Well, I did it ...

So, I completed the Prudential Ride London 100!  And it was definitely a success because you lovely people have helped me raise over £2700 for Sands so far.  That money will be spent to support people like me, who are grieving the loss of their baby and don't know how to carry on.  It will be spent training healthcare professionals in how to make the whole process just that little bit easier, like our lovely Helen.  Or it will be spent figuring out how to help keep babies safe.  Either way, I think you are all awesome so thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Having said that, I have to admit that the ride wasn't what I hoped it was going to be.  It started off pretty well - I woke up at 5:15am on the morning of the ride feeling pretty good.  My dodgy guts had settled down and I felt like I had my energy back.  Nick (being his normal lovely self) dropped me off at Richmond station to get the special charter train to Stratford that the race organisers put on.  Just to reassure you ... we didn't leave the kids home alone - Lizzie (Nick's sister) was there to manage all three on her own (I'm slightly worried we may have put her off kids forever!)

I arrived at the station and it was full of other riders, pretty much all in charity jerseys, with bikes of all shapes and sizes.  Apart from the fact that most of them were doing the 46 mile route (which made me panic that I'd got my timings wrong and was going to miss my start time!), it was great to be in the midst of all these keen cyclists!  They called our train and we wheeled our bikes through the gates and onto the train. I sat down and tried to eat my breakfast (overnight oats with banana and yoghurt) and study the course map again.  I was feeling fairly nauseous with nerves so it wasn't easy ...

Half an hour later, the train spat us out at Stratford, from where we needed to cycle to our start area in the Olympic park.  Based on how long you estimated you would take to complete the ride, the race organisers allocated you a start time and group.  I had estimated 7hr, 15 mins (the most you could estimate was 8 hours) and was allocated a start time of 8:44am with group black L. The start times range between 5:44am and 8:52am for the 100 mile event, so my time was pretty late. Finding the right start area was suprisingly hard - not well signposted at all.

As soon as I walked into the start area, I realised that everyone around me was older than me and looked significantly less fit, and started to think that maybe I should have put a shorter completion time when I entered!  After 30 minutes in the pen, the event staff at the front lifted the rope across the road and walked us down towards the actual race start.  Half an hour of walking along with our bikes, wondering if this toilet would be the last one before the start (and should I take advantage of it?!) later, we finally we got to the start.  The announcer started playing a Chemical Brothers song, counted us down from 20, then there was a huge blare from the horn and we were off!

The first 40 miles towards the Surrey Hills were pretty simple.  We started on one of the dual carriageways from Stratford towards the centre of London - along a flyover which was very odd to be riding along on my bike!  There weren't many spectators on this leg - a few stopped to see what was happening but not a lot. Through the centre of London, along the Thames to Chiswick Bridge.  I was overtaking person after person and struggling to find anyone to draft off as I'd planned because no-one seemed to be going as fast as I wanted to.  Then I found this older Italian dude in an Angry Birds cycling jersey (!) who I drafted behind for a while.  After a few minutes I took my turn at the front and a few minutes later, he moved back in front of me.  I was super happy to have found someone to cycle with and he seemed to be too. We chatted a bit and agreed to stick together for a while.

The route then went over the bridge and into Richmond Park, where there was a water and food stop.  It is beautiful.  I stopped to top up my water bottle and realised that I'd managed to lose my friend already! So, after a quick refill, I got back on my bike and carried on.  I was going pretty fast at this stage so figured I was probably ahead of the times I'd predicted.  All good so far.  The next stage was through Kingston and out past Hampton Court.  Going through Kingston, the support was brilliant - loads of people, including lots of charity groups, all cheering and making loads of noise which gave everyone a boost. Then, going over the bridge I spotted Nick, Mum, Dad, Lizzie and the kids all waving and cheering which was amazing! I wanted to stop but was on the opposite side of the bridge from them separated by a lot of cyclists.  After the bridge, I turned left towards Hampton Court and immediately saw my aunt and uncle waving a big Sands placard.  It was so nice to see familiar faces!

After Hampton Court we headed out towards East Molesey, Walton-on-Thames and Weybridge.  The support thinned out again as we got out into the countryside.  It was all going really well until we hit a fairly narrow lane and had to stop.  We were moving but barely and it took quite a while until I got to the front of the blockage and realised it was just weight of bikes going over a narrow bridge which was causing the hold-ups.  That over though, I pressed on - up Newlands Corner with no problem.  I stopped at one of the hubs to go to the toilet, fill up my water and electrolyte bottles and eat one of my flapjacks, and promptly regretted it. It was hideously busy and took what felt like an age to get through the crowds and out the other side.  I decided that was enough break so set off again towards Leith Hill.  Again, I was passing person after person, spending most of my time shouting "on your right!" as I overtook.  Don't get me wrong - I wasn't the fastest person on the course but frankly I wasn't that far off in my section (which says a lot about how far back I was!)

Going up Leith Hill got quite frustrating as a lot of people couldn't make it up and had got off to walk, some from almost the beginning (and Leith is pretty long so that's quite a walk!)  If you have to walk, you're meant to stay to the left, but there were so many people walking, they were taking up a big chunk of the hill, which made it pretty difficult for those still on their bikes.  I stuck to the right though and was doing okay until suddenly, pretty near the top of the hill, my chain snapped and my pedals were suddenly free-wheeling on a fairly steep hill.  Not ideal.


I had passed a mechanics stop about 100m back so had to walk my bike back down the hill and get in the queue.  Both the guy in front of me and the guy behind had snapped their rear derailleurs which made me feel lucky - at least mine was easily fixable.  Their's probably wasn't (by a side of the road mechanic) unless they were extremely lucky.  The queue was pretty long and slow-moving so I tried to fix the chain myself with a quick link I'd bought when my chain had snapped commuting to work the previous week.  No such luck - I just could not figure it out.  So I had to wait and watch everyone cycle past me. About 40 mins later, the mechanic finally got to me and fixed my chain really quickly (with the right tool which made me feel slightly less stupid!)

The cyclists coming past me had pretty much dried up now which was a bit concerning - it turned out they'd diverted the rest of the cyclists past Leith Hill.  I wasn't entirely sure why - whether something had happened or we were just coming towards the time when they'd need to open the roads again.  Either way, I was pretty worried about the time by now so set off down the hill with my fingers crossed (not literally, that would be very dangerous!)  A few minutes later, I figured out the problem when I cycled into the back of another hold up.  This one was much worse than the first.  Turns out there had been a fairly serious crash and ambulances were in attendance.  Whilst we were there, I got a message from my sis, who was waiting at the top of Box Hill with my 5 nieces (who were entertaining themselves by practising cheers for when I finally cycled past, and yelling "oggie, oggie, oggie" to all the passing cyclists!), to say that they'd been told by race marshals that the rest of the riders would be diverted around Box Hill as we had now passed the cut-off time for that section and they'd need to re-open the roads.  I was so unbelievably disappointed.  I wasn't going to be able to do the full route and Donna and the kids, who had been waiting to see me for about 2 hours by this point, weren't going to.  Some of my other relatives were waiting to see me at Dorking as well.  I felt super guilty that they'd put so much effort in to support me and I wasn't even going to be able to get to them.

Once we eventually got started again, I tried to make up the time and was doing okay until we hit another hill and my chain snapped again.  This time I had no quick link to fix it and couldn't see any mechanic stops.  I phoned Nick in tears because I was convinced my ride was over.  Then a lovely man stopped to offer me his quick link and his partner said there was actually another mechanic stop 300m further down the road.  So I speed-walked my bike up to the top of the hill and met a race marshal who said I could possibly still continue if the mechanic could fix my chain quickly.  But when I asked the mechanic he said he wasn't able to as they were now sweeping up riders from the back of the ride and I'd have to get on the van.  At this point I begged.  And, lovely man that he was, he agreed to help.  The sweeping van was waiting for me at this point so, when my bike was done I sprinted back to the road and got on my bike.  For the next mile or two, I was literally the last person in the ride with the sweeping van was behind me cheering me on through their loudspeaker!


After that, I was pretty nervous about my chain so tried not to push my bike too hard - the chances of me finishing the event seemed pretty slim though, to be honest.  I was so aware that I was carrying so many babies' names with me and really wanted to get them all to the end.  Again, I overtook person after person, only stopping to fill up my water or go to the toilet. The rest of the route was less eventful thankfully - my pedals froze twice because the chain stuck and I had to stop and try to fix it, hence my bike spending a fair bit of time upside down.  Always in the most awkward of places as well.  But thankfully, my chain didn't break again.

Going through Leatherhead was the most frustrating section as there is a very short but quite steep hill which almost all the riders had stopped to walk up.  There just wasn't enough space on the road to cycle so yet again, I had to get off my bike and walk.  Then on to Kingston where we were stopped for a long while for traffic.  There were some lovely event staff there though, chatting to us all and trying to keep the mood cheery.  But, by the time I got through that, I was feeling pretty deflated - I just wanted to get to the end.  Heading out of Kingston though, someone shouted "Susanna!" - it was the Sands cheer team  which gave me a very much needed pick-me-up.  And after Kingston, I was heading to Wimbledon and the last hill of the ride.  There were lots of spectators here, cheering us up the hill, which was great.  I was hoping to see my aunt and uncle again at the top of the hill - they'd brought me some extra food which I hadn't thought I would need but, because of all the delays, was now really looking forward to.  Annoyingly, although they were there (and had been for a few hours by this point - very dedicated!), I somehow managed to miss them and their lovely big Sands banner.

The last section, heading back into town, went pretty smoothly and felt relatively fast.  And finally I got to the Mall and, heading up that towards the finish line, saw Nick.  He looked so proud - it totally made my race :-)  I was so relieved when I crossed the line, I literally punched the air!  At numerous points, I had thought that my bike wouldn't make it to the finish line so I was really happy that I had got there.

Because of the number of cyclists, it was super slow getting from the finish line to grab my bag from the luggage lorries and then back out to find Nick and the kids.  So, by the time Nick eventually found me (not sure my directions were that excellent!), I was done - it was about 5pm and I hadn't had a proper meal since breakfast so my energy levels weren't great.  To round things off nicely, we'd also been told that a crate of medals had unfortunately been missed off the lorry, so they didn't have any left and we would get it later through the post.  As you can imagine, I wasn't in the best state!

So, all in all, it wasn't the ride I was hoping for.  Hence why it has taken me a while to feel up to writing this post.  But there were still a lot of positives - it really was an incredible event to be a part of.  The support I had everyone - the lovely team at Sands, my friends and family, Epsom Cycling Club, the RAC cycling club - was absolutely amazing.  I feel completely blessed to have so many lovely people in my life!  Of the race itself though, I think my best bits though were the following:

• seeing my family and friends cheering me on, particularly at the Finish Line;
• getting to ride on closed roads for the whole route;
• the number of children, families and old people (we passed a few care homes on the route!) cheering us all on - all super enthusiastic and so lovely to see so many children getting excited about cycling;
• the numerous examples I saw of human kindness - so many cyclists offering each other spare parts/help changing inners/encouragement up the hills;
• most weirdly of all, someone yelling at me half way round "Go Susanna!" then 5 seconds later "Are you Lena's sister?" (I am!!)  Small world as ever.

So thank you to everyone for all the support, comments and sponsorship - you made the race for me!  And the biggest thank you of all to my lovely Nick - I am very lucky to have you :-)

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/SusannaSpeirs

Apparently bad luck does come in threes ...

Well, I've been to the PruRideLondon show and collected my pack ... but I'm not as excited as I thought I'd be by now as I came down with a dodgy tummy on Tuesday - I didn't think much of it until I tried to ride home from work - for some reason, it just felt really hard - like I had nothing in the tank.  Wednesday I ended up coming home from work early as I felt really off-colour.  I lay down to rest and woke up two hours later when the kids came home from their day out.  By 6pm I was struggling to stand up straight and look after the kids - thank goodness for my helpful big girl.  She may still throw the biggest hissy fits but, when I'm sad or not well, she has never yet failed to look after me.  Its Thursday now and I'm still feeling ridiculously weak and woozy - I came into town for meetings (and to pick up my race pack) but ended up coming home after about an hour as I started blubbering when someone asked if I was feeling okay.  Never a good sign when you're incapable of holding yourself together.  First my abscess, then Ben's and now this ...

The thought that I might not be well enough to cycle on Sunday is ridiculously upsetting.  I'm hoping that, with 3 more days of trying to be good and gets lots of sleep, my energy will be back up to normal by Sunday.  But what if it isn't?  I'm so bloody cross about the timing - after all this training - time and energy - that I've put into this, I just want to be able to cycle as well I know I can and not worry about whether or not I'll be able to make it to the finish line because I'm still ill ...

However, something that has cheered me up is my amazing cycling jersey that Sands have just sent over.  A few years ago a local Sands dad, who was doing the London Marathon to raise money for Sands, asked whether any of us wanted him to run a mile in memory of our babies. It meant an awful lot to me so I decided that I wanted to repay the favour with Ride London.  Sands kindly helped me with the logistics and found a friendly printing firm (Josh at Partridges -https://www.partridgesuk.com/) who printed all the names onto a jersey for me, for free.  So I now have this incredible jersey with the names of all the babies who I'll be riding the 100 miles in memory of.  Including, of course, our little girl, my sister's triplets (Alex, Sam and Will) and my cousin's twin, Sami, who died at 5 months old.  There are also babies born to Sands staff and trustees, members of the Surrey Sands group, and others of my friends and work colleagues.  It is a very stark reminder of how many babies are lost, how much heartbreak is caused and why Sands is so very necessary.  It is heartbreaking (and making me well up as I write), but it will also no doubt provide the best possible motivation I could have.

I decided to try to figure out when I'm likely to be where on the course - both so I know what I'm aiming for and to try to help those lovely people that are coming to cheer me on at various points.  Its really hard to do though!  Based on the route profile, I've tried to guess about what speed I'll be doing over which segments.


My start time is 8:44am which is actually really late - the last one is at 8:55am.  That gave me a mild panic when I saw what time they open up the roads again at various points - if you're not past the relevant points by the time stated, you have to divert onto the 46 mile route or just stop cycling entirely! How hideously embarrassing would it be if I couldn't finish the race because I was too slow?!

However, looking at the times, I think I should be fine.  The times I think (hope?) I will be at the various marker points are as follows:

Location                                                  Mile Timing
Start – Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park   0                  8:44am
Hampton Court                                       26.5 10:04am
Newlands Corner                                    48 11:31am
Westcott                                                  62.5 12:41pm
Leatherhead                                            75 1:36pm
Kingston                                                 85 2:03pm
Wimbledon                                             91 2:27pm
Finish – The Mall                                  100 3:04pm

For anyone who is coming to watch, you can track where I am on the route using my rider number (22201) using either the tracker on the Prudential Ride London website (https://results.prudentialridelondon.co.uk/2018/?pid=tracking) or using the app which you can find out how to download here: https://www.prudentialridelondon.co.uk/app-faqs/ (more accurate).

This will be my last post until after the event so just to say ... wish me luck!

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/SusannaSpeirs

10 days to go ...

For once, training has been going fairly to plan - hurray!  Last week my lovely friend, Reinet (in the picture) took me for a 61 mile ride round all the Surrey hills that feature in Ride London - Newlands Corner, Leith Hill and Box Hill.  It was brilliant as I realised that I can actually do hills (if not particularly fast!)  Interestingly, I think the spin training has really helped me with the hill climbing - I only do half an hour a week (on the turbo trainer at home that my friend Ed very kindly lent me) so it doesn't take much time but it has definitely made a difference.

Annoyingly, by the time I got home from that ride, my left knee was quite swollen and painful, which is the last thing I want at this stage.  I managed to get into see my physio a few days later though and apparently its just muscular which is good.  So lots of stretching and not too much pressure on it, and hopefully it should (just about) be able to cope with the 100 miles.  I was extremely sensible (by my standards at least) and took a week off cycling.

Well, with the exception of a (gentle) spin session on Thursday, anyway.  As I didn't think my knee would take hill training, I concentrated on getting my cadence up in the spin session.  For those who know as much as I did when I started training for this, cadence is how fast your legs spin round (i.e. how many rotations they do per minute).  To be the most efficient you can be, you apparently want to be aiming for about 90rpm - this higher cadence reduces the forces you have to apply to remain at a specific power output. At the start, I had an average of about 60rpm which is pretty standard for most cyclists.  Advanced and elite cyclists tend to be between 80 and 100rpm. Lance Armstrong cycled at an average of 110rpm!  So I figured, if I can get my cadence up a bit, that has got to be a good thing.  Nick bought me a cadence monitor (little gadget which you strap to the crank arm of your pedal) and its linked to my Garmin watch so tells me what cadence I'm cycling at.  Being able to see my cadence and having a bit of time on a turbo trainer to focus on that rather than hills etc. makes such a difference - my average on my last (admittedly much flatter) ride was 86 rpm, so I'm frankly super pleased with that.

Last Sunday, Reinet took me out again - this time on a longer, flatter route - 71 miles to Windsor and back.  The picture above is of us enjoying a mouth-watering cinnamon bun at a fantastic, very cycling-friendly cafe in the middle of Windsor.  The buns are huge and I thought there was no way I was going to finish it.  A few bites later and it was miraculously all gone and I was thinking about another one (I restrained myself!)

It was really interesting, and useful, to experience a flatter route as I don't tend to get much of that around the Surrey hills where I am.  It was incredible to realise what a difference drafting can make, for one thing.  This is where you sit behind another cyclist and take advantage of the reduction in wind resistance that you benefit from. I've always thought that it couldn't make that much difference really, but taking turns riding in front and behind over a 70 mile route, I realised just how wrong I was.  It is incredible how, up front, you can be fighting and pushing yourself to keep going.  Then you drop behind someone else and, all of a sudden, you are having to sit on the brakes to stop yourself cycling into the person in front (who is pedalling just as hard as you were).  Studies have shown drag reductions of between 27% and 50% for riders who are drafting (depending on the size and on-the-bike position of the rider in front, likewise with the rider drafting, the distance from the wheel in front, the direction and strength of the wind etc.)

This is going to be really important for me, particularly at the start of the ride.  I had already been told this by a number of people who have previously done RideLondon but I didn't appreciate how useful it could be at the time, or how much energy it could save me.  The map below shows the 100 mile route and the route profile below that shows how flat the first 40 miles of the ride are in comparison to the hilly Surrey section.

So, for the first 40 miles of the ride, I am going to do my best to get in with a nice bunch of like-minded (and similar speed) cyclists and make full use of drafting.  And I am also going to be good and make sure I take my turn at the front (as much as I'm sure I'll just want to sit in the middle of the pack!)

Now I just have to keep myself uninjured for the next 10 days and make sure I get to the start on time ... surely I've had all my bad luck already?!

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/SusannaSpeirs

Hmmm ... that wasn't quite how I planned this week going ...

So, having said in my last post that I was going to stick to my training plan and just enjoy the process, everything promptly went completely and utterly pear shaped ... Ben came down with a fever and a swollen gland just over a week ago and by Saturday was on antibiotics. By Monday morning the lump still hadn't gone down so back to hospital we went for a check-up.  I walked him down in the buggy fully expecting to be back home a couple of hours later.  That didn't happen.

We were sent straight to Paediatric A&E at Epsom General Hospital, who were fantastic.  After a fairly short wait, we were seen by a doctor.  Turned out that Ben had an abscess so they immediately put a cannula in (you can imagine how much fun that was for a 4 year old) and got him started on IV antibiotics.  He was then admitted and we were sent up to Casey Ward so they could continue the IV antibiotics until they could get him into St George's for surgery to drain the abscess (they don't do paediatric surgery at Epsom).

Somewhat unsurprisingly (when you think about it), staying in hospital is really not a lot of fun.  Ben was in a lot of pain (having recently had an abscess as well, I know exactly how frigging painful it is!) and, even with as much paracetamol and ibuprofen as they could give him, it was barely touching the sides.  On top of that, Ben started to dread the nurses coming to give him more antibiotics (which happened every 6 hours, day or night) as the drugs going in really stung his arm.

The first night was, quite frankly, hideous.  I was worried about not being able to sleep because of all the sick children in the ward but, as it turned out, Ben was the one keeping everyone else up most of the time.  I think he woke 10 or 12 times that first night.  At about 11pm, he had just had another dose of antibiotics and was crying endlessly with the pain and tiredness.  I felt completely useless - he'd already had all the painkillers they would give him and I couldn't do anything to help him other than be there.  I ended up sitting next to Ben on the bed, shushing him, with tears streaming down my face and trying not to make any noise so I didn't upset him anymore than he already was.  It was horrible.  I started thinking about what would happen if something went wrong and he died.  How would I ever cope if I lost another one of my babies?  I know the chances of anything going wrong with something like an abscess are extremely small but, once you've been on the wrong side of statistics, you don't really trust them to protect you anymore.

Thankfully he finally stopped crying not too long after that and went back to sleep (for ... oh, at least half an hour).  Many, many wakings later, it was 5:30am and Ben was somehow ready to get up for the day. As everyone else in the ward unsurprisingly wasn't, we moved to the playroom (yes, the ward has a playroom) and a very boring day got started.  Mum phoned to see how I was a bit later and, although I tried to say that I was fine, the rather shaky voice may have given me away.  Mum, being the wonderful mum that she is, arrived at the hospital a couple of hours later and didn't leave until Ben's bedtime.  By that time, the antibiotics had started kicking in so the second night was thankfully a lot better.

The staff at St George's still hadn't been able to find a bed for Ben by the end of the second day, so decided to put him on the outpatient surgery list for the Wednesday with the understanding that we would be transferred back to Epsom General after the surgery.  I was assuming we'd go in hospital transport but what actually happened was that a cab turned up at the hospital for us at 6am.  It seemed completely ludicrous! Such a waste of money for the NHS when I could just have driven us ourselves ... hey ho.

We arrived at St George's at 6:30am, only to be told that Ben wasn't actually on the list but they'd try to fit us in and were hoping that he could be seen that day.  Given that Ben hadn't eaten since 5pm the night before, and he's only 4, I wasn't overly happy about him having to potentially not eat all day and then have to do it all over again the next day.  Plus I felt too guilty to eat in front of him, when he couldn't, so I hadn't eaten since the night before either.  I managed to scoff a yoghurt when he was distracted by Paw Patrol (thank God for Paw Patrol!) but, by 2pm when he finally was called for surgery, that was still all I'd eaten so we were both pretty hangry ...

We went into the ante-room to the theatre and the two (really lovely) anaethetists, Ben and Sam, started chatting to my Ben.  Ben was not particularly happy with more things going into his arm but they were really good with him.  The bit that kind of freaked me out was when they put the anaesthetic in his IV and within 3 seconds (if that), he fell asleep.  It was unbelievably quick.  The anaethetist took Ben from my arms, told me to kiss him goodbye and showed me out.  I was definitely more traumatised than Ben was frankly.  I hated leaving my little boy with the surgeons to be cut open when he was asleep.  Obviously I did, because that's what he needed, but I really didn't like it ... but, on the plus side, I did then get to go and have a coffee and a sandwich (which, given I was literally shaking by that point, I suspect I needed quite badly).  I got to take a little buzzer with me so they could call me when he was waking up.  All very sensible.

The surgery only took about an hour but, when I went to see Ben in the recovery room, he'd fallen back asleep and really didn't want to wake up (not a huge surprise as Nick always has trouble waking up from generals as well).  A lot of tickling and cold flannels later and we eventually managed to wake him up and took him back to the ward bed.  He had a sweet and a sip of water and promptly went back to sleep.  He looked so little curled up in the massive hospital bed!  Two hours later, the nurse and I decided he really did need to wake up and pestered him until he did, then fed him sweets, crackers, raisins and nuts until he perked up.  The good news was they decided we could go home though, instead of back to Epsom General, and he could continue on oral antibiotics rather than IV.  So Nick came and picked us up and I have rarely been so happy to see him!  Ordeal (mostly) over.

Ben is still very tired and a bit sore but so, so much better than he was before the surgery.  He's having to have the dressings changed every other day which is pretty painful for him at the moment but he's getting there and I'm so very grateful to all of the lovely NHS staff who have looked after him over the last week.

So, training has gone completely almost off-plan this week but I did still manage to fit in a spin session on Thursday evening and then a long ride with my lovely friend Reinet this morning.  And far more importantly, Ben is home and recovering, so I'm going to take that and be happy :-)

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/SusannaSpeirs

Four weeks to go!

So I got an email yesterday that completely and utterly terrified me - "One Month to Go until Prudential RideLondon"!  I can't believe I only have one month left before I have to line up on the start line and try to keep cycling for 7 ish hours.  That really is not very long at all.

So, although what I kind of want to do is stick my fingers in my ears and sing "la la la" very loudly (!), instead I've been trying to stick really hard to my training plan.  I'm trying to get on my bike 4 times a week: -

• cycling to work and back twice each week, once with a Box Hill loop thrown in (which makes it just over 20 miles return);
• a spin session (usually this Global Cycling Network HIIT video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiDD_aqdnK0); and
• a long ride on the weekend (started at 30 miles and hoping to get up to 75/80 miles before the race).

When I first decided on this plan (not my own, stolen with pride of course - see here if you're interested: https://www.cyclinguk.org/cycle/training-100-mile-ride), the bit that really scared me was the long rides - I don't really like doing a route I don't know by myself.  And how do you find the right length of routes?  So I decided to start cycling with a club and emailed Epsom Cycling Club to see if I could go out with them.  They were super welcoming but I still felt like a very nervous 11 year old going in for my first day of school on the morning of my first ride with them. I REALLY didn't want to go.  Felt sick and panicky.  Not helped, when I arrived at the meet point, by the fact that they were all in matching cycle jerseys on bikes that looked way better than mine, and all knew each other.  I'd never cycling more than 30 miles before and they were planning on 50 miles.  And they were bound to be faster than me.  But I forced myself to go up and say hello and start chatting and everyone was so friendly and lovely.  Admittedly I was the only girl in a group of 14, but they made me feel super welcome all the same - loads of them came to ride alongside me and chat and, by the end of, I was raving to Nick about how awesome going out with a Club was!

I've ridden with them a couple of times and its been fantastic.  I don't have to plan a route - just turn up and cycle.  The time goes much faster when you're in a group as well.  My favourite character from the club, I have to admit, is Brian. Brian is 74 and has been cycling for about 70 of those years.  He organises most of the rides, both the long rides and the time trials.  From what I could see, Brian knows the roads around Surrey and the neighbouring counties in about the same way as a black cab driver knows the London roads.  And which cafes do the best cakes.  Brian always drops to the back and makes sure that no-one gets left.  He checked in on me a few times in my first ride to see how I was doing.  And he cycles 40/50/60 miles each weekend with a group of people about 30 years younger than him.  I love Brian.  He doesn't worry about being the fastest in the group or doing the longest distance - just enjoys getting out in the gorgeous countryside around here, with a group of lovely people, and rides at his own pace.

So when I started panicking a couple of weeks ago about how unprepared I felt and how much faster than me most people I talked to about RideLondon seemed to be planning to ride, I tried to think more like Brian and just focus on enjoying it and getting to the end in my own time (which I still think is going to be about 7 hrs 15 mins).  I did a 65 mile ride by myself that weekend and actually really enjoyed it (well, most of it - it was very, very hot!)  I didn't panic once.

So I've been trying to be more like Brian ... keep plodding through the harder bits of the training and enjoy the long rides in the knowledge that it will make the race a lot easier (and hopefully faster).  Having said which, I decided to go cycling with the RAC Club this weekend and was again, really quite terrified by the thought of cycling with a load of very fast and, I suspected, pretty competitive men.  Turns out, they're all just as friendly and welcoming as Epsom Cycling Club.  I was still the only girl though ...

The difference two weeks makes ...

So a couple of weeks ago, I was feeling pretty positive about my training for the race - 8 weeks to go and I'd managed to do a decent number of miles on my bike, including a couple of 55/60 mile rides with some riders that were far better than me, one that even encompassed the 3 Surrey hills that form the hardest part of the RideLondon100 race (even if that one did nearly kill me - couldn't actually stand up by the end of that!)  I had a plan to ratchet up my training - 3 x rides a week including a sprint, middle ride and a longer, slower ride.  I had even done a bit of reading around how to train for your first 100. According to that training plan, I was doing okay ... I was feeling nicely prepared and, given the longest I'd cycled before starting training for this race was about 25 miles, frankly I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Pride comes before a fall and all that ... I then found a bite/spot on my back which got more painful very quickly, developing into a large painful lump.  A few GP/hospital visits and half a course of antibiotics later, I was in St Helier's Surgical Assessment Unit having an abscess drained under local (plus morphine).  Crazy painful.  Not as bad as giving birth but I found myself doing my labour breathing pain control so clearly not that far off.  And it left me with a fairly deep, open wound on my back that needed to heal, and a systemic infection to recover from.

Nearly two weeks later and I haven't been able to get back on my bike yet, although I've persuaded the nurse to let me have a go on the turbo trainer and see how it goes.  I'm excited to be able to get back to training (I am not a very nice person when I can't exercise ...) but actually really nervous about whether I'm up to it yet and how much fitness I'm going to have lost over the 2.5 weeks since I was last on my bike.  It's also now only 6 and a bit weeks until the race and, whereas I was feeling like I had loads of time and was on course to follow a good training plan, I now feel like the race really isn't that far away and I'm way behind schedule ... not where I wanted to be at this point.

So I'm now trying to pick myself up again and get back into the right mindframe.  I had a great chat with a cycling buddy at work today (who has done a lot more long, long rides than me!) about fuelling for long rides and how to prepare, and that really helped give me some focus again.  I came home and you tube'd some videos about how to make a great pre-ride breakfast (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nWsV0Be-vI) and oaty energy bars to eat on rides (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMJEIiWV3VQ).  So that's going to be my thing to do this weekend.  I'm about to get on my turbo trainer to try a quick ride and see how my back feels ... and, if that goes okay, I'm going to do a Friday evening ride with a friend.  So starting to see the light at the end of the 'no exercise' tunnel.

Thinking about how to get back into a better mindframe for the race made me think back to our first year after losing Ava.  Unsurprisingly I had a lot of low days - all the 'firsts' over the course of that year were really hard - my first mothers day without a baby (I felt like a fraud), our first Easter/holiday/birthdays/Christmas without her ... sometimes it was just so hard to get dressed and actually do anything. So I got into the habit, whenever I had a really low day, of listing to myself all the things that I was grateful for.  And that helped me pull myself up and look forwards rather than backwards - not away from my baby but towards the rest of my life.

So, what am I grateful for in my life now?

• I have an amazing husband who loves me, who is a fantastic dad to all of our children, and who will always be my best friend.  And who, very importantly, likes exercising and challenges nearly as much as me.
• I have a family that always has and always will look after each other.  When I was in pain after the surgery and Nick was away, my parents turned up on my doorstep and announced they were staying the night to help out.  My sister felt bad that I hadn't phoned her to come with me to the hospital (to be fair, I didn't tell her I was going so it really wasn't her fault!) They are great.
• My friends are just ace.  I have old friends that have known me since I was 11 and feed my soul, and new friends who feel like old friends.
• I get to do something to give back to Sands, who gave me so much in the darkest times of my life.  I get to use my professional training for their benefit as a trustee, and I get (through all you lovely people) to raise money to help them do all the awesome stuff that they do.

So all in all, I reckon I am a very lucky girl!  Time to buck up and get back into the training now ...

Its not just about the mums ...

This month is Sands Awareness Month and this year, Sands are focusing on dads. On average,  a baby is stillborn or dies shortly after they are born every 90 minutes in the UK, so it is likely that most of you know a man affected by this tragedy who may be suffering in silence. This isn't helped by the fact the subject is still a taboo for many.  So I thought I would follow Sands' lead and focus my post on this issue to help drive awareness. 

A survey by Sands found that almost a third of men who lost their baby were not referred to any source of support.  This isn't to say that dads will always want support in the same way as mums - everyone deals with the death of a baby differently.  But it is so important that they know how to access support if they need it.  When Ava died, Nick dealt with it very differently to me.  Partly, I think he found it different because he hadn't carried her for 9 months.  But also, he is just a very different person to me - far more practical.  He knew we couldn't do anything to change what had happened so wanted to focus on how to support me and help us move forwards.

However, the social stereotype that men should be ‘strong’ and bottle up their grief can stop bereaved men getting the support they need.  When my sis lost her triplets, I read a lot about baby loss and found this poem about dads by Rosanna Phelan, which really touched me:

He Lost His Baby Too

It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief.
Since "Men don't cry"; and "Men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test,
And field calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's alright
And what she's going through,
But seldom take his hand and ask
My friend, but how are you?
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break,
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But 'stays strong' for her sake.
It must be very difficult
To start each day anew,
And try to be so very brave.
He lost his baby too.

Reading that poem always makes me well up - its so unfair to ignore the dad.  Thankfully, Nick has a lot of amazing friends and I know that, when we lost Ava, they all gave him support in their own way - letters, a drink down the pub, telling friends the news so that he didn't have to.  We were very lucky.  But not everyone is.

When asked whether men and women deal with grief after the death of a baby differently almost everyone who responded to the Sands survey agreed, so Sands is looking for other ways to provide support to dads (beyond the more common helpline and support groups). For example, over the last year or so, a number of 'Sands United' football teams have been set up providing a new and invaluable way for men to support each other through a terrible experience.

I am so very proud of the work that Sands do and I'm so glad that I'm able to contribute a little through this challenge and these posts.  Still terrified that I'm not going to be able to complete the challenge but I've been training hard to try to make sure that I justify all your donations!  And when I am riding on the day, I will be thinking of you all, and all the amazing work that will be done with your money, and I know that it will help me keep pedalling.  Cross your fingers for me - I'll need it!