http://connect.garmin.com/activity/42445405
Not much to report on this commuter run, save for the fact that I got a puncture when only 2 miles from the office this morning. A rusty nail went straight through the middle of the tyre, flat as a pancake in seconds.
Fortunately I was in a good place to change it, next to an empty car park, and I had no trouble getting the tyre off and the tube swapped over. Funnily enough I have just bought a CO2 pump gizmo, but decided to leave it behind today relying on the untried mini pump (Topeak Pocket Rocket I think, bought in Evans cycles), which I had bought after my last minipump proved useless. Like all the other minipumps I have ever had. Guess what? This one is brilliant, easily inflating to about 70-80 psi, enough to get me to the office where there is a track pump.
How lucky am I? My work actually has a decent bike pump on site!
Weather was warm but cloudy, wind in my face on the way back, tailwind there, but as you can see from the stats, it's pretty nondescript.
I had been planning a 60 mile hilly ride tomorrow, hence the totally flat profile today. But this life thing has intervened, and now I am in limbo, can't decide to eat loads or not. Still I am blessed in so many ways, and if that is all I have to worry about I should keep quiet really. That's usually best, generally works in these situations, wouldn't you say?
Friday, 30 July 2010
Sunday, 25 July 2010
Busy making other plans....
I'm sure you know the quote, "life happens when you are busy making other plans", no idea who said it. Well, loads of people all the time and right now I'm thinking about the pasta I have cooking in the microwave, the fact I need to order some food from a well-known supermarket, my hair needs cutting, I need to take some tiles out to the shed, you know the long list of things to do that never seems to end.
So I am going to keep this short. Like the grass I have just cut. Skip and I headed out for a loop around East Brent, Lympsham, Weston sea front, to the New Castle cafe (cleanest and most fragrant toilets of any public establishment award winner July 2010), before belting back via Kewstoke, Puxton, Sandford and Winscombe. I wanted to divert up to Shipham, but as I would have been on my own, I couldn't be bothered.
We were pretty quick considering the amount of riding we have both been doing this week, and the weather, cake, coffee and company were all very pleasant.
Skip is off on her holidays, courageously taking her bike to France. I need to practise (or is it practice?) riding on consecutive days, even if I can't do the mileage I'll be doing in September, it is good for the body. So I'm told.
Right, off to eat, then remind my family of my existence before (hopefully) watching Mark Cavendish win the sprint and, just maybe, the Green Jersey.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/41741376
So I am going to keep this short. Like the grass I have just cut. Skip and I headed out for a loop around East Brent, Lympsham, Weston sea front, to the New Castle cafe (cleanest and most fragrant toilets of any public establishment award winner July 2010), before belting back via Kewstoke, Puxton, Sandford and Winscombe. I wanted to divert up to Shipham, but as I would have been on my own, I couldn't be bothered.
We were pretty quick considering the amount of riding we have both been doing this week, and the weather, cake, coffee and company were all very pleasant.
Skip is off on her holidays, courageously taking her bike to France. I need to practise (or is it practice?) riding on consecutive days, even if I can't do the mileage I'll be doing in September, it is good for the body. So I'm told.
Right, off to eat, then remind my family of my existence before (hopefully) watching Mark Cavendish win the sprint and, just maybe, the Green Jersey.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/41741376
Saturday, 24 July 2010
"Men? They are all the same........childish!"
Before I get onto the title of this post, a few words about our Axbridge Cycling Group Ride. And the pseudonyms that populate it. I had to placate The Captain today, that his sobriquet has nothing to do with purveyors of quality fish products. It's because his daughter is Skip, and he owns a boat. I'm also at a loss for names for a few others. JG and IC for example, both of whom were on board today, how can I continue this naming business without risking the risk of the naming being misconstrued?
Let's leave them for another day, the Prince of Orange on the other hand was back with his Princess, together with JG, they formed a medium group, while Skip, the Captain, me and IC, formed a faster group on our trip out to Glastonbury.
Our usual route, our usual cafe and we joined forces for a very entertaining and convivial coffee and cake once we got there. The Prince is of course from Holland, and has upgraded his kit and bike to a more modern hue. In some ways this is a disappointment, but his riding style and bearing are still as elegant and regal as ever, and I can't wait to ride alongside him again and hear his stories of how he cycled all over Europe for sure in his younger days.
There was another Dutchman outside the cafe, on a tour of Britain, and quite possibly the world judging by the volume of his stuff on his bike. Front panniers, back panniers, side panniers, he told me he'd been down to southern Spain, across Canada and "you know, seeing the world my friend". His sturdy bike, complete with butterfly bars and stand stood there proudly as he took his time over his coffee, he was still there when we left. And the coolest thing was the Prince of Orange didn't see any need to speak to a fellow countryman, and why would you?
Skip and I bickered about the route back, leaving to much banter about "like a pair of kids" or " like a married couple". Someone at work was talking about "work-wives" this week, and I have to say it paints a poor picture of matrimony if being married is all about squabbling. It was my 12th wedding anniversary yesterday, and I have to say I did good work. Some surprise earrings, some Lush vouchers, promise of a holiday to an exotic place, and I even tried that listening and empathy thing. Seemed to work too, maybe it will catch on and become a habit. I was genuinely delighted with my car being valeted and filled with diesel (the diesel tank, it wasn't some weird revenge thing, like puncturing my tyres or loosening bottle cages, or cutting up suits), but the big surprise will be unveiled in a couple of weeks.
Let's just say it's beautifully styled, light, easy on the eye, and comes with Ultegra and a compact chain set and some tax relief. And the Texan won a few races on one. If Gordon Brown did nothing else then we must all thank him for the Cyclescheme. In fact, we should forgive him wasting billions of pounds of taxpayers money, squabbling with Blair, the surly manner and poor leadership, and even the refusal to admit he could possibly be wrong about anything. He gave us the 1999 Finance Act and for that all cyclists should be grateful. I tell you if Cameregg and cronies remove this there will be revolution on the streets of Winscombe.
I think the lemon cake didn't quite cut it on replenishing the lost calories. As we headed back over the levels Skip did her thing on the front, blimey she should be in today's Bordeaux time-trial. Eventually I cracked and sat up, had a gel and waited for a junction to slow her down. Eventually we formed up again, heading back through Blackford and Clewer, down the sprinters' road.
Of course she had done almost an hours pull on the front by now, and the gel was well and truly working its magic. About 200 yards from the bend I burst through to sprint into Cheddar first. Selfish, ungrateful, and for sure, childish. The three re-grouped and I sailed on to Axbridge to wait for them, a hollow event and I really need to stop my imagination thinking I am in the Tour. It's the Axbridge Cycling Group! In the next few weeks we will have our own kit. While everyone else popped to Skip's house to choose their size, I had done so earlier, I toddled off back home, looping through the village and climbing Winscombe Hill to finish. Once the effects of the gel wore off I could hardly stand up, still a few hills tomorrow anyone?
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/41602723
Let's leave them for another day, the Prince of Orange on the other hand was back with his Princess, together with JG, they formed a medium group, while Skip, the Captain, me and IC, formed a faster group on our trip out to Glastonbury.
Our usual route, our usual cafe and we joined forces for a very entertaining and convivial coffee and cake once we got there. The Prince is of course from Holland, and has upgraded his kit and bike to a more modern hue. In some ways this is a disappointment, but his riding style and bearing are still as elegant and regal as ever, and I can't wait to ride alongside him again and hear his stories of how he cycled all over Europe for sure in his younger days.
There was another Dutchman outside the cafe, on a tour of Britain, and quite possibly the world judging by the volume of his stuff on his bike. Front panniers, back panniers, side panniers, he told me he'd been down to southern Spain, across Canada and "you know, seeing the world my friend". His sturdy bike, complete with butterfly bars and stand stood there proudly as he took his time over his coffee, he was still there when we left. And the coolest thing was the Prince of Orange didn't see any need to speak to a fellow countryman, and why would you?
Skip and I bickered about the route back, leaving to much banter about "like a pair of kids" or " like a married couple". Someone at work was talking about "work-wives" this week, and I have to say it paints a poor picture of matrimony if being married is all about squabbling. It was my 12th wedding anniversary yesterday, and I have to say I did good work. Some surprise earrings, some Lush vouchers, promise of a holiday to an exotic place, and I even tried that listening and empathy thing. Seemed to work too, maybe it will catch on and become a habit. I was genuinely delighted with my car being valeted and filled with diesel (the diesel tank, it wasn't some weird revenge thing, like puncturing my tyres or loosening bottle cages, or cutting up suits), but the big surprise will be unveiled in a couple of weeks.
Let's just say it's beautifully styled, light, easy on the eye, and comes with Ultegra and a compact chain set and some tax relief. And the Texan won a few races on one. If Gordon Brown did nothing else then we must all thank him for the Cyclescheme. In fact, we should forgive him wasting billions of pounds of taxpayers money, squabbling with Blair, the surly manner and poor leadership, and even the refusal to admit he could possibly be wrong about anything. He gave us the 1999 Finance Act and for that all cyclists should be grateful. I tell you if Cameregg and cronies remove this there will be revolution on the streets of Winscombe.
I think the lemon cake didn't quite cut it on replenishing the lost calories. As we headed back over the levels Skip did her thing on the front, blimey she should be in today's Bordeaux time-trial. Eventually I cracked and sat up, had a gel and waited for a junction to slow her down. Eventually we formed up again, heading back through Blackford and Clewer, down the sprinters' road.
Of course she had done almost an hours pull on the front by now, and the gel was well and truly working its magic. About 200 yards from the bend I burst through to sprint into Cheddar first. Selfish, ungrateful, and for sure, childish. The three re-grouped and I sailed on to Axbridge to wait for them, a hollow event and I really need to stop my imagination thinking I am in the Tour. It's the Axbridge Cycling Group! In the next few weeks we will have our own kit. While everyone else popped to Skip's house to choose their size, I had done so earlier, I toddled off back home, looping through the village and climbing Winscombe Hill to finish. Once the effects of the gel wore off I could hardly stand up, still a few hills tomorrow anyone?
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/41602723
Friday, 23 July 2010
Up and Down
Commuting run report, and I'm out with the ACG tomorrow as well. I played football on Monday night for the first time in months, made the foolish mistake of not stretching afterwards, and was stiff as a post for days as a result. I just have the slight remnants of the cold as well, and of course being back at work after a week on the beach is a shock to the system!
So I can officially tell you it took 14.89 miles of the 20.5 trip on the way in before I started to enjoy cycling. Once I got over that hurdle I could have gone on all day. Although the morning was a bit damp and misty, it was actually quite good cycling weather, and I was finding a bit of form, despite the slight headwind.
For the run home, the day had turned into a warm and summery one, with a fair amount of sunshine, so I could tell the hills were going to be tough. They were. Still, in for a penny I thought, and I decided to head up through Hartcliffe of all places, before swinging round and up Dundry Hill. It averages about 10%, but peaks at 17% on the hairpins, so I could pretend it was the Tourmalet, albeit about 10 times shorter.
From there I headed down to Winford, passed its eponymous Manor and down to the fabulously named Butcombe. The unfortunate things about that lane are the copious amounts of potholes, gravel and sharp corners, meaning a slow descending speed.
There must have been another penny in that pound pocket because I decided to head over to Blagdon and up past Yeo Valley (yes, that road) to the top of Burrington Coombe. It was pretty hot by now, and turned into one of those climbs where you can't quite believe there are no more gears to click into.
Still, once up on the hill, the views were lovely and the descent down the Coombe was cracking. A fast dash back through Langford, Sandford and Winscombe and I was home in time for the TdF highlights.
Charlie has recorded the route and profiles, but not all of the speeds for the return leg, take it from me, it was not quick!
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/41522035
So I can officially tell you it took 14.89 miles of the 20.5 trip on the way in before I started to enjoy cycling. Once I got over that hurdle I could have gone on all day. Although the morning was a bit damp and misty, it was actually quite good cycling weather, and I was finding a bit of form, despite the slight headwind.
For the run home, the day had turned into a warm and summery one, with a fair amount of sunshine, so I could tell the hills were going to be tough. They were. Still, in for a penny I thought, and I decided to head up through Hartcliffe of all places, before swinging round and up Dundry Hill. It averages about 10%, but peaks at 17% on the hairpins, so I could pretend it was the Tourmalet, albeit about 10 times shorter.
From there I headed down to Winford, passed its eponymous Manor and down to the fabulously named Butcombe. The unfortunate things about that lane are the copious amounts of potholes, gravel and sharp corners, meaning a slow descending speed.
There must have been another penny in that pound pocket because I decided to head over to Blagdon and up past Yeo Valley (yes, that road) to the top of Burrington Coombe. It was pretty hot by now, and turned into one of those climbs where you can't quite believe there are no more gears to click into.
Still, once up on the hill, the views were lovely and the descent down the Coombe was cracking. A fast dash back through Langford, Sandford and Winscombe and I was home in time for the TdF highlights.
Charlie has recorded the route and profiles, but not all of the speeds for the return leg, take it from me, it was not quick!
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/41522035
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Still got it.
I have just come back from a relaxing week in south Devon, relaxing in a small, traditional family-run hotel in Hope Cove. It's by two fantastic beaches, and we have stayed there for a number of years. It's great to have someone else cook the food for a week, and although not cheap, it's fantastic value, and just what I needed.
I say "relaxing" but that includes a lot of charging about the beach making sure my now "I have no fear of water" son doesn't drown whilst body-boarding in the fair-sized waves. Not to mention keeping Mrs MMAM happy, with trips to the local craft shops timetabled in between rock-pooling and of course eating!
It also meant no cycling, quite frankly there was no room for the bike, in all senses of the word, and it was part of a plan for a mid-season break. The big question is would all this indolence have made me less effective in the bike department. To confuse matters slightly, jumping off the hamster wheel of life for a week also meant I contracted a terrible dose of flu (OK a slight cold).
Skip and I had hatched a plan to enter a 56 mile ride, called "The Great Weston Ride" from Bristol to Weston-super-Mare, with the addition of riding to the start and riding back from the finish, to make a total of 85 miles for your truly.
Good job there was no doping tests, I'd have failed on multiple fronts. Phenylephrine, cafeine, anti-histamine, ventolin, flixotide and good old paracetamol were all in the system as I set out at just shy of 7AM to meet Skip, for once not in the Square, but at the end of my road. Joining us today was GW, I've yet to come up with a good name for her but give it time. I considered "Rosa", after her her red hair and love of anarchists, Rosa Luxemburg being kind of one of those. Anyway, she is scarily quick, but it was OK for she hadn't been on a bike for a while and was a bit tired.
The trip to Bristol was my chance to show Skip and Rosa (sounds like a folk group) my commuting route, how exciting, and it was fairly pleasant as we were the only people up that early on a Sunday. We were in good form too, making it to the Park and Ride at Long Ashton in just over an hour. We picked up our numbers, with tiny cable ties, necessitating a horrendous crime of an off-centre number, and then another crime, back the way we had just come for a few miles.
We then headed south-east through Barrow Gurney, where we overtook a couple pushing their cart-cum-bike contraption, fortunately they were not going to do all the hills. It looked like we had been fairly early starters, and we passed a few others, and it began to feel quite good for the ego as our train powered on. Up the A38 for a half-mile before heading up towards Winford and then down to Chew Stoke and past the lake to the bottom of the Mendips.
We then did that horrible up-down bit of road through Compton Martin, Ubley and Blagdon, before arriving at Burrington Coombe and a rather quaint DIY feedstation. The drugs continued to work their magic and I felt good going up the Coombe, but the weather was now drizzly and a bit cold. As well as windy, so jacket was donned as we crossed the tops of the hills to Priddy and descended to Rodney Stoke.
I followed a chap on a fixie as I came down, he was pedalling like mad (because he had to) while I tried to dodge the copious amounts of petrol that appeared to be on the road.
From then on it was all flat, and I was beginning to flag. The second feedstop at Hugh Sexey's school in Blackford, had a wonderful array of cakes, coffee as well as the usual cycling fare. Although this, combined with another two lemsip max strength tabs, perked me up, it didn't do wonders for the digestion and I spent a lot of the rest of the day with a very active tummy! Skip and Rosa were now doing the bulk of the work, especially Skip, who seems to be turning into a time triallist. We zoomed through Highbridge and Burnham, and now with the wind behind us, headed into the official finish at Weston sea front.
Instead of the usual goody bag of cycling goodies, we got a free trip on the Weston Eye. This is much like the London Eye, only smaller and the view is not quite as famous. Or scenic. But Rosa was very excited about it, and I guess it had to be done. I wouldn't pay for it though. Nor would I have liked to get in our pod after us, after 15 miles it was not fragrant.
All that was left for us was a short dash back through Bleadon and Loxton, before Rosa peeled off towards Wedmore, Skip to Axbridge, and I crawled home. Just shy of 85 miles at an average of 16mph, but it felt faster. A great day, and although I was a passenger a bit more than I'd have liked, given the flu, sorry cold, I can say that I've not lost it.
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/40860215
I say "relaxing" but that includes a lot of charging about the beach making sure my now "I have no fear of water" son doesn't drown whilst body-boarding in the fair-sized waves. Not to mention keeping Mrs MMAM happy, with trips to the local craft shops timetabled in between rock-pooling and of course eating!
It also meant no cycling, quite frankly there was no room for the bike, in all senses of the word, and it was part of a plan for a mid-season break. The big question is would all this indolence have made me less effective in the bike department. To confuse matters slightly, jumping off the hamster wheel of life for a week also meant I contracted a terrible dose of flu (OK a slight cold).
Skip and I had hatched a plan to enter a 56 mile ride, called "The Great Weston Ride" from Bristol to Weston-super-Mare, with the addition of riding to the start and riding back from the finish, to make a total of 85 miles for your truly.
Good job there was no doping tests, I'd have failed on multiple fronts. Phenylephrine, cafeine, anti-histamine, ventolin, flixotide and good old paracetamol were all in the system as I set out at just shy of 7AM to meet Skip, for once not in the Square, but at the end of my road. Joining us today was GW, I've yet to come up with a good name for her but give it time. I considered "Rosa", after her her red hair and love of anarchists, Rosa Luxemburg being kind of one of those. Anyway, she is scarily quick, but it was OK for she hadn't been on a bike for a while and was a bit tired.
The trip to Bristol was my chance to show Skip and Rosa (sounds like a folk group) my commuting route, how exciting, and it was fairly pleasant as we were the only people up that early on a Sunday. We were in good form too, making it to the Park and Ride at Long Ashton in just over an hour. We picked up our numbers, with tiny cable ties, necessitating a horrendous crime of an off-centre number, and then another crime, back the way we had just come for a few miles.
We then headed south-east through Barrow Gurney, where we overtook a couple pushing their cart-cum-bike contraption, fortunately they were not going to do all the hills. It looked like we had been fairly early starters, and we passed a few others, and it began to feel quite good for the ego as our train powered on. Up the A38 for a half-mile before heading up towards Winford and then down to Chew Stoke and past the lake to the bottom of the Mendips.
We then did that horrible up-down bit of road through Compton Martin, Ubley and Blagdon, before arriving at Burrington Coombe and a rather quaint DIY feedstation. The drugs continued to work their magic and I felt good going up the Coombe, but the weather was now drizzly and a bit cold. As well as windy, so jacket was donned as we crossed the tops of the hills to Priddy and descended to Rodney Stoke.
I followed a chap on a fixie as I came down, he was pedalling like mad (because he had to) while I tried to dodge the copious amounts of petrol that appeared to be on the road.
From then on it was all flat, and I was beginning to flag. The second feedstop at Hugh Sexey's school in Blackford, had a wonderful array of cakes, coffee as well as the usual cycling fare. Although this, combined with another two lemsip max strength tabs, perked me up, it didn't do wonders for the digestion and I spent a lot of the rest of the day with a very active tummy! Skip and Rosa were now doing the bulk of the work, especially Skip, who seems to be turning into a time triallist. We zoomed through Highbridge and Burnham, and now with the wind behind us, headed into the official finish at Weston sea front.
Instead of the usual goody bag of cycling goodies, we got a free trip on the Weston Eye. This is much like the London Eye, only smaller and the view is not quite as famous. Or scenic. But Rosa was very excited about it, and I guess it had to be done. I wouldn't pay for it though. Nor would I have liked to get in our pod after us, after 15 miles it was not fragrant.
All that was left for us was a short dash back through Bleadon and Loxton, before Rosa peeled off towards Wedmore, Skip to Axbridge, and I crawled home. Just shy of 85 miles at an average of 16mph, but it felt faster. A great day, and although I was a passenger a bit more than I'd have liked, given the flu, sorry cold, I can say that I've not lost it.
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/40860215
Friday, 9 July 2010
Time to Rest
That's it now for me, eight whole days without cycling coming up. So for the swansong on the commute I decided to let rip and really go for it.
My enthusiasm for cycling has reached new heights this week. A combination of really feeling the gains I have made this year, I think all the sportives have translated into increased capability. Obviously I am never going to be the best cyclist out there, I started too late and don't have the talent. But I can get better. Just hope I can carry the form on into September when I have two multi-day events that will test me.
Second, the Tour has started. I was initially sceptical about Cav's form. But I should not have doubted him as he wins back to back stages. The green jersey will be difficult, but boy has he still got it. What's more, crying with relief on the podium shows how human he is, despite all the mouth. Yes readers, he reminds me of my younger self, except with more cycling talent obviously. And more money. And he's from the Isle of Man, and has single-minded determination to be the best at what he does at an extraordinarily young age. So not like me at all except for the crying bit.
Back to today. I blasted in to work on the back of a tailwind, along the flat at over 17 mph. The quickest I have done it, and it would have been quick even without the assistance. Coming home I did the long drag up the A38 to the airport, then decided to nip over to Burrington Coombe. Coming home via Shipham I easily beat the speed limit as I zoomed down to Winscombe, topping 42mph again. Finally I climbed my own very personal hill where I live, the steep way. So plenty of hill practice to keep the legs used to it. I am beginning to enjoy hills too much.
My bike will be locked away for a week in the shed, and although some running may get done, it's all part of, shock horror, a PLAN! Very unlike me.
Voila Chalie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/39801795
My enthusiasm for cycling has reached new heights this week. A combination of really feeling the gains I have made this year, I think all the sportives have translated into increased capability. Obviously I am never going to be the best cyclist out there, I started too late and don't have the talent. But I can get better. Just hope I can carry the form on into September when I have two multi-day events that will test me.
Second, the Tour has started. I was initially sceptical about Cav's form. But I should not have doubted him as he wins back to back stages. The green jersey will be difficult, but boy has he still got it. What's more, crying with relief on the podium shows how human he is, despite all the mouth. Yes readers, he reminds me of my younger self, except with more cycling talent obviously. And more money. And he's from the Isle of Man, and has single-minded determination to be the best at what he does at an extraordinarily young age. So not like me at all except for the crying bit.
Back to today. I blasted in to work on the back of a tailwind, along the flat at over 17 mph. The quickest I have done it, and it would have been quick even without the assistance. Coming home I did the long drag up the A38 to the airport, then decided to nip over to Burrington Coombe. Coming home via Shipham I easily beat the speed limit as I zoomed down to Winscombe, topping 42mph again. Finally I climbed my own very personal hill where I live, the steep way. So plenty of hill practice to keep the legs used to it. I am beginning to enjoy hills too much.
My bike will be locked away for a week in the shed, and although some running may get done, it's all part of, shock horror, a PLAN! Very unlike me.
Voila Chalie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/39801795
Sunday, 4 July 2010
A small price to pay
Readers of this blog (thank you, both of you, you make it all worthwhile) will know that I often muse about what it would be like to be a professional cyclist. Today, the biggest and best and toughest sporting event gears up again, and charges on to the roads of Europe, I'm at it again. For me it would be pretty lonely, finishing a few hours after the peleton were asleep. Judging by Skip's performance today:
(http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201007)
she would be in the bunch sprint for the green jersey. But more on that later. You see, the likes of Armstrong, Evans, Contador et al, don't have to drop their wife's car off at the garage on a Saturday morning, take their nine year old son to a party, squeeze in a trip to Sainsbury or meet friends for Sunday lunch at the Ring 'o Bells in Compton Martin by 1 o'clock. My challenge is not intermediate sprints, or making it over the Tourmalet, but fitting in some cycling around all the other things I am doing.
And work of course. On Friday morning, for reasons involving other complicated logistics and domestics, and if I'm being honest, some rain and tiredness thrown in, I didn't cycle into work as usual. I planned to make a sharp exit from the office and then do a couple of hilly hours on Friday evening. But a 4PM meeting overran, late finish and by the time I was home it was 7.15PM, so I decided to see if I could get it all done on Saturday and Sunday.
So Johan Bruyneel doesn't ask if Lance can be back by 12, nor does Cavendish take advantage of a trip to Weston Toyota to ride home over a few hills, but that was my weekend's riding. So yesterday morning then. A short but sharp 17 mile-wiggle back from Weston to Winscombe, over Bleadon Hill and down Canada Coombe before coming home via Banwell Castle. The only excitement was when I managed to avoid a herd of cows by jumping over the farmer's van that was being used to block off one of their routes.
This morning I had already arranged to meet Skip for a trip over the levels to Glastonbury, but decided to leave at 8AM and do a quick trip up to the top of the Mendips before meeting her down in Axbridge at 9AM. So it was down to Winscombe again before heading up Shipham Lane, to Shipham, up again to Daneswood care home, a brief down before climbing up past Tynnings Farm to Charterhouse. I passed the Doc going the other way, in his bright orange Raleigh kit, and a number of other riders, all taking advantage of the sunny start to the day.
At the Charterhouse centre, which offers outward-bound type opportunities for "youth" groups, there were a few groups of disconsolate teenagers, hanging about before they started their orienteering etc., having a puff or two on their ciggies, and probably complaining about all this fresh air and how there was nothing to do.
The clock was ticking so I got a shift on, pedalling as hard as I could into the wind down Cheddar Gorge, and along the bypass into Axbridge, arriving just as the clock struck nine. Skip made some point about her hero, some old Texan bloke being a few seconds up on a good-looking Spaniard. Well the race isn't won on a ten-minute prologue, just wait for the hills. In any case, I have a sneaky feeling it's the year of the Low Countries already, and those Schleck brothers will be hard to beat for sure.
It was a pleasant morning as we headed over to Wedmore, along the flat roads to our favourite coffee stop in Hippyville. Judging by the look of a few people, I think they may have forgotten their bus after the festival last week. I ordered some toast, and because time was pressing and it still had not arrived after our 20 minutes, I was all set to forget about it. The cost of two pieces of brown toast being a relatively small price compared to the toast I would become if I didn't make it back by 12. But Skip persuaded me to be assertive and I ended up getting my money back, thus ensuring my future patronage of that very boutique.
Now we had the wind at our backs mostly for our journey home. There had been ominous signs of Skip's form on the way out, and I'm sure all these 35-40 milers around the levels must be turning her into some kind of Cancellara-like specialist. Either that or she had more than coffee, because she was really at it on the way home. I grimly hung onto the wheel, and even though I had not eaten since breakfast, I could have had ten tonnes of porridge and it would have been the same. I took advantage of her cornering ability on the road back from Clewer to win 6 points but she grabbed the 35 for first over the line, leaving me trailing in her wake by a long, long way. I'll just content myself with the polka dot socks, and aspire.
Charlie has a spike showing a top speed over 100 mph, I think it must be an aberration as I'm sure I would have felt different if I had gone that fast. Nonetheless, a good 52 miles today, and plenty of climbing. I do need a bit of a rest as it's been a hectic couple of months on all fronts, and the events in May and June have pushed me a bit. So a week or so with little cycling is planned, followed by the final countdown to the Pyrenees.
If anyone has any idea how I can mobile blog from France, please let me know. I'm toying with re-negotiating my phone contract and had half a mind to get some kind of technology thing to enable me to post from the top of the Tourmalet. Ideas?
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/39133970
(http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201007)
she would be in the bunch sprint for the green jersey. But more on that later. You see, the likes of Armstrong, Evans, Contador et al, don't have to drop their wife's car off at the garage on a Saturday morning, take their nine year old son to a party, squeeze in a trip to Sainsbury or meet friends for Sunday lunch at the Ring 'o Bells in Compton Martin by 1 o'clock. My challenge is not intermediate sprints, or making it over the Tourmalet, but fitting in some cycling around all the other things I am doing.
And work of course. On Friday morning, for reasons involving other complicated logistics and domestics, and if I'm being honest, some rain and tiredness thrown in, I didn't cycle into work as usual. I planned to make a sharp exit from the office and then do a couple of hilly hours on Friday evening. But a 4PM meeting overran, late finish and by the time I was home it was 7.15PM, so I decided to see if I could get it all done on Saturday and Sunday.
So Johan Bruyneel doesn't ask if Lance can be back by 12, nor does Cavendish take advantage of a trip to Weston Toyota to ride home over a few hills, but that was my weekend's riding. So yesterday morning then. A short but sharp 17 mile-wiggle back from Weston to Winscombe, over Bleadon Hill and down Canada Coombe before coming home via Banwell Castle. The only excitement was when I managed to avoid a herd of cows by jumping over the farmer's van that was being used to block off one of their routes.
This morning I had already arranged to meet Skip for a trip over the levels to Glastonbury, but decided to leave at 8AM and do a quick trip up to the top of the Mendips before meeting her down in Axbridge at 9AM. So it was down to Winscombe again before heading up Shipham Lane, to Shipham, up again to Daneswood care home, a brief down before climbing up past Tynnings Farm to Charterhouse. I passed the Doc going the other way, in his bright orange Raleigh kit, and a number of other riders, all taking advantage of the sunny start to the day.
At the Charterhouse centre, which offers outward-bound type opportunities for "youth" groups, there were a few groups of disconsolate teenagers, hanging about before they started their orienteering etc., having a puff or two on their ciggies, and probably complaining about all this fresh air and how there was nothing to do.
The clock was ticking so I got a shift on, pedalling as hard as I could into the wind down Cheddar Gorge, and along the bypass into Axbridge, arriving just as the clock struck nine. Skip made some point about her hero, some old Texan bloke being a few seconds up on a good-looking Spaniard. Well the race isn't won on a ten-minute prologue, just wait for the hills. In any case, I have a sneaky feeling it's the year of the Low Countries already, and those Schleck brothers will be hard to beat for sure.
It was a pleasant morning as we headed over to Wedmore, along the flat roads to our favourite coffee stop in Hippyville. Judging by the look of a few people, I think they may have forgotten their bus after the festival last week. I ordered some toast, and because time was pressing and it still had not arrived after our 20 minutes, I was all set to forget about it. The cost of two pieces of brown toast being a relatively small price compared to the toast I would become if I didn't make it back by 12. But Skip persuaded me to be assertive and I ended up getting my money back, thus ensuring my future patronage of that very boutique.
Now we had the wind at our backs mostly for our journey home. There had been ominous signs of Skip's form on the way out, and I'm sure all these 35-40 milers around the levels must be turning her into some kind of Cancellara-like specialist. Either that or she had more than coffee, because she was really at it on the way home. I grimly hung onto the wheel, and even though I had not eaten since breakfast, I could have had ten tonnes of porridge and it would have been the same. I took advantage of her cornering ability on the road back from Clewer to win 6 points but she grabbed the 35 for first over the line, leaving me trailing in her wake by a long, long way. I'll just content myself with the polka dot socks, and aspire.
Charlie has a spike showing a top speed over 100 mph, I think it must be an aberration as I'm sure I would have felt different if I had gone that fast. Nonetheless, a good 52 miles today, and plenty of climbing. I do need a bit of a rest as it's been a hectic couple of months on all fronts, and the events in May and June have pushed me a bit. So a week or so with little cycling is planned, followed by the final countdown to the Pyrenees.
If anyone has any idea how I can mobile blog from France, please let me know. I'm toying with re-negotiating my phone contract and had half a mind to get some kind of technology thing to enable me to post from the top of the Tourmalet. Ideas?
Here's Charlie:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/39133970
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