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?
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Sunday, 21 November 2010
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
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
Monday, 15 November 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 7 November 2010
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
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
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