Prudential London 100
Roger
Parsley
Anna, Roy, Ken and I registered as Wayfarers and
opted for the 19 mile ride starting at Sandown Park race course at 3pm it
finishes with another 19 miles at the end of the route of the 100 mile ride so we
hoped that most of the field would have finished by the time we entered the
course. We set out at midday to collect
our friend Ken and the four of us cycled to Sandown Park, which was not easy
when some of the key roads were closed. We passed the TV cameras and the
support vans for the race teams and I had never seen so many cyclists – there
was a profusion of skin tight lycra some covering super slim, super fit bodies
and some where it had given up the struggle – and then there were us!
Riders filled the racecourse grandstand area with a
babble of different languages and no two bikes the same. There were some
electric bikes, a few folding bikes and some like mine, straight handlebar 24
speed hybrids more at home off road than riding the streets. We stood in line for nearly hour for
registration, and then we were released in waves of about two hundred. For the
early part, things were cautious close and slow – far too many cyclists far too
close together. Things had speeded up and thinned out a bit by Kingston and
then we slowed again to get past those attending a nasty accident and the
accident debris.
Roger on his "Yellow Peril", as predicted by Nostradamus, negotiates Kingston Market
It was strange being cheered – I felt guilty as I
was just out to have a good time and enjoy the ride but most were doing the
ride to raise money for charity and some were struggling and being quite
brave. Every crossing was blocked off
and manned by a steward and all the streets were clear of parked cars. We
powered on to Wimbledon and slogged up Wimbledon hill – oh! The joy of being
able to use the whole width of the road and both lanes, ignore the red
lights and to just go wide and power up the hill without having
someone slow in front of you or watching out for cars cutting you up, while the
electric bikes slid past sedately, riders pedalling without effort.
A quick stop for a drink and then gradually
building up the speed for a mile or two along Wimbledon Common as the field
spread out. I was feeling good at the ten mile mark – we had already ridden
thirteen miles just to get to Sandown Park so the legs were well warmed up. By now I was in amongst riders, some a third
of my age, on superb bikes in team gear. The colours on their bibs
meant that they had been going since 5 am and had already cycled over ninety
miles and yet were still able to slice through the streets on their razor thin
tyres, barely out of breath!
The fat knobbly tyres began to sing as I swept
round the big roundabout at the top of Putney Hill and as we descended the hill
I glanced at the speedo to see 22 miles an hour and then I began to build greater
speed, too frightened to look again as we crossed Putney Bridge, my front
suspension bashing up and down over the raised manhole covers and rough
surfaces as we went into a fast turn still accelerating and feeling fine.
We reached the embankment and with the wind turned
behind us we began to fly along. It took all one’s skill and balance
to keep in a space of one’s own, shouting and listening with others to warn
them you were overtaking and using the mirror to watch out for those coming
past. I was in a bunch of about forty
all doing nearly twenty five miles an hour, when by Millbank Tower a young
man accompanied by a couple of girls strode onto an unmanned Zebra
crossing put his hands in the air and shouted “You will Stop!” – I was in
a tight pack all doing the same speed and headed right for him – he stood his
ground shouting “I demand you stop” – we missed him (and each other) by a
whisker as he was subject to choruses of advice. Perhaps he had a death wish.
The legs felt really strong and it was
head down breathing steady and pour on the speed hammering round the
corners over the rough concrete and between barriers, the bike beautifully
balanced and responsive and on over the finishing line for a time of one hour
forty minutes.
It took us half an hour to clear the finishing line
– a great slow moving mass of riders half a mile long pushing their bikes up to
the Palace. Meeting up with Roy, Ken and Anna a few minutes later we shared the
common exhilaration of cycling just as fast as you can on a closed road and
each of us really enjoyed the ride. We picked up our medals and then rode on
down to Victoria to get a train to Carshalton.
The train was packed with bikes and cyclist, some
shattered after doing 100 miles and others like us just elated. We rode home
from Carshalton, with the adrenalin still pumping and feeling great– after a
ride of 36 miles all told that day I chained up my twenty five year old “Yellow
Peril” with its 2 inch wide tyres and “quite good” brakes and left it resting
in the bike shed."
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