THE 2016 MANCHESTER TO BLACKPOOL BIKE RIDE.
BY JOHN THORPE.
Well, it's that time again, dear supporters, when, reeking of embrocation and walking like John Wayne after a fortnight on the Chisholm Trail, I put quill to paper to, hopefully entertain and regale you with tales of bravery and daring do..........who am I kidding, I'll just tell you about the ride!
This was, as you may be aware, my 27th consecutive Manchester to Blackpool ride, and if you added up all the miles, I would be a long way away, which may be a very good thing some would say! I have to confess that I did very little actual training for the ride, and as I have said many times, this is not the ideal way to prepare for sixty miles of strenuous exercise, but I seem to survive on sheer grit and determination, with a large helping of sheer stupidity!
Having serviced my bike, given it a new back tyre, inner tubes, tube protectors and new gel seat cover, I turned my attention to myself. A good look in the full length mirror convinced me that I was beyond help, mechanical or otherwise, I gave it up as a bad job and had a cuppa. Someone suggested that I watch the Tour de France to mentally prepare myself, but since this would have resulted in a terrible feeling of inferiority, I gave it a miss. This year's event was due to start from the Manchester United ground at Old Trafford, as it has for the past few years, and was advertised in the magazine which Bike Events send out as such. However when I booked my place online (get him sounding as if he knows what he's doing!) I found that the start had been changed to the Imperial War Museum North at Salford Quays. This presented something of a problem as I had never ridden to Salford Quays on the bike, but remembered from trips on the Metrolink tram that the area was a bit of a maze of roads, and things were not easy to find unless one knew the area. Having looked up the route on my AtoZ, I hoped I could get there on time for the 6.30 am start, and retired on the Saturday night at an unheard of 9.00pm, much to the disgust of my two rabbits; Tyrion and Freya, who couldn't understand why Dad was putting them to bed at this ridiculous hour when they wanted to carry on messing up the front room!
I set the alarm for 4.00 am and fell asleep dreaming of riding round and round Salford looking for the road to the Quays the next morning was a hectic affair, and I was glad I'd got everything ready the night before, from my sandwiches etc, to the porridge ready in the bowl and all my things packed in the saddlebag. The rabbits were fed in record time, and so was I, and then after last minute checks to see I had everything I could possibly need on the road, I set off at around 4.45. The roads were empty and the light was good, but the sky was a bit threatening and grey, and I was sure we'd all get wet at some point along the way.
I reached Manchester centre in good time and turned off towards the Quays, not knowing the road or exactly how long it would take. With the help of a passer-by, I found the road and started looking for the Museum, which is opposite The Lowry Theatre. Eventually, after ending up on the opposite side of the water to where I wanted to be, I crossed a bridge and found the area where Bike Events were set up. Rick, the Voice of the Ride, the man in the bright yellow suit, did me the honour of a pre-ride photo for the website, and in no time we were away, heading out on the annual adventure.
The weather was still being kind, and as I always do, I decided to just keep out of trouble and set myself an easy pace just to warm up. A rider pulled up alongside and got into conversation ,as we passed through the rural delights of Salford (yes, I was kidding). He said he'd spotted me and thought I looked like I'd done the ride before and was a steady rider. We discussed the relative merits of going nice and easy or developing a groin strain in the first twenty minutes, and decided the former was preferable to the latter.
He even said he preferred to take advice from a Master, such as myself, rather than make silly mistakes! I assured him I was no Master, and images of the TV series Kung Fu, flashed in my mind, with me saying to David Carradine; 'When you can snatch the tyre lever from my hand Grasshopper, you may leave the monastery'
He left me behind a little while later, and I trust he had a good ride to Blackpool, albeit without The Master! Thankfully the bike was holding up well, and so were my knees, as we made steady progress through Boothstown and Leigh, and the first funny moment came I think somewhere near Atherton. We were on a hill, passing a school building where several people had gathered to cheer on the superbly fit athletes (they were somewhere in front of me at the time!), and two ladies and a small child were clapping and extolling us to greater heights of physical prowess. Such things as 'Go on you can do it' and 'You're doing well' were reaching our ears, and a man to my right, riding with a friend and making heavy weather of the hill turned in the direction of the cheerers and said I don't know about that, my a!$e is red raw!' Possibly too much information since the lady was neither a proctologist nor did she presumably have a large jar of soothing ointment to hand, and in any case she was only being encouraging!
I couldn't help but think if he afflicted so grievously at this stage of the game, what was he going to be like in Blackpool. Perhaps we shall never know and I for one would rather not. Somewhere around Daisy Hill I noticed two ladies stopped on the pavement, looking very flustered and with that particular body language that says 'Why did I do this?' I pulled over to see if I could be of help, and found that one of them had a flat tyre. Her friend carried on to let someone know that she was OK and being sorted out, and I got on with changing the tube as quickly as I could. Luckily for her, I had the tyre levers and tools with me, and fifteen minutes later she was on her way. She asked me for my name and address, to allow her to send a Thank You card, and although I assured her it wasn't necessary, she took it and went on her way. A couple of days after the ride received a really nice Thank You card and message with a gift token inside. Very unexpected but much appreciated, and it shows there are some decent people out there after all.
I was number 3604 this year, and I believe there were around 4,500 riders, slightly less than last year, but it didn't seem like it on the road. Haigh Hall loomed up at 9.00 am, with its infamous section of cobbles at the entrance. Readers of previous reports will remember humorous quips about damage to the nether regions resulting from this, and all I can say is that you ride quickly over them at your peril! I stopped for a toilet and refreshment break and felt much better for some food and fluid. At this point I'm risking provoking the fury of those who take umbrage at a man complimenting a woman on her appearance, but being adamantly politically incorrect I'll risk it.
A very attractive young lady with blond hair and black lycra was taking part, presumably with her boyfriend, and I only noticed her in passing........honestly officer! What was a bit concerning, was the fact that she wasn't wearing a helmet, and while it isn't compulsory, on a ride of sixty miles an awful lot can go wrong. I somehow think her blond locks, lovely though they were, wouldn't be much protection in a crash. If I can obscure my film star looks with a helmet I don't see why she couldn't! Anyway there's my little bit of controversial observation for this year.
Leaving at 9.25 we pressed on through Chorley and Leyland, heading towards Preston, where another break was in the offing. There's one section of the ride which can sap energy like no other, with the possible exception of the bit along Lytham Green, and it's the long straight section of dual carriageway leading into Preston Docks. Pulling up at a set of traffic lights just before the start of this section, I got talking to a middle aged couple who were doing the ride for the first time. I told him about the stretch of road and he felt it would be a good idea to 'go for it'. I counselled a bit of caution, since it's easy to wear yourself out and to feel like it's never going to end. Whether he took the advice or not, I don't know, but I adopted a steady, head down approach, which I've learned over the years at this point on the ride. I liken it to riding a mechanical bull, which I once did at a Western weekend many moons ago. I'd never done it before, and was given the tip of focusing on a spot between the horns at the back of the head so as to avoid going dizzy with the erratic motion. It worked and I stayed on for a remarkably long time before exiting spectacularly out of one side! In the same vein, I focused on the road just in front of the bike, and didn't think about how long the road was. It worked, and at 11.05 I got to Preston Docks where I had some more food and drink and took a selfie on my tablet's camera. As you'll see, it could be used as a screen saver to keep the kids away from the computer!
Leaving at around 11.25,I gritted my teeth(they should be worn down to stumps by now!) , and 'dug in' on the last section through some lovely countryside and little out of the way villages. This is the best section, I always think, and it's only a shame that there isn't time to stop and enjoy it more. Having been a chivalrous type in the matter of someone else's puncture, it didn't seem fair that I got one near Treales, just outside Kirkham, and it cost me ten minutes, but I suppose I may have been due one, since it's been a few years since I've been afflicted. Through Freckleton and on to Warton, where the last and testing bit of the ride looms up in the form of the road running through Lytham St.Annes. We'd just come up a hill and got to some traffic lights, where two young ladies were saying 'Well that's the worst bit over with.' I didn't have the heart to tell them about the next bit.......well actually I did in the interests of honesty and preparing them for the worst!
I think they took it very well, but I beat a hasty retreat before I outstayed my welcome! Sure enough, the onshore wind was playing it's tricks again, and while not actually gale force, it was strong enough, and I don't mind admitting that I got off and pushed for a few hundred yards at one point. Well I was doing 7mph on the bike and around 5mph on foot, and it gave my nether regions a rest, so it was perfectly legitimate tactics! Head down and trying to forget the pain, I pressed on until finally we got to the end of this section, and the promenade road was in sight. It's amazing how the thought of the finish line can add strength to tired legs, and I fairly sprinted (let me have my delusions please!), across the finish line. I tried to catch the eye of Rick, in his commentary box to the left of the line, but he was facing the other way, so I didn't get a mention at the end, as I had done at the start at 6.30am.
Collecting my bottle of water and energy bars ( nothing like freebies to gladden the heart!) ,I wheeled Old Faithful onto the grass, gathering my completion certificate from a rather bored looking young lad, who'd obviously been drafted in to make up the numbers. I felt like falling asleep on the grass for ten minutes, but since my mate Jon ,who lives in Blackpool, was meeting me, I had to forego this pleasure and give him a call to find out where he was. He'd missed my triumphal finish, although he was in the crowd nearby, and had forgotten to ask me what colour of Lycra I was wearing.
Speaking as a MAMIL,or Middle Aged Man in Lycra, I have to tell you that lycra is an essential item and not an excuse to show off my physique to all and sundry.......that's my story and I'm sticking to it!
We had a drink and a catch up ,then I caught the coach back at 3.30, reaching Manchester at 5.20. We were dropped off in a car park and waited for the lorry containing our bikes. As I've done for many years, I gave the driver a hand to off load the bikes and then set off back for the ride back to Bury. I'd like to say I felt like Action Man, but in truth I felt more like Barbie, and I have to admit that I was 'running on empty' to coin the phrase for most of the way. The fact that nearly every traffic light turned to red as I neared it was just a bit energy sapping, and I was pretty glad to get home at 7.00pm,where I fell into the armchair and treated myself to a coffee with a dash of Southern Comfort (purely for the iron content of course!).
In all, with the rides to and from Manchester, I covered a total of 90.8 miles, and after I'd rested a bit was very pleased with my little self's an added bonus, this year, we are running a 'Guess the Arrival in Blackpool Time' competition, and the prize is a superb wooden, self assembly owl figure. Nigel will add a more detailed item on the competition, but the basic idea being that the person who guesses closest to the actual finish time wins the prize. Please have a go and help to raise a bit more money for the Charity.
In conclusion, I would like to thank everyone who has supported me in previous years and of course all the people who will do so this year. I may have made the physical effort but you make a huge contribution to the work of Three Owls. Enjoy the article and with any luck I will back next year to attempt my 28th ride. As a positive footnote, I have given our local paper, The Bury Times, all the information and photos relating to the ride, and after speaking to one of their reporters today, have been told that a piece will probably appear next week. Hopefully this will not only further publicize the work of Three Owls but encourage others to have a go themselves and improve their fitness.

John Thorpe


Ed - The competition John has mentioned is an extra bit of fun for you all; You can either enter by post and make a £1 donation per guess by cheque/PO/stamps, or you can enter via the donate button, and leave your guess in the PayPal comments box.

Good Luck!