An English summer’s day at its best: sunshine, a bike ride with my Dad, and a ham and cheese sarnie and 2 glasses of Sauvignon at a riverside pub in the country!

OK, so the eye watering arse burn that I suffered for the first half hour following yesterday’s 66 miles took the shine off the start, but otherwise all felt good.  The lower back and shoulder ache I was worried about wasn’t too bad.  I now know I can get on the bike two days in a row without too much pain.  Not sure how five days is going to feel.

A cup of tea and two rock buns to refuel the tanks at Dad’s an hour and a half in was very civilised, before pushing on from Ebley to Ashleworth for lunch.  We got lost, of course, and took a bit of a detour via Frampton on Severn, then went back and forth on the A417 a few times for good measure.

The A roads and dual carriageways around Gloucester were a bit intimidating for us country bumpkins, but good training for the streets of London and Paris.  (That’s going to be scary!)  I need to replace my spare tube.  Not us this time, but a fellow cyclist we passed pushing his bike with 19 miles still to go.

My two glasses of wine theory stands firm!  The ride back home after lunch was fab, and not just because it was mostly downhill.  I may be forming a rebel faction on the big ride to ensure a least one watering hole is sampled each day.  Either that or I really will have to decant a bottle of Sauvignon into my camelback.

We covered 58 miles today, so that’s 124 in the last two days.  The first two days of the ride to Paris will see us cycling 169 miles.  That’s a sobering thought.

I’ve been pouring over the route maps, in particular the gradient, of our jaunt to Paris, alternating between deranged excitement and palpable fear. There will be hills. Steep ones. And long ones. So, having aborted our ride over the Marlborough Downs last weekend, I squeezed in a short ride yesterday, this time fully prepared with spare inner tube, appropriate tools and a pump!

I chose the Stroud Valleys as my nemesis. The 32 mile ride was out and back mostly the same way, so every wonderful whizzy downhill had, in turn, to be climbed, including the lung abusing Bear Hill. Bear Hill is a climb of about 500 feet in one mile, to the top of Rodborough Common. I made it without getting off, passing out, or crying, but not in one go. Several stops were required.

By comparison, we have a similar climb of about 500 feet on day one, but over several miles. Is that better or worse? It may not be as steep, but it goes on and on and on! And it’s one of many hills. I think the point is, there will be many hills, some of them quite unpleasant, so hills ought to be a key feature of what few training rides I have left.

Hill burn aside, I really enjoyed the ride. The scenery, especially over Minchinhampton and Rodborough, was stunning and the cows, horses, and donkey on Minch Common were a lovely distraction.

I was even tempted, if only for a nanosecond, to throw in Gumstool Hill on my way back through Tetbury. Only for a nanosecond mind!

One month from today, on 14th September, I will be setting off from the Market Place in Cirencester on my Dad’s 25 year old, slightly rusty racing bike, with broken toe clip and temperamental gears to cycle the 450 miles to Paris in 5 days, with 34 other game souls!

A mildly alarming thought as so far my training has comprised two 30 mile rides around the fairly flat local countryside, a few RPM sessions which leave me a violent shade of purple and my heart desperately trying to exit my body via my ears, and most recently a 68 mile ride with my Dad, who at 71 is far fitter than I am.

Still, at least I now have a proper pair of padded shorts (borrowed from afore mentioned father) and a pair of cycling mitts with appropriate padding.  These landed on the door mat this morning, just in time for a 30 mile training ride this evening.  Feel free to laugh at my expense, for I do look a proper egger in my cycling outfit.

That said, the acquisition of padded shorts and gloves has made me very happy for on the 68 mile ride with Dad, I had neither.  By the end of the ride my arse was screaming in pain the way I imagine a banshee would scream were she being attacked by a hundred enraged souls with forks.  The soreness in the palms of my hands, made worse by the handlebar tape peeling off, was marginally eclipsed by the persistent stinging of my skinless knee.

Dad and I are going out again at the weekend.  This time we’re planning a slightly hillier 70 miles around the Marlborough Downs.  I have promised not to crash into the back of him this time.  If he were entertaining any thoughts of lending me his uber flash road bike for our jaunt to Paris, he isn’t anymore.  It wasn’t pretty, but I am grateful that the car behind had the good grace to stop and wait patiently whilst I hauled my carcass out from under the bike and shuffled back to the curb.

Bruises, grazes, sore bits and the last 15 slow, painful miles aside it was a very enjoyable day.  The sun shone, the Cotswold countryside (except maybe the short stretch of A419) was beautiful and the 2 hour pub lunch complete with a couple of glasses of wine, by the river at the Trout in Lechlade was lush.

I am steadfast in my belief that the anaesthetic properties of a few glasses of wine here and there will be pivotal to the success of this ride!

I’ll let you know how the training goes over the next few weeks.  Any encouragement you care to give, either by leaving a comment or sponsoring me will be very much appreciated!  You can sponsor me at http://www.justgiving.com/Rebecca-Pointer

And you can find out more about the ride at www.blissbabybikers.com