My plan was to head out of town to the Chilterns and combine a couple of rides I’ve done before into a longer, harder loop. I spent Friday night dreaming of dusty trails and then on Saturday morning after a blast up the M40 i was lined up and ready to see if those dreams were about to come true.
This might sound like one of those stories where I now tell you how badly wrong it all went, but this time I can’t. My world was soon bright spring greens and deep blue skies, all split through with strips of dazzling dried out trails. A range of hard uphills, rolling downhills, and ripping through stinging nettles, easing forward over marble-like flint and hammering hard-packed dirt flasing in and out of the sunshine and the woods for a solid three and a half hours left me tired, aching, and happy.
There was on key question from the ride, if you hit the point where you can turn one way and hit the last bit, or turn the other way and add in an extra loop, which way do you go? I went left (which was the harder option) and nearly found the last climb too much, but still get to come back to the car knowing I didn’t miss anything and memories of the achievement living in my muscles for a good few days.
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