Simply too much testosterone flying around on 'Stanmer Tuesday' & 'Friston Thursday' for me. Plus my 24 inch wide shoulders don't fit between trees only 23 inches apart, however night MTB'ing seemed fun. So it was that 'Wimps Wednesday', with an emphasis towards Cross Country riding was born.
After the excellent ride last week with Me, Pete, Mark & Gibbo I was looking forward to more of the same this week. It didn't start well however with Pete phoning in his apologies before I had left Uckfield. I made it to Firle Beacon Car Park in quick time this week, a little before the 19:30 RV.
I circulated around at the top of a very cold & blustery beacon waiting for my comrades to show looking east & west waiting to see the lights snaking there way across the darkness towards me........& waiting ........... & waiting........... & waiting. I was beginning to think I hadn't got the memo when I eventually caught sight of self changing, flickering light coming from the West.
So it was, just me & Mark who set off from the car park in the general direction of Eastbourne. A strong chilly wind blowing over our left shoulders from behind, but feeling hard work already.
It always amazes me how close places can be when you travel between them cross country, & before we knew it we were at a devilishly steep & slippery descent in to Alfriston. Whoever I'm following down this ramp seems to disappear out of sight in quick order, partly because I'm rubbish on mud, & partly because I'm following nutters like Gibbo & Mark. Fortunately the practice is making me better. Unfortunately everyone else is getting quicker too.
We moved on to what is now becoming more familiar territory, climbing up Windover Hill where I should my complete naivety of this 'Strava' stuff. I set off up what is a 10+ minute off road climb like the proverbial scalded Gazelle, only to stop at what I thought was past the 'segment' finish. It wasn't till I got home that I realised I'd stopped about 20yards short of the actual finish. Damn!!! Nevermind, I'm not gonna trouble the real quickies, but I was hoping to improve on my 312th place :o(
With my legs now shot to bits from my fruitless Strava glory hunting, things were starting to feel a bit tough. A tour of the fire roads around Friston Forest & our route turned back towards Firle. First West, to Seaford & then North West, DIRECTLY into the gale which had been blowing over our shoulder earlier. It was on this run in back to where we started that Mark showed his metal, his smaller silhouette & lower riding style cutting through the fierce headwind whereby I suffered enormous sense of humour failure, grinding to what seemed a complete stop. If it wasn't for the fact I was a) in the middle of nowhere, & b) in the presence of a witness I would probably have called my mummy to rescue me.
Fortunately, on the run in to the Beacon the route changed direction slightly again & spirits slightly raised before Mark & I went our separate ways. Off the top of the downs the wind died considerably & I made it home (slowly) on the roads with a tough, but in hindsight enjoyable ride in the bank.
So it was, just me & Mark who set off from the car park in the general direction of Eastbourne. A strong chilly wind blowing over our left shoulders from behind, but feeling hard work already.
It always amazes me how close places can be when you travel between them cross country, & before we knew it we were at a devilishly steep & slippery descent in to Alfriston. Whoever I'm following down this ramp seems to disappear out of sight in quick order, partly because I'm rubbish on mud, & partly because I'm following nutters like Gibbo & Mark. Fortunately the practice is making me better. Unfortunately everyone else is getting quicker too.
We moved on to what is now becoming more familiar territory, climbing up Windover Hill where I should my complete naivety of this 'Strava' stuff. I set off up what is a 10+ minute off road climb like the proverbial scalded Gazelle, only to stop at what I thought was past the 'segment' finish. It wasn't till I got home that I realised I'd stopped about 20yards short of the actual finish. Damn!!! Nevermind, I'm not gonna trouble the real quickies, but I was hoping to improve on my 312th place :o(
With my legs now shot to bits from my fruitless Strava glory hunting, things were starting to feel a bit tough. A tour of the fire roads around Friston Forest & our route turned back towards Firle. First West, to Seaford & then North West, DIRECTLY into the gale which had been blowing over our shoulder earlier. It was on this run in back to where we started that Mark showed his metal, his smaller silhouette & lower riding style cutting through the fierce headwind whereby I suffered enormous sense of humour failure, grinding to what seemed a complete stop. If it wasn't for the fact I was a) in the middle of nowhere, & b) in the presence of a witness I would probably have called my mummy to rescue me.
Fortunately, on the run in to the Beacon the route changed direction slightly again & spirits slightly raised before Mark & I went our separate ways. Off the top of the downs the wind died considerably & I made it home (slowly) on the roads with a tough, but in hindsight enjoyable ride in the bank.
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