Short, Sweet and Specialized on Sport Relief Sunday

While Stefan, Danny and Kevan were on the Pier Head taking part in the Liverpool Half Marathon and others raced various shorter events for Sport Relief, a further 50 riders arrived at the shop under ominous skies for 9:15am, including yet another member of the Morgan-Hill racing team aboard his Tarmac Sport SL4. Three groups formed, with Pam taking the C's out on a local loop, Steve Warner doing likewise for the B group and, you guessed it, Mark and Wilko taking the A's on, would you believe it - another local loop. Clearly no-one was in any mood for a long one today, not with the threat of a torrential rainstorm constantly in the air and the various offerings of Milan-San Remo and, apparently, cross-country skiing highlights available on Eurosport. Before we got going, though, John Parkinson was having a spot of bother; his rear Challenge Elite tyre on his R****e had gone down. He was already dealing with the problem when I arrived with the SL4 but such was the bother the various tubes were giving him, he was only just about ready to go as we left. Luckily no more mechanicals would be forthcoming - but a few more surprises were just around the corner.

COMING SOON TO DRAGON'S DEN: HAND-SHAPED WATERPROOF PLASTIC BAGS

As we approached the church on the way out of town it was sounding 9:30, which was a way of saying we were already well behind schedule. It could be said that it was a case of "for whom the bell tolls" and indeed, no sooner had we passed this fine building then the heavens opened. This made for a virtual elimination of any thin gloves including my Vermarc specials - that'll teach me to spend a few extra minutes looking for my Castelli's on a Sunday morning. What it also meant was that I effectively had no cushioning from the much stiffer front end of my new red and black beauty and I was contemplating which colour bar tape to add on top when i put it in for the six week service. And to think I was agreeing with Charlotte that I need either a white or red Catlike Mixino while outside the shop........The descent to the A59 crossroads was predictably hairy not least for those of us who'd forgotten to bring their sunglasses/rain visors but thankfully the cloudburst was short-lived and before long we were tailgating the C group on our way towards the Kicking Donkey. After we cleared them, it was a straight northwards blast towards Pippin Street and Heatons Bridge Road. Rather than pass the Kuota factory and the place where I picked up the Exustar pedals from, we carried on towards the Martin Inn. As usual, the dogs in the kennels prior to the T-junction gave us their usual encouragement/deafening cacophony, and it was around this time that the first "change" was done. Bizarrely, this involved removing Ste and Darren from the front in their "I'm Mark Cavendish" race-fit positions and sending ten riders through at once. Whether this was because we needed some willing riders to do their bit or whether some weekly work-dodgers were lurking towards the back, no-one really quite knew either. In any case it left me only a couple of places away from putting the BIG S out front once more, but for now I was alongside Sean who was only too keen to inform me of his jersey collection he has been building up from doing Strava challenges. Shortly after, though, he lost all feeling in his hands - I had to sympathise with him on that one given I was wishing I'd upgraded my handlebars to the K-Force ones in Matt's shop - and he turned east for home while the rest of the field carried on towards Leisure Lakes. Upon clearing the forest, though, we turned right at the junction before crossing the A565 towards Tarleton Moss. I thought we might head towards the Hors Cat Cobbles of Bretherton but instead things would loop round - in quite painful fashion too.

ROAD RUNNERS ARE GOOD, MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS EVEN BETTER

We twisted and turned our way through the S-bends, dodging an oncoming tractor in the process, before heading eastwards with a strong tailwind across the Tarleton Moss. Nothing much happened on the bikes during this passage of play, though the Preston North End flag was almost being pulled off his pole in the Force 7 winds and two "road runner" cockerels (according to Mark at least) were only too content to watch us from the roadside. Clearly they weren't as quick as our half marathon/High Legh 10k runners or they might well have ended up underneath a brand new Specialized. Indeed, we got the luxury of an unabated run through to Tarleton village as we turned left past the Shell garage, now with Howie out front alongside Wilko. After recent posts about people dodging their workload I wondered whether to call them out (as in get me on the front I've got a new bike) but they had other ideas; wait until we get onto Shore Road and then send me and Clay through. This they duly did, only after we'd got brief shelter from the very charming terraced houses you find at the east end of this particular road, and as soon as I hit the front with Clay the shelter was no more and, as Clay pointed out, we'd truly drawn the short straw. It was only after some asked for a piss stop that we got a breather, and I got to quiz Clay on his red blood cell count - namely, what gets boosted when you go up mountains. I was surprised to learn that this endeavour is more like spinning a 52x12 gear on a bike - I say that as I haven't switched the Mavic wheel over yet (the ones with the 11t sprocket so I don't have to work hard that is) but nonetheless it was very interesting to hear. I had so many questions to field about how the Morgan-Hill company have updated their SL4 range that I forgot two things; take your parachute/rain cape off, and EAT. That's right, I set off once more on the front trying not to choke on a mouthful of flapjack, all the while dragging a rain cape along, even though the clouds were now almost gone and the sky was nothing but blue. We gritted it out all the way to the left-hander - only after seeing several "sharp bend to left" signs that weren't for us - before Brain passed up three-wide round the corner and informed us that we had a couple of riders off the back. In other words, the SL4 had done its job, even if its rider wasn't in Beast Mode. Upon reaching Hesketh Bank we wormed our way through the more-sheltered, but still windy, streets of this little village only to nearly end up CHINOOKING a Honda Jazz which was pulling into the grounds of one of the local churches. Just as well the 105 brake levers were up to the job (you never thought I'd say that did you). As we approached the Plough roundabout I asked Mark if we would "put in an extra loop down the coast road" but he looked at me as if I was clinically insane because the crosswind would have given us 18 wrecked winter bikes plus a couple of Tarmacs in bits on the floor. So we headed east for Churchtown instead.

OH RIGHT, SO I HAVE TO WORK NOW THEN?

We crested the bridge near the factory just prior to Churchtown and set about dealing with the speed bumps. I liked the shortcut we took to the left - it brought back memories of Claude's patisserie from 20 years ago when I went to the botanical gardens to feeds the dux - and that brought us out near to Meols Cop. We never reached this quiet railway station; instead we turned left for the newly-resurfaced Churchtown Moss. Here, Clay took it upon himself to ramp the pace up to 27mph and make us go through our gears, at which point I grumbled to Wilko that I didn't have 52x11 available and what grade would that have got me with his Southport CC GCSE assessments. All he pointed out was that I really should be able to get up to 40mph; I decided he must have got me mixed up with Darren the local Strava KOM champion, I wouldn't put it past him to break 40mph in a big enough gear. After wind our way through numerous stretches of headwind and tailwind we returned to the Martin Inn turn-off but this time we went straight on, bombing past a local club of riders in purple and yellow. I wonder what sort of makeover Charlotte would insist on giving them? Anyway, we continued onwards to Heatons Bridge Road to finish our loop, before turning right past High on Bikes before crossing the A570 ready for the only mini-climbing challenge of the day, Clieves Hill.

GO HARD THEN GO HOME, THEN GO HARD AGAIN, YOU HAVE NO CHOICE I SAY

We approached our local peak from the Asmall Lane end, turning onto Cut Lane as a motley crew of cyclists were coming the other way. You could almost feel the pressure building up as the climb itself approached but sprints for glory were never likely, given how damp and frozen everyone was, and in any case we were only too happy that Wilko was running the show and not someone still getting to grips with a new steed. After sliding through the right hander at the foot of the hill and nearly taking out a jogger coming towards us the climb began in earnest. The middle order did shuffle a little bit as Cervelo Dave found his way past the midfielders to join me and let me know about his back-to-back TT's next weekend in the Cheshire district (apparently the area is just as fast for bike time trials as it is for 10k running races) and we continued together to the top, where the general consensus was to head for home. Whether that meant some went to Blue Juice or not, I'm unsure, but in any case Howie joined the three Formby squirrels in descending Clieves Hills Lane, before he turned off for Lydiate and the remaining riders slogged it out into the headwind. By this time the wind had swung round to be more northerly than westerly and my usual tactics of "use the easier lane on the front" had been found out - I guess Darren is just as smart as Brendan Rodgers when it comes to outwitting the opposition - and the end result was that I pulled over at the Gastropub to ditch my black parachute (that'll teach me not to spend money in any Lake District bike shops and to pop into Ormskirk more often.) With the Endura jacket stashed away in a non-prohibitive place I rejoined Darren and Ian and we continued to slug it out while discussing spin classes and the fact that DW Fitness might be taking over my gym, plus the Roman Road Challenge. If the weather continues to be this windy I can see the (Beethoven) Emperors-to-be ordering skinsuits on the next club kit order for more speed! We were only stopped at the roadworks in Great Altcar and, after the Big Bad Chinook scared the life out of yet another Honda Jazz driver we sent the poor thing on her merry way, before dashing once more past the place my Tarmac came from and rolling to Tesco lights. I got home and realised I hadn't even done 50 miles so, after a quick lunch, it was off to the gym for an all-over body workout in beast mode (3 sets of 50 reps for each exercise, I kid you not) sample the new strawberry Lucozade (it did give me a pick-up but it's more artificial than the Formula 1 double-points rule) and try to get some lengths done in the pool while dodging kids, inflatable rafts and beach balls. Speaking of which, surely the summer beach weather must return soon?

Now for today's results table, in association with the Official LFC/Ferrari bike, the Specialized Tarmac Sport SL4:

Distance: 75.07km/46.92 miles

Time: 2:34:33

Average Speed: 29.14kmh/18.21 mph

Dead Inner Tubes: no idea, ask John Parkinson

Hors Cat Climbs: 0

Average Wind Speed: 32mph

Road Runners: 2 cockerels plus one who dodged the Liverpool Half Marathon

Chokes: 1 from someone who tried to swallow a flapjack while beasting the headwind

REJECT OF THE RIDE: Ormskirk Micro-Climate

(I'm sure Bikeradar writers don't test handlebar vibrations with deep-frozen hail-stung hands)

See you all in a fortnight's time, I can't make it next week as I have a gig in Southport. I can't wait to see what new bikes people get out of the garage on 6 April as that's the last Sunday before the Bowland Bash..........