Brrr.... it's cold outside

A sharp frost on the ground and plenty of fog greeted five of us this morning as we headed around the lanes of Herts and Beds. The early morning temperature was -5C so it really was a two pairs of socks and overshoes scenario.

The early few miles were spent keeping an eye out for black ice. Skinny tires and the slippy stuff don't really lead for the best combination; unless a trip to the Lister with a busted hip is something you really "must have" this season.  Titanium femur heads do save weight though.

Buoyed by a good start and amazing views across the Herts countryside the tempo lifted and as we approached the hills around Harlington and Toddington I finally found my legs. A culmination of sticking to a sensible diet and getting the miles in over the last month or two is beginning to yield some dividends. Not going off like a rocket from the first pedal stroke is also a good tactic and some of my old training restraint seems to be percolating from the recesses of my memory.

Because the pace did pick up and we were "giving it the beans" up some of the hills our squadra cinque (that's five blokes to you) did fragment more often than it should have done. It's difficult to get the compromise pace, i.e. lifting the pulse versus keeping it too steady, especially when we have limited training time due to work and personal commitments. Nevertheless we managed to keep it together.

Webby (Cycling's Bill Oddie) spotted the obligatory Red Kite near Whitwell, our mascot it would seem.

Fly like the birds you Nomads...

On the road in to Whitwell from Lilley we got half-wheeled by a cadre from Luton and Verulam. We did manage to sit on the back of their group and then spring a nice little attack over the west-east hill in to Whitwell itself. The element of surprise and Webby screaming like he was about to get the role of Viking Beserker in the latest Conan movie as unsettled our new chums. It was the second time he'd scared the bejesus out of us, the first was warning of ice at a volume of 130 decibels. He nearly had Nigel Wilson off such was the largesse and ferocity of the shout.

We were 25 miles at this point and our travelling companions had only been on the road for 50 mins and were already bailing out for latte and buns at Emily's. Our last big push was in to St Paul's Walden, a nice climb of about 230 ft, over a mile and a half's distance.

I like it as it's a good test of fitness at the end of a ride. Going up there well with 35 miles in the legs is a good feeling. I did hear some expletives from James Spence as we kicked on over the rise. He can't have been trying, as he topped out at over 32mph to nose me out of it on our "end of ride sprint" in to Hitchin from Wymondley.

I'd made the mental note to pick up a brake cable at Paul's Bikes on the way home; as there was a quiet period in the shop, I managed to get the cable, new pads and nice mug of coffee while (top man) Steve Faulkner fitted the requisite bits. I did nearly lock the bike up riding home such is the improved stopping power of the new cable and Clarks' CPS220 pads.

I can just about feel my toes now and this is around six hours after finishing the ride. More miles tomorrow, possibly at a more sedate pace.