One big circle

For reasons that need not concern us today was my last ride for 2010. I'm pleased to report that I have completely overdone it on the food, drink and late nights, and celebrated Christmas with great gusto. To be fair, one of the reasons I was up at 4.30AM this morning was to take my mother-in-law to the airport, and it was nice to see the snow and ice turning to slush and hear the drip, drip, drip of what I hope will be a permanent thaw.

Round about this time last year, I sat at this very desk and did a post called "Best year ever". For many, 2010 has been an annus horribilis, but for me on the cycling front at least, my dreams, hopes and goals all came true and I really have had my best year ever. Including today's 35 mile loop, I finished the year having done the grand total of 5107.05 miles. I did wonder where they all came from and although I did a fair few on the commuting run, it only amounts to about 24 round trips to work, so that would be around 600 miles.

About a third of the mileage came in sportives (1767), and the two multi-day trips I did, the Raid Pyrenean and the Three Moors Tour down to Land's End. So that leaves around 2500 miles of pootling about, ACG rides and just having fun. Of the rest of my activities, there have been a few goes on the Exercise bike, some walking and earlier in the year some football, but for once it is about the bike.

Last year my best acquisition was Charlie, well this year it's my red new bike. Now safely in hibernation for the winter, it is an extravagance I don't need. But it sure is fun, and I hope to corner like a downhill expert on it by the end of next year.

This post is not about achievements but I can't end the year without looking back for one last time before drawing a line firmly under what I have done. The Raid Pyrenean was obviously the focus and the highlight for the year. But the 3 Moors Tour was also important. I met some new cyclist, rode for three days in a row, and raised money for a worthy cause and a special memory.

Three of the sportives stand out- White Horse challenge fed my ego by the award of my first ever silver classification, Dartmoor Classic, where I got a bronze that means something but more importantly I actually enjoyed a beautiful day in the hills, and of course Cheddar. OK, I only rode 100K rather than the full distance, but my ego was further stoked by the gold classification- but I was so fit after a week’s rest from RP, I feel I could have done anything that day. Very vainly I have bought my one and only photo of me from that day. It shows me coming down High Ham, concentrating, and looking fab on my shiny red bike and in my ACG gilet. Like I said, vain. I really need people to keep taking me down a few pegs please (step forward Wonderboy, your role is now).

Honourable mention to the Tour of Wessex (when I first realised RP was doable because I could do 3 days hard riding in a row) and to Exmoor Beast because it was tough, the weather was foul but I never doubted I could do it even though my knee hurt, and tiredness had kicked in. They did from halfway through 3 MT really.

My favourite moment? No contest. It was that magical early-morning climb of the Col de Port, described in the RP post. There's a photo up top.

So what of today? Well the thaw has started and it was just possible to ride to the A38 along a narrow tram line of tarmac, between the slush-covered humps of ice on our road. I just wanted to ride for a couple of hours really, and until the roads are well and truly clear of ice I decided to stick to main roads and avoid the hills. There was also a strong south-easterly wind which I wanted at my back on the final leg.

So I headed out to Sandford, cut across to Worle, then down to the sea-front, down the A370 past Sanders Garden World, left turn to Mark, Blackford and Wedmore, before finishing with a protracted sprint up to Cheddar and home. Once or twice i had a look at a couple of back roads but they were still too icy. A big circle in fact, almost all flat, and I think I saw one other cyclist. But as you can see from Charlie I kept up a reasonable speed and cadence for the whole way round. Bit like this year really.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/60809184

The roads are covered in an indescribably grime. One thing hasn't changed-I still hate cleaning my bike. Today took longer than usual for the sheer mixture of salt, grease, farm-muck, you name it, all of it had attached to my chain. Over the next few days all the slush and ice piled at the side of the roads is going to melt and turn the roads into a horrible mess. The only respite will be after a few day's of rain. And that won't be nice to ride in, despite the warmer temperature.

All of this is my re-framing exercise, because I'm leaving the country for a few days, somewhat surprisingly. Early in the summer when I mentioned to Mrs Mendip Rouler that I'd love to go and watch Cav win on the Champs Elysees, I think she didn't hear the crucial part of the sentence. Still, I'm sure we will have a great time, France is rapidly becoming my second-favourite country after all.

So before I end the year I'd like to say a big, big thank you to everyone who has encouraged me, laughed at me, ridden with me, or just read this. Most of all to the people I hope consider themselves friends (hopefully you know who you are, put it this way, if you are in the ACG, that's you), but also people I’ve met, casual acquaintances and more longer term buddies. Most of all to Bunny (you are married aren't you Bunny?) and to Skip. I think I must have done most of those miles with those two, it is a pleasure to eat the grit from your wheels.

I love that ACG photo from the Cheddar sportive, hope it's the first of many.

Next year will be less about goals and targets and more about fun. For starters there is Ireland, new land to be explored (on an old bike, really must get new tyres for it), and I also want to go to the Pyrenees again and ride different cols for the fun of it.

But I also want to go faster in 2011 than in 2010 in events like Tour of Wessex, Dartmoor Classic, White Horse challenge and of course Cheddar. There are also some new rides-Mad March Hare for one, who knows what else? (If I can find a computer with Internet access on Thursday night I hope to enter the Dragon ride). Judging by all the fitness work and determination going on, just keeping up with Knight, Boots, RPM, Wonderboy and of course Skip will be enough. They have all got very serious recently, just as I want to be less so! As Bunny (you are married aren't you Bunny?) runs off into marathon land, I’m still very much on the bike.

Allons-y mes braves.

Perfect love drives out all fear

Cycled to work again today and boy, that north-east wind was an arse. Like being sandblasted by the air from your freezer, I really hope I get a polar buff for Christmas or my face is going to look like Robbie Williams in that horrible video, if this weather continues.

I left a little later this morning so it was 8.30 and daylight by the time I pulled into the basement at work. Our new building has a lovely basement, were it not for all the cars and pillars it would make a great track racing circuit.

The wind pushed me home I think, because i can feel no other explanation for an average speed over 15 mph. I'm bushed. Maybe it's that old cycling lore saying "it doesn't get easier, you just get faster". I had no real need to ride today, but the roads were pretty quiet and a bit drier, if still with loads of ice piled up at the sides. I think the secret is to trust your instincts, your tyres and whatever God you believe in to get you there safely. Worked for me today.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/60453098

You will be pleased to know I didn't do too much thinking. So here is your five part Christmas quiz of random thoughts that occured today:

1. Which British comedy actor was in Love Actually and Truly Madly deeply?
2. What book, (and who is the author) is the Police hit song "Don't stand so close to me" based on?
3. What is the technical name used to describe how radioactive substances decay?
4. Which King split the Church of England from Rome and why?
5. What is God's telephone number and how is it connected to this post?

Bet you wished I'd stuck to cycling.

Have a good Christmas everyone and hopefully the roads will soon be warm and dry.

Achievements

Hmmm. It's cold outside, as Gary Numan once said. But outside my house there are no men with hats or long grey raincoat or smoking cigarettes, only snow. And ice. Lots of it. Been like that since last Friday night, which for me has not been too bad because I have a "gas-guzzling" turbo-charged, very environmentally unfriendly Toyota 4x4. Don't get me wrong, Clarkson fan I am not, nor Hammond or May. Given the choice I'd chinwag with bloke Sting brought back from the rainforest, although I'd draw the line at Sting. I do, however like to get to work and be able to drive to my house, so it's handy.

Unfortunately for the Mendip Rouleur family, which currently includes mother-in-law Mendi Rouleur, there is no such escape for them. Stir-crazy is not the expression, let's just say they wanted to go out today. Anywhere, and given their inability/lack of desire to walk very far, Mrs M.R. put in a requisition order on the car. The added complication was a broken-down boiler, which made it almost as cold inside as out.

So I had no choice, really. I sought advice from Skip and Bunny (who is married, aren't you Bunny?) who either advised use of the Kona Blast mtb, or to stay and work at home, but of course I ignored all that and got K-1 out of the shed to do the necessary.

I had to walk the first half mile this AM and the last this PM, and I've commented before that cleats also double up as rather good crampons, so no tumble today. Or on the bike, the main roads, which I stuck to, were pretty good. Ice at the sides, but with relatively little traffic it was easy to keep a fairly central position most of the time. I think the dark was an added advantage-out of sight, out of mind.

Here's Charlie:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/60373497

I tried to avoid hills, going up was OK, but down? Not fun really despite the joke above. With an overall moving average of over 15 mph today I didn't make too bad a job of it, aided by a very vicious tailwind on the way home which was good. The bad news is Mother in law is having her hair done so I'm riding again tomorrow, and that wind will be a vicious headwind. Better go and get some sleep!

It would be nice if I could mark the Spar shop in Backwell with a plaque, for it was there that the 5K was finally reached. That's a joke BTW. I promise that is the last of it. Although the 11.82 tattoo still appeals, but I'll probably grow out of it. I do think I need to get a bit of humility back into myself though, and calm down a bit about meaningless targets. Maybe.

You see I've been thinking again, dangerous, almost as dangerous as wishing. It goes back to something I said a few weeks ago, about best or first. Cycling is a way for me to achieve something, and this blog is an outlet for me to get the thoughts about it out of my head so I can sleep at night. There has been a lot of death around the peripherary of my life this year, we English don't like to think about all this, but we should. I haven't really achieved that much with my life. Yet.

So 5k miles on a bike is not really an achievement, so things are going to have to change. And it's not about the bike.

Just done it.....

So far this year I have cycled 5009.18 miles, more later......

Risk

I once had a small framed poster on my desk, as was the fashion at the time. Inside waas a pretentious picture of two baseball players, one about to catch the ball, the other about to make the base. The caption, and the point, as if it needed labouring, was this: "you can't make second base while you've still get your foot on first".

I thought about cycling to work tomorrow. But the A38 is covered in ice and slush, and I mean covered, not just the sides. I'm all for risk-taking, but I like my shoulders un-dislocated. I speak from experience, I've tried the dislocated version and I don't want to risk it again.

So I'll just have to find something else. I had some very nice feedback today. I liked it particularly because i tried something new and it seemed to work and it was effective. A bit like pushing your outside foot and your inside hand down as you go into a corner. It looks good in all the advice columns but you don't really know if it will work until you give it a go.

Last week I made a very bold and foolish statement on these pages, you know the one? About a blizzard and a two week frost. And 11.82 miles was in there too, it's everywhere else. Be careful what you wish for, even what you don't wish for, in fact anything to do with wishes? Be careful, they are very dangerous things. Because everyone is telling me I can't cycle at the moment and I feel like that moth flitting around the flame, just waiting for the final piece of instinct before plunging in.

I'm still thinking about next year, and I'm going to blog my goals after the first January ride. Take a few risks maybe.

But first I have the 11.82 to sort. and it's getting me down. Have you noticed? And I know 35 of you have, unless I have one person looking at the site 35 times since i put the counter on the site at the weekend. So I decided to manage my mood. And yours. And this clip is truly, truly amazing in that it combines my favourite song, with my favourite athlete. Have a look and be uplifted.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0Ebwx4bXDw&feature=related

Room 101

Because it's the 101st post obviously.

If you have read the book, and if Orwell could have imagined it, like I am imagining it, it would be a room full of the following, a huge widescreen TV, the volume turned up quite loud, but with no buttons or remote control, and your own worst programme on wraparound, for ever. Forget about a boot trampling on a human face, because this room would have impenetrable walls, except for a small window, which could not be opened. The glass is so thick that you can just see out, but you could never break, or escape from, it.

Outside the window is a bicycle.

But every cloud and all that. At some point last night, towards the end of a bottle of Shiraz, Skip and I exchanged texts and arranged to meet for a walk up to Crook Peak.

So I got to faff about what to wear after all, and dolled up in walking boots (old and full of hole, and now salt-encrusted) coat, base layer, and even water=proof socks. Just like old times, even gaiters.

The place was dererted and I think we saw about 3 pedestrians as we walked to the top of Wavering Down, putting the world to rights and speculating whether this weather will ever end. (Did you see what I did there? Very pleased with that).

Eventually we returned home by another route, via Compton Bishop and Cross, Axbridge and the bit of the Strawberry Line that goes through the tunnel. Well I did the tunnel bit anyway, specifically because I was being told by an elf from Safety that I couldn't. The icicles were pretty spectacular it is true, and if one had fallen on my head it would have hurt, but we should be encouraged to take risks for the chance to see something that stunningly beautiful, shouldn't we?

Still stuck on 11.82. Skip is going to get a chainring tattoo at the end of next season, as a way of marking (pun intended) her forthcoming achievements. Never had a tattoo myself, but I am contemplating having that number inscribed somewhere where I can see it, as a reminder of patience, hubris, pride, perspective, beauty, honesty, and well, because when you know, you know.

11.82........

So near and yet so far

11.82 miles.

Right now it feels I can almost touch it, reach out, throw the handlebars forward and I'm over the line.

But I'm stuck in 6-7 inches of beautiful, picturesque, "looks great from the outside but is a hell-hole to be in when you want to be somewhere else" snow. Going nowhere quickly.

So today, Matthew, I'm going to be Ernest Shackleton and set out on foot to go and bring back bread from the Co-op. Keeps me busy I guess. Not even The Blast will navigate these roads......11.82 miles.......


And I'm looking to the sky to save me
Looking for a sign of life
Looking for something to help me burn out bright

I'm looking for a complication
Looking cause I'm tired of lying
Make my way back home when I learn to fly

Be Patient

We humans are flipping bonkers. Sounds like a truism in a way, but it's visceral today. Many reasons, not least the snow, which amongst other things confines me. I do have a trick up my sleeve. Or in the shed to be precise, it's called a Mountain bike. Then there is the exercise bike. Got to exercise or I'll have too much time to think, and I really don't want to do that after the 24 hours I've just had.

First. I won second prize in the raffle at the work Christmas do. I didn't even know I'd entered that particular competition. But given the prize is Next vouchers, and they don't sell lycra in there to my knowledge, I'll have to give them away.

I drank a lot. I know I must have because I danced. Like I had my cleats on I should think. It was a great night though I really enjoyed it, hope everyone got home safely in the snow, luckily I only had two floors to go down, and i was probably doing my best Rowley Birkin impression. Definitely love that man.

Then today I was helping out on my volunteering day. I'm not going to say anything about it, but as you all prepare for the festivive season I want you all to stop and ask yourself these three questions:

What do you really need this Christmas?
What lengths will you go to make sure you get just what you need and reject what you only want?
How patient can you be while it all happens?

The Mendip Rouleur would say he need a dry, smooth piece of tarmac, a 5% hill, no cars and a bit of mist. And a 12/27 on the back and a compact 50/34 on the front. But I don't know anymore, is that it? Really?

So sorry for coming over all heavy at party time, it's about fun too I know. But a song from, you know, them, is spinning round my head tonight: I'm not telling you which one it is, you'll have to guess, answers on a Christmas card......(or be my friend on Facebook because I posted a link!)

Merry Christmas.

Best or First?

If you have ever seen Toy Story (1 or 2, it doesn't matter which) you will be familiar with Mr Potato Head. Manufactured by Hasbro it's not the best toy ever invented, in fact I bet hardly any are even sold nowadays. But Mr Potato Head did something that no other toy will ever be able to do. It, or he, was the first toy to be advertised on television and no-one can ever take that away from him.

Now contrast Mr Potato Head with Subbuteo, circa 1972. An 8-year old boy unwraps his present at Christmas and nearly wets himself with the excitement of opening the FIFA World Cup edition of said game. The next 6-7 years passed in a blur of school-playing field-Subbuteo, and occasional bike rides to the beach. And not much else. Polystyrene cement glue was bought in copious quantities to fix all the men after they were knelt on by the boy's big brother. Whole competitions, leagues, cup runs, almost all won by West Ham kept me enthralled on dark winter nights before the invention of shit television and electronic games.

But have you ever heard of New Footy, invented in 1929 and an early rival of Subbuteo? Of course not because it was rubbish in comparison. But it was the first table top football game, a bit like Mr Potato Head.

This was the question I pondered today on the ride to work and back. Will I ever be first at anything on the cycling front? Not now Wonder Boy's arrived, and there will be others like him. But I can be the best. The best I can be, and ultimately in the last moments of consciousness that we are all going to have, that is what I want to remember. That I did the absolute best I could at any given moment.

I nearly had those last few moments this evening actually when a car I was overtaking decided to do a U-turn. Fortunately he had his window down and heard my startled exclamation.

It was cold this morning, near freezing in fact. But because it was foggy there wasn't much ice about and by the evening it was a very pleasant 4 degrees. I almost boiled on the way home. I've also got my light-rig set up a lot better so I have a reasonable chance of seeing where I'm going. Unfortunately I can not shared this with you since Charlie packed up on the way home and didn't record. It was the usual sort of route. Winscombe-Sandford-Churchill-Langford-Wrington-Felton-Long Ashton and then the office. Similar on the way back, and today I tried to keep to a few more back roads. There may be a bit of slipperiness and of course the dark also slows me down, but I'd rather that than compete for traffic on the A38.

So a round trip of just over 40 miles, which means that providing the weather is OK, the 5K mark will be on Sunday. I need 11.82 miles and only a blizzard and a two week frost can stop me now.

So was I the best I could be today? Given the circumstances yes. I was slow, and I was cautious, but I was happy. And that surely is what counts.

Improvisation

It was cold again today. What a ludicrous way to open a post, of course it was cold, we are in the middle of the coldest prolonged spell since records began, or some likely statistic like that. It was more remarkable that it was warm yesterday, over 9 degrees C in London and probably close to that here.

9AM this morning, it was near freezing according to my HTC phone, and there was ice on my car. But the sun was shining, and there was no fog. Time to hook up with the ACG for an official ride which I was route-planning for. (Please excuse the poor grammar in that last sentence, I'm rushing and multi-tasking at the moment, so it'll have to do.) But the road looked reasonanly safe, which I took as a good sign, given it gets no sun between 1st December and 31st January.

Down in the Square there were six of us (Me, Skip, Knight, Doc, Boots and Shipham MTB), and we were meeting Wonder Boy from last week at a cafe the other side of Bridgwatwer. My initial plan was scuppered by the information that part of the route had half a ton of hedge clippings all over it. So we headed out past the Webbington Hotel and across towards Brent Knoll.

Shipham MTB was going for it, but he wasn't moving that fast when his bike suddenly slid from under him on a corner and down he went. It was now apparent that there was ice everywhere there was shade, except on main roads. He seemed OK but quickly discovered his bike wasn't. His gear shifter was kyboshed so all he had was top gear. He headed for home.

So we adapted the plan and decided Brent Knoll was not a good idea, and headed over to Mark on a south-facing road. To Rich's Cider cafe for a nice chat and bacon sandwich, by which time Knight had peeled off to go and sell stuff to Christmas shoppers in the gorge in his sparkly new shop. Actually I don't know if it is sparkly but I'd hope so, it is Christmas after all.

After putting the student fees issue to rights, we headed out on a loop through Bason Bridge and Burtle, via Westhay and Blackford to Cocklake and the sprinting road. It had been a delightful ride, lots of chatting with Wonder Boy sprinting off on a long leash, and having to wait for the codgers to catch him at junctions.

As we bombed into Clewer Wonder Boy was off. Skip told me to chase him, and in my head I knew it was pointless, but eventually I had to try didn't I? Doc had fallen out of the back by now, but Boots sat on my wheel as we tried vainly to chase WB down. Like I said, pointless. WB went off to plough up and down the gorge, whilst the rest of us headed for the sofa. Skip is doing a sportive with him in April, I think her best bet is not to let him eat anything before or during the the ride. That way, as there is not an ounce of fat on him, he might blow up after 40-50 miles, leaving Skip to sail on by and bring him in on HER wheel. Maybe not.

I looped around Winscombe on the way home, coming up the hill the hard way, to keep the legs in. It's been a good week, just over 80 miles all told, and that magic countdown now standing at 53.28 miles to go. No problem.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/59482853

Appraisal time

I had my annual appraisal at work today. I won't go into details, just to say I'm happy with the outcome. But it set me thinking that it's getting to the tme of year to look back at all that has past and see how I did. But because I have to eat, order the shopping and get to bed in time for an early start tomorrow, it'll have to wait. I have a long car journey tomorrow, so I'll give it some thought.

It was the first cycling commute for quite a while today. After all the freezing temperatures of late, the mercury was nudging into the positive, so I thought I'd give it a go. It was the first trip I have done entirely in the hours of darkness too. And when I was about 10 miles in I realised I'd left my mobile phone at home, so after that I thought I'd better stick to the main roads. They may be busier, but at least they can find you if you crash.

There was a little bit of ice on a couple of sheltered roads this morning. But by the time I hit the outskirts of Bristol the roads were frost-free. They were, however, coated in this rather horrible amalgam of salt, mud, oil, melted ice and other generally unpleasant material. If truth be told I was also carrying a little bit of excess baggage. I'm still eating for the Tourmalet, but exercise like the Blue Peter tortoise. So the end result is a certain increase in girth.

So the commute is as much the first stage in the training for next year as it is also the end of the road in 2010. With just over 40 miles in total, at modest pace (hampered by a headwind on the way home), as well as a light failure, which precluded rapid descent of Wrington Hill, I'm now into double figures on the 5K countdown.

While we are on the subject of useless data, I have also done over 267K of expended calories of exercise, an average of over 700 for every day of the year. Now that impressed you! The ACG rides again on Sunday, I'm taking them over Brent Knoll, weather permitting. Anyway, food is calling, enjoy the sunshine.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/59293661

Something interesting for the weekend

Last night was the ACG Christmas bash. If I was a psychologist, and interestingly someone at work recently told me I should be one (not sure if this was a compliment, given I work in a law firm), or an anthropologist, I'd be able to write my whole PhD. thesis on the events of last night. One title might be "The dichotomies (just for you) of social groups within a class-based society" or maybe, "The effect of romantic comedy on relationships clouded by grief".

But, I am neither of those things, and after my last few posts I am in danger of disappearing inside my biological exit, and gazing out, in a zen-like fashion, from the hole left by the umbilical attachment. Enough. CYCLING IS BACK.

I was challenged by Knight of the Realm to make sure my blog stays interesting, if I don't grab him in the first few lines he switches over to Youtube to watch re-runs of Strictly Come Dancing or some such guff, so I hope you're still here. Mrs Mendip Rouleur found the conversation slightly tedious last night, so I was very grateful for the grace that she showed in humouring us all for so long. This morning she was off to church bright and early, (it's a long story), which partially delayed our Provisional ACG ride start time until 10.30AM. Given the religious theme-a blessing in disguise.

So my priorities for today:

1. To ride my bike, outside on the road
2. To stay upright
3. To stay warm
4. To enjoy the company
5. To enjoy the ride

Mrs MR arrived back to tell me it was a bit icey on our road, it doesn't get sunshine between November and February and the temperature was -2C. Still once on the main road down to Axbridge I convinced myself it would be fine on the levels, what with the nascent sunshine and all. I met a very sceptical Skip, together with Boots and we headed off towards Cheddar, picking up the Communicator on the way.

We were due to meet a 16 year old cyclist Skip had somehow taken under her wing, in Cheddar. The meeting, not the other stuff. As he was a bit late I cycled up and down a bit to keep warm, and because if I did that he was bound to turn up when I wasn't in sight. Which he duly did. Off we went towards Wedmore.

As we dropped down onto the levels the fog enveloped us in its freezing moistness. Our new Schleck lookalike has joined Tor 2000 cycling club, I think we may be a sort of academy feeder system for them. They get their newbies to ride with the old codgers, teach them a few old tricks (wheelsucking for example, we were great at that today, me particularly), before they develop a stellar career as a racer. He was good. When he wasn't shivering to death for lack of clothes, or crashing into the curb, or trying to work out why he wasn't dropping the grey-hairs and the baldies.

By the time we got to Glastonbury, having safely negotiated some decidedly slippery roads, we were all covered in frozen condensation. Hilarious. Too cold to sit outside the cafe, we retreated to the warmth of two pieces of cake for pound, and a few anxious looks from yours truly at the local spliff-rollers trying to walk straight outside. I, of course, was worried about the bikes being nicked, until I realised they could barely stand up straight, never mind work out the complexities of SPD-SL pedals.

On our way back we opted for the safety of a gritted main road, although this had a few drawbacks due to the increasing intensity of the traffic. Just before Wedmore one cut in front of Boots and he admirably flicked the driver the Vs, perhaps my favourite gesture, and one that is fading fast from popular use in favour of, err, others. We even manged a cursory sprint, the Communicator came charging past me at a rate of knots at one point, aided by his weight loss. What with the Knight doing all this exercise recently, and looking very lean, I am going to have to work hard to keep up.

Back in the square I was plain exhausted and a bit spaced out. I have things on my mind if truth be told. Things that can not be committed to a forum like this, involving work, home, my soul and obviously cycling. The latter all boils down to a sense of anti-climax mixed in with a lack of focus. I also feel a bit flabby not having ridden for a while. But I achieved all of my objectives for the day, and best of all was reminder about the "G", I was pretty good though wasn't I?

I am aiming to hit 5000 miles for the year, with today's 41-odd I'm now down to 136.13 miles to go. Only blizzard conditions will stop me, and then I'll get the MTB out, grit a stretch of our road and cycle up and down it for Christmas. That'll be different.

Finally a big thank you to Bunny for his present to me on my birthday. When people gives socks as a present it usually means dull, unimaginative etc. Not these socks. I wore them today for the first time and they kept my toes splendidly toasty. How blessed I am with my friends, just need him to extend those blessings to a few other areas now.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/58849204

Happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat

If you know the answer to two questions, then a) you are a true film buff and b) you can say that you know me better even than I know myself.

Make it three questions:

a) Which film does the title of this post come from. Film, not painting.
b) Why have I stayed up to be so moved by it?
c) Who am I paraphrasing in the opening line of this post, and who was he pretending to be?

OK, five questions.

I'm bored with this weather now, I. Need. To. Go. CYCLING.

Transcendance

Cold. Very cold. Too cold for snow, except it won't melt. Too cold for cycling, that's for sure, especially if you fell off last week and don't want to risk it happening again in a short space of time. Cats may have nine, I have one, and already a weak shoulder is in it. As someone in Eastenders would say, it's just not worth it. Only in Mockney.

So the exercise bike it was. With ipod. And eyes closed, short sleeve Marmot top on, assos skinweb socks and bib shorts. Could have been the Tourmalet all over again.

When will this cold spell end? Will West Ham survive in the Premier League? Which is the best album ever made? Where have the last ten years gone? Are out-of-town shopping centres God's cruel joke at our expense? Or just our own creation of hell? Why do so many people like the X factor?

All this and more went through my head over 30 artificial kilometeres of interval sessions in 75 minutes. But mostly? It was nothing. Just me, the breath, the rhythm of pedalling, and the watts on the display.

What exactly am I pedalling?

The Derry Air

After last week's double entendre, I think I've excelled myself here. (Modest eh?)

My wife's family are all from Derry, so you'll know which side of the divide they are on won't you? This weekend we went over to visit, and since her father has recently died, we plan to visit quite a lot in the next year or so. As I am the proud owner of three road bikes now, what better opportunity could there be to:

1. Get one of them out of an overcrowded shed
2. Get an opportunity to visit family and ride new routes at the same time (well almost, I know that's stretching it a bit, but you get the gist)

So Kona is now living in my brother in law's garage, just outside of Derry in a village called Culmore. He's being well looked after, cleaned, and kept warm. Of course there will be no maintenance programme, but he is nearly five years old so he can't expect more than a bit of Finish Line and Muc-off.

So yesterday I planned to ride the route of a local sportive called the Inishowen "100". It circumnavigates the Inishowen peninsular, including Ireland's most northerly point (Malin Head), which is confusingly in the south of Ireland (keep up), and is 100 miles long. There were two flaws in the plan. First, yesterday was 20th November, which means, despite riding in the south of Ireland, (for all of Inishowen is in the Republic) only 8 hours of daylight because it's as far north as Glasgow (almost). Second, yesterday was 20th November, which means, despite my best intentions (for I had a healthy meal on Thursday night) I'd had a manic week at work, and only arrived at my in-laws late on Friday night.

I consulted the twin oracles of weather (aka Skip and Bunny) who sent the combined perfect clothing advice, and set the alarm for 7AM. On the drive over from Belfast it had been pretty chilly, so despite the alleged daylight at 8AM next morning, fog had encased the village like something out of the Hammer House of horror. Worse was the ice. Given that much of the route would be on back roads, and the unlikelihood of much gritting going on, and the somewhat smooth nature of Kona's tyres, I was in for an interesting morning.

I set off into the fog, along the main road out of Culmore, dropping down to the wonderfully-named town of Muff, crossing the border as I did. I'd love to say that everything changed dramatically, but were it not for the road-signs being in Irish as well as English, and the speed signs being in KPH instead of MPH, you'd never notice you were now in the Eurozone. I'd managed to buy 18 Euros from someone at work, just in case I needed to buy a coffee or lunch etc. But given the state of the Irish finances perhaps I might be able to buy something bigger, like Donegal. There were a lot of houses for sale though. Later my brother in law told me you can get a four-bed detached in a nice part of Inishowen for 86K sterling. You'd probably have to pay 30% VAT and 80% Income tax before too long, but your house would be nice.

Actually, considering the beauty of the place, a nice part of Inishowen must be something special. As I climbed up over col (no idea what the Irish for col is, hang on I'll check, it's um....col) between Scalp and Eskaheen mountains the fog fell away and i was able to see miles and miles of ruggedly gorgeous moorland, with smaller hills poking out of the mist. The road was icey so I did my best to sit down as i climbed the hill, and took it easy on the descent, until I came to a busier road.

All I had for company until I got to Buncrana, were a few sheep, some wind turbines and the odd, as in occasional (no stereotypes in this post, too close to home) farmers. Not a car in sight, it reminded me a bit of the Col du Port, only colder, wetter and with no trees. So nothing like it, just very quiet and peaceful. Down in Buncrana it wasn't much livelier, but it was foggy again. The road rose and dipped for the next few miles as I headed north-west, each time it rose the mist fell away and each time it dipped I could barely see for fog. This was playing havoc with Charlie as he kept losing signal and his gradient readings had gone haywire.

Finally I started to approach the hill I'd really come for-The Mamore Gap. As i was pedalling I could see what I thought was the Gap in the distance. A bit steep but it didn't look too bad. Then I nearly missed the Inishowen signpost directing me to a turning, hit the brakes and although the back wheel wobbled, I came to a safe stop. The hill I thought was the Gap wasn't it. Instead I had a 0.75 mile straight 500 foot pull up a mountain. That works out at an average gradient of 12.6%. With ice on the road. Actually it was a piece of cake because Kona has a triple with a 30x27 as the lowest gear. You can go up the side of a house with that, even an icey house as long as you sit down. And the sheep don't get you.

Going down however was a different story. If I ever pass that way again it will be in the other direction. For while my climb had been straight, the descent was a similar gradient, but with added hairpins. On a north-facing road. I think it could be the first time I have actually cycled down a hill slower than I cycled up it.

Once down it was back to admire the view-time as the road wiggled about around an estuary through small villages as far as the small market town of Carndonagh. By now it was 11 o'clock and I have to say I was getting tired. I'd done about 35 miles, so although I was enjoying the peace and quiet of my own inner monologue, as well as the scenery, I knew it was only going to get harder. A challenge is one thing, but a suffer-fest was not on the agenda so I decided to cut across the peninsular to the coast and head back to Derry.

Even that decision was a good one, for the long slow climb up to the top of the the Carrowmore valley, around 500 feet in a 4-5 miles was also very picturesque. A bit busier, but all the cars gave me plenty of space, and I made good time. From there it was a two-mile drop down to the coast at Quigley's Point. I now realised why it had been hard this morning, I'd had a headwind. But now, with a tailwind, flat road, and the different but equally lovely Loch Foyle to look at, I raced down the main road back to Muff.

I'd already decided to do a loop around the City of Derry to make my distance up to 100K, so went to take the right turn in the centre of the village. By now the fog had gone and I was full of vim and vigour as I peeled off right. "Oh" I thought, "this is a surprise I'm falling off". On previous tumbles I'd seen it coming or knew exactly what caused it. I don't know if it was ice, wet road, smooth tyre, metal or white line, but I hit the deck. I still can't work out what happened but as I turned right, the bike just slid down from under me. I hit the ground hard, knee, hip and elbow. More importantly pedal and rear mech.

It must have looked good too because I stopped the now considerable traffic. They probably don't get too many idiot English falling over in Muff, and landing on their backsides, (get the title now?) and the man in the filling station offered me a chair. I was more concerned about Kona, who despite a scratched pedal and mech, was all in working order. Now adrenaline is a wonderful thing, because I was able to carry on cycling quite happily for another hour, loop round into Derry City (where i found all of Inishowen's cars and a lot more besides) and back to Culmore. a grand total of about 63 miles.

But this morning I felt like I'd been given going over by Audley Harrison. Not too bad really, I have a graze and bruise on my arm and elbow (although all three layers on my arm are completely unscathed- how is that possible?), my hip is bruised and my right lower back is very sore. The worst though is my right shoulder. The same shoulder I dislocated falling off my MTB on an icey night 5 years ago. I think the impact has mucked up all the upper arm and shoulder soft tissues. I know I have to keep moving it or it will stiffen up, but it's hard to raise my arm above my head or lift anything with that arm. Probably shouldn't ride a bike either.

Apart from that minor mishap it was a great day. There is an Inishowen 100 mile sportive in the summer, and if i can I'm going to enter. Fancy it? You'll need a compact or a triple, I managed nearly 4000 feet in my 100km, I know there's a lot more in the real thing. Charlie comes in two episodes today, but check out the new features on the maps, you can see satellite images of the terrain, and zoom in and out. Beautiful no? Ah well, enjoy the craic.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/57517084

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/57517067

Haven't done that for a while

I was going to call this post "Badger hunting" but then it occurred to me it sounded like something out of the Profanosaurus (look it up on Amazon, it really exists). My innocent reference refers to cycling in the dark, but now I'm beginning to feel like everything is a double entendre, even the title I've got. So be it. Tonight I went out for an evening cycle ride.

I'm off to Ireland on Friday, and taking Kona with me. Bike number 3 as he now is, will stay over there. So because I hadn't ridden Kona for ages I thought a test run was in order, and I did find a couple of issues that need fettling- the front indexing, a clicking on the rear cassette. I also got used to riding a triple again, although because of the afore-mentioned, it is actually a double, but when fixed it will have a huge range of gears to muck about with (30/42/52 on the front,12-25 on the back). I even managed well over 40 mph tonight, possibly the fastest I've ever done in the dark.

I did a couple of hills, as well as trying to avoid the ice. It was on the descent of Shipham Hill that I found a patch of it, probably not thawed out all day, so i took it easy on the way down. Well until the final corner anyway. Good fun.

Technically I'm still resting. This was to cycling what the Japanese whaling fleet is to the whale hunting ban-just research so it doesn't count. Good job too as my chest is still not completely clear. I'll have to have some steroids i think, or is that a double entendre?

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/56872389

Today's post is dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi.

Don't ruin a beautiful friendship

I'm reasonably fit for my age. and this year I have accomplished a few things on the bike that I know logically are quite good for a late starter to the sport of road cycling. But deep in the bowels of my head (I know it's a mixed metaphor but go with it, OK?) is a little voice saying "if you don't keep cycling, you'll lose all that fitness, get fat and go back to being slow on hills again". I listen to it quite a lot, but finally, today, is a triumph of logic over fear, sense over pride, and reason over ambition. That, and the fact that the experience of today's ride is now smacking me in the face, well actually my lungs. The lingering cold seems to have anchored itself in my chest, a sure sign that I'm not allowing my body to recover.

If I don't have a rest I'm going to seriously fall out of love with cycling.

Sorry to whinge, because I actually had a really nice time, for the scenery was wonderful and the company was even better. And whilst my stats were pretty good, I feel totally rubbish, I struggled to climb (and don't be fooled by the bumps on the Charlie elevation profile, this was a very, very flat ride, spent a lot of time sheltering behind Skip's and Boots' wheel, and as for sprinting, well the connection between the mental throttle and the engine has been severed.

So I am going to have a complete rest from all forms of exercise for two weeks (when I'm off to Ireland en famille, and looking forward to cycling somewhere new), and after that I'm going to take it very easy until at least February. I promise.

At 8AM this morning the promised bright sunny day was nowhere to be seen. In fact it was tipping it down with rain. Had it not been for an appointment with Skip I'd have clambered back under the duvet. If I had I'd have missed what turned into a lovely day. By the time I was down in Axbridge the sun was getting its outdoor clothes on, and thinking about going out to play. A really pleasant surprise was that Boots and the Communicator had arranged to meet for an impromptu ride so we formed up into a quadrupetto (a word i have just made up, do you like it?) and headed off to Glastonbury.

Boots is an amazing cyclist. He has recently acquired a new bike, and slowly but steadily his old-school trappings are being replaced by modern stuff. The steel bike has gone, and today he had what was suspiciously like a lycra top on. No sign of a helmet though, or lycra shorts. But just like a butterfly eventually emerges from its chrysalis, so I am sure it is just a question of time.

As we headed across the moors and flats, past Wedmore and the Panborough road, the sun was now outside and having a high old time. We made good time, with the stiff wind at our back, and stopped for coffee at our usual cafe by the Market Cross. There was one lady with her fairy wings on,(Skip reckoned still on her way home from last night's party) and one chap sitting on the cross, in his usual outfit and high-viz jacket. Later on a man resembling Gandalf with a wide-brimmed hat trundled past, but that was it. Still it was a bit chilly despite the sunshine, so it wasn't long before cakes eaten, we headed off again. Looping up over the hill that formed the end of the ToB route, we cut though Street and across the moors to Ashcott and Shapwick.

The north wind was pretty tough by now and one of us (that would be me) was moaning a lot about it. Still the Communicator's weight-loss strategy came back to haunt him as he totally bonked and had to be fed emergency rations by Skip. Soon after Skip and I stopped to wait for Boots and The C at Blackford. And waited. Too long, something must have happened so we re-traced our steps and found that The C had a puncture.

How many cyclist does it take? Well three of us, as Skip laughed at the blokes, we all collaborated to fix it (BTW he has this lovely rim-tape, sort of plastic in shimano wheels, never seen it before) and I got to try out my new CO2 pump. And it is surprisingly effective, though I don't know why I'm surprised!

Puncture fixed we all headed back to Cheddar, and I tried to sprint but metaphorically blew up in a wheezing, spluttering mass, and we all drifted back to Axbridge and home.

So there you have it, the day I finally realised and experienced why I need to rest. I believe it, I'm convinced, I'll do it. Just don't know what to do about that voice though.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/55828460

Beast tamed, finally

Two points to start. Yes i completed the Exmoor Beast 100 mile Sportive today. I know I should leave you all in suspense about whether I made it or not, but well, it's a bit like the encores the bands do at the end of a gig (showing my age). You know they are coming back on, they know you know they are coming back on, so why do we all have to go through that ritual of shouting for me, and then they come back. Just stay on the stage until you've finished, for sure.

So I finished the ride, but the blog is in the telling, not the destination. Do you think I would be blogging if I hadn't made it? Actually that's more of an open question than you might think. I really don't know. I did bail from the 100 mile Cheshire Cat in favour of the shorter distance earlier this year.

I digress. The other point is that Bunny and I finally finished the 100-mile event nearly a year after we first started it. Well technically we didn't start it because they cancelled it on the day because of the weather (see last year's post) but we had entered and had every intention of giving it a go.

So 7AM this morning there we were on the start line in Minehead. This year's B & B was next door to last year's, quite by chance (although our host can only be generously described as somewhat grumpy and uncommunicative), but we did eat in the same Italian restaurant as last year. I had the same food. Well the same menu items. Sorry that's gratuitous, For some reason all the waitresses had face painting of cats and a clown, I didn't like to ask why, but the girl with the clown make up was particularly scary.

Lastly, but most significantly, the weather was next door to last year's too. While not in the hurricane envelope, it wasn't nice. Wet, damp, misty, rainy, very windy and loads of leaf mulch and squashed conker shells all over the roads. Tricky on a 20% gradient.

We set off into the gloom of the clocks-turned-back moment, just after 7AM. I had put my back-upz lights on and quite a few other bikes were blinking away, and there was a preponderance of hi-vis rain jackets. I had opted for shorts and the ACG coat thing, because I'm hard. It was quite mild and I didn't want to get hot either so opted for Skip's favourite tactic: layers! I think I got it spot on, as I didn't need to add or divest all day, so apart from frequent use of the zip, and half of Exmoor's topsoil all over my face and legs, it was spot on.

After a bit of undulation out of Minehead, the EB gets serious as it heads up to Dunkery Beacon via Luccombe. After a gradual interaction the route turns left and hits the 20% through the forest. Now I'm not one for petty officialdom, but when the instructions say "don't ride over the cattle grid, you will crash and burn" I tend to take note. Almost all the riders rode through the tarmacked opening by the gateway. But as they say "there is always one" and sure enough he ended up doing an impression of someone looking for his keys at the bottom of a cattle grid whilst clipped in to a road bike.

I had ridden up this hill on the Tour of Wessex, only in the dry and without the road slime. Or the face slime (my cold threw a couple of last gasp presents at me). So eventually I emerged onto the Moor proper, and after the short descent, which involves a hairpin bend and a crossing of a stream whilst riding on cobbles (and yes the current was un-nerving), we snaked our way up the ascent of the west shoulder of the Beacon. The hill on the ToW is harder as it does the Beacon proper. Lightweights aren't we?

Now if a highly competitive, ultra-fit skinny cyclist tells you he is just out for a nice ride and isn't going for a time, don't hear a word of it. Bunny told me this last night and I laughed at the time and I am laughing now. What's that story about the fox and the scorpion? It's in my nature. So that hill was the last I saw of him until the end, but that was OK as I couldn't see much of anything, the moor was completely shrouded in mist. Luckily I could remember which of the descents had a road junction at the end of it, and which had a bridge with a sharp turn. It was harem scarem riding.

By now we had the easterly wind behind us, for the only time during the whole ride as it turned out, as it swung round to the north in the afternoon. I decided to make the most of it as we bombed across the moor towards Lynton. Or Lynmouth. Or both of them, I don't know do I? I looked behind me and found I had a peleton in my wake, somewhat to my surprise. Eventually we fragmented as we descended Contisbury Hill, the climbed up again towards Simonsbath.

This climb is a joy. Moderately shallow, about 5-8% I think, it cuts through a gorge (with shelter) and the leaves were at their spectacular Autumn best. The best bit of the whole day.

It was still a bit bleak up on the top, and after lovely hot soup at Simonsbath, we climbed to a southern ridge before heading east. Into the teeth of the wind. I actually managed to organise a group of six disparate riders to work together for this bit, apart from that I was on my own most of the day. As i was descended into Dulverton, something went funny at the back of my left knee, very suddenly and somewhat painfully. By the time I was on the road going up the Exe valley I had to stop for a couple of minutes it was so painful.

I thought about bailing, I really did, at the very least I thought I might just cycle back to Minehead. At this stage it was about 48 miles on the clock, and every pedal stroke was hurting. But the human body and mind are strange, well mine are anyway. By Weddon's Cross it was easy to kid myself that it was not too bad. So I turned up the hill and carried on. The second feedstop was in a muddy field but the tomato soup was excellent, as were the paracetamol (in fact I'm going to have that for my dinner I think, tomato soup not paracetamol. [although come to think of it....]). I re-traced some of my Bristol to Land's End route back down towards Dulverton and Exebridge, in fact I'd seen a couple of my compadres from that trip on the EB. As well as no less than 4 people from work.

Eventually the route swung north, then west again before a final 1200 foot descent back to Minehead. 100.70 miles in 7 hours 12.30 of cycling time with a respectable 13.9mph. Total time of 7 hours 29 minutes earned me a bronze certificate. Which actually means something because if you come in over 8 hours you get "finisher". If you are a girly 7 hours 25 gets you silver, and Bunny, while not a girl, also got silver with his 6-45. (I think). All of this statistics stuff is a long-winded way of saying I was pretty pleased with my efforts. I had also thoroughly enjoyed the day, despite the weather it was marvellous to spend a day in a beautiful part of out great outdoors. And I'm glad i don't have to do it again, now that I have finally done it.

If you like hills, mud, wind, rain, soup, and lovely countryside, this is the ride for you.

As for the knee, well it's getting RICE at the moment. But the signs are not good. I am resisting Internet self-diagnosis and have opted for bury head in sand and hope it is nothing. I'll know in the morning.

That's the last big ride of the year for me. I want to round off the year by hitting 5000 cycled miles. I have 307 to do, so no rest for the wicked. Anyone wanting to make this easy for me by giving me a draft over to Glasto and back, or up the gorge, is more than welcome.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/55019740

Mild or best?

Mrs Mendip Rouleur went to Ireland today, along with young MR, so it was an opportunity to ride in to work. However, given that I dropped them at the airport at 5-15AM, and the poor weather forecast, it may not have been much of an opportunity. For once the forecast was fairly spot on. A very mild day for the time of year, very windy, with occasional showers.

I also discovered that our council has taken to switching the street lights off in the dead of night because they were off (on the A38 between here and the airport) at 5.30, but back on at 7AM when I was riding in. The darknesss (the light level or absence of, not the slightly fey rock band) is a real disincentive to fast riding. Despite having reasonable lights to illuminate the roads, it was hard going. I want to keep to those to avoid the traffic, but of course they wind about a bit and even though I have cycled them hundreds of times I found that the lights were not strong enough to search out every pothole or branch from a hedge.

Still it was a good little workout up over the airport hill, on the way in, and Dundry on the way home. I still feel very rough though, it takes the lungs about 40-45 minutes to feel OK, which doesn't bode well for Sunday. I was going to ride in again tomorrow, but have decided to rest instead. On the way home I was fair exhausted, I had an all-day meeting and probably didn't really eat enough during the day, so a lot of carb-loading now required.

The forecast for Sunday is not looking too good, still it can't be as bad as last year......

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/54672547

Up or out, or both

In law firms there is a cultural expression, "Up or out", meant to reflect the tendency of the lawyers to become Partners in the firm, or, well to leave. Whole theses have been written on the subject, but today I think I gave a whole new meaning to the phrase. In doing so I have invented, at least potentially, a brand new sport. Cycling is really the greatest sport not to be invented in all its glory, by the English. All of the others, football, rugby, hockey, cricket, all either invented or codified by the Anglo-Saxons. Tennis and golf don't count. Don't get me started.

So today, being a Sunday, being a glorious "not a cloud in the beautiful blue sky" day, was screaming at me to ride. In the absence of any chums, and the presence of a brisk north-easterly, and in anticipation of next Sunday's Exmoor Beast, there really was only one thing on the agenda. Gradients, hills, inclines, the up stuff. After yesterday's efforts I was feeling a lot better in the lung department, and being as K-1 was again to be my steed of choice, with its stiff steering, nose evacuation on the go, no-handed was emminently possible for the residual snottiness.

Now if you think this is a bit on the coarse side, you may want to skip a couple of paragraphs, it's about to get worse. The Exmoor Beast rides up the side of Exmoor that leads to Dunkerry Beacon. It's steep, slippery and crowded with people walking, and the only hill around here that could give me a foretaste of next Sunday is the gliding club hill. So I stopped at the bottom and took my sunnies off, unzipped the sleeves, selected the lowest gear, and off I went.

It is one of those hills that starts steep and gets steeper. I kept glancing down at Charlie to see that the initial 10% section had given way to a 14%, no 15% section, before a final lung-searing 22% ramp for about 200 yards. A few cars passed me, I made them wait rather than get too close to the slippery stuff at the side, if you put your foot down, you walk the rest as it's too steep to do a hill-start.

Towards the end I was really blowing the air out, desparately trying to get oxygen into my lungs. Lower down I had consoled myself that it's only a short hill, it may be steep, but it's not going to take hours is it? Finally I reached the top, with my heart going at 200 beats per minute, it felt like my lungs had been subjected to the old Norse practice of the spread-eagle. I promptly threw up. Not just a little cough, I emptied the contents over the road. Lovely.

So forget hill-climbing as a spectacle, I think people would pay to watch cyclists belt up impossibly steep hills before throwing up, it could be a test of their stamina. Perhaps not.

The rest of the ride consisted of a descent down the gorge, where I negotiated my way through lots of half-term traffic, before heading up Shipham Hill, through Charterhouse, up to the Highest Navigable Point on mendip, and then belting down Burrington Coombe and heading for home.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? Doesn't feel like it, I feel exhausted, but I'm hoping a less manic week at work than last, together with some early nights, and I'll be all set for the last event of the year:

http://www.exmoorbeast.org/

Here are Charlie's stats from today. I was a bit slow overall, mainly because I ran out of energy on the way back from Burrington, now why would that be? Note the steep bit after about 6 miles, that's the one, have a go, everyone should do it at least once!

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/54170650

Washed out

Just as this morning's official Axbridge Cycling Group ride was nearing its sodden, cold end, I turned to Skip and asked her if it was possible to sue the Met office forecaster? For every time the road pitched up, some cold water would slosh down the length of my boot and envelop my heel in icy dampness. Every time the gradient went south, my toes got a nice cold wash.

It wasn't supposed to have been like this. I am not a meteorologist, but I know a light shower when I see one. And I didn't see one today, what I did see were prolonged downpours, heavy rain, puddles covering the whole of the road (in fact they were lakes and streams not puddles). Yet I was dressed for light showers.

I'm not sure which bit of moisture on my clothes came from me and which from the external environment. Suffice to say that it ceased to be important, the only thing that really mattered was to get home, get in the bath and look back on it with increasing levity and fondness as today's ride recedes into the distance. At least it couldn't possibly be as wet as this next week for the Exmoor Beast could it?

My cold is still with me, and had this not been the ACG I would have stayed in bed all morning. In fact I'm going there as soon as I've typed this up. I have a vague notion of being one of those Victorian ladies who "takes to her bed" for 50 years, but somehow I think I'd be bored after a week. But it's a measure of how rough
and rundown I feel that it crossed my mind.

There were five of us to begin with, Skip, me, the Doc and SMB, plus a lady on a hybrid, who was last seen following us up Winscombe Hill. If she had any sense she'd have turned back at the first sign of rain.

It is always a bit galling to cycle back up past my own house so soon after cycling down to Axbridge, but since the Council re-surfaced the road I don't mind so much. The surface is now, and for a short while at least will be, the best one in North Somerset. Just a shame about the traffic lights halfway down the other side.

We descended down to the village and then out along the Sandford road towards the moors and on to Puxton. The rain started there, never really decreased in intensity or volume, and by the time we had crossed the A370 and wiggled around the edge of Worle towards Kewstoke, the heavens had well and truly opened.

It is true that you never forget how to ride a bike. But with only three rides in my legs this month, and a severe restriction on my lung capacity I found it hard to find a rhythmn today. I also struggled a bit on the hills. Two weeks ago I was wupping everyone really on any kind of incline, today I felt like my lungs had been scraped with a penknife. Then stuffed with cotton wool. Then tied in a knot. You get the picture.

We piled into the Castle cafe in Kewstoke for coffee and (in the case of me and the Doc) toast. We were the only customers which was lucky because we brought half a rain cloud in with us. Eventually we had to venture out again into the rain, and it was then that we lost the Doc, I confess I was so cold that I just pedalled very fast for five minutes to warm up. SMB soon overtook me and Skip was not far behind. But as we struggled through the Weston stupidity, sorry, traffic, there was no sign of him. Later on Skip and I had a chat about how our ACG rides have an increasing tendency to splinter, and how this was missing the whole point of the word "Group". So we will have to do something about that.

We continued on across the lakes that passed for roads near Bleadon and Loxton, before sailing and kayaking past the Webbington, and white-water rafting into Cross. I'd had enough and took the main road up the hill to home, it was impossible to get any wetter and i wanted a bath, some warmth, a bed......

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/54133658

PS And of course, this being England, now when I'm washed, and fed, and tired, the sun has come out....typical!

Lungs

Everyone around me has had a cold this week, so I'm not sure which kindly soul gave me their particular virus, but I have erred on the side of caution and decided not to ride this weekend. It's my lungs you see, not great in the sensitivity to virus department.

The hours seem to stretch out before me, and with only the Annual tax returns left on my to-do list, I decided that blogging could be the ultimate displacement activity.

Here's a question for you. Why is the High street in Weston super Mare so full of litter, when it has more litter bins per capita than anywhere I have ever been. I can imagine someone in North Somerset District Council offices, saying, "let's try more litter bins, that will do it" over and over and over.....

Inventions you never knew you liked so much until you had to do without them:

1. Contact lenses. I went mountain biking in Peru in 2007, shortly after an eye infection, and had to do without the lenses. Amazingly I had contingency-planned, and had some sunglasses with those optical inserts, but all the same it was a bit of a pain. CLs are without any shadow of a doubt the best invention ever.

2. Remote control car-locking devices. The battery went in mine and it took three weeks before I could get to the garage for a new battery. In a perfect world you'd be able to put a normal battery in them, no actually in a perfect world they'd be solar-powered, but it was intensely irritating to actually have to use a key to lock the car door. How did we ever manage before they were invented?

3. Google streetview. To look down the Aubisque on Google streetview is second only to cycling down it. On a day like today, it serves as a handy replacement for all the places I can't actually cycle.

4. The chapstick. Apparently these are often found in intimate places in Casualty departments, but for me they are the third part of the trinity: Lemsip max strength, Ventolin inhale, chapstick.

5. Lemsip Max strength tablets, not lemon drink, that's vile. See above. Sod the herbal baloney, one of mankind's greatest inventions are pharmaceuticals, and they don't get more useful than this. Especially Boots own brand version which is cheaper.

6. Balm-impregnated tissues. Makes the nose just a little bit less like a clown's on a bad day.

7. Internet shopping. The perfect way to while away a day of enforced rest. Particularly useful for buying cycling kit, food shopping and books.

8. A hot bath. For relaxing those under-used muscles.

9. Powered lawn mowers, and indeed all powered garden equipment. For making vegetation control so much faster and freeing up even more time.

10. Do you really need to ask about number 10? Without bikes what would I have not been doing this weekend?

Ten things we could do without in the modern world:

Today I was Fabian

Well in my head at least. I was dressed like more like Anthony Charteau, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony_Charteau

Today was Sunday, and as the enforced rest of the past two weeks seemed to have done me so much good, and I want to retain my enthusiasm for cycling through the Winter, I figured I wouldn't ride today. I hadn't had a day to get all the jobs done, you know the ones that have been lingering for a long time. So I dutifully cleared out the old food from the larder, took stuff to the dump, moved the old table around, that type of thing. I even cut my hair, well shaved it all off with clippers.

I finally got round to cleaning the Red Madonne, although it wasn't too dirty, only yesterday and Friday have had it in anything like rain or muck recently. To cap it all off I cut the grass, straightened out the saddle on RM (I'm a traditionalist at heart!) and put a new inner tube in my unicycle. I recently won a unicycle lesson in a charity auction, and the lesson is this week, so I dug the unicycle out of the shed and spruce it up a bit.(I may be over-stating the competitive nature of the auction, as I suspect I was the sole bidder).

If you are wondering how I let that statement go by about the unicycle, well you will just have to read the blog after Friday, it's technically still cycling isn't it, so I don't see why I shouldn't blog about it. Actually I can blog about whatever I like as it's my blog. That told you.

Well, after all the jobs were done, I sat down for a bit in front of the TV. What should be on but the Commonwealth games road race. In Delhi. Some Australian won, David Millar got the bronze medal, but it was a good race to watch unfold. Despite the almost pan-flat course, the riders contrived to put on a good race, the end result of which was Mark Cavendish trailing in disconsolately in seventh, having been out-thought by the other teams, and suffering from a lack of Isle of Man team members to support him.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/commonwealth_games/delhi_2010/9077588.stm

By now the sun had come out. In my garden, not in Delhi. The sun was already out there, it looked boiling. My bike was clean, it was 20 degrees, in October. I didn't want to do a big ride, but it seemed like one of those opportunities not to be missed. And I have only worn my polka dot jersey once, and that was under a gilet, I always promised myself I would wear it after I completed the Raid Pyreneen. If I went out on my own I could do a bit of hill-climbing practice. So I decided to go out for an hour and do just that.

I have often done repeated circuits of my village, which of course end in a climb of the hill that our house sits on. Just below the top, and although it's only a 300 feet climb, it is 12%, so makes it interesting. Today I extended the circuit out to Sandford and Banwell, which gave me the opportunity to put a few more short climbs to the test, including Dark Lane, a 10% stretch in Banwell. I did the circuit twice and it was a bit like a bumpy time trial, or prologue or something. Only slower because it was me doing it, not Fabian or David Millar or even Anthony, polka dots or not. In my favour I did go at the climbs as fast as I could, in fact I went at the whole thing as fast as I could.

Great fun, and took just under an hour, even in the fairly stiff north-easterly breeze it was still quite warm. Statto fact coming up. The first lap was 15 seconds slower than the second, although it felt a lot harder. Why is that do you think? Bunny (who is married) is always telling me to do specific training and I think doing these short type of sessions at maximum effort must be good preparation for the forthcoming Exmoor Beast.

http://connect.garmin.com/player/52427344

Wonky saddle

As I stood in the Square this morning in Axbridge, just as we were about to set out on an official ACG ride, I happened to glance down at my lovely new saddle. A delightful present from my parents for my recent birthday, it had proved very comfortable on its first outing yesterday. (BTW it's a Selle Italia Flite, in red of course). I had fitted it in the shed last Tuesday night, by the light of a head torch, in between doing loads of other stuff, and the sore right sitbone and tweaked left inner thigh muscle were the symptoms of a slight misalignment. Bizarrely, the centre line was parallel with the ground on the front to back axis, it was the side to side axis that was on a slope.

Now I could have rummaged in my seat post bag for my allen keys and attempted to fix it then and there, but everyone was about to set off, and anyway, knowing my history, I may have made it worse.

Fortunately we spent a lot of time going up the hills today, so when i wasn't in the saddle, I was trying to keep up with our newest newbie, also conveniently called by the same name as half the ACG. He actually looks like a good candidate for a medium ACG top to me, though he may be a bit tall. Skinny, wiry, fast (so SWF it is then), who claimed not to have been on a bike for a while. Still he was good company as were Shipham MTB, Boots, the Doc, Knight of the Realm and Skip.

Ah, bless her. She arrived like one of those people who turn up to work early from a good night out and get brownie points for being at their desk before the boss. But the only reason is that they haven't actually been home yet. Her eyes wouldn't have been out of place in Glastonbury, her poor, injured knee strapped up to keep it from falling apart, and did offer the suggestion that she could still be drunk. To be fair she did go to sleep at 4AM, so to come out for a bike ride by 9AM shows immense dedication I think.

So off to Cheddar we trundled, and hit the bottom of the gorge where we split up for a bit. I thought I'd keep Skip company, but she wanted to be on her own, so I carried on and joined Boots and SWF as we spun our way to the top. We all re-assembled before splitting up again on the way to the new Rock Cake (was Mountain, now refurbished and re-named) Cafe above Croscombe. Two alternative routes were on offer, the first was down Old Bristol Road to Wells then up through Horrington to the cafe. The second, taken by the Knight and Skip, was across the top to the cafe.

The Knight is still operating on China-time, having returned from a tour of the world's most populous country, and was decidedly jet-lagged rather than jet-powered. Once we all re-grouped in the cafe various teas, coffees and cakes were ordered, along with bacon and other sandwiches. Somehow the Doc managed to turn up last and get served first-how did he do that?- but I for one was quite impressed by the look of the new place and may return again soon.

The promised warm weather was not present on the top of the Mendips, as it had been pretty windy, drizzly and after the cafe, cold. Still, with the wind at our backs, we sped back via Green Ore and Charterhouse, and down Shipham Hill to Cheddar. Except Knight of the Realm who came down the gorge and met SWF, me and Boots at the petrol station. I managed to clock my fastest single speed-point of the year as I came down Shipham Hill, 45.1 mph according to Cateye, the arbiter in these matters. For the sad Stattos (like me) I have never managed to beat the speeds I used to do downhill on the Kona, I think it had a slightly higher top gear ratio. (For maximum impact that last sentence should be imagined in a nasally tone of voice, by a man in an anorak).

It was great to be riding with a group today, even if we did fragment a bit. Normal, unserious banter, just ride and enjoy myself. Just what I needed. The saddle? Well I didn't seem to notice it, and as I don't have any neck pain either, I'm just beginning to wonder if I may have hit upon something useful.....

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/52266998

Back where I belong

I hadn't ridden my bike for two weeks. Since climbing off at Land's End in fact, and just to mix a metaphor for a moment, a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then. When I got back from Cornwall I was tired, jaded and felt like I'd ridden enough for the year, never mind September. This week I'd come down with a tummy bug, had a lot on at work, and to cap it all my left hamstring kept spontaneously cramping, and pulling on my knee, giving that a chronic low level pain.

In short I was turning into a a misery.

So it was with some trepidation that I got the Red madonne out of the shed this morning, in the dark, lights fitted, new saddle on the seatpost, to ride into work.

Well I needn't have worried, it was like that feeling you have of easing into a hot bath at the end of a long walk. Or sinking into an armchair at the end of a party. Or, ... well you get the message. Within a couple of miles it felt like I'd never been away, and as the dawn broke over the Mendips, and will of the wisp mist scudded across the blue sky, I realised (again) how fortunate I am to live in such a place, with a wonderful family, friends, and cycling buddies (not mutually exclusive groups btw), a great job, and last but not least-the Red Madonne.

K-1's gear cable snapped while I was testing it after the 3 Moors Tour, so as it has a few other repairs needed it's off to Cheddar cycle store tomorrow afternoon. But the Red Madonne will do just fine thank you very much.

I am not sure I'll be able to cycle in via the flat route anymore. Maybe in the depths of winter, we'll have to see. Today it was over to Wrington, up Long Lane, through Felton then down through Long Ashton and Aston Court. On the way back it was Dundry Hill, Winford Hill then back the way I'd come through Wrington. I only had to cycle in the dark for 30 minutes this morning and then for about ten minutes in the evening. So it was a pleasant experience being out in the Autumn fresh air, a bit damp but very warm. Especially as the leaves are absolutely delightful this year, maybe it's me just appreciating these things a bit more.

I've been reflecting a lot this week as you can imagine. Life is precious and short. THESE ARE NOT CLICHES! I feel we almost have a duty to realise that, make the most of what we are given, celebrate our ups and do our best on the downs. An allegory for my cycling in fact, or maybe the other way round, but who cares. That's certainly the case for me as I'm crap at descending and not been to good on the climbs. But I'm going to get better, oh yes. Better at life that is.

Charlie and my computer are not talking this evening, had a technical tiff, so I'll have to load the stats tomorrow, after the ACG. Here it is:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/52161306


This post is dedicated to Frank Curran, he was a great lover of sport, wrote about it for 70 years, and I wish I had taken the trouble to get to know him better than I did. He was also special to a lot of people beyond his family, you can read about him here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-11452533

Country roads-don't you love 'em, Bristol to Land's End

It seemed like a good idea at the time. A chance to raise money for a charity that means a lot to our family, I'd be really fit from the Raid Pyreneen and it would only be hills not mountains, and it was my birthday weekend. What else would I rather be doing but cycling 250 miles from Bristol to Land's End?

But at 8AM on the Friday morning, after being stood about in the damp and the mist for nearly an hour, and having already taken family to airport drop-off at 5AM, I was feeling tired, cold and apprehensive about a day in the saddle. Because of the charity involvement we had to do a bit of press don't you know, and listen to the necessary safety briefing, label bikes with numbers (I was number 4) and all that sort of stuff.

Eventually it was all over and we were able to head off from Clifton Down towards the suspension (and best) bridge (in the world). At a junction just before the bridge, I used my well-honed traffic-negotiating skills to get across the road after A, and that was pretty much it for the rest of the morning as we didn't see any other riders till they caught up with us at the water stop in Glasto. We headed out through Long Ashton, Barrow Gurney, Winford, Chew Stoke, Harptree Hill and Old Wells Road, before hitting the levels in Wells.

It was bit drizzly, with a northerly wind, which was behind us until we turned west at Glasto and headed for Taunton. A and I took turns to shield each other from the cross wind and we made such good time that we arrived at the pub for lunch 40 minutes ahead of the schedule.

For many of the 36 participants this was their first big ride, and the field spread out over a long distance. In fact, after just 50 miles the last riders were nearly an hour behind us, on what had been a fairly gentle introduction. The afternoon was a bit tougher, as we slowly headed up a few long drags before hitting some proper hills out of Wiveliscombe (W). I tried to keep up with a couple of youngsters, but they dropped me, before they stopped for some faff and I overtook them. Although I found the long hill out of W, they soon caught me again.

A series of tough undulations followed, averaging 10-15%, on narrow country lanes with sharp bends and lots of gravel. On one I was convinced I would be hitting the hedge on a 120-degree turn, but just scraped round, on the grass verge.

By now I was on my own, following the 2 lads ahead of me, until I overtook them at the 2nd water stop in Dulverton. After filling my bottle with the real thing, full-fat version, it was up onto Exmoor proper via a brutal 20% hill. Once along the top of the ridge I got caught again and the views across the country were stunning. Fortunately our route had been marked out with orange marker arrows, one of which I saw at the last minute, half-way down a very steep descent.

With a couple of small hills to go, it was more or less downhill to Barnstaple, where I managed to get lost before finding the hotel. The ay had been a good one, with about 6000 feet of climbing and 106 miles of riding, which I did in 24 seconds over 7 hours. The disappointing thing had been that I rode over 55 miles on my own, so I resolved to do something about that the next day.

I did the Arudy bed trick at the hotel, although as we stayed in identical rooms each night, MY roomie did get the better bed the next night. Food and comfort were both good, and I managed to be all tucked up in bed by 10.30. Some of the others got swept up by thebroom waggon, and other trailed in nearly 3 hours after me, so I guess they had a tough day. Credit in particular to the couple on the tandem, who made it in reasonable time.

Saturday morning dawned clear and crisp, and promised a beautiful day's riding down to Cornwall. Unfortunately my bike had a mechanical. Overnight the chain and front mech must have been caught in the van where the support crew stored them as one link was deformed and the mech had slipped down. In the absence of spares we decided to take a link out of the chain and keep the fingers crossed. Although my indexing was thrown off a bit I still had most of the gears, but I rode fairly conservatively for the next couple of days-just in case.

The biggest impact was that I left on Saturday morning about 15 minutes after everyone else. So it was catch-up time, and I spent the next couple of hours till Hatherleigh overtaking some of the others. Worryingly some were already pushing up the hills, where the gradients were around 8-10%, which didn't bode well.

I was now on territory from my LEJOG route of last year, as I passed through Okehampton and out towards west Dartmoor. Too literally as I took a wrong turn and ended up on a bridal path halfway to Yes Tor. I re-traced my steps and made it onto the granite way-a cycle path that Bunny and I had rejected because it was unsuitable for road bikes. Some of it still is, and I ended up walking for about a km to avoid puncturing. Others risked it I found out later, and paid the price.

Once at Lydford gorge, and lunch, I managed to hook up with my roomie and a few others for a very mixed afternoon. Good in that I now had some great company, encouragement, banter and humour. Tough in that the terrain was now Cornish. It all came flooding back-there are no flat bits of land anywhere in Cornwall at all. I'd looked at the average gradient for the route on a mile by mile basis. Well, a half mile 15% descent down a gravelly hill was followed by the same in the opposite, ie up, direction.

This went on all the way to the outskirts of Bodmin Moor, where we went up a 3-mile 10% hill-very tough. The corresponding descent was great too, and the day finished with a few more dragons teeth, one of which was about 300 yards and maxed out at 27% on Charlie. Riding the Tourmalet was no training for that. The day was slightly shorter at 92 miles, but the speed was a lot slower at only 12.7mph, partly down to the hills and the walking through the mud! I would reassure you that I cycled up every hill without stopping, just in case you were worried. There was more climbing too, about 7000 feet of it.

That said I finished reasonably strongly when some of the others faded a bit, and I think that is just down to better endurance and eating on the bike. Ironic eh? Others in the group fared even less well and a lot of the party of 36 either ended their day in the van, or skipped whole sections of the route. I think the planners are MTB boys and besides not fully appreciating that Road bikes don't like mud and grit, didn't fully explain to everyone just how tough the route would be for novices, and quite frankly there wasn't enough daylight for them.

Another good night (and West Ham had beaten Spurs too, so it was turning into a belter of a weekend) and the final day was again nice and sunny. The five of us who had ridden together n Saturday afternoon agreed to do the same on the last leg-55 miles down to Land's End. But by the time we had descended through St Austell, two of them had got lost and the other had a puncture. I rode with A and N for a while before they both zoomed off ahead of me.

So it was back to solo riding over a fairly undulating course in the early Sunday morning. The roads were still pretty empty as I headed through Probus and Truro, before heading out onto more country lanes. I was feeling a bit queasy, so wasn't really motoring, but after the water stop near Four Lanes, I joined up with N and V (two of yesterday's group) and we motored along pretty well, across terrain Bunny would recognise and down into Penzance.

Being Sunday morning I had to have an argument with a motorist who pulled out in front of me as i was descending at 30 mph (within the limit I may add), and had to overtake her to avoid hitting her. It was my fault apparently because cyclists shouldn't go that fast.

It was soon forgotten as we took in Mount's Bay and St Michael's Mount, and began to sniff the end of the road. I had been out-climbing the other two and they caught me up on the descents, but once i took a gel in Penzance, I was off up the last climb of the trip, and with nothing to hold back for I put the hammer down. The adrenaline was coursing though me, and i thought of the reason I was ding this trip. Next time anyone ever complains about suffering in relation to cycling I would remember what real human suffering is.

So it was these feelings that drove me down through Sennen and across a specially constructed "finish line" cheered home by the organisers. I was a bit emotional, and took a few minutes to compose myself, before joining the two who got there before me, and welcoming all the rest in. I did the 56 miles in an average speed of 15 mph, which was OK, helped no doubt by the lack of major climbing.

It had been a great trip, some wonderful people, and between us we raised about 20K, so A BIG THANKS TO ALL WHO SUPPORTED ME BY SPONSORING ME.

I think now it's time for a bit of a rest. I have done nearly 1000 miles this month, at a daily average of nearly 1500 calories per day (that's all 30 days too). I am worn out and will be doing light riding only, with a few hills, for the next few months. It's too early to think about 2011, so if you have any ideas, keep them to yourself for now!

Here we go again.....

A sense of deja vu tonight as I packed my bag ready for the three moors tour in aid of the Bristol Care appeal (still time to sponsor me, see the attached link on the banner at the side of the page). I realise now why Ryan Air give a weight restriction- to make money obviously, but it also serves a useful purpose in that it restricts people like me from taking everything but the kitchen sink with them on cycling trips.

No such worries this time, my bag is bursting with everything I could possibly need for two and a half days' cycling-and a lot more besides. I'm wearing full ACG regalia tomorrow, as most of the day will be in Somerset after all. Then it'll be RP commemorative jersey on Saturday and maybe KoM top on Sunday-if I feel I merit it after two hilly days, otherwise it'll be the bling top.

I also feel a bit like Brian Clough going to Leeds without Peter Taylor-I'll have to be really well-behaved with my roomie, no juvenile humour and, well, you know the kind of thing.

Routes for the three days are below, and if you are exceptionally bored at work tomorrow, and really bored at the weekend, you can follow us on Twitter:

http://twitter.com/aboveandbeyond1

http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-kingdom/bristol/355128025528636883

http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-kingdom/barnstaple/167128026368739732

http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-kingdom/-/904128026663243377

God's existence is finally confirmed by the forecast north-easterly wind, a bit of drizzle which is fine, but if that wind turns up, well I'll be sending one of thanks up to the Big Man and no mistake,

Allons-y!

I was just thinking........Cheddar Cyclosportive 2010

I had ditched my plans to ride the 100 mile course for the annual Cheddar Sportive in favour of riding the 100 km route. After all, it's not like I need to get the miles in, and next weekend could be a long one again with approximately 260 miles planned over three days.

So I signed on, for me and Bunny at Cheddar cycle store, and went back home to look at the route. There are a few hills in it, quite sharp ones too, but they are reasonably short compared to, well others. Last Saturday Bunny and i had cycled from Prades to Cerebere in around 3-17 plus some short stops, and although that was mainly flat and downhill, we had been slowed by seaside traffic and a couple of big hills at the end. So when I saw that a Gold award was there to be had for a time of 3 hours 45 or less, well my nature kind of took over- what else could i do?

That said, it was terrific to all form up in the Square at 8AM, beautifully kitted out in our ACG regalia. The day was little on the chilly side, but not too bad, enough for an extra layer or gilet, but no more, and the wind was from the south-west, again a bit brisk but not like Wednesday when it was a howling gale.

Our team peleton-Skip, Knight of the Realm, the Captain, RPM, The Doc, Bunny (honorary member for the day)and I (we were joined later on the start line by the Communicator)- trundled down to the start, drawing admiring glances from the few cyclists already there. A kind chap took our photograph and we formed up on the start line and off we went just after 8.30AM. After a bit of shilly-shallying Bunny and I emerged at the front of the group and took it up the long straight through Clewer, and into Cocklake.

And it was there that the ACG must have split, because the next thing I know, I'm in Wedmore with just Bunny and some other riders for company. Long-time readers will know that traditionally, in any sportive, when I'm in a group I get dropped on any kind of hill whatsoever. So whilst my performance today was not Contadoresque, or even Schleck-like, I'm pleased to say that I broadly held my own, with just one exception.

So (sorry Bunny, I leave this pointless word in just for you!) it was group-riding most of the way to Glastonbury, Butleigh and out to Somerton, with a few bits where I was soloing. Knowing what a nasty little rise it is into Somerton I got myself firmly in the wheel of a young cyclist with the most amazing pair of pigtails, very distracting to a man of a certain age. Ahem. This group stuck together till we hit the sharp hill up to High Ham, when I fell off the back. It was the last I saw of Bunny, who clearly wanted to get closer to the pigtails. I had a brief chat with Rosa, manning the feed-station there in High Ham, before zooming off on my tod, first down the hill, then across the flat, towards the next hill which took us over to Shapwick. Incidentally, did you spot who was directing cycle traffic across the A39?

Down onto the levels I put my head down and went for it, if I was going to get that gold, I couldn't afford to hang about. I reasoned that there was no point in saving myself for anything, just go at max speed while I could, hope the two bars and two gels, combined with the pasta last night, would be enough to keep the engine burning.

I was fortunate when the lights at some roadworks near Burtle change to green for me, and it was shortly afterwards that I was caught by a group. To be fair, I did about a mile on the front, they seemed content to let me do it for a while. After that I was content to chew the rubber, until they upped their pace and I thought I was dropped again. It proved short-lived as I passed them again just on the outskirts of Burnham, and we stayed together for the rest of the ride. In fact we caught a couple of other groups, until we were about 12 strong by the end.

I finally lived up to my KoM socks by being second up Brent Knoll, and the same past the Webbington, and first, yes first, up Notting Hill. The up-down bit past the windmill was back into the wind, and by now I thought I was looking close to getting in under the 3 hours 45 needed for gold. Coming down the steep back road into Clewer we arrived just after an accident had happened, apparently a car had forced a cyclist into the hedge by not moving over, and said cyclist and bike then did a cartwheel down the road. I saw him later at the finish, and he was shaken, bruised and cut, but more worried about his bike. Always a good sign of a crashed cyclist's state of health, got to get your priorities right.

I thought I might be deprived of a sprint contest back into Cheddar, but the group must have sensed the fun to be had, and the pace quickened noticeably. I hopped from wheel to wheel until there was just one in front of me, I got my nose in front but then he powered away down the side street towards the finish.

After all that I was delighted to find Bunny enjoying a cup of tea, chatting to one of my work colleagues at the HQ, and also subsequently to coming well inside the gold time, and officially at least being the 13th best finisher, and the 5th in my age category. Unofficially I suspect a lot of the sub 5 hour times in the 100 mile course are actually 100 km, so my position would slip, but I think I'm upper quartile. My time? 3 hours 29 minutes and 48 seconds.

Now if I seem a little too pleased with myself, I would say that I was just capitalising on the form of the Raid Pyrenean while I can. It was one of those days where the answer is "because I can", a kind of marker to myself. As Bunny said, the Gold standard seemed a bit generous, so to my way of thinking, take advantage while I can, those opportunities don't come along that often for cyclists like me!

Those that know me will know that my father in law is still gravely ill, and it brings things to a certain perspective. If you don't want to read a serious and gushy bit, skip to the stats at the end.

In all seriousness, I loved riding in the ACG top today. I took up road cycling only about two years ago, having been a MTB boy previously. I was always a bit of a loner too, so it has surprised me how much I am growing to love this group, the banter, I'd even call it fellowship. So if you are reading this I ask for your help. Make sure that we all remember that the purpose of cycling, the ACG, and who knows, perhaps even life itself, is to be with people and enjoy our cycling and our company. I'm not always great at this, in all spheres of my life, but to paraphrase Jules Winnfield, "I'm trying real hard to be a shepherd".

Stats. include riding to and from the event:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49624204

I go, you go, Wiggo

These were the words written on the road at the top of the penultimate rise before the stage finish of the Tour of britain in Glastonbury yesterday.

The ACG, most respendent in their new kit, had formed up for our annual outing to the ToB. Not much to say about the ride, straight forward leg spinner over the levels, but I did feel sorry for the natives, maybe some of them woke up yesterday, surrounded by all the razzamatazz of the Race, only to think, "Man, that was good s**t last night, look at all the lycra out there".

We did see the winner nearly blow it by turning into the "Deviation" where all the team cars are supposed to go, leaving the riders free to enjoy the adulation of the crowd down by the finish line. It was like keystone cops as he stormed round the corner, nly to turn round and storm back again.

Bradley Wiggins was about two feet from my nose and looked his usual nonchalant self. The main bunch (thanks to Sean Kelly) sailed past about nine minutes later, then it was left for a few stragglers to give me the best moment of the day. They looked really tired and fed up. Good to see it happens to the professionals too when they get dropped.

Hopefully we will get a full ACG turn out for the Cheddar cyclosportive on Sunday. I'm still feeling tired so I'm going to use it as a gentle warm up for the Land's End trip. Let others do the sprinting. I believe me.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/49136249