Wicklow 200 -Type 1.5 Fun

It was 06:21 when I cycled under the start banner and began my Wicklow 200 adventure. It was a cold and early start for what would be a long day on the bike. Any notion that this would be an easy spin were quickly extinguished when I rolled out the front gate of Emmetts’s GAA Club, turned left and the climbing began. Not yet fully awake, I was feeling the harsh wind  on these early ramps, and on the descent into Enniskerry my hands got so cold I regretted not wearing gloves.  That all changed when the route turned right in Enniskerry and began heading up-up. Cyclists were immediately faced with 12% gradients. The brute force required for this climb awoke me like a dig in the ribs for snoring too loudly. The road continued up for five kilometres, taking in two notoriously steep bends known locally as devils elbow. I kept spinning my legs and by the time I turned left at Johnnie Fox's pub I knew I was in for a very hard day. The road continued upwards but by now I had settled into a steady rhythm and felt comfortable with my effort. The aim for the day was to push it without running the risk of blowing up. I had a conservative aim of completing the route in ten hours cycling and knew that left little room for easing up. By the time I reached the 20k mark and stopped to chat with some club mates, I had been cycling for one hour and ten minutes. I needed to make up some ground. 

The Wicklow 200 ‘Cima Copi’ was just after Lough Bray on route to Sally’s Gap. I passed this point just before the 30k mark and allowed myself a brief moment to refuel and breathe. With over 500 metres climbed it was time to pick up the pace and start descending. I turned right at the top of Sally’s Gap ready to do my best Tom Piddock impersonation but instead was buffeted by a very strong wind. I tried to get aero and push through but the normally flowy descent was transformed into a grind with the wind reducing my speed so much that each bump in the road required an effort to overcome. After crossing a narrow bridge, a small group of seven riders began overtaking me. Their speed was reduced just enough for me to jump in behind them and try to hold on. For the next ten kilometres I sat in their group  and chatted as they rolled around me. A group of fellow triathletes, they were a determined bunch, and didn’t seem to mind my intrusion into their peloton.  Upon reaching Blessington lake a strange sound started coming from my bike, I unfortunately had to let the group go, and pull in to investigate. Unable to find the root of the noise, I quickly got going again and pushed on along these familiar roads. Cycling around Blessington lake is one of my favourites routes but on this occasion it was a mere dot on a much larger route. When I reached the food point at Valleymount GAA club I could barely recall cycling past the expanse of water, or going through the small villages that speckled the lake. I went straight to the food tent and filled my arms with granola bars, sandwiches, and chocolate. 

Refuelled and eager, I was back on the bike less than twenty minutes after stopping in Valleymount. Well fed and watered, I pushed on across the bridge and along the back roads towards Hollywood. After Hollywood the route joined the N81 and again the wind blunted my progress. Down in the drops, I was working hard to try to maintain a moderate pace when a group of at least twenty cyclists began passing by. I made a big effort to jump on the back of this group and was pulled along as we sped towards Baltinglass. Although the effort now required was less, a high level of concentration was needed. The group concertinaed with every climb and drop in the road. Brakes would squeal and riders would shoot out the back as they miss-judged the change in pace,  gaps would appear and riders would surge to close them. It was chaotic, and a lot of fun. The madness ended when we turned off the N81 just before Baltinglass. A climb of roughly a kilometre long split the group and again I was pushing on alone. Thankfully the turn off the N81 took me away from the headwind.  When a group of cyclists in Lucan cycling club jerseys passed me on the route towards Tinahely, I again jumped at the opportunity to join a peloton. Unfortunately, this time when I made that high power effort my quad tightened. I was not injured but I made the decision to manage my power more conservatively. This was a long day and all these small hard efforts would take their toll. When I stopped in Tinahely and refilled my water bottles I was content with the fact I would be completing the remaining 80k alone.  

Just after 140 kilometres I began climbing Slieve Mann. I had been cycling for four hours and fifteen minutes and I was starting to feel the weight of every minute in my legs. The mountain didn’t care, it demanded that I give everything I had left to reach its peak. I grinded my way up for 3 kilometres at an average of 8.3% gradient. It took twenty minutes of continuous effort and the reward for reaching the top? A descent that contained so much gravel and potholes it was impossible to pick up any speed. When I was finally able to release the brakes and unclench every muscle in my body it was time to start climbing again. Shay Elliot was just as unforgiving and just as long as Slieve Mann. Thankfully, this time the descent could be enjoyed and I sped into the food stop at Laragh knowing I only had 40 kilometres left and all the big climbs were done. The sombre mood in the Laragh food stop was in stark contrast to the frivolity I encountered in Valleymount. Riders sat quietly sipping tea, and trying to force down food. All of this seemed to be oblivious to the DJ who was pumping dance tunes like he was at taylor swift after party. I lasted 10 minutes before the allure of remounting my bike out matched my willingness to hear the call to “shake it off” one more time. 

The final section of the Wicklow 200 can be separated into two parts, the first part is a twenty kilometre loop taking the scenic route to Roundwood. The second part is direct from Roundwood to Enniskerry and back to the GAA club where it all started. The first part was along roads I had never cycled before, this gave it an odd sluggish feel. To add to the strangeness of this part, a cyclist powered passed me on the first incline before slowing near the top, when I passed him a minute later he looked completely cooked. Similarly, no more than five minutes further down the road a group of six cyclists went by me on a climb, however as it levelled out I caught up to them. They proceeded to jump in behind me and stay there for the next 15 minutes before being dropped as we reached Roundwood. In a cycle that was now into its eight hour, you expect the field of competitors to settle into the race but at this late point it seemed more hectic than ever. The final part through Enniskerry and then to the GAA club was downhill and I smiled with relief as I crossed the finish line and a medal was placed on my head. 

I often describe these types of long, endurance events that I take part in as type two fun but I am starting to think that is more of a generic saying than how I really feel. No more than five minutes after completing my Ironman a fellow finisher congratulated me and stated quite proudly that he would never do that again. I politely nodded but internally I completely disagreed, I knew crossing the finish line I would try an Ironman again. Similarly, when asked after eight and half hours of cycling around the hills of Wicklow how I got on my response was “I really enjoyed that”. That is not to say it was easy, that opposite actually, it was tough, challenging, exhausting, and painful but that all made it worth it. I am not sure if I am making myself clear so for now let's just call it type 1.5 fun.