver gesticulating angrily in the cabin. The impression given was that I’d done something to annoy him, but I’m at a loss to suggest what. I think it was just that I was in “his” lane and delayed him getting to the next traffic light queue by a few seconds.

Anyway, I sailed past said traffic light queue and the car, then the lights changed and Mr. Revvy came up behind me again. This time I was treated to a long horn blast, more gesticulating and something was shouted out the window by the front passenger. I think it was along the lines of “get a car” or “get off the road”. Again, I’ve no idea what the problem actually was, and neither Mr. Revvy or his passengers didn’t accept my invitation to come back and discuss it.

Fucking idiots, the lot of them.

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Sunday’s ride nudged me over the 1,000 mile mark for 2010 and I didn’t even notice until now.

Here’s an idea: 2,010 miles for 2010?

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Besides, with the British Grand Prix, the first mountain stage of the 2010 Tour de France and the World Cup Final on, TV was good today.

So the planned morning Strangford Lap was aborted, but as the afternoon got going the storm died back and I decided to head out for a ride anyway. The conditions were still far from ideal, but with parades and bonfire debris likely tomorrow today was the better day to ride.

At least the winds were at my back as I started out towards Carrickfergus and I made great time down to the castle before turning for Belfast. Along the Shore Road and M5 cycle path was a different story, but I pushed on, stayed on the drops and recored a respectable 18.3mph average to the end of the path. I’m sure that figure was in part due to the initial wind-assisted run down to Carrick, but I’d still worked hard was very pleased with myself at that.

Nothing much remains of Grosvenor High School

I shifted to pootle gear after that and cycled over to east Belfast to grab a few final shots of my old school being demolished (there’s verty little left now!), before looping back to Ormeau Park where I hid from a rain shower for a little while. The embankment then took me back to the city centre and the M5 cycle path again, where I fully disengaged pootle mode to take advantage of a big ol’ tailwind. 22-25mph, which hurt, but in the good way. You know what I mean.

Sunday Ride 2010/07/11

37-ish miles, 16-ish mph average. Not bad-ish for the conditions and amount of easy riding I’d done.

We’ll retry the Strangford Lap next week, I think, but for now I have that TV backlog to deal with.

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The ascent went as well as could be expected for a 5 mile, 4% average climb (with a 0.8 mile, 7-11% section) and I was soon rolling along the flat top of the Upper Hightown Road (B95), having only stopped once on the way up. It’s tracked on RunKeeper, if you’re interested.

The Glengormley side of the this road is quite exposed, and the crosswinds were making controlling the bike quite difficult, so I was happy to more or less just hang on and freewheel down the hill. You can hit 35mph without pedalling here anyway, and that was quite fast enough in the conditions. Then two things happened.

First, I began to feel a little dizzy. I’m not sure what was going on. Maybe I should have waited longer at the top of the hill to recover from the effort of getting up there? Maybe my sinusitis was playing up and affecting my balance (it seems to, from time to time) ? In any case, it’s not fun feeling faint while you’re falling down a 10% hill with only two fingernail sized patches of rubber and a thin layer of Lycra between precious skin and the tarmac that’s whipping beneath it at 40mph, so I got on the brakes to shave off some speed. Just in case.

So, destabilised by crosswinds, balance troubles and not-quite-panic-yet braking, what did I need? Oh yes, a 40′ container lorry and it’s huge aerodynamic wake to pass close by.

Mayday, Mayday, we’re going in.

Ass on the grass on the Upper Hightown Road

I had just enough control and presence of mind left to aim at the verge as its foot-deep covering of grass seemed a more attractive landing option than the tarmac and high kerb of the road. One quick tuck, flip and roll later I was sitting on my ass on the grass checking everything was still attached and working properly. Fortunately, it was.

The truck was oblivious to this and went on its way (I didn’t catch a registration or even company name), but one driver who was following me did stop to check I was all right. His son, about eight, was leaning out of the window, staring and mouth agape like this was the funniest thing he’d seen all day. Or the coolest. Yes, coolest, I’m going with that. Because it’s important that eight year old boys think I’m cool, not stupid.

Picking mud out of the shifters. Again.

I was lucky. I came away with only a bruised calf (I assume the bike clipped me as we tumbled) and dented pride. If I’d hit the tarmac or kerb it would have been nasty, and would probably have involved an awkward “Erm, hello dear, now don’t panic but I’m in hospital…” phone call too. The BeOne came away a little muddy but unscathed, and after  picking myself up I was able to continue on home.

Slowly.

And being very, very careful on the remaining descents.

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To be honest, and meaning no disrespect to Phill and the others, riding 100 miles in a month wasn’t that much of a challenge. It was fun to take part though! I did get a smidge competitive towards the middle of the month, resulting in a two week period where I covered over 200 miles by bike. That hurt. Silly, I know, but like I said, fun.

With a total of 318 leisure miles and 364 total miles, I placed fourth overall in terms of leisure miles and sixth once commuting miles were added in too. That’s not too bad out of a field of 31, I think, and I did have some enforced time off the bike too. Anyway, it wasn’t a competition. Was it?

June 100 looks to have achieved its goal of encouraging more people to get out on their bikes more often. Between them, the participants cycled almost 8,500 miles! Well done to all, and big thanks to Phill for organising it.

And just when you thought it was safe, July 150 has started…

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