A for Appley Bridge, B for Brinscall, C for Conked Out

While ten traipsed to the Trough and a select few rode the Rake, the hordes were still out in force at the shop today as around 50 riders appeared for the 9am rides. As such, no less than five groups formed, with a B ride heading towards Rivington and Pam taking the C's. Another B group rode to Heapey and that left two A groups, one led by Matt who would later split his cohort into a Foxholes group and one featuring The Strava Hunter, who was badgered by Steve Depport and one half of the Double D show to come with them to Brinscall but apparently that ride would be a bit too long. Instead, some who haven't been seen at the top table, including Johnathan Collins and Vikki Lynch, joined an elite eleven on a slightly extended route to begin with Rainford, before looping northwards for Brinscall and Brindle, before the biggest show of power I've ever seen on the front of a club ride - and no it wasn't even from someone in my current hometown, rather he might be a future near-neighbour living within sprinting distance of the Fiveways. Read on to find out more.

B IS FOR BICKERSTAFFE BOLT FROM THE BLUE AND BOMB DOWN BANK TOP

I set off on the right side of Row 4 alongside Paul Bolton, who's had a quiet year on HMCC rides but by stealth has sneaked almost unnoticed into the sub-23 club at the evening 10's. He was keen to ask about when I'd be completing the move and I did suggest having a Sunday lunchtime congregation the first weekend after I sign and collect the keys, but no-one is allowed to YOLO on Rosecroft Close. Unless you want to go head-first into the garage, of course. After dodging patches of gravel we powered on towards Bickerstaffe and the first part of the Rainford 10 course, reaching speeds of over 20mph as we did so, before crossing the roundabout into Rainford, where we were stopped at the train station. After managing to breathe easy for the first few miles I couldn't stop coughing and spluttering upon arrival at the bridge and this only made for a messy restart as I steered the bike with one hand and desperately tried to remember where and when I'd need to change gear, but we were only in Rainford for a short while before turning left on a reversal of the St Helens Triathlon bike route. This would take us through Crawford village and then on towards Pimbo, where we had to deal with a particularly badly scarred road surface, so much so that me and Howie used the wrong side of the road at the traffic island before Tower Hill itself. This, as you know, is my new favourite unfavourite corner to attack after YOLO came so close to meaning YODO (You Only Die Once) a couple of weeks ago but we were helped in one sense that a bottle had bounced out of someone's cage further back and as such the corner was something of a tootle rather than a Terminator effort (you'll see the relevance of that later). Once in Upholland we turned our attentions to Bank Top, but on the way we had to slow a couple of times, once for good reason (a car had right of way) and once because two Sunday drivers didn't know what "obstruction on your side of the road" actually meant. Ye gods. Then it was straight down the descent where annoyingly I recorded a max of 69.9kmh, and as The Average Speed Hunter I consider that to be an abject failure. Of course, 70kmh would have been an excellent result, but you knew that already. We reconvened for the run towards the Endurance Store, but rather than look at any wetsuits to bring to the party in Llanberis next year we turned right after the railway station and headed under the bridge. This set off quite a scramble for track position as we knew what was coming next; left then right through the housing estate, and this is where things first got a bit messy.

WELCOME TO THE APPRENTICE HMCC STYLE - TEAM USA VS SCUDERIA ITALIA

A few years ago I thought of a great idea. Why not make all attack points more stressful by giving points out every time, to Team USA (Specialized/Cannondale/Trek etc) or Scuderia Italia (De Rosa/Bianchi/really anything European) then on the losing team, one person each week WILL get eliminated from next week's top table. This was in the 2012 Olympic year when The Edge was in "destroy everyone" mood and made for some very heated exchanges on Sunday club races, and indeed I was about to be reminded on the climb through the housing estate. I weaved past Steve and Ian to put my nose in front, but as I rounded the left hander I saw another De Rosa appear alongside my seatpost. I shouted "DOMINATION DOMINATION DOMINATION" as per the Apprentice entrants who would bash their heads against yours to get what they want even if they were pulling crackers at the Christmas office party (time to get on the weights after Project Leicester methinks) but despite doing a Disley-style lunge for the "line" (30 sign) that was as good as it got because now it was time to go back to the big ring and 36x11 wasn't going to cut it against Darren, Steve Kernigan or He With The Spinergy Wheels (nice comeback Johnathan) so once we reached Wiggo Corner I hurriedly shoved the chain back onto the big ring and prayed like hell it would hold out for the remainder of the pre-Leicester season to come, even if it did get TF2'D last night in preparation for today. With me feeling pretty fed up by this point it was across the M6 and through Shevington to Coppull Moor, where the pace had to cool a little but we ramped it up on the way down the brow before ascending the slow, steady climb into Chorley town centre. Once again some made breaks for the front, but these were largely neutralized as we approached decision time as to where to go next. We eventually came out of Chorley by the recently re-re-named Red Cat (told you that was the better name all along) despite the best efforts of Citroen DS Man to squeeze us all when completing a pass versus oncoming traffic, and from here we gradually ascended up the A674, though the phantom indication right for Anglezarke had a few worried. Eventually we reached the turn-off for Brinscall, but once more the double-meaning of YOLO and YODO was about to strike.

MATT, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, PUT SOME OF THESE CONKERS DOWN DARREN'S SEAT TUBE BEFORE NEXT SUNDAY

As we began the climb Darren and Gareth started to edge away with Paul in tow. Now I didn't mind this because they were getting on with it and weren't just using it as an excuse to smirk at those of us pedalling rather slower (look up New York Running Clubs Exceptionalism and you'll understand what I'm on about) but I had other issues to deal with, namely Johnathan making a brief scoot past me for 4th place and having others on my tail. Fearing the wooden spoon I used the passing of a BMW to launch back past the Trek and hold on for the position by my fingertips but to my astonishment the top three had parked up still in the little ring! Now I know I can't spin a bike for at least another two weeks until I get back from Leicester but given that most of them still use compacts I thought some 50x28 cross-chain efforts might have been seen. Instead, they were more interested in having a piss stop or examining conkers strewn all over the junction, thinking back as they did to the school playground. I then pointed out that there's a place in the foothills of the Alps called Usine de Chataignes (Conker Factory) so instead of putting the effort to source good ones locally you could just go online and buy a championship. Much like I did a few weeks ago at the Edge Hill Triathlon, but I'm open to anyone with £666 who wants to buy it so I can pick a new one off a local shop floor. For now, one of our TT experts Paul was off down the descent with Rob Shirley and the next fight was on for Twist Moor Lane. Again, near-dead legs from a 10 mile beast run on Friday meant I was nowhere here, at least on the initial attacks, but after these faded I could match the frontrunners for pace all the way after that. However, I would soon be regretting my attempts to chase Darren on the descent even though with added weight I'm actually rather better than I used to be, as the 4x4 in front of us slammed on and only a huge braking effort plus swerve to the right stopped Darren's De Rosa from being CHINOOK'D as I saw Project Leicester flash before my eyes. With this near-miss in the books it was time to turn left for Abbey Village and up the hill towards the Darwen roundabout. Here, a wondrous thing happened; Steve Depport eased past Darren, I out-descended the two of them and somehow Mr 11 Stone, who's got to drag that mass around for 13.1 miles in a fortnight's time, had got his relatively fat-arse alongside the ride leader! And just at the right time as well, as it was the beginning of the tailwind that would push us all the way home.

AS THEY SAY, THERE'S NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN - APART FROM AN OVER-SUPPLY OF APPRENTICE CANDIDATES

During the all-too-brief time I'd enjoy with Steve out front I discussed 2016 versus 2012. Both years featured some excellent running, below-par cycling, someone desperate to destroy all (The Edge/De Rosa Darren) and someone being bullied to step up to the hardest group (me in 2012, JP in 2016). Or more to the point, I likened it to Hollywood where they've become absolute experts at wheeling out crap remakes of movies that weren't really that good to begin with. Looks like this reporter writing today's dissertation would fit right in then. For now I was thinking about "fitting right in" on the way towards Brindle, having phantom-sprinted against Steve to stick the tyre in front at the Riley Green sign (yes please Lord Sugar; sign me up for your 2017 series so I can bang heads with Claude, hashtag perfectTV). Upon arriving in Brindle we turned left through the trees and the technical descent, but on the next climb Ian Gallagher did a Luke Jackson on the field, thinking he'd have the chance to get a piss stop in. However, Destroyer Darren kept him within arm's length and when Ian had been reeled in I remarked "so you didn't let him relieve himself" - "no I had to chase him down". This made for a rather crowded and carefree peloton on the descent past the pumping station which was full of potholes, any one of which could have ruined Project Leicester, so I was quite relieved when we got onto Shaw Brow, which was easily tackled in the BIG RING despite me spotting a few others having to change down ahead of me. So it was now westward bound towards the west world, as our next target was Midge Hall, but this is where things got really quick as Gareth once more volunteered to go back out front (I don't think Chinook's Clipboard will be getting anywhere near full when him and Ste Francis end up on the same ride) and a few others ran alongside him on the front for a bit, but the pace, while fast, was a bit erratic at times and this led to a few concertina effects including one where me and Johnathan nearly ended up colliding at high speed. That was enough to spike the heart rates so much we were now primed to go even faster through Midge Hall itself before slowing a little for the turn-off at Croston, where the pack became somewhat single-file and Near Miss Number 3 eventuated, this one where Gareth nearly ended up marking the back of Nissan 4x4 Man. By now I was thinking "just get on their wheel and stay out of trouble" and this would at least calm my nerves once we got out into the open for the final dash to Rufford.

INSERT ELECTRIC SIX/FIRE IN THE TACO BELL/DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE JOKE HERE

Only six of us were still alive as we crossed the bridge and dealt with Grandad in a Ford Fiesta as he parked up in extremely untimely fashion on the run towards the A59. Of particular note was the way Steve Depport did a great job having led the ride to stick with the pace Gareth was setting, but this only made things harder once we got out onto the main road. As a Nissan Micra overtook us the "Your Speed: 33" readout fooled no-one, and in the end it came down to who went for it at the right time. I did just enough to get an armchair view of proceedings but in the end it was a surprise win for Paul Bolton despite Darren wanting to know which Rufford sign counted. Given Alex Ferguson isn't doing much these days it would be better for him or a De Rosa rep to hold up a board saying "until I get my wheel in front" but that would be it for Paul who would turn left at the junction and head straight for home. The remaining five riders rolled in at various intervals and while most went across Curlew Lane and YOLO'D across the Haskayne Moss at 35mph I joined Vikki at the marina. Vikki tied Charlotte's record from last week for the most fluid replenishment at the cafe while I inserted a bit more high voltage of a different kind into the system with a beef chilli wrap and salad. Bizarrely, the wrap had taco-style tortilla chips in, the sort you might find if ever you head over to the States, visit Taco Bell and see the magnificent Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, which I only found out the other day was built in the same year as the original Wembley Stadium. A little fact to make any of us feel a bit younger, so I hope that's brightened everyone's day. Topics of conversation included John Lynch's Christmas list-topper of a PS4 and 4k TV so he can beat today's speedsters at something like FIFA or Call of Duty, and why Matt's selling so many Fulcrum stealth black wheels, including to Vikki. Well at least she's remembered to save a set of 23's for next week, that's what you call preparation. With the clock now ticking towards 12:30 and several things to sort out this afternoon - good job I watched the Japanese Grand Prix at 6am this morning to save time later - we turned right out the car park and headed for home via the Hoscar Moss.

IF IN DOUBT GRAB THE FREE COFFEE, GET A CIGAR OUT AND EVERYTHING WILL BE ALL RIGHT

It was quite a peaceful return as both of us had been forced to dig deep, in my case against fear of a stupid crash two weeks before the Biggest Race Ever, and as such we both wondered how everyone had got on at the Rake, cigars or not, and whether David Gomez Cazorla would grace us with his presence any time soon. We were quite thankful, too, that we were the guinea-pigs when two cars, one of which was trailing sparks along the ground with a puncture, were running line astern at less than 20mph just before the train line; just imagine if these two miscreants had appeared when the whole group was together in Croston or on the run to Rufford. At the Hoscar petrol station Vikki turned left for Skelmersdale while I headed right to pick up a freebie. I know what you're thinking, Chinook got his cigar out? No, instead I took my Booths coffee card into the superstore and grabbed a free cappuccino, ideal since I'd foregone a hot chocolate at lunchtime in favour of my first Appletiser bottle in over two decades. While I was putting the chocolate on the cappuccino one of Derek Ireland's mates from years past spotted me and we got talking about next week's Winter Warmer sportive as hosted by St Helens Tri. Apparently it's now an annual thing and they've already got enough of an entry to set the entire ride off in one big HMCC-style group. I went to stand outside and drink this good old-fashioned performance enhancer before setting off again towards Ormskirk. After dealing with a huge traffic tailback I continued up the side of the hill, turned right at the crossroads and then left at the church, before WHOOSHING onto Formby Lane and time-trialling at 22mph all the way home, passing someone on a mobility scooter just after the Gastropub. I dipped to 20mph as the wind swung round to become a north-north easterly but the Formby Cycles bridge still brought a YOLO out of my mouth at 25mph and I arrived at Tesco lights to see the computer showing 113km. This gave me a wave of triskaidekaphobia as I couldn't face having a 13 on my ride stats so close to the Leicester Half Marathon so I embarked on one more leg-breaking mile-and-a-bit to the SD Fitness roundabout, which meant one final YOLO down Altcar Road, where I could finally put the computer away having done JUST enough to get the average speed past the 31km/h mark! And so ended 72 miles of glorious weather, riding and great company.

Now for the results, powered by my favourite childhood drink, Appletiser:

Distance: 115.28km/72.05 miles

Time: 3:42:43

Average Speed: 31.06kmh/19.41mph

Punctures: 1 for Audi TT Man

Hors Cat Climbs: Just the Col d'Appley Bridge (who needs the little ring in Brinscall anyway)

Near-Misses: 3

Conkers: Dozens all over the road in Brinscall

Money Spent Today: Exactly a tenner for BP-bought flapjack/chilli wrap/Appletiser/FREE coffee at Booths

REJECT OF THE RIDE: Citroen DS Man

(For such a desperate pass versus oncoming traffic with the Red Cat junction only 400 metres away)

OK then, time for the final push. You know what's coming over the next two weeks, and you won't want to miss it. Time to start carb-loading with a good Sunday dinner methinks..........