Author Topic: done run


done run
« on: July 17, 2011 »
"We're not following anyone."
- overheard at the start

I resisted the pull of the outgoing tide until 9.00. Late as it seemed to me, there was still a crowd of cyclists dehydrating outside the Pub On The Park.

This was the first year I didn't spend a significant amount of time lost or puzzling over which turn to take with whichever group that happened to coalesce at junctures of indecision. I chose good people to follow. After four or five Dun Runs you'd think I'd have made an effort to learn the route. Traditionally, this has been one of my favourite parts about the ride as I preferred to experience it: luck. There's something to be said for good luck.

Solo is my natural state, but it can also be fun going where a thousand other cyclists are going at the same time. I love the seemingly endless line of friendliness, the encounters with novel lighting apparatus, floating by ghostly fields with the owls, engaging at whatever pace feels right all the way up to warp 9. There were pelotons on loan from the Tour de France who had dialed it to 11, ignoring the admonition at the bottom of the route sheet that "Pretending you're in a road-race on a touring event makes you look like a DUFUS".

The beauty of the event is that you can do whatever you want, from pub crawl to Dunwich Dash, so I don't share the exasperation of the organisers.

One puncture, on the home stretch.

Arrived at Dunwich just before 5.00 to a benevolent sunrise. Crunched down the beach to make obeisance to the sea. Didn't contemplate a dip. 

The hardest part was the post-ride ride to Ipswich afterwards to catch the train home. Normally I have about a century-a-day limit, beyond which the protests start; those extra miles were counted out one pedal stroke at a time.


I just learned of the death last month of Barry Mason, one of the organisers of this ride. Though we traveled in roughly the same circles - which is to say, in between all the cars and buses and taxis of London - I only bumped into him once, little realising the extent of the good he wrought, possibly due to the depths of his humility.