Well, I’m impressed. Hugely impressed. At 35 years old, I was the youngest member of a truly lovely bunch of 19 ladies and gents who turned out in full force for the 75th Anniversary ride this week. A 75 mile ride along the canals and through the lanes of Staffordshire and Cheshire; I’d half expected the distance to be too much and for the pace to have slowed considerably as the day progressed and the tea-breaks got longer.

But these Golden Oldies are made of much mightier stuff, and the peleton moved swiftly and purposefully all day, despite some poor weather and minor mechanical issues.

The birthday boys had a combined total of three centuries of cycling knowhow – and it showed. At exactly 4 decades their junior, I daren’t offer them even a glimpse of tiredness in my legs, but the truth was that I was more than ready for a rest, hot-shower and pub meal at the end of the day.

The thing that stuck in my mind regarding all of the riders was the wonderful sense of fun they all possessed. The comradery was obvious and the youthfulness self-evident. Forget about expensive pseudo-scientific skin creams and macro-biotic diets: Cycling, friendship, the great-outdoors, joyfulness, activity, things to look forward to – these are great ways to stay young.

I had asked, “Are you going to be doing a 76 mile ride next year then?” Obviously such impertinence had been expected and a rapid response offered:

“Well. There’s a formula involved. 75 (years) & 75 (miles) equals 150. We just need to maintain this figure. Next year we’ll be 76 years old so that equals a 74 mile ride!” It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if these hardcore senior citizens were planning a 50 mile ride, the day a letter from the Queen landed on their doorsteps. We’ll see.

All  riders stopped for a deserved lunch at the ‘Boars  Head’ in Middlewich. This was a great place to eat: provided you weren’t vegetarian, Muslim or hungry. A veritable cornucopia of plates were offered by the surly management: Bacon on 2 slices of white bread or 2 slices of white bread with bacon on them. I did hear a wild rumour of a cheese sandwich being available – but I decided to chalk this down to the famine-induced ramblings of an overly exhausted cyclist.

We set off once again and powered on to our next caffeine rendevous at Audlem, where a problem with my bikerack was quickly sorted out. The weather had picked up quite nicely and it was a very enjoyable ride back through the lanes and then finally onto the canal towpath to speed us back into the centre of Stoke.

It had been a thoroughly enjoyable day in the good company of like-minded, funny and likeable riders. Dad, my brother, my cousin and the South Wales contingent all headed up to the pub in the evening for well earned food and pints.

The next day I put my bike on the train back to London; the 3 hour journey was made bearable remembering the bargain £8 advance fare. A quick dash across London to Charing Cross had me on a Kent bound train just 20 minutes after arriving at Euston.

Having recently developed a distaste for the over-charging, under performing South Eastern Trains network, I was loath to give them any more of my hard earned pennies than absolutely neccessary. A £5 ticket got me as far as Knockholt where I had determined that the traffic would be bearable and would ride the rest of the way back home.

The 55 mile ride home was a little painful – as I hadn’t arrived at Knockholt until 4PM so it was ‘Hammer Time’ to get back home before dark. Two fully laden panniers were a sharp reminder of the challenge in Spain next month: the anticipation is slowly growing. I’m also looking foward to the 76th Anniversary ride next year: I hope I’m invited!

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