CYCLING - Going to Hell and back on a pushbike

The re-launch of the Dean Realty Hell of the North road cycling race at Tutukaka on Sunday added a new challenge to the diary of Northern Advocate reporter Kristin Edge. Little did she know her biggest hurdle wouldn't be the hills, it would be peeling a banana while riding a bike ...
I'm Lycra-ed up, equipped with a supply of bananas and jet planes, have a reservoir of sports drinks, and my tyres are pumped rock hard for extra speed.
My cellphone is stashed in my pocket and I've got a mate on standby just in case things go pear shaped and I need to use a lifeline.
I'm ready to mobilise - along with the 150-plus strong field in The Hell of the North cycle race. A bulk of the field are doing 129km - I've opted for the shorter 70km hell ride. It's my first road race and I'm nervous. It seems there are a few other novice riders with a case of the jitters.
A fellow female rider admits she doesn't know what she's going to do if her tyre punctures. We agree it was worth using a lifeline and the best option would be to phone a friend.
We're off and straight into what the entry form stated was a "gentle 2km climb" out of Tutukaka.
The loop takes us anti-clockwise back to Tutukaka and tortures us with plenty of hellish hills on the way.
Thirty-five minutes into the challenge and my feet are numb. The Sandy Bay Hill looms ahead. I've woken from nightmares in cold sweats because of this hill.
"Good luck," the official on the one-way bridge at the base of the hill yells at me. She must have seen the fear in my eyes.
My aim is to ride to the top without getting off. Corner after corner comes at me, luckily not at speed.
It's a long, slow grind but eventually there's blue sky ahead and the black ribbon of tarseal levels out and wends its way through the farmland.
The pleasure of flat riding is short lived. There's more hill hell.
As I labour up the incline towards Hikurangi golf course, the digits on my speedo drop dramatically.
I pass three people - a woman running up Matapouri hill and a couple walking their dog. It's near Glenbervie I decide to dip into my food supply.
Peeling a banana while riding is something I'm going to have to practise.
It's a pleasant ride through Ngunguru as the odometer clicks over and nears 70km.
The finish line is no Tour de France's on the Avenue des Champs-Elys?es.
Just a steep hill climb (surprise) marked with orange cones and chirpy officials who offer their congratulations.
Hooray! I pull off the road and collapse on the handle bars.
I'm done in just over three hours.
A great feed at Schnappa Rock, washed down with beer or four and time talking with other cyclists about the ride, tops off a great day.
Would I do it again? Hell, yes!