Surrey Legs of Steel was a new event for me. Starting and ending atop the famous Surrey climb of Box Hill, this charity sportive took in eight numbered (and several unnumbered) ascents in a challenging parcours on a chilly day in October.
I'm no stranger to Box Hill; it's local to me, and I've trundled up it many times this year alone. We were advised to get to the start for 07:15, but it seemed like everyone else had decided on that exact time (or earlier) so parking was at a premium - as were the toilets. My buddy decided to, umm, destroy the ladies rather than "do a LeMond'" in the queue for the gents (I never lend him my cap).
Registration was quick and easy, and we got a number and something that looked like a London cabbie's licence to attach to the front forks by loosening the QR and hanging it from the axle. This made is surprisingly easy to spot fellow sufferers around the route as it could be seen from all angles and didn't leave a sticky mess on your helmet. We lined up like the worst-dressed conga in the south along the road adjacent to the National Trust's visitor centre and were ushered forward in groups of 10, all the while being passed by locals out early to walk dogs, themselves or their reluctant children, and by a steady stream of cyclists not mad enough to sign up for four hours of grinding up hills approaching 20% in places.
For those at the front of the endless clicking, chatty, shuffling and Garmin-bleeping queue the relief of finally clipping in was soon replaced by the chattering of a descent down the zig zags in summer shirts and with muscles and brains addled with the early October chill. Juddering to a halt at the A24 was a wake up call, as we'd not seen things moving this quickly for a couple of hours. Thankfully, though, the first climb of the day was there to warm us through and shake the frosty drips from noses. Ranmore Common isn't particularly severe by Surrey hills standards, and many of my compatriots zoomed up it with rash confidence, the only troubling part being the sharp left hairpin close to the top where we were greeted by the first opportunity to pull in stomachs and grin inanely for one of the course photographers.
We rolled through Dorking and out the other side to take on climb two, which presented us with a long slog up Leith Hill via Coldharbour Lane. I'd not tackled the full length of this since the summer when I'd done the Leith Hill Octopus in July, but thankfully the loose gravel on the road had had time to bed in and the ascent was a far more pleasant affair this time. Over the highest point in Surrey and down through Holmbury St Mary we went, and snaked on quickly to climb three of Holmbury Hill, upon which we found the first of the day's feed stations. Sadly lacking in Campari and pork scratchings, but replete with cake, cake and more cake it was followed by a skittish descent into Peaslake, where the course split, those on the short route heading back north to tackle the infamous White Down. We turned south towards Ewhurst and down Pitch Hill, towards Cranleigh and the Queen climb of the day, Winterfold. Favourite of the last two Tours of Britain, it culminates in a lung-burning final effort at close to 21%, before sharply turning off back towards Guildford through a no less challenging single track route that is perilous in wet conditions (or in the dry if you're doing a no-hander and happen to hit a hidden dip, inducing weapons-grade swearing).
Over halfway through in terms of both climbs and distance (and for me, on unknown roads), this back section seemed to drag somewhat, but pretty soon we were pointing upwards again towards the peak of St Martha's Hill. It was around here that we, both gallant knights of the road, stopped to help a Damsel in Distress with a spare tube and some eager pumping (stop snickering at the back). With suitably inflated tyres and egos, we quickly came upon the second and last feed station (still no Campari - a note for next year, maybe?), plunged down towards Shere and traversed the A25 to take on Coombe Bottom. What this climb lacks in steepness it more than makes up for in distance, a gruelling 11 minute trundle for me up a mile of constant sapping 6% gradient, with another nasty hairpin thrown in for good measure. Still, I had enough in my lungs for a rendition of "Don't Stop Me Now" when I got to the top, so maybe a bit more effort next time...
The last unknown for me was going up Crocknorth Lane. It's a hill I'd descended many times, always with a feeling of pity for anyone gurning their way up it the other way, while feathering my brakes as my bravado evaporated like condensation on a heated windscreen. After a quick hedgerow pit stop at the bottom I was off, pedalling squares to the earworm of "I Want To Break Free" - I really shouldn't have thought of Winterfold as a Queen Climb. With relief I got to the top and prepared for the undulating return to Ranmore. It was hard to imagine that the day's suffering had started going up the Common and it's a stretch that demands concentration due to the width and condition of the surface, not to mention the hairpin which we took at roughly the same speed going down as we did going up.
It was nice to see so many marshals out on the course and my favourite was the one by Rykas Café on the A24 telling us it was nearly over. The gradient of Box was quite a relief after the punishment of Winterfold and Coombe Bottom, and the road surface, renewed for the Olympics and the World Championships, was a smooth relief. A couple more "shoulders-back-stomach-and-elbows-in" moments for the paparazzi and we rolled over the finish line.
It was an excellent course, long enough to be testing for many competent leisure cyclists and for those fitter, younger and more handsome than the likes of me. At 81km (or 50 miles in old money) it's quite a short "Long" route, but the challenges on that route certainly justify the name - I'm sure many would have Legs of Jelly come Sunday morning.
The Legs of Steel event is held to commemorate Dave Aitchison, a rising star in British triathlon and Ful-On Tri club member who died suddenly in January 2007 aged 29. Now in its seventh year, it's open to anyone with a passion for cycling and the thigh-burning Surrey hills where Dave did so much of his training for his spectacular 2006 season. All profits from the event will go towards Dave Aitchison SportsAid Fund set up in Dave's name by his family and the club to assist talented young triathletes in the Triathlon London region.
For more details about the fund and to make a donation, please visit www.justgiving.com/daveaitchisonfund.
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