Your definition of success

If you worked for, or were a customer of Lloyds TSB Business Banking, between 2001 and 2004, you may recognise the title of this post. It was a rare thing, a Bank actually trying to help its customers, admittedly in a symbiotic way, but help them nonetheless. The whole premise was that the product, called, "Your Definition of success" was a business and personal diagnostic tool, that helped (yes, helped!!!!!!!!) the customer figure out what success meant to him or her, and how to go about achieving it.

(Unfortunately it fell out of favour when there was a regime change,and is now no longer delivered, but you never know, one day).

So yesterday, and overnight, I have pondered that very question many times as I reflected upon the 2010 Cheshire Cat. The week leading up to it had not gone well. I had arrived home last Sunday following my ride up to the gliding club, feeling fantastic and pretty well prepped, especially considering the fantastic winter weather we have not had. So on Monday morning, when I felt that tickle in the throat, the snuffles, my heart sank. All week I blasted my body with paracetamol, echinacea, vitamin C, apple juice, chocolate, more chocolate. Anything that could preserve me from the infection.

My original objective had been to get round the Cheshire Cat 100 mile route as quickly as I can, including doing all the hills without stopping, and avoiding my usual bonk or barf episodes. I also wanted to actually measure the gradient of Mow Cop, using Charlie, and do my best to hang on to the coat tails of superfit and strong friend from (what I call) the North.

Part of this is typical manliness. We all hate being ill, and want everyone to know about it. But I have more specific reasons, two of them, inside my chest cavity-namely the lungs. As a child I used to get terrible asthma whenever I got a cold, and though not too bad an adult, it still affects me. Last year I got terrible bronchitis after going cycling in the cold with a cold. Just recently I was told, at my company medical, that my lungs are the odd organs out, in that they have a "real age" (whatever that means!) older than my real age. (It didn't make sense to me either, take it from me, a cold is not good news for me.

Neither is the euphemistically named, upset tummy, which I had also acquired by the time I left Battery's house yesterday morning, heading for his Dad's house, 2.63 miles from the start line. If you have ever seen Bob Fleming from the Fast show, that was me. We parked up, quickly changed and cycled down to Gresty road, home of one of only five professional football teams in England, with an X in the name. No, not telling you.

Just as we pulled up at the stadium, Charlie's battery died completely. So I am sorry to report that I have no link for you to follow with my route on it.

It was a good idea as the place was heaving with over 2500 cyclists, which is not far off the attendance for a home game. I did once watch my team lose at Crewe in the League cup back in the 90s. But then I have watched my team lose at a lot of lower division grounds, seemed to spend the 90s doing just that. So, although we had avoided all the chaos of parking, we had not avoided the chaos of queueing to start. After a shivering 45 minute wait, we eventually got going at about 9.30.

As ever it was a reasonably quick and flat start, and my Bob Fleming impression went into overdrive. Wheezing and spluttering, and yes I'm afraid, heaving up all over the road, I became a one-man snot factory for the duration. At the same time clenching my other end to prevent , no that's enough.

Battery zoomed off into the distance, to be seen some time later in the afternoon, back at Gresty Road.

I revised my expectations and horizons. After an hour or so, the horizon started to go up and even more up, with the so-called "Killer mile" of Mow Cop. I would guess the gradient is between 10-12% most of the way up, until the final 200 yards or so, when it pitches up faster than a New York yankee. Fortunately, so many people had Garmins that I easily found out that the steep bit is 27%. And yes I made it up without stopping.

As I did for all the hills, up out of Congleton and ito the Staffordshire moorlands, even the hill out of my favourite place-name-Wincle. Brilliant. By now, with the hills over after the first 30 miles, the ride settled into an undulating one across the Cheshire plain. It was also getting pretty windy and i seemed to be alternating between leading slow groups or getting spat out of the back of fast ones. I just couldn't find a medium group when I needed it.

Eventually at around about 58 miles I reached a decision point-complete the long route, or bail and take the short route back to Crewe. By this stage it was 2PM, I had to get back home and knew i would be up at 5.30AM today, and it was 3 hours home. It would also take me another 3 hours to get round the long route, which I knew I could do, but it would just make the cold feel worse and the legs fee tired.

I decided to bail, and hammered it home for the last 12 miles back to the finish. Battery wasn't that far behind me. I did an official time of 5 hours 12, which with feed stops and stuff amounted to an average speed of around 15mph travelling time. He did the 100 mile route in official time of 6.01. Cycling. Titan.

He doesn't like his nickname, but think of it like this. You bring power to the bike. Your are re-chargeable. Immensely strong, and the best invention after contact lenses and internet shopping.

Just to cap the day off nicely I accidentally zeroed my bike computer when I was a mile from the finish, so I have no data at all. I also felt as sick as a dog, and even worse this morning. In fact I only feel human now, a full 30 hours after finishing. My lungs seemed to be still just about intact, but Bob's still going strong.

Just these thoughts remain:

1. Did I succeed?
2. What was it all for?

I think failure is giving up. But success is also knowing when to make a tactical retreat and fight another day. Had I gone on and done the 100 mile, I think I could have been very ill indeed, but maybe that's overly dramatic. I will never know. I certainly would not have enjoyed it any more, and I didn't enjoy much of it after the hills.

Any comments are very welcome because I have no answers to those questions.

Hope for the best, prepare for the worst!

Next week I'm off to Cheshire to take part in the Cheshire Cat, my first sportive ever last year, and now the first of 2010. I'm going to stay with my mate Battery, more on why I've called him that next week. (If you are reading, you'll have to guess because I'm not telling you before I tell my public. What a luvvie!)

The CCat has a hill in it called Mow Cop:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mow_Cop

The hill is just over a mile long, and ramps up to a stunning 25-30% at the top. No-one is quite sure exactly, but I hope to be able to tell you, with Charlie's help, next week. There is a medal at stake, and even though I got one last year, I want one for this year too. I'm a bit lacking in confidence this year for some reason, don't know why, perhaps because I know what I'm in for.

This morning I awoke feeling very tired after yesterday. Hungover, after yesterday's 72 miles. Cracking headache and dehydration, that sort of thing. Fitted the new wheels. Fitted the new brake blocks, which of course meant all kinds of faffing to reduce the drag on the new wheels. Maybe I'm not the mechanical sort, but surely brake blocks that don't even allow your wheels to move, must have a design fault. Any tips?

So the ideal day to head up past the gliding club really. Even Leadman from the local bikeshop says it's the hardest hill on the Mendips. It's about the same length as Mow Cop, and isn't as steep at the top-it peaks at 20%, but it has a similar profile in that it gets progressively steeper. Starting at 10-11% then a middle section of 16-17% and then the final ramp. I admit I didn't make it in one go, I had to stop and push for a 100 yard section in the middle, but I did manage the steepest bit at the top. Just as I hit the very crest of the hill, a walker, broke off from her mobile phone conversation to ask me the name of the road. I consulted Charlie and told her, very politely too, which given the circumstances was surprising.

When you look at Charlie's stats, have a look at the profile of the hill, it's easy to see- it goesw up like a harrier jump jet. There is also a blip that says I hit 73 mph coming down Burrington Coombe. Is that possible? My bike computer recorded a top speed of just over 40mph.

So next week, all I have to do, is avoid riding 70 miles on Saturday, don't get a hangover, get plenty of rest, and avoid people asking for directions. Fingers crossed.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, usual Sunday stuff. Lot of cyclists out today. It's sunny you see. Where were you all yesterday? Lightweights.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/27587139

Are brake blocks overrated?

Stupid question really. Just one of the ones I was not pondering as I circumnavigated East Somerset today, a distance of over 70 miles, and close on 5 hours of cycling. In case you are wondering, it was wet. Very wet. Rain teeming out of the skiy, running down the (steep) hills at a pace similar to mine. I was on a lot of roads that were new to me, so I had this trepidation going on as I approached corners on hills, in the wet, with worn brake blocks.

I bought new ones later, all ready to fit (oh joy-how i love the fiddly aspects of low-level cycle maintennance. The bits you know how to do, but are almost certain to either drive you into a stress on a sunday morning, or well and truly mess up). But that's for tomorrow.

Today I met up with Skip in Axbridge at a reasonable 9.15, after an exchange of 8 texts, 6 e-mails, involving weather, route, time to leave, time to ride for, time to get back, type of terrain to be ridden. And what did we do? We headed over the levels to Glastonbury. It was nice to have some company, and very nice to have a super dometique across some pretty windy flat, terrain. I have been away all week learning how to use a pyschometric instrument (it's a bit like a trombone, only more insightful) and my brain was very frazzled. (Can you still buy frazzles? They are a bacon crisp-type thing from the 70s and 80s). So it took me a while to get going, but eventually we arrived at our coffee stop.

We were greeted very courteously and politely by a man sat at a nearby table, who then proceede to have several in-depth and broad-ranging converations with himself. I was convinced he had one of those bluetooth gizmos, but no, he was talking to the men inside. Skip reckons it's Glastonbury that attracts them, but then I have conversations in my head all the time, I just don't let them out. Come to think of it, this blog could just be one long conversation with myself for all I know. Are you there?

Skip had pressing domestic issues to sort, so took advantage of the prevailing southerly wind to zoom home:

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201003

Meanwhile, I headed east and a bit of south, over to Bruton, a town I passed through last week. Just to be different, (imagine a nasal expert accent here) this time I passed through on a south-west to north-east axis, heading for Frome.

I actually used Charlie in a different way today, although I lost satellite reception at one point in Castle Cary. Instead of looking at my elevation, cadence, heading, gradient etc. etc. I came up with a novel use for a sat nav- working out where you are going. Novel.

From Nunney (which has a lovely castle) I headed up into the East Mendips, on long, straight and very windswept and wet roads. It was now raining quite hard, but the rain jacket and boots, and waterproof socks did their jobs. By now of course the wind had swung around to the South West, proving beyond any doubt whatsoever that wind is always in the face of the cyclist. Never mind, head down, pedal hard and get on with it, said the voice in my head.

The only problem was that the roads were just a bit too empty and straight. This encouraged the drivers to fly past me at high speed and close proximity, once or twice I was convinced I was about to join the slightly bemused sheep in their fields.

Eventually I hit familiar territory and sped down the gorge, before returning home. A good ride in blustery conditions, albeit a bit damp. It was quite warm though, as long as I didn't hang about too long.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/27495698

The nicest ride in England

I'm not going to brook any arguments on this one. Whilst I love cycling in the levels, moors and hills around the Mendips and other parts of North Somerset, and I have ridden some great day-long rides elsewhere in the UK, the route of yesterday's ride is undoubtedly the best that the country has to offer. I have also ridden Land's End to John 0' Groats, but there is nothing that compares with the beauty and balance of cycling challenge and plain joie de la bicyletteism (sorry Venners), that compares with riding across country from my house to my parents' place.

This is partly down to the fact that the roads in this country, at least in the south, are so London-centric. Look at a map (which I do on average 2.8 times a day, just for fun, more if you count necessity) of the roads of England and you will see the A1, M1, A2, A3, A4, M2, M3 etc. all radiating out from London like spider's legs from a spider's body. (As an aside, London has many similarities to a big, hairy carnivorous spider, encroaching all across the countryside, but I digress) So in this part of the country the axis of the main roads (concentrate there will be a test later) runs north-east to south-west. The exception to this is the M5 and M4, which like a huge dog-legged drainpipe, take cars from London, Birmingham and South Wales and shovel them down to Devon.

This is a very long-winded way of saying that the ride to my parents rarely has much traffic on it, and yet it's easy to find good-quality roads to make the trip on. If you drive there it would take ages by the route I cycle as all the main traffic goes on the A36.

So, at 7AM yesterday morning I was up with the lark and heading off towards Wells and Shepton Mallet with a slight tailwind. That's another good thing about the trip, as I get a lift back, usually the next day, I don't have to worry about coming back into the wind. I know this can work against me, but it rarely seems to, the weather gods are repaying me for visiting the folks.

The first steep hill is a 15% one, about half a mile in length up above Crosscombe the other side of Wells. This then descends gradually to Shepton Mallet and then to Evercreech. This is the great feature of the ride in this direction. The hills are short and steep going up, and long and gradual going down. Next up is the hill in front of Bruton, before a sharpish descent into the really lovely town, which I hit at about 8.45. You then climb out of Bruton and by-pass Wincanton, before a glorious 3-mile downhill into Gillingham.

I always find the next bit the toughest, a long drag up to Shaftesbury, which gets steeper towards the top. One day I'll do Gold Hill, used in the old Hovis ads, but not today, it was slightly damp and as it's cobbled i didn't fancy it. Shaftsebury was already full of shoppers so I was delighted to get through and hit the best section of all. The wonderfully-named Zig-Zag hill (and it does, 6 times), which has real hairpins on it, although the steepest is only 10%, and the average is a lot lower.

The road then opens up to a climb up to the top of Cranbourne Chase, about 5 miles in the sun, with fabulous panoramic views for miles on end, over fantastically beautiful countryside. The route then descends into the quaint-sounding Tollard Royal, and after a bit of undulation, to Sixpenny Handley. (There is an old road sign where this is shortened to 6D Handley, older readers will know and remember why.) The last few miles to my parents descends through Cranbourne, before a short climb and downhill into their village of Alderholt. But because I wanted to get 75 miles in, I hooked round the towns of Verwood, Ringwood and up a mainish road, circled Alderholt and came in from the West along the official route for the final mile. The weather stayed perfect all the way, and I even managed a sprint finish.

So just under 77 miles at a travelling speed of 15.1, with a fair amount of climbing and although tiring, I felt pretty good. Fortunately my Mum is from the generation when women were expected to cook properly (calm down everyone, I know that is not how it should be nowadays). What it meant for me yesterday was that I was able to fill my boots, have a sleep, eat some more, have another sleep and then come home this morning. We did do some talking as well, and drinking, and it was great to see my Mum and Dad, even though they do think I'm mad for cycling to their house. I think it would be mad not to, don't you?

Charlie loved it too:

http://connect.garmin.com/player/26985501

Commuting is fun!

Well it was today at any rate, but then I was on a bike, there was no rain, the wind was behind me on the way home, and I had my new high visibility dhb bib shorts on. I can not stress how much I love this garment, the hi-vis are actually sewn in bits of shiny material, not transfers. With all my other lights and hi-vis strips, I must positively blind motorists.

Usual run in today along the A370 in, back via A38, airport and Wrington. Slower in than usual, bit quicker back. Shame I won't be doing it much longer as I will be permanently on school run duties for the forseable, but heigh-ho there's always alternatives.

I actually counted the idiots versus cyclists again to pass the time. Surprisingly, only 4 idiotic acts of behaviour, which I found surprising given the volume of traffic. One of those was a daft pedestrian attempting to cross a road in the middle of a dual carriageway, the other a cyclist through a red light. It's not a scientific survey, but I think it shows that Sunday drivers are worse than commuters, at least in the morning. Sure they drive fast, but none was too close to me, and all were paying attention to me and the road.

I also found a new game, which I am sure most cyclists will love. There is one of those speed sensors that flash the speed of the vehicle on a LED as you approach it, in a 30mph zone in Long Ashton. I got it up to 28 today, if I ride in on Friday I will really go for it and try and hit 30. As Maltese Mum would say "all men are the same-childish!"

Charlie stats here:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26638401
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26638417

Playing Games

The Psychologically trained may think this is all about our friend Eric, not wreckless but Berne, but it isn't as I shall explain in a moment.

First, have you ever seen those films where someone is struggling underwater, trying to get to the surface, then finally they drift away and give up? Just as you think our hero has died, along comes someone who hauls him out of the water, and the soundtrack goes from fuzzy and dream-like to normal. Well, that's just how I felt about 10 minutes ago. I had bathed in a lovely hot tub of water, laid down on the bed and was settling in to a nice sleep listening to the radio, when some loud music woke me. It's Sunday night, too much to do before tomorrow, so I hauled my very weary carcass into some clothes.

Today I did a hilly loop around the Mendips on my own. Forty miles of up and down, including the tough hill up to Priddy, and the nasty one out of Blagdon. The gradient of which peaks at about 16%, but averages about 10%, for what feels like an age. I also did the main road out of Wells up to the TV tower, which just goes on and on and is always busy with traffic.

I'm moaning, so I should stress I loved every minute of it. And there were over 180 of them. To pass that amount of time on my own I invented a game. I take my son to school a lot and the journey is about 20 miles into Bristol, and we play a game called "The cyclist game". It's basically guess the number of cyclists you see, and we take it in turns to do first guess. So I'll guess 12, and he will guess either 13 or 11. Nearest wins, scores a point, first to 20 points wins the match. Get exact score and you get 2 points. There are a few other rules too, to sort out a couple of arguments we have had, but that's essentially it. He's winning at the moment 5-3.

But you can't really play that on your own. So today I decided to play a game called cyclists versus idiots. Would I see more cyclists, of any description, or more examples of idiotic behaviour during the course of my ride. I'm pleased to say the final score was cyclists 20 Idiots 10, so not even close.

Top three idiotic behaviours:

3rd A perennial favourite with cyclists, the teenager shouting out of the car window at me. I include it for traditions sake, but sorry to report all he said was "your wheels are going round". Loudly. Not very original was it?

2nd A man reversing his Audi (light blue A4 I think), out of parking space into the middle of the road, (covering about 50% of both carriageways, astride the white lines) halfway down Cheddar Gorge, as I approached at close on 30mph, while waving goodbye to his friends at side of said road. I had to break hard and skidded but nothing worse that that I was restrained, and limited myself to a loud shout of "look where you are going", before following him slowly into Cheddar, resisting the urge to overtake or be juvenile.

1st I'll preface this one by saying I like farmers, and normally they are pretty considerate. I was approaching a farm entrance at about 15mph on the flat as a tractor was waiting to pull out with his very long trailer, trailing behind him. He saw me. He waited. I approached. He waited. Until I was 10 yards away. Then he pulled out. Blocked both sides of the narrow lane and drove very slowly down to the junction. Just. Plain. Rude.

So there you have it, a tough ride, lots of hill practice, lovely sunny day, bit of a cold wind (easterly I think) but hopefully done me some good. What game shall I play next time?

Here's Charlie (look at the profile bit!)
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26363030

The best of times, the worst of times

The funny thing about me and cycling is that I keep being confronted by the same issue over and over again. With me, it's always about eating!

This week I was fortunate to be able to cycle to and from work on Wednesday and Friday. I'm not going to say too much about it. A round trip of around 40 miles each day, difficult to vary, occasional wind, cold and dark to start, lovely by the time I get to work, could have cycled all day. Bit hard in the evenings, straight after a day's work, manic drivers, hill climb on the way home, gets the miles in.

My times are definitely getting better, I positively zoomed in yesterday morning and it sure helps that it is now light. I find cycling so much more effective when you can see where you are going. I have great lights, but nothing beats daylight.

Each of the four rides costs about 1000 calories in energy terms. On Wednesday I made sure i ate loads during the day, and was able to post a respectable ride home. But yesterday I didn't really eat as much, had a busier day, and by the time I was halfway up to the airport I had bonked. The slowdown is then exponential, I then lose any residual light, which makes for a slower descent down Wrington Hill, and a mid 13 mph time.

I'm trying to slim down slowly in preparation for the Pyrenees, and so far it's working, having lost about 5 lbs since Christmas, most of the lost weight being fat too. But it's a fine line to tread to maintain effectiveness and power, I just have to fuel up when I'm riding and eat sensibly when I'm not.

The other idea I have is to ride at lunchtimes for an hour. There is a steep hill south of Bristol, it's about 18%, and I could do a 40 minute loop three times a week, which would help with the climbing. Will be great when warmer weather comes.

Going to do a solo leg loosener tomorrow, but here's Charlie from my commuting rides:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26197812
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26197824
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26197830
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/26197841

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