L is for Left on the Loose in Lydiate

I almost didn't make it out of bed this morning but unlike those who stayed up to watch the boxing I made it to the shop at 9am for the start of the Bank Holiday rides. The C group did their usual ride around the local lanes, Dan took a CX ride down mud tracks and Steve Depport realised it was 106 weeks since his "up Hunter's, down Hunter's, up Hunter's, down Hunter's, YOLO" ride so took about a dozen with him. That left the remaining twelve to join Ralph on a flatter ride through familiar environs starting with a southerly run towards Kirkby markets. He set off second, beginning with the cricket club.

WHEN YOU KNOW WHAT YOU WANT IT ALL BECOMES SO EASY

I was amazed that no-one said "I don't care if your legs are broken, GET ON STEVE'S RIDE AND MURDER YOURSELF" but then we did have Charlotte to contend with as well as a very happy Garry who was chuffed that we weren't going up any hills. It's fair to say that if someone really gets what they want they'll perform better without needing any persuasion, and here was a case in point as we swept through the first few miles at a fast cadence en route to Bickerstaffe. A few patches of gravel were quite troubling and the loose chippings towards the church were positively lethal but we survived them and completed part of the time trial course before swinging left prior to the roundabout and heading towards Kirkby. During this passage of play I was alongside Charlotte who was only too keen to recollect the 312 and her preferred fuel strategy which seems to differ from the hashtag fatburn team (as in never stop) but we were all still full of energy as we made our way south towards the fringe of JP's old hometown. We turned left to exit the land of 10,000 Sky dishes and our next target was Melling, or more specifically the old part featuring the outdated garage. A quick left turn had us on the way bad to Aughton and the Miller and Carter, not very bush at this time of the morning; I presume they leave it to the likes of Wetherspoons to do breakfast at 8am. It was quite a slow, drawn out crossing of the carriageway to reach Lydiate but eventually everyone made it which left me on the front for the most stop-start segment of the ride through to Halsall and Scarisbrick.

OH DEAR, SUMMER'S NEARLY OUT AND STANDARDS ARE SLIPPING

We were approaching the short bridge crossing featuring a quick descent (aka a JP segment) when Steve's seatpost started letting its saddle loose aboard his Argon 18 Gallium. This led to a frantic scramble by some to water flowers while I ate a Beet It bar, much to Charlotte's approval who didn't think avoiding food for 80 miles at a time on the 312 rides was a good idea. I'm not sure that Steve ever got the seatpost sorted as shortly afterwards he turned off for home, but the rest of us powered towards Lydiate church despite White Van Man trying to squeeze me and Ralph into the parked cars and soon we were onto Green Lane. Here, we got a great turn of speed up which explains why Pain Face aka John shouted "chainey" when we got to Farmer Ted's and prepared for the turn through Haskayne village. We nearly didn't even get there because Blue Van Man squeezed past us just as another car came the other way but miraculously we all survived and pedalled on through Haskayne towards Halsall at speeds of over 20mph, before we turned left at the garage roundabout just as I got taking to John about yesterday's YOLO finish in Nottingham where, as I put it, "I was prepared to kill myself to catch him" and as you know after reading the latest from Chinook's Corner, I didn't lose the sprint. But no sooner had we crested the bridge then all hell broke loose, as first John lost his chain and then Greg's front Vittoria Corsa 25mm tyre went down. This led to a stop of 9 minutes 32.32 seconds, enough for me to either run round half of the lake from yesterday or water flowers and eat a flapjack today, not that my stomach was taking on much after yesterday's roasting alive in the East Midlands heat. We got going again round the back of Shirdley Hill and dodged both a stray nail and wood block before turning onto the A570 briefly, purely so we could go past the Martin Inn. On our way there we crossed the railway line twice, but on our first crossing Inder's handlebars worked loose. Now I know that's one way to get low and aero to win the cafe sprint but it's pretty useless if you can't steer the damn thing so a quick Allen key job was needed to reset the controls (also destroying his own multi tool in the process) but once we reached the Martin Inn the only remaining hazard of the day was Curlew Lane.

YES I THINK INDER KNOWS ME BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE, MAYBE EXCEPT GEMMA

The last time me and Inder rode this road together was the infamous "over and out" incident in February 2015 when I landed on my chin, a crash which has in all probability permanently wrecked my body's ability to regulate temperature and explains why others in the pub today could be suited and booted while I was forced to cool myself as much as possible in a sleeveless top. The main hazard on Curlew today was in the form of oncoming cyclists who didn't exactly give us much room, but eventually we reached the main road which meant decisions, decisions. Most went straight on at the cafe but me and Inder turned into St Mary's and set about choosing a good snack. He went for rhubarb pie and cream but I was so impressed with the eggs benedict going past on the waitresses trays that I ordered one for myself complete with caramel latte. This went down brilliantly and covered both a second breakfast and lunch in one while I discussed cyclocross and how to build a bike DIY style with Inder. It wasn't long before we were ready to go once more so with a half century in sight we turned right out of the gate, waving to Vikki and Andy as we did so.

KEEP CALM, LET INDER RUN THE SHOW AND EVERYTHING SHOULD BE ALRIGHT

We caught a Beetle on our way over the bridge, not that we got to slipstream him for long as he was off to the Motorfest. At the next left turn we headed towards Mawdesley and the Eagle and Child but rather than down a pint of real ale we carried on towards Hilldale, where the only way (apart from Hunter's) is downhill to the common. Only trouble was, Hyundai Man was tooting his horn at us and this led to a fun exchange between him and Inder just after the railway line only resolved when the village idiot turned right presumably to get home for the Belgian Grand Prix. Inder then turned off at the Beacon so he could get the hosepipe on Gemma's bike leaving me to finish through Newburgh and down the main road into Burscough, the Hoscar roundabout being unusually busy. I stopped off at Booths to get a free coffee then YOLO'D the last two miles home to make up my half century before making my way into town to look at various motor cars and then on to Liquid bar where over 100 people crammed in to watch BOOM TIMES FOUR and celebrate Liverpool's biggest win since beating the same opponents three and a half years ago. Remember it's our year............

Now for the results, brought to you by today's watering hole, Liquid bar:

Distance: 80.15km
Time: 2:38:11
Average Speed: 30.4kmh
Loose Bike Parts: 3
Dead Inner Tubes: 1
Hors Cat Climbs: 0
Railway crossings: 4
Post Ride Hydration: Four pints of Heineken in Liquid bar

REJECT OF THE RIDE: Broken Bike Parts
(More failures today than in the last two months put together!)

Another early start next week for the HMCC road race. Looks like I'm lap counting at least in the morning but I need to be in Southport for 1pm. Anyone else up for doing a Rubik's cube-style crash course in race management logistics?