The Sussex Cogal – 130km
http://www.velominati.com/cogal-report/cogal-report-sussex-cogal-2016/
My view
I was looking forward to the Cogal, riding with my son Alex who had come over from Belgium especially for this ride. For his 21st I’d bought him a decent Giant road bike, and he’d managed to get some riding in around his uni studies and exams. I’d warned him it would probably be a tough one, the longest he’d done, but that it would be in a beautiful area, with a great bunch of guys, and that we’d enjoy it.
Once we’d all met up at the appointed café I knew it was going to be a very hard day. I could only see the grimpeurs* from the earlier Chiltern Cogal in front of me, and Teocalli (Dave W) who I was sure also fell into that category. Where was the “climb well for my weight” group? Today that group would be Alex and I.
Once we left the café we quickly got into a very decent pace (none of this Casually Deliberate 23/24 km/h nonsense) and I settled down for some serious hard work. At the first few hills my fears were realised – the other 4 disappeared up them, I battled up, and my son followed. This pattern was repeated, and the grimpeurs got used to stopping at the peaks, admiring the view, and waiting for us.
Fifty to sixty kilometres in I made a decision – I felt the others were waiting too long, and we were acting as a brake on the group. Whilst the weather was fine, it was due to turn late afternoon, and no-one wants to be riding in foul weather in late October if it can be helped. At the next climb, once I got to the top, I suggested that we would continue to ride together until the lunch stop at around the 85k mark, and from there split the Cogal into two, as the speed differential was just too great. The others demurred, saying it wasn’t a problem etc, but I still felt we should split.
We had managed to stay with them to see the fabled villages of Cocking, Lickfold and Balls Cross, along with the entrance to Goodwood racecourse.
However, during the ride to the appointed lunch stop one of the riders took pity on Alex and summoned the Broom Wagon, aka Heather, his wife. It would have been rude to let Alex go back on his own, and I couldn’t keep up with them anyway, so I too jumped in the car. We were delivered to a superb bowl of warm soup, and a jar of home-made jam.
And before anyone quotes “Rule V” at me, we were both happy to carry on, however we would have tested the patience of even the most saintly riders by the end. We did manage to ride 85k, and do over 2,300m of climbing, so all in all not too shabby an effort.
There is talk of a Welsh Cogal next year – I’ll wait and see who signs up before I inflict myself on the grimpeurs again!
· Grimpeurs – those who have a natural affinity with climbing hills
View from Alex
I must be a cat.
We returned from the Cogal a few hours ago, and with memories still fresh I thought it would be best to write the report as soon as possible. For the moment though, the only thought crossing my mind is : ‘pain’. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Ok! I’ve had a good night’s sleep, here goes the report: The Cogal really started at the meeting point for an early morning coffee. We hadn’t started cycling and I was already panicking. Clearly, we were in the presence of those that live La Vie Velominatus. Between Chris who travels the world for sportives, Ephraim who cycled 80km to the meeting point, the equipment and the bikes around me, all hope of an enjoyable Saturday discovering Sussex quickly vanished – I died inside for the first time.
As soon as we set off, the pace was blistering! ‘Deliberately Casual’ definitely is a very subjective term. This wasn’t helping the panicking to dissipate. What did though, is remembering a conversation my Dad and I had a few years ago with a 65 year old who was training for an Ironman. As we would with any human engaging in such craziness we asked him how it is physically possible. His answer? ‘As long as you stay beneath 70% of your maximum heart rate, your body can continue all day long’. Without a heart rate monitor, I tried to evaluate my condition. I felt my heart was under control. Hope raised! Maybe I can do this! Maybe I will be able to sustain this pace for hours! As long as I stay well hidden in the slipstream, of course. We then met our first hill of the day. As the percentage increased, I increased pressure on the pedals, nothing happened. Clearly, this was going to be a long day – I died a second time.
A little later, as I’m trying to keep up, failure. A complete body failure. I had never suffered anything like it on a bike. My body shut down. Let me be very clear: I’m not pretending without it the outcome would have been different. No, you guys are monsters on a bike. If my body failed, although I don’t understand what triggered it specifically, riding too quickly for too long still is the obvious explanation. It’s not an excuse, it’s a consequence.
Not only was morale down to zero, pain had gone past 10, and 11. My (baby) guns? They weren’t hurting too much, nothing too bad, they just didn’t function. My stomach was screaming for food, drinking felt like dropping a weight into a bag. I discovered the unpleasant way blowing your nose without a tissue is not that easy. I discovered your knees can hurt. I discovered you can pedal with cramps. As I had stopped ‘riding’ my bike – the bike was pulling me home – she (a bike’s a she) became uncomfortable, badly uncomfortable. My back felt liked it wanted to escape from my body. My bottom was clearly punishing me for something really bad. I discovered Hell; my third death of the day was the most painful one.
At this point, I am begging for our lunch break. Surely it can’t be that far away? We’ve been cycling for over a couple of hours, I’m pretty sure we’ve crossed half distance point. As I’m trying to figure it out, I see the rest of the group on the left hand side of the road waiting for me. I don’t stop, they’ll catch me, for sure. Head down, trying to imagine Rule #5 written on my legs, I feel something. ‘Pain! My legs are hurting more, and wait, it’s getting much harder to keep them turning! That must mean….The road is going up! Please let it be a small one.’ As I look up, as I discover what I was in for, a few thoughts crossed my mind. It would probably be more accurate to say ‘a bunch of words’ crossed my mind, none of which I feel comfortable writing. Having given up before even starting, it did not go well. I reached a new low. A low no rider weighing as little as I do should ever have to resort to. When I almost lost balance, I decided I had no other choice but to put my foot down and walk the remaining distance. That’s probably in violation of so many rules, and definitely of Rule #5, my favourite. I got back on my bike just before the summit. Promised myself I would never tell a living soul what happened – I later found out I had to write a report, I couldn’t not mention the worst part of the ride, I’ll have to assume the shame. That was my fourth death of the day. The most painful psychologically.
There was no coming back from that. Nothing could get my self esteem back to an acceptable level. I decided to let my mind wander, I provoked a row with myself, thinking about an argument I’m in with a friend. Half of me was playing myself, the other half, her. I’m not sure what it did to my pace, but it did make me forget about the pain. At that point, it’s all I wanted,no more pain.
Eventually, we arrived at the lunch break. Finally, I could do the shameful thing. Finally I could retire, abandon, give up, chicken out, be rescued, ignore Rule #5. For my defense, I had no other choice, I was running out of lives.
Special thanks to Heather for the rescue service and soup! Truly enlivened my day! Thanks to all four believers for giving me a glimpse at La Vie Velominatus and for putting up with me. I have found one way to get my self-esteem back up, round 2! This won’t be my last Cogal.
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