Fish needs a bicycle

Time is a train, which the future will pass......

2011-11-12T11:11:00.000-08:00

I have moved, please now follow me at:

http://mendiprouleur.blogspot.com/

Leave it behind

2011-11-06T11:06:00.000-08:00

I'm approaching the same mileage figure that I did for the whole of 2010, so I'm hopeful of hitting my last target of the cycling year. I was told yesterday that I needed a goal, to get me focused int he right cycling direction. I had one today actually, to ride up Bridge Valley Road in Bristol, it's only just re-opened after being closed for the best part of two years while the Council made sure the wall didn't fall down on anyone.

It's not the Hourquette d'Ancizan but it is steep, if about 14km shorter. I did a loop via Clevedon and parts of the Avon Cycleway, into Bristol, suspension bridge and back home. 50 or so miles in the sunshine and the cold northerly wind. Autumn is here and it is time to draw some lines under 2011.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/439784

If you haven't seen it yet I hope you will look at the Achievements in 2011 Facebook page that I set up. I think there is too much sadness and bad stuff floating around the news pages at the moment, and a few more blessings need to be counted. Maybe a bit of optimism and the realisation that we can achieve things when we set out to do so, might just spark a global recovery. No point in thinking small.

As for next year, well I continue to walk on into that journey with no preconceptions, but much, much more optimism than I had a month or so back. Let's just say that mountains will need to be involved in it somewhere. And probably a bike. But no fish.

How you shine when everything seems hopeless

2011-10-24T14:13:00.000-07:00

Sometime I think things have gone for good, only to be pleasantly surprised, no, make that delighted, to discover that I still possess them.

Like the ability to sprint on a six-a-side football pitch. After an 18 month hiatus I returned to playing football last month. My first few weeks were torrid. I couldn't run, I couldn't pass and I couldn't control the ball. I pulled my quad, trapped a nerve in my back, and generally played about as well as Samassi Abou on a bad day. I didn't have to look that up by the way.

Four weeks of playing had me nearly convinced that, for once, age had caught up with my body. Despite my cycling fitness, my very limited footballing ability had gone to the middle-aged rest home in the sky, never to return.

I had a break two weeks ago because of the Etape Cymru (which I realise is a strange but somehow delightful juxtaposition of welsh and French, ["that's french", never ever forget that moment, because it defines your knowledge, your strength and your complete unwillingness to be pushed around. Even my boss still laughs at it, and I'm still laughing in admiration]), two weeks ago, last week I had to ride in to work because the car was broken AGAIN (thankfully no more wasps' nests though). Tonight, like a 40 year-old William Bonds (minus the sideburns, the fitness and the ability) I returned for one last go.

I will never be brilliant, I will never be as good as most of the players on that pitch. But I was good tonight. Generally did the simple things effectively, got in some fantastic blocks and tackles and scored a great goal. But best of all, I ran. And ran, and was still sprinting the length of the pitch at the end.

So, for starters, in my thinking here is just this. Whatever you do, the answers are in you, just as my answers, indeed my pace, is in there somewhere. You are the light, as they say. Not in that sanctimonious, "I'm right, you're going to hell" way. Or the stern, cruel, "I take one for the team" way.

No, a quiet, steady, "this is me, and I'm strong" way. Back off. It was Bunny who first told me, it's nice to be important, but more important to be nice", and just because it's a cliche, it's still true. Think about that.

Remember the second chorus Princess.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSZv9KKf0g0

You miss too much these days if you stop to think

2011-10-16T09:42:00.000-07:00

It may be next week, it may be next month, it may be until the end of the world, but I'm having a break from blogging, while I dream it all up again. Can't guarantee what it will look like, but it will be better than before.

In the meantime I'm going to be using Twitter, so get yourself a profile and become a follower, I'll follow you too, and that way we can still be friends. And if you want some inspiration, really look and listen carefully to this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoUSx2hWdWc&feature=related

I'm hatching some plot, scheming some scheme

2011-10-10T12:09:00.000-07:00

"There is no such thing as a new idea, it's all about the quality of the implementation".

Thank you Mark Cheshire. The rest of you better get this quick, because those courses in creativity? They don't really exist.

Yesterday was a case in point, a closed road sportive should be easy to organise, but alas and alack, it wasn't. Skip and Bunny, who is married, actually they both are, so am I, all to different people, have blogged highly effectively with all the detail:

http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201110

If you have read their accounts you will know that it was a fairly mediocre experience, and to top it all for me i got a puncture in that wheel I was worried about. But never mind, it didn't rain, and i enjoyed the Horseshoe pass, and even finished 381st out of 977, despite pretty much bimbling and coughing my way round. The weather held up, a bit of drizzle at times so that it looked like there was no line on the horizon on the tops of the mountains. But then I love a good mountain, me.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/415352

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/120284373

Don't take the times and stuff too literally, my Cateye computer ran out of battery halfway round, and Charlie gave up the ghost on numerous occasions, I think I did a route of around about 90 miles, in just over 6 hours cycling time, with an offical time of 6-56-39.

But for me, despite all the shambolic events of the event itself, I must paraphrase Frederick Browning on this one. FB was a fascinating character who lived the kind of remarkable life that just doesn't seem possible nowadays. Married to a famous author, having courted her quite unconventionally, and then had an "unusual" marriage, a general in WW2, as well as the trenches in the Great War, and later looked after the royal household. Anyway, yesterday was a sportive too far, quite simply I'm worn out, so for me the season is over, and I'm off to large POC camp.

I watched "From the Sky down" last night (thanks Princess, didn't know it was on) a documentary at least partly inspired by the 20th anniversary of Achtung Baby, perhaps the greatest work of art ever produced. 20 years? Strike a light it feels like only yesterday I was buying it in WH Smith in Catford on the day it came out. A transformative experience, a re-invention.

To do it, they had to not only let go of the past, but to eradicate it, before they could construct the future. And in that space in between those two events, there is nothing, and you have to hold onto the faith and believe something will come.

So whilst I will be riding over the next few weeks, these pages are going to be silent. I am going to de-construct my cycling and everything connected with it (and who knows, maybe other stuff too) and then build something better. I don't know what that looks like yet so please don't ask, unless you want "I don't know" as an answer. I feel jaded and in need of a period of reflection, so yes we are all one, but on this occasion, we are very definitely not the same.

Mark was right all those years ago, it's just that I need to re-apply that piece of truth to myself for once.

See you in a few weeks.

Tear down the walls

2011-10-08T01:12:00.000-07:00

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" I said to my new colleague yesterday morning. "I'm happy to, but you should be clear what you are letting yourself in for".

The Organiser, the heartbeat of the team, the one who makes things happen after all the high fallutin ideas have come tumbling out, and is exceptionally helpful had sat next to me on the train the night before on the way back from Reading. "Who is Mark Cavendish?" she said, in response to me waxing on lyrical about his stunning example of a winning mentality. The following morning, yesterday, after I had arrived by bike at the office for the first time, and the typically English conversation about the change in the weather and how cold it was, she asked me, "what did you wear on your bike?"

I can see I have a job on. Not the L & D stuff, building capability in a modern organisation, linking it to performance and making it a central part of what people do. No that's easy by comparison. No, I have a huge job of cycling education, but I've done it before and I'll do it again. By the time I've finished I'll have them wearing SL cleats on carbon-fibre road bikes.

And in case you are wondering, I overcooked it on the clothes, going for a Gore windproof jacket when it didn't need it. Although by the time I headed home into the strong breeze it was nice to have it on. It was also totally dark when I left at 6.30AM, but it was worth it to experience the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen when commuting into Bristol. I won't bore you, but it's sights like those that make getting up at 5.30AM so worthwhile. Lifts the spirits.

This morning I'm preparing to go and ride the Etape Cymru, wondering about which wheels to take and whether to wash my bike. I probably should, only I know it's going to get a soaking. I think we are also in for a bumpy ride on gravel where the streets have no name.

Last Sunday, when I was a mile from home I heard a pop and a sizzle from the rear tyre and got an instant flat. I was the same time away from home by walking that it would take to change the tyre, but I did it anyway. Well it was going to have to be done sometime. But it's left me with that nagging feeling about why it happened, especially as I couldn't find the source of it. I rode yesterday and it was fine, but you never know do you?

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/119730495

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/413343

There is no failure here sweetheart

2011-10-02T12:39:00.000-07:00

I hope you are enjoying the Summer, I certainly am. I think I must be a bit run down because I've been struggling to shake off a lurgy for the past few days. Love that word. Along with jip, as in "my back's giving me...".

So ill have I been that even my usual miracle drug of choice, Paracetamol plus, failed to perk me up yesterday. I think the flu jab, that I took the presented opportunity to avail myself of at the Asthma Nurse check-up on Friday, (that was a long sub-clause) probably didn't help. I don't know. But there was nothing for it but to take myself and the whole Mendip Rouleur family (yes all three of us) to a Spa for a "mini-break" (a horrible phrase designed by the holiday industry to replace "a night away", far more practical but doesn't sell hotel accommodation) . And I'm not talking Belgium either.

Actually the timing was coincidental, I'd arranged it ages ago on the premise that the weather would be rubbish in early October and it would be a nice break before the Etape Cymru. So the high temperatures caught me out, but what can you do? Even the judging types amongst you must see that this weather is ideal for flexible and spontaneous folk like me. Unless you have fixed plans.

So I sat by a pool, did a bit of swimming, sat in a hot tub, and directed the water jets onto said area of jippy back, read some of my book, ate loads of nice food, and had fun. I didn't take advantage of the more advanced options, like hot stone massage or hairdressing, there seemed little point, and in any case I didn't want to take out a second mortgage. But it was fun.

And we got back home today in plenty of time for me to go and enjoy an ice-cream at Wookey Hole, and pack in a few climbs in the sunshine. I even managed to find two hills that I had never ridden up before, one is the short hill out of Easton towards Wookey, and the other is a nasty little ramp that links East Harptree Hill with West Harptree Hill, I think it's called Western Lane. I'd missed the ACG ride this morning, but perhaps next time I can design a ride that goes up this one and it can become "Guy's Hill". Bet they chicken out.

Cheddar gorge was fun. Emboldened by my experience on the descent of the Aspin in August, I took to overtaking some cars that were clogging up the descent. Not decent of them at all. Good fun though, particularly as it was bone dry, and not too windy today.

Not sure if I'll ride much this week as i start my new job and need to deal with all the priorities that this will entail. Like where are the showers and where do I store my clothes. I am in the market for a winter bike though, so if anyone knows of a 54 cm frame, preferably steel, that has gears and brakes and can be flogged to death over the next six months, please let me know. All part of the plan believe it or not.

As you can see I got a few miles in as well as some useful climbing practice, can't wait for next week.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/409327

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/118657277

All previous dispatches are obsolete

2011-09-30T10:33:00.000-07:00

Much debate today. The topic being the difference between a nemesis and bete noire. I even sent the Princess a text, as well as royalty, she is my on-call language expert. Any language, just ask her, she'll know. For sure. Actually, how is your Dutch already, I am thinking you have a little way to go my friend on being a happy expert in this language.

What caused this kerfuffle? (That's Scottish). This brouhaha (Now that's French). Well, it was talk of next year, last year, plans and structure. Seeing as it is nearly Christmas, I thought it about time to make plans for 2012, get myself organised, have a Project Implementation Review meeting with myself on what went well and what could have gone better in 2011. Just get a bit ahead of the game for a change.

But then we had a mini heatwave in September, the chance to wear my HTC kit was too much of an opportunity (it was 27C today FFS), and those plans got shelve. Despite having desperately serious and critical man-flu last night, the spirit of the Blaireau (French) overcame me, tomorrow we ride! Allons-y. (French).

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201109

So Skip and I hopped it over to Glastonbury for a flat ride across the levels. Very pleasant and actually quite good for my condition, since I now only feel half-dead. As of 70 minutes ago I am no longer employed, and I don't become re-employed until Monday at 9AM. So I am without a portion of life insurance over the weekend. Those of a superstitious (Latin) nature had best look away now. I hope I don't die over the weekend.

And we were talking about the fact that I have already entered the Tour of Wessex 2012. Which this year had been my bete noire. Or nemesis. And having resorted to the online oracle (Latin) that is Wikipedia, I'd say that I was right, for a nemesis is the divine retribution that is dished out to anyone guilty of hubris (Greek). And I think there was quite a bit of pride in the face of the gods going on in my life at the time, so Nemesis did her bit to bring me back to earth.

But we move on and 2012 will be different. Better. Such talk may be the work of des duivel (Dutch), for one such as I that has always done things fairly, um, spontaneously and flexibly. C'est fin. (French). If my plans are to be achieved I need to plan a bit more structure into my training and riding. The new life starts here.

I have also decided to seek out routes that double back on themselves, cover old ground, in fact, that resemble a plate of spaghetti (Italian) as another way of moving on from the past. A quick look at our route below will give a good idea of what I have in mind.

I thoroughly recommend this change business, it could do us all the world of good.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/118108688

In the shadow boy meets man

2011-09-28T15:18:00.000-07:00

I am between jobs. Not in the way that an actor is always between jobs, and I suppose technically (as mini Mendip Rouleur says) I am not really between jobs as I am still employed by my outgoing employer. I am technically on holiday, although I am looking forward to going back, if you can go back to somewhere you have never been before, to work. I shall of course be very busy, but I imagine that I will have a narrower focus of activity than I have had this week.

Unlike the actors (again) I have not been resting. Somehow, what was supposed to be a break, has turned into an action-packed, event-filled, travelling one-man circus. Of the round and round variety, maximus tempus. Or something like that. Although I played football again on Monday night, for the third week in a row, and I'm actually remembering how to play the game, I still came out of it with the trapped nerve in lower back thing. So I've got a choice to make.

And I found out, amongst other similar statistics, that my VO2 max is in the top decile of men my age, and about half that of he who must not be named, at least when the latter was in his "prime". I am not taking EPO, but my cardiac and lung efficiency are considered pretty good.

I'm not going to bore you any more. But with the fabulous weather, and me not at work, I needed to squeeze in a proper ride somewhere along the line. So when I got home today at about 4.45PM, I figured I had around two hours of daylight left. Being the KoF, I wasn't off the ramp and onto the course until 5.15, so much of the ride took place in twilight, and some of it in darkness.

Fortunately I had lights to see with as well as be seen, but it made the descent of Burrington Coombe interesting, not least for the traffic in front of me that wouldn't get out of my way after the second cattle grid. A first: I went all the way down Old Bristol Hill without braking or pedalling, until again being held up by traffic which was going slower than me.

I'd like to think that's why I was so slow, that and the fact that my back was hurting every time I got out of the saddle. But that isn't the truth, and we all know how important the truth is don't we children. I was dawdling, and tired, and probably a bit overtrained. So I'm going to do one easy ride on Friday, then have a bit of a rest. And start a new job and all the other stuff I have to do. Or maybe not.

I also went and watched my son play rugby today. They are only 11 but already some of the tackling is bordering on the ferocious, and (don't tell Mrs MR) they had a few walking wounded today as well. So are rugby players harder than cyclists? A different kind of toughness, but I think there may be something in this. I was watching "Chasing Legends" again this week, and the great Jens is in it, as well as some other blokes blathering on about suffering being the essence of greatness. Is that the truth, and if so should we encourage that?

It's a grey area, much like some of the shadows that I was in during the last few miles. Truth? You never know at the time, that's all I'll say, you need perspective and hindsight I think. If you are so certain of any kind of truth, I think that puts you into psychotic territory, either that or very, very selfish. Or perhaps both.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/117773332

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/405519

What care I for my goose feather bed?

2011-09-25T13:05:00.000-07:00

First things first. I don't think Mark Cavendish reads my blog, but just in case he does, all I can say is "wow", that has to be the best ride he has ever done, ably assisted by the rest of the GB team. He still had to do a lot though, and it was an awesome ride.

Speaking of awesome achievements, you may remember that I did a ride from Bristol to Land's End last year, in fact, this very weekend last year, to raise money for Above and Beyond, the charity that supports the Bristol hospitals. Well, this lady, Shelley Cunningham, is doing something every bit as heroic as Cav, well, no, actually more heroic.

http://www.aboveandbeyond.org.uk/ctubh_news_details.aspx?ID=301

I'd read about Shelley in the newsletter from A & B that popped through my letterbox a few weeks ago. So it was a bit of a surprise to almost bump into her on the seafront at Lyme Regis today, as I was wandering off from our group to buy some food. So if you are looking for inspiration when faced with a challenge, think of Shelley, and count your blessings. Oh, and you could sponsor her too.

So you may be wondering what I was doing in Lyme Regis. Well eating chips by the seaside of course. And drying my very wet kit in the strong sea breeze. The same breeze that had been blowing rain into my face for the last 50 miles, when it wasn't blowing spray that is. It was actually very good fun. The Somerset Cycling crew had issued an invitation via the miracle of Facebook to "The Last of the Summer Runs", all welcome for an easy spin down to the coast.

Halfway through I was thinking it should have been first of the winter runs, we were all soaked though, covered in mud, and a bit deflated. Starting out from Burnham (although I rode down there), we didn't have long to wait before our first two punctures. This was a feature of the morning, as another couple had followed by the time we were just outside of Taunton, although thankfully this was the end of it. Although we were up to 18 riders at one point, quite a raggle taggle gypsy bunch of characters. Some peeled off to do other rides, or go back home having started a long way away, by the time we hit the hills above Chard we were down to a hardcore of 10, and that's how it stayed till Lyme.

Much like the ACG, we stayed as a group, with the stronger riders waiting at junctions and so on. Once in LR we all fell foul of the "anti cycling police" who threatened a fixed penalty notice for riding on the wrong bit of the sea front. After much grumbling and discussion I think we got away with it.

I think I made a mistake with the chips, my only real food of the day, as they were still digesting on the climb out of LR as we started our return journey. By now the weather had turned, breezy sunshine, of the tail variety, meant a lovely afternoon's riding. We split into a fast group and a slow group, and I fell somewhere in between. A great bunch they were, but it was also nice to head off on my own, and doubly nice to be going home by another route.

A few undulations took me through Crewkerne, Martock, Langport, High Ham, Pedwell Hill, Mudgely Hill and back home. At just shy of 110 miles, with about 6700 feet of climbing (depending on whether you believe Cateye, Charlie Garmin or ride with GPS) and three minutes off seven hours of riding time, today served as a useful preparatory ride for the Etape Cymru, which is similar climbing but less distance.

I also felt a bit icky before I went out, but copious quantities of Paracetamol plus kept the sore throat at bay, and the trapped nerve in the back seems to be under control thanks to the osteopath.

So if some of you contemplated going out this morning but were put off by the weather, well you missed a good ride. Some great company, a real good laugh, and some fantastic sunshine and scenery, even if you couldn't always see it.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/117011301

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/402533

Put it in a letter

2011-09-21T11:08:00.000-07:00

It's been on the cards for quite a while and all the warning signs were there. They, the signs, have been there for almost all of this year, and no matter how doubtful I was that it would happen, I suppose I should have realised that sooner or later, disaster was going to strike, and the warnings would all have been in vain.

This morning, as I was leaving to go to work, I saw a complete, adult, dead, squashed frog on the road outside my house.

I had treated it as something of a joke, not very seriously making comments like "I toad you there was no danger", "stop amPHIBBian about it", "whoever put the signs up should hop it", I could go on but they just get worse. Of course, I'm sure you knew that there is a cocktail called the squashed frog. It's tasteful, as in bad taste, rather than tasty. Mix together 25ml of advocaat and 25ml midori and put into a shot glass then add a spot of grenadine. The grenadine should sink to the bottom to look like blood. Nice.

What I don't really understand is why when all the warning signs were there, they were so flagrantly ignored. Signs a bit like this one, only cheaper and probably not authorised by the powers that would be.

Our road does see some crazy driving. I've told you about the young lad who fell off his scooter a couple of weeks ago, and there was also the multiple car pile up in the snow two winters ago. One car comes over the brow of the hill, too fast, spins and hits the grass verge and stops in the middle of the road. Within five minutes another five cars have added to the mess because they all came over the hill too quickly.

A bit like the muppet from Environmental Water Systems in Cheddar, driving a white van no less, that totalled my wing mirror last Friday before driving away without stopping. Thank heavens for the chaos that is Banwell at rush hour as I was able to get his details and registration number as he sat in the traffic. Although he claims I was on his side of the road. I just hope the police, the insurance companies and anyone else involved understands cycling, as most people with an untethered £3K carbon fibre bike in their car, driving on their own road, tend to drive conservatively and safely. Oh, and when you are at fault in an accident, you don't tend to follow the other party to get their details, you tend to bolt and hope to get away with it.

I must let it go, it's not healthy.

You want to know about my ride to work? Really? All right then.

In via the usual suspects, Long Lane, Barrow Gurney and Ashton Park, where there was a balloon ascending, which brightened up the morning, although it was quite nice today in an early Autumn leaves off the trees, misty type of way. Apart from the trapped nerve in my lower back, that I got at football on Monday night, and pinches when I get out of the saddle. Also has the added detriment of making my left quad feel like it's pulled. So I was slow on the way in. And said goodbye a few more times today at work. Only two days left now.

I had to get my car this afternoon, which meant a trip to Weston Super Mare, a delightful 25 miles straight into a block headwind. So I tried to mix it up a bit, and found a new hill, Providence Lane out of Long Ashton, up to Failand. That sounds like one of those race horse pedigrees. Maybe.

Fortunately I didn't encounter any vans from Environmental Water Systems being driven too fast down my hill, on my side of the road, so I got my car home with its wing mirrors intact. You can see this "letting go" business is really working. The thing is, next time he might kill a cyclist or even worse, a frog. So I was probably right to report it to the police and insurers, even if it does cost me in financial terms in the medium term.

Lets face it, cyclists are a fragile breed, so we need to take action against idiot drivers, in a measured, adult way. And those frogs need all the help they can get too, don't they?

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/116066415

May you build a ladder to the stars

2011-09-18T13:38:00.000-07:00

This week is going to be a week of goodbyes.

I rode the Cheddar cyclosportive today for the third time today, making it my most ridden sportive (not that there is much competition, not that it is a competition, although I'm sure I could make it one). In 2009 I did the full 100 miles distance, this year, as last, I contented myself with the 100km ride. Although I'm not particularly content about it. Don't get me wrong, it's a great event, exceptionally well-organised, great route, a few short and sharp climbs, and some great company.

But the weather was atrocious, a strong north-westerly breeze which fractured the field and made groups hard to form, and lots of rain falling out of the sky, as well as up from the road. Copious puddles, lots of gravel, mud, stones etc. etc. Makes you stronger and all that.

I rode fairly conservatively, as I was planning on doing the full distance. I hooked up with a nice chap from Exeter as we worked together over the levels into the wind, and we were joined from time to time by others, either faster or slower. I even stopped at the feedstop in East Brent, in preparation for a longer ride, but five miles before the split point, the heavens open again, just as I was drying out from the last soaking, and so I decided to head back home.

I was about 30 minutes slower than last year, partly because I was on the front so much, and partly because until the last few miles I was riding as if I was going to do 100 miles. I had asked this chap if he wanted to work together, only to find myself waiting for him. It was also a bit grotty out there, and of course the feedstop must have added a few minutes. Still my official time was just inside four hours and my cycling speed was respectable so I'm not downhearted.

I have done a fair amount of miles this week, and of course the game of football last Monday that meant I couldn't walk properly until Thursday! Mrs Mendip Rouleur suggested my skin was looking a bit dry, and that to combat the ageing process I should give some fancy Vitamin E soap a go. Honestly, I'll be wearing a sarong next. But cycling keeps me forever young I retorted, as long as I don't overcook it.

There are a few bits and pieces to finish this year, the Etape Cymru and a couple of other targets. But I'm actually planning (gasp, yes it's true) to take things to another level, if resources and time allows. On a number of fronts, including work, where pastures new beckon at the beginning of October. So it will be goodbye, a bientot, au revoir, etc. this week, before a week of planning and scheming the week after.

I'm leaving some great people behind, I'll miss them, but I'll not be far away. And just as I will carry the last three years of cycling into the future (more on this in the next few months) I've learned so much from all the people I've worked with. In many ways.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/115264706

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/115264272

I'm on the run, no time to sleep

2011-09-16T15:02:00.000-07:00

I have speculated and commented in this blog, many times, on the lives that professional bike riders must lead. Today I got a chance to see the riders at very close quarters, when Boots, The Captain, King of the Hill (and sidekick), Wonder Boy and I went to watch Stage 6 of the Tour of Britain. Unlike in past years, where we have watched them from a fixed position, which involves a lot of standing about, seeing them whizz by and then going home, today we got to see them in three separate places. I won't bore you with the details of their route, look it up on the ToB website if you need to know. Suffice to say they went from Taunton to Wells via the levels and the Mendips.

Of course they did break one of my rules and go over the same ground twice, as they circumnavigated Shepton Mallet a couple of times. When I was a child we used to have a family joke about Shepton Mallet, I can't remember what it was all about, but the name still makes me smile instinctively, even though it's a very nice place.

I digress. First up was Cheddar gorge. We cycled up to a place at the top of the steepest bit of the gorge, along with lots and lots of other lycra-clad cyclists and a few others. Seriously it was packed, and there was a really good atmosphere as we waited for the peloton to arrive. One chap chalked out the words "THOR" on the road, only to spoil the effect, as egged on by the really mature crowd, he added a picture that any schoolboy would be proud of. Think back to schooldays and you'll get the idea. Thor later cycled right over it too.

If you look carefully you can see three of the four stage winners so far in the race in the picture above.

After a bit longer than anticipated a small breakaway group arrived, followed by Ben Swift, followed by the main bunch, lots of team cars, and a broom waggon. Most of the spectators had arrived at the site on two wheels, and it now became a race against time to get to the top of Old Bristol Hill, outside Wells, in order to see the race again. The professionals had about 25km more to do than we did, but they are quick, and they had a head start.

It was mayhem. The rolling roadblock meant that a lot of cars were backed up at either end of the gorge, and lots more had been forced to the side of the road by the motorcycles of the National Escort Group. Throw in a few hundred cyclists, many not used to riding in groups by the look of it, and you have a recipe for all kinds of silliness. We lost the Captain, only to find him again in Wells, and the rest of us sat on wheels, behind cars, and just drifted along to the top of the next climb. There had been a plan to ride like the wind, but with so many riders going up the gorge, it was fairly easy to take a fast tow.

This time we were right at the roadside, you could almost feel the heat from the riders as they went past, including Cavendish, who passed just close enough for me to give him my own personal good luck message, and this time the riders were all pretty strung out. Although they were going a lot faster than me when I climb that hill, some of them looked equally as tired, proving how right rule 10 is.

This was also the time I got to see the man with the mankini, and I think I wished I hadn't, some things are better in real life. This isn't one of them. And because I know you want to see it really, here's one I snapped when I shouldn't have.

As soon as the riders were passed, there was just enough time to cycle down into Wells to see the (sprint) finish. Although it was pretty packed already, and quite hard to actually find a vantage point. Still, the Captain and I watched from 100 meters before the line, enough to see Lars Boom (for sure my friendsch already) grab another stage win. And probably the race. Much as I love cycling, and the Tour of Britain, it's too easy a parcours for the top riders, meaning that once someone gets in front, they generally tend to stay in front. The climbs are not long enough, and the points bonuses too small. They should have had a stage finish at the top of Draycott Steep, that would sort them out.

Separated from the others, the Captain and I wandered about for a bit, before going to check out the team buses in the car park. Everyone was leaving pretty promptly, they have a stage starting in Bury St Edmunds tomorrow, so a long drive ahead of them. But there was just time to see a few riders still hanging about, Mark Cavendish's lovely bike and and the two washing machines in the Sky bus. I kid you not.

After that there wasn't much left to do except cycle back to Axbridge with the Captain, who was really looking forward to his weekend with the grandchildren, and then I popped into Weston to pick up my car from the garage. As we left Wells we cycled past a few of the smaller teams' cars, riders were in them as opposed to the luxurious buses of the top talent. I don't know who it was, but one of the Endura boys looked a bit like me, i.e. cooked, after I complete 90 miles. Except he goes about twice as fast as me so probably deserved to be tired, and he'll do it all again tomorrow.

So back to the question, what must it be like to be a pro cyclist? Judged on the evidence of today, I'd say pretty good. Of course they are tough, fit, phlegmatic and strong. But once the riding is out of the way, everything gets done for you, even your washing on the bus. They get great bikes, great kit, and they have all their meals prepared for them. And they are outside in the fresh air with adrenaline and endorphins coursing through them, I just hope that's all there is.

But somehow I don't quite envy them. Cycling is special for me, fun, restricted to the times I can squeeze it in to a hectic life. So I enjoy it all the more because of that. Of course the lack of talent and fast approaching the half century probably means that Sky won't come looking for my signature. Which suits us all really, don't you think?

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/114813572

I see someone that I thought I used to know

2011-09-14T15:53:00.000-07:00

"Just look at all of us", said the Measurer, about halfway through the match, "we're all so old!"

He was laughing as he said it, but he was right. It was the first time I had played football in over a year, and I thought the personnel for Monday night six a side might half changed. Not a bit of it, and it was great to hook up with some old faces, and as I struggled to adjust to the pace, and the fact that all the muscles I have from cycling are absolutely blooming useless in football, I reflected that I'd been a part of this fixture for just over ten years.

In that time people have come and gone, but there are some who were there before me, and there is a core of regulars who still turn out. The average age must be over 35 by now, and let's just say the pace, although still reasonable, isn't quite what it was. Especially in my case after about 35 minutes. More crocked than the end of the rainbow, it was painful and embarrassing. I was rubbish.

Another anniversary is looming. Next week it's the 40th anniversary of my first match at West Ham, watching not playing, obviously. We beat Stoke 2-1 in that game by the way, my Dad took me as a birthday treat. Don't feel you have to buy me anything, I'm nobody's child anymore, I can take it. Peace and quiet, that would be a great present at the moment, although as me and miniMR are off to a match, that's unlikely.

Friday this week will see our annual ACG outing to watch the Tour of Britain, although it threatens to be the last as Somerset County Council is strapped for cash and unless they find that rainbow, it looks like their sponsorship of a stage is going to finish. I think the riders must be experiencing culture shock, what with the state of the roads and the awful weather. Even Jens Voight fell off and abandoned, although he did have a very painful finger fracture.

When the Tour de France comes to town, the municipality considers it a great honour. Fresh tarmac is laid, the road widened, and just about everyone turns out to watch. In England the locals will complain about the road closure and sprinkle tacks all over the road, (well for the Etape Caledonia anyway) and I don't think Cheddar gorge has been resurfaced. Still, let's hope we can turn it into the Alpe d'Huez of Somerset on Friday, look out for me in my mankini!

It was very windy again today, on the way back from work anyway, and a beautiful morning on the way in. I'm riding on the cusp of darkness at both ends of the day now, lights on and the start and finish. At least there was sunshine, and mist, and sunset, even if I'm still looking for the rainbow, to go with my crocked calves from Monday night football.

http://connect.garmin.com/player/114373677

Rollin' along sun-kissed and crazy

2011-09-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it all just works out. Five minutes after I put the bike into the shed, walked into the house and finished my drink in my bidon. I looked outside to see a beautiful sight. Rain pouring out of the sky, and not one drop was falling on me or my bike.

And that was not all. The ride, an ACG one, the ACG one, was a conglomeration of groups, fast, slow, leisure, a veritable Barretts box of Axbridge cyclist. I warmed up with a trip over the top of Shipham hill, before dropping down to the Square and meeting lots of people, all headed for Sweet's cafe. All of us headed out to the open spaces of the levels.

The roadies started together, before a group of five of us took the long way around, into the breeze, over Brent Knoll and through Burtle before arriving. Once there, the leisure riders, and Wonderboy, and the other half of the road group all arrived, a grand total of about 17 of us. Takeover.

Much convivial conversation about the Tour of Britain, bikes, potholes, crashes, all sorts. After that it was back into the sunshine, all of us together at first, the roadies anyway, some sprinting practice and then some hill climbing practice, before coming together for the final sprint back to Cheddar and home.

Not once did it rain. It's the small things in life that make me happy. Great company, great riding, great weather.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/113576447

Yesterday I got so old I felt that I could die

2011-09-09T17:44:00.000-07:00

Habits. Not the nun variety. Nor perhaps a slightly twisted Elmer Fudd. I am thinking of those habitual behaviours that started off as a really good, or practical, or fun idea, and then turned into something you just do. The Princess told me it was all about the secondary gain.

And this blog post is one of them. I rode to work, therefore I must blog. I'm out all day tomorrow, or today actually, even though I haven't slept, well I have, but on the sofa so that doesn't count. It's 1.22AM. Old habits do indeed, die hard.

It was a good film though I can't remember what it was called. Based on a true story that I do remember people talking about at the time, in the pub at football. Rettendon, 1995, December I think. Not really a fan of the gangster genre, a bit too much swearing for my taste, and I'm not offended by the profane. Just the sacred.

Nowadays there is so much choice on television at this hour, it's neither morning or evening, it's more in between days. When my son was born, that's only 10 years ago, I remember being bored witless as I fed him in front of a surreal Japanese film, or documentary about gravel extraction. Those were the choices on the two channels most nights. Well, it felt like that to me.

Yesterday morning seems like an age ago, but it was warm, muggy and very wet at 6.30AM when I left for work. The usual way, pretty much, another habit, I don't like main roads and I'm increasing bored by trundling along on the flat, especially on my own. I was in my own inner world of peace and solitude going up the Port du Bales, and even Long Lane is a pale imitation. Despite the conditions I was wearing arm and leg warmers, I can't bear the thought of hypothermia, but as usual I was overreacting.

Maybe the added protection was the reason for my relative rapidity, maybe it was the thought of being late for an 8.30AM meeting. Another piece of habitual behaviour, despite my preference for a flexible and adaptable approach to life, I am pathologically averse to being late. Then there are all the rituals about coffee which we have nowadays. The paper cup, the cardboard cup-holder, the froth. Is there a message in that somewhere?

By the time I left to come home, I fancied something new, so I did the hill in Ashton Park, the one that goes right through the middle, doubles back as it rises, and comes out above the suspension bridge road. Well, you have to break the habits of a lifetime sometime.

Here's the route, nearly 50 miles today. I seem to have broken that habit successfully, the one where I have to get it to a round number of miles. What else can I change?

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/385865

Whatever happened to Leon Trotsky?

2011-09-07T13:32:00.000-07:00

I can't really complain about today's weather. After buzzing around from "white cloud" to "sunny intervals" to "sunshine and showers", the weather forecast for this afternoon and evening settled on "heavy rain" at about 2.30PM. And very strong headwinds.

So I knew what I was in for, and I have been remarkably fortunate with weather in the last few weeks, Col de Mente being the exception. I was even vaguely sartorially prepared, with my ACG jacket, which has a windproof front, and a modicum of water repellency. I did my best to go up as many hills in a direct a route as possible, to use Bunny's example and get my core temperature up. And I aimed for lanes with a high tree line for a bit of shelter, but this just meant I was cycling in cow poo as well as rain and a roaring gale.

Partly because of the fundamental principle of Rule 5, or V, as it is now being called by the Velominati, and partly because I was wondering how the cyclists of yesterday would cope with all the modern gadgetry we have nowadays. Very well, I'd say, because they seemed a tougher breed in those days. I'm reading a book about Hinault (who seemed a tough nut) and Greg LeMond (perhaps less so, bit more fancy dan).

Then there is this man, Fiorenzo Magni. Fell on the Giro in 1956 and broke his clavicle, but carried on. In the picture he is using his teeth to get leverage through the inner tube whilst cycling a mountainous stage. He could only use one hand to brake on the descent, fell again and broke his shoulder, but still carried on to finish second overall.

There are definitely no more heroes like him anymore, with the possible exception of Jens Voight.

So no complaining from me, I'm looking forward to a more sedate weekend, where I'll get my first trip to watch the prima donnas of the footballing world this season, and then the annual ACG extravaganza at Sweets. Bring your spare inner tubes, just in case.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/384121

Yesterday's through. Now do anything you please

2011-09-04T13:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the weather forecast is spot on. Even more rarely I follow the forecast and plan my ride around the pleasant weather window, and then sit back in the comfort of my own house and watch the rain. Wonderfully, today is one of those days, and as i type this, in the early Autumn gloom of an evening, I can bask in the sunny knowledge of a great three hours in the late Summer sunshine.

Mind you, I'll need to fit the light brackets to the handlebars soon, and the arm warmers will give way to long sleeves and winter jackets in the morning commuting runs, for the nights are expanding and soon the dark will outnumber the light. Not today though, I went out this afternoon, after last night's rain, and this morning's murk, into a sunny, white cloud, albeit a bit breezy afternoon.

I had an errand to pick up some rail tickets down in Weston, so I headed off on a fairly direct route, and decided to ride up Canada Coombe on the way. There was a lot of grit and mud on the road, which made me glad I wasn't riding down it from the Weston direction. On Friday night we had some fun and games outside our house, which is on a hilly road, when a young lad skidded on some gravel and fell off his motor scooter. He was quite shocked, and his knees and ankles were very swollen, so we took him into our kitchen and applied ice-packs until his Dad arrived to take him home. Or to casualty hopefully.

So kids, never underestimate the dangers lurking beneath the surface of a patch of innocuous gravel!

Once the tickets were safely stowed I meandered over to the sea front to sit on the new stone benches and eat my banana in the fresh westerly breeze. And no, that is not a euphemism, I eschewed cake in favour of a piece of fruit.

Mindful of the Cheddar sportive in a fortnight's time, I looped around to the climb up and out of Draycott, via Brent Knoll and Mark. It was a bit of a mindless drag on the levels to be frank, very dull after the Pyrenees and made harder by the absence of company, and the presence of Sunday drivers. The climb from Draycott to the top of the Mendips is 2.5 miles long and is the weirdest one on that stretch of hill. Although the average is only 6%, it has lots of little flatter bits, and even a couple of downhill stretches, meaning the rest is quite steep, with lots above 10% and a couple of stretches over 15%. I couldn't get into a rhythm today, and still felt a bit physically tired.

But I really enjoyed the trip, I seemed to have turned a corner after Friday when I felt quite jaded. Mind you I may have to curb my enthusiasm coming down hills, which is somewhat ironic given my natural hesitancy. A Belgian (in a car) was driving very slowly down the upper reaches of Cheddar gorge, requiring the car behind him to constantly brake, and me to do likewise. Not great at 30 mph, so i overtook them both, much to the English car's chagrin, and i thought for one second I may have a road rage incident on my hands.

All was well, however as they both stopped to admire the goats, leaving me free to take a good line at a reasonable speed into the tourist honeypot at the bottom, where I was held up by more grockles, on foot and in cars. It was good practice for the sportive though, and for my Tour of Britain outing on 16th September. It will be a veritable Cheddar Festival of cycling!

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/380608

A liar won't believe in anyone else

2011-09-02T14:06:00.000-07:00

I was cycling home tonight, on back roads midway between Backwell and Claverham, swigging from my bidon on the fly, when I noticed it again. I'd seen it a couple of weeks ago when I'd passed in the other direction with Skip, we'd chuckled then, had a wry joke and moved on up Brockley Coombe.

This time I paused. Drank some more and thought about the sign, pointing back the way I had come this time. Do you know what that sign says? Not Cleeve, or Yatton, or any tangible destination. No. This sign says, "Motivation" and points in a very specific direction.

It probably does mean something very prosaic, but why let the truth stop my flight of fancy. And what is truth anyway? Over-rated and all relative, that's what. But motivation is not a destination, and at the risk of descending into Brentisms, I think I am fairly certain, it's a state of mind, not something that you can get from anyone else. Perhaps it's a sign to the motivation shop, or just one person's idea of a joke.

Maybe I should put up a direction arrow outside my house, with the word "happiness" with the sign pointing at the shed. Or go down to Draycott, and put up a sign that says "Challenge" and point it up towards the gliding club.

Needless to say I'm in post Pyrenees reflection, thinking about what is next and how I'm going to do it. I have some ideas, some wheels, and google street-view, but not much else. A couple of sportive to do in the next six weeks, one on closed roads, then there is the OCD job to do more miles than last year. Surely it can't snow like it did in December 2010, can it? I'm 254 miles up at the moment, but I did 861 miles in September 2010, two big trips away accounting for most of that, so it is a tall order.

I rode in to work yesterday and today, and was surprisingly speedy and able to cope with a few chunky hills, except that compared to France they are mere pinpricks of gradient and length. I wonder how Bunny is coping on his London to Paris trip. He's guiding a group of three others, and I suspect he may have to call on his vast reservoir of tolerance and patience.

I did notice, on returning to the roads of my native country, three things. First the surfaces are a veritable disgrace. Potholes, cracks, grit, and gravel, not to mention cow s*%t, muck, all sorts. Top-dressing, what is that all about? Two surfaces, Burrington Coombe, and the road into Backwell, which had perfect smooth surfaces on them, have now been transformed into slippery and dangerous gravel storage areas, thanks to this appalling method of re-surfacing. Meanwhile there are dozens of other roads where you could go caving because the potholes are so big.

Second, the cars. More of them, going faster, closer to you, trying to squeeze past rather than wait 30 seconds till a better spot emerges.

The third thing is a tad more upbeat. It is, despite the foregoing two points, much nicer to go to work on my bike than in my car. For once I can find the quiet, honest, car-free(ish) roads, I can start to think, to breathe and be human. And I think that is what the French intuitively know, and most people in this country have forgotten. In all our hurry, our rush, our busyness, our search for things which don't really matter, we have forgotten that we are all humans, just trying to find truth, happiness, challenge, and yes, in my case, motivation.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/111311297

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/111108490

It tears at your soul and leaves a stain upon your heart

2011-08-30T14:35:00.000-07:00

Bikes can get surprisingly dirty. It's only when you take some of their components apart, like pedals, wheels, saddle, bars, bags, that type of thing, you realise how much grime gets into the nooks and crannies of your frame.

That's what I discovered tonight anyway. I had to dismantle the bike, to get it into the box to get it on the plane back from Toulouse, the airport, 120km from Bertren in Haute-Garonne, the foothills of the Pyrenees. Where Bunny and I went cycling last weekend.

Halfway through Day One, as we cowered in the shelter of a dodgy bus shelter on a fairly main road, already soaked to the skin, and hoping that the rain would just stop for five minutes till we turned onto a back road, that's where we accumulated most of the grime. It would be easy to get disillusioned at that point. We'd been going for some hours and covered a fair amount of ground, two mountain passes, Col de Mente and Portet d'Aspet. And we'd met some local tramps with their hungry dogs, and passed the site of Luis Ocana's "Tragedie dans le Tour de France" in 1971.

Nice and paved now with the grit and gravel not much in evidence. In fact, despite all the rain, the roads were a joy to be on, not potholes, barely any stones, and even a cheery "courage" from the road makers on the Mente. You wouldn't get that on Winscombe Hill, never mind a 6km climb at 8%.

Just after we stopped riding for the day, with all our clothes stinking and drying in the yard of our lodgings, the sun came out. We are truly badass, for riding close to 8 hours in the wet, over some gorgeous scenery, and pretty villages. Charlie was not reliable so I have had to put the routes together retrospectively, but they are accurate:

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/674931

So five cols (even the minor ones are harder than most things in the UK, so I'm counting them), the two big ones mentioned above and Larrieu, Buret and des Ares, together with about 86 miles, made for a solid first day.

Saturday was brutal and beautiful all at the same time. One of the most delightful mountains it has been my pleasure to ride up, Port de Bales, followed by pizza in Luchon, and then Superbagneres, no "i". Did you ever watch Goldfinger? Then you will remember the scene where he's driving his DB5 over the switchbacks on the mountain road. That is like Superb, a brute of a climb, with virtually no hiding place. Col de Bales on the other hand was idyllic, peaceful, wonderful views and also long and tough, and only the best is good enough.

As you can see I was wearing my fab new HTC outfit, and Bunny was pretending to be some french bloke. In relative terms I was Cavendish to his Voeckler I think, only Cav is considerably faster than us both up mountains.

It's a different type of cycling, this mountain business. I think it helps if the scenery is gorgeous, and the road is tranquil, but I have to find a rhythm I can sustain for 90-120 minutes, keep breathing and just enjoy it for what it is. I even started to let go a bit on the descents, although Bunny was considerably less cautious than me.

Once back down from Super B, we abandoned any further thought of more mountains, and high-tailed the 18 miles back down the valley road to Bertren. Only something had happened to Bunny, he kept falling off the back and was feeling very cold and fragile. Not enough food! So just for once I did him a favour and he sat behind me for most of the way back down the road. Another 70 miles in the bag, and some respectable climbing given we had two HC climbs that day.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/674945

Next morning Bunny was as bright as a button, whilst I was feeling a bit crevee, so he towed me for much of the day. We started with a flattish 40km to Arreau, then climbed another beautiful col, the Hourquette d'Ancizan, before descending to the base of the Aspin. From Payolle, it's only 5km (at around 7%) to the top. Down the Aspin to Arreau, late lunch and back the way we came.

It was also very hot and sunny, and we were rewarded with some stunning views from the top of both passes, all the way to the Tourmalet in one direction, and all the way to the Peyresourde in the other. Neither of which were we tempted to climb.

Charlie was working and recorded it in two stages:

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/373951

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/373950

I think we ended up doing 80 miles on Day 3, so around about 238 for the weekend. The maps say 29k of climbing all told, but I'm suspicious, it was probably less. But even though we had planned to do more climbing, I think we acquitted ourselves well enough, and stayed on the right side of the enjoyment/brutal side of things.

Read Bunny's account here:

http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/

The Hourquette was a real treat too, very quiet, twisty, with some shade and also great views of the valleys below, and cliff-side roads that made for a wonderful climb. But the Bales was my favourite climb of the trip. It had that quiet air of serenity, whilst still being long enough and tough enough to make it a challenge. SuperB was not my cup of tea, just a bit too manufactured, and being an "up and back" to a ski station, it's impossible to make a loop out of it. I'm never going to like that.

The Aspin descent back to Luchon was a highlight too. Last time we did it, it was pouring with rain, and in 12 kms we were bone-chillingly cold, despite full winter gear. This time the warm and dry made for a thrilling ride down, and I did my best to restrict my braking. It was fun.

Our hosts for the trip were PyrActif, and were totally superb. Great food, lovely accommodation, and above all, knowledgeable and friendly, without being all over us. Check out their site if you are considering a cycling holiday in the Pyrenees, they were pretty close to perfect for what we wanted.

http://www.pyractif.com/

So now I'm back, and life is, well life. The mountains are a different world really. I know I'll never be a great climber or descender, but I love cycling up them mainly for the challenge, the beauty, the tranquility, and the solitude that comes from a single point of focus; just keep turning the pedals. And like Miley says, "it's not about how fast I get there....."

Because I always do. In the end.

I'm here but I'm really gone

2011-08-21T08:40:00.000-07:00

Compared to the mighty Tourmalet, every ride in Britain is minuscule. So you have to dig deep, and focus on the ascent. I'm barely ready for Thursday, no edit that, I've not even started to be ready. Although I did test out my new saddle and bar bags today. Not quite Audax proportions but heading in that direction. However, sometimes you have to compromise on beauty and authenticity, just to have a small modicum of practicality.

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201108
Skip has done a great blog as usual, but I wanted to compare cycling to the best philosophy on the planet. Bar none.

The truth of suffering

Riding, true riding, like life is suffering. If it isn't you are just not trying hard enough. Do you want to play small and cycle on old railway lines all your life, and say it's the right thing for you? Dress it up how you like.

The truth of the cause of suffering

Obviously not training hard enough, or worse, not having a road bike and lycra. We passed lots of people on bikes today, and some of them were actually smiling!!!!! But they were not cyclists, they were "leisure riders". Cycle fascism? Maybe. But you know I'm right. At least MTB are really pushing themselves, but the rest of you? Electric motors on a bike? Who are you trying to kid?

The cause of all proper suffering is attachment to the idea that cycling is easy. It isn't, nor should it be. Faster remember?

The truth of the cessation of suffering

When you let go of the idea that you are invulnerable, and that you must continue to be vulnerable to be human, despite those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers, (sorry wrong genre), when you know that hill will hurt, when you know you will crash one day, when you know and look forward to the idea that you will be cold, hot, wet, dirty, and long for more of it, then suffering is at an end.

Freedom from suffering

Is only possible by following the eightfold noble path:

Ultegra
SL cleats
Bib shorts
Jawbones
Compacts
Carbon
23
Friends

Yes friends are everything in this as in all things. Know who they are, give all that you can to them (including your special pound coin so that they can have a cup of coffee because the cafe doesn't take cards. Share the hurt, the detachment and the truth of it all, and go back for more. Never, ever trust someone who doesn't know the contemporary music from their generation, it shows they have no soul. Likewise if someone keeps their food for themselves, when the others are struggling to get up a hill, what does it say about them? When I put my hand in my pocket, take out a gel or a bar, I hope I'll offer it to someone else first, before troughing it myself.

I woke early this morning, my mind full of my life's crap. But safe in the knowledge of my family, and the truth of today's ride, next weekend's rides, the sportives where people have offered me their wheel, wanting nothing in return, knowing I would do the same for them. See vulnerability, and you have a choice, be the Cannibal (who let's face it, didn't really end up all that well did he?) or be a friend.

So know who your friends are, who will drop you when the gradient goes above 8%, and who will give you a tow. And yes in case you are wondering, I think Skip did most of the work today. She says she was tired, but it didn't show, she was like a coiled spring right from the off.

Charlie malfunctioned unfortunately (don't worry Endurotorq, he'll be fine by Friday), so here is today's route:
http://ridewithgps.com/users/30887

And apropos of nothing, don't trust anyone who says that the riots are anything other than a very complex phenomenon, with deep and multiple cultural and societal causes. Anyone that says different is either a politician, stupid or a Daily Mail reader. Although I accept that these groups are highly similar.

Light my way

2011-08-19T13:05:00.000-07:00

This is just a short post, for my commute to work and back today. In the two years I've been riding into Bristol I have never had a more beautiful bike ride into town as I had this morning. With the nights finishing later I leave on the cusp of morning. Today dawn was slow and gradual and a gorgeous ultraviolet colour pervaded the sky, slowly driven out by reds, oranges and eventually blue.

As I rode up each ridge I looked down into the valley below, to see wisps of mist, like cotton wool, drifting on the slight breeze. Few cars were about, and I just had to do Belmont Hill too, it was that sort of a morning.

I reversed the route on the way home, added Brockley Coombe and tried to avoid the madmen on the A38. The traffic was rammed for some reason, a complete contrast to the morning. A few more hills on Sunday, gentle ride on Tuesday and then it's allons-y, mes braves, France here we come!

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/107778715

My heart is where it's always been

2011-08-16T14:27:00.000-07:00

Mid-week exercise usually consists of just over an hour of tediously sitting on an exercise bike, staring at my garden. Which is just starting to look like a garden again after a prolonged period of resembling part of the rain forest. Not my doing, well not directly anyway. In terms of jungle, it's even better than the real thing because there are no venomous snakes or poisonous spiders. As far as i know.

I digress. Today, for long and complicated reasons I got to cycle in the fresh air. Mini Mendip Rouleur and I were home by 6.45, and after quickly making his tea, complaining to the bank, and changing into a rather fetching old K-1 kit, nicely clashing with my new gilet, I was off into the late evening sunshine. By 7PM. And don't worry, there was an adult to look after mini MR.

I had intended to do the Tour of Winscombe six times (my 3.5 mile loop of the village), for a bit of hill repeats, figuring I could just about squeeze that in before the 8.30 sunset. In the end I thought, "sod that, let's do a proper route". So I cycled up to Shipham, down to Cheddar and up to the base of the gorge. Where i encountered "Police- Road closed" signs. Which I ignored, as had loads of other people by the look of it as plenty of cars, walkers, climbers and cyclists were also about. I passed a police car and occupants, and they seemed unperturbed by my presence, so onwards and upwards i went.

At the base of the really steep section there was a Rapha Condor Sharp team car, replete with cycle rack for 6 (?) bikes on the roof, but no bikes. It was predictably black with a white stripe and a pink one. Chic. My guess that someone was doing a reconnaissance mission for the Tour of Britain, which is going up the gorge on 16th September. I am planning an outing to the event, Gorge-Old Bristol Hill-Wells, see them 3 times, but don't hang about, they are fast these boys.

As was the rider wearing Saxo Bank kit who chatted to me for a bit before zooming off in the distance. He's from Axbridge, but it seems that the ACG would be a bit slow for him, I'm still trying to sell that top.

Coming down the gorge at speed was a cyclist in Motorpoint pro-cycling kit. He looked fast enough to be a pro, maybe he was connected to Rapha, I don't know the ins and outs of the British cycling team well enough.

Once up in the land of the Mendips it was a quick belt across the top and down Burrington, Langford, Sandford, Banwell and home up the Alpe d'Huez of Winscombe. Just over 25 miles, a couple of decent climbs, and some nice fresh air on a pleasant night, arriving home in the gathering gloom.

And West Ham won, AGAIN!!! Shock horror two away wins on the bounce. That doesn't happen every day. And the much-maligned (by me) Scott Parker is still there. What will happen next?

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/357598

Take you where you want

2011-08-14T09:01:00.000-07:00

I didn't really want to go to Glastonbury today. So it should come as no surprise that's where we ended up. To paraphrase a colleague, it's when the laws of attraction go bad.

Axbridge Cycling Group, four of us in the square, passable weather, which did go according to forecast to be fair, and being sociable, and wanting to avoid all the tourist hotspots, and some of us wanting to avoid the hills, we did at least contrive a route that was different to the usual out and back.

And it was fun, at times like Noah's Ark- two by two, at times like a train (we were certainly moving like one, quite quick by jove we were and no mistake, I'm sure), but above all, a Group. (until Knight of the Realm fell off the back in the home straight).

And lots of other organised events too, a sportive (Wiggle Mendip), a leisure ride based on the Strawberry Line, but with numbers on their bikes that were the side of a house, and also what could have been a triathlon. Why? Because of the huge number of them with those terrible long socks on. It can't make a difference and is just so wrong.

It was great to be out with the ACG again, with a new face (for me at least), I'm tempted to call him Shearer, as he's from Sunderland, but I don't want to upset him, so I'll find out who is idol is. And the prodigal son, the lost sheep, Knight, busy in his shop, so busy that he's having to go to Malaysia again and get more stock, great to see him again.

The world would be a better place if everyone understood the visceral meaning of those Bible stories, lost sheep, prodigal sons, Noah's Ark. One of my favourite quotes:

"After the flood, all the colours came out"

Sometimes you have to just feel things, and today was one of those. You can't know what it is like to have four of you fly along in the sun, outdoors, on the road, with no noise but the swoosh of your tyres. With the wind at your back, the levels spread out in front of you and Glastonbury rising up in the distance. You can't know cycling by thinking about it, like life, it has to be lived.

Here's a live performance that captures it, watch for the second chorus ;-)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSZv9KKf0g0

And it was a Beautiful Day, thanks ACG.

Here's Charlie:

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/354146

Packing a suitcase for a place, none of us has been

2011-08-12T15:50:00.000-07:00

Compare and contrast. That's what the exam papers always said in my day, usually several times, but unfailingly in history tests. Compare and contrast the siege of Leningrad with Napoleon's march on Moscow. Compare and contrast Hitler's approach in 1940 with Alexander's march on Babylon. Compare and contrast the response of Lloyd George, Clemenceau and Wilson with that of the Attlee, Truman and Stalin after the respective world wars.

We don't learn primarily from answers, knowledge or theories. Insight and wisdom is forged in the white heat of questions and experience, in the journey and on the road, not the office or the classroom.

"No matter how one may think himself accomplished, when he sets out to learn a new language, science, or the bicycle, he has entered a new realm as truly as if he were a child newly born into the world." ~Frances Willard, How I Learned to Ride the Bicycle.

I have a momentous decision to make, which will shape much. I must choose between the new, sexy, fast and sleek, and the honest, quirky, steady and practical. The tortoise and the hare, and we all know how that turned out. Yes, I must choose which bike to take to the Pyrenees with me. And you thought this was going to be an allegory?

You can't just walk on to a plane these days especially with a bike. It all has to be deconstructed and re-assembled at the other end, out of its hard black box. K-1 is in for a service so today I was on the Red Madone, doing a few hills into and back from work. And it was lovely, fast and fizzy, light on the ups, sticky round the corners. But I know my back is going to ache for it tomorrow in the car, I have a fair bit of driving to do in the day.

In any case, just as the wand chooses the wizard, the bike chooses the rider. Maybe.

K-1, equipped with new brakes, maybe a headset, bottom bracket, retains its basic character plus added improvements, well it seems the more attractive option at the moment. If he will have me that is, for he must be ready by Thursday next week, so I can do a test drive into work on Friday. So the choice is not entirely in my hands, but in those of a more skilled operator than that.

Just as I have never seen any problem made better by alcohol, I have never seen any situation not made better by the arrival of balloons. So as I descended from my second hill of the morning, from up above Ashton Court to the Cumberland basin area, it was a wonderful sight to see everyone looking up at the morning's flight from the fiesta.

"You could have flown away, a singing bird in an open cage"

The wind was pushing them right over the city, and everyone was looking up and smiling, kids pointing, old blokes chuckling and even hard-bitten business types were at their office windows and taking pictures with their mobile phones. Not the greatest picture in the world, but you get the idea. So ask yourself this question: compare and contrast the impact of balloons and alcoholic beverages in their contribution to the happiness of mankind.

The weather was warm and drizzly to start, but it dried off as I got into Bristol, and on the way home the sun came out just as I was coming down Dundry Hill into Winford. That doesn't happen every day.

Once in work I was faced with another choice. I got a load of free zipvit samples at the Eddy Merckx sportive so I took a couple with me. Compare and contrast the effectiveness as recovery food of a chewy zipvit bar with a bacon sandwich, in the modern workplace. No contest, the pig may be a filthy animal, it does not have character, but it sure tastes good.

The banana gel on the other hand is lovely, and came at the point where I was contemplating concluding my ride home via Sandford rather than Rowberrow, Shipham and Cheddar. Compare and contrast the training value of an extra 500 feet of climbing and a flat fight into the wind. Got to be the hill really, which created a nice dumbbell shape on the route profile:

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/352235

http://connect.garmin.com/player/105982574

Which just leaves me with the most profound question of all. Compare and contrast the features and benefits of Garmin Connect and Ride with GPS for illustrating your rides. That one, I'll leave you with.

I can go there

2011-08-07T10:59:00.000-07:00

You have to dig deep into the heart of yourself to survive 70 minutes of mental torture. Yesterday Bunny did a ridiculous run up some muddy hills near his home in Macclesfield:

http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/

Sounds horrific to me, but as I'm frequently saying, chacun a son gout, vraiment mes amies. But whilst my challenge was much less physically demanding, I would contend that my challenge today was the more horrific psychologically.

I had vague plans, Cardiff City at home, now as it turns out that would have been worse, but fortunately number one son changed his mind and we depressed ourselves in front of the TV. More vague plans to ride for the third consecutive day, were thwarted by a mixture of my own torpor, and some very heavy and frequent showers.

I have a short circuit of the village that I do on days like today, it's about 3.5 miles long, and involves a nice mix of flat, descent and climbing. I'll normally spend an hour or so doing 4-5 circuits, but I really didn't want to wash my bike for the sake of an hours riding.

Nothing for it but to get the ipod out and sit on this for 70 minutes:

Since this photo was taken the bike has been upgraded. The handlebars have been turned upside down, to attempt a position more similar to a road bike, and of course I have fitted reversible flat/SPD pedals from an old mtb. But it's still tedious, but with three weeks to go, options for fitness improvement and retaining a clean bike are few and far between.

I'd love to describe the 70 minutes in detail, with nuances and interesting anecdotes. But I can't. It's dull, you get on, you pedal, sometimes like today according to a pre-determined programme, sometimes not. You stop. Music makes it just tolerable.

I used to have a turbo trainer but as my training is fairly disorganised, or flexible and spontaneous depending on your point of view, I found that even more tedious. So the exercise bike will have to do for those lazy, rainy, Sunday afternoons. Perhaps those are the days you find out more about yourself than belting up the Tourmalet. Perhaps not.

Just give me what I want and no-one gets hurt

2011-08-06T14:39:00.000-07:00

I'm not built for cycling, which given that it's become my main hobby is a bit of a problem. For a start my build is neither fish nor fowl, neither sprinter nor climber. And until hypnotherapy sorted it out, I used to suffer from vertigo, which made going down mountainous roads a bit of a problem.

So today, despite the weatherpeople's failure to get it right again, or maybe because of the rain, I decided to go and look for some ups to pedal and some downs to descend. And the Red Madone got an outing today, albeit with some old wheels that have 23mm tyres, important given the unexpected rain.

Before doing that I dropped K-1 at my local bike store in Cheddar:

http://www.cheddarcyclestore.co.uk/

The owner and former racing cyclist, I call him leadman, (think plumbum, and yes plumbers are called that for a similar reason, it's to do with pipes) has the strongest thumbs I have ever seen in my life, can get tyres off tight rims with one flick of the digit, where I'm trying to use ten tyre levers. Anyway, I'm getting some Ultegra calipers put on, as well as the full once over on various bits and bobs. Have I mentioned where I'm going at August bank holiday?

The ride? Well, as Cheddar gorge is dangerous descending country at this time of year, with all the tourists milling about waiting to get run over, I decided it was time to go up it. Followed by a little loop on the top of the Mendips, coming out near that strange castle-like house on the road that leads to Burrington.

Just as I was getting near the said house I became aware of a horrible wailing noise being projected into the quiet countryside by an PA system. I wasn't sure what it was, but guessed it was some kind of a music festival, although it seemed a strange place to have it. I later found this:

http://www.cloudcuckooland.org/cloud-cuckoo-land/a-festival-in-transition/

The best bit is the cycle ride that two blokes are doing in aid of a campaign to build sustainability in all things etc. They are riding from Camden to Cape Town, not London mind, Camden. I have to say I like all this stuff. I know it's very worthy and all that. What I like about it most is that it reminds me there are other people more earnest and preachy than me in the world, and that has to be good for me. I have spent quite a bit of time on a very high horse this week, so to find equine towers of immense stature, in very unusual places, is magnificent.

From there I headed down Burrington Coombe again, then up to Blagdon, across the dam and up to Butcombe, Row of Ashes and down to Wrington. There was just time to hit Rowberrow and Shipham again before coming home via Sidcot and the Alpe d'Huez of Winscombe. Not a long ride, but a good dose of climbing.

And I wore the Devon jersey in the end, and given I had two SMIDSY incidents I'd say I was right on the blending in front. Mind you the traffic was very heavy for a Saturday, the M5 was chock a block, so lots of people darting down roads they don't know, impatiently trying to get to the seaside. The positive thing is the pockets on the jersey are huge, so it may have to go to France after all, hopefully the more tolerant and careful driving over there will keep me alive.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/344153

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/104493361

One week he's in polka dots, the next week he's in stripes

2011-08-05T16:50:00.000-07:00

I'm trying out cycling tops. My own I should add. What for? Well, it's a long and tedious story, but the nub of it is to find those shirts that have the biggest pockets (because I'll be carrying all my own layers) and yet still retain some element of bling. Now I know this is all relative, lycra doesn't lend itself to high, or even street, fashion. But when I'm cycling in the Pyrenees in three weeks time, I don't want the locals pelting me with rotten onions because I am making their beautiful roads and cols look disgusting by wearing poorly colour-co-ordinated kit, or worse, something out of the 80s.

Now I know he is Britain's best Tour finisher, but look at that top. It looks like something out of an American cartoon, not fit to grace the body of a legend. To be fair, he did wear a natty polka-dot jersey, so all is not lost.

Of course, not being a dedicated follower of fashion, or as we saw last week, cycling etiquette, I too broke one of the cycling rules today and opted for my very own polka dot jersey. This one from the slightly less glamorous Tour of Britain 2009. I know I haven't actually won a polka dot jersey or King of the Mountains competition in the Tour of Britain 2009, or any other race. But the jersey was my incentive to train for the Raid Pyrenean last year, and it also has very big pockets indeed, so it's on the plane.

Thomas de Gendt is the man wearing my shirt, next to Edvald B-H, now the official King of Norway, having taken over from Thor Hushovd last week.

To derive a sense of irony from today, and also because I was still feeling a bit tired, I decided to cycle in the flat way for a change. When I first started commuting it was my regular route, but I've hardly done it of late. To live up to the jersey, I did do a few hills on the way home, Dundry the hard way, the Chew Valley road, as well as the tough hill out of Blagdon, and finally Rowberrow. So at least I didn't disgrace myself, and with a total of just over 50 miles for the day, it was a fair workout too.

I wonder what I can try out tomorrow, the Devon jersey maybe, but being largely green it has a tendency to blend in with hedgerows. Maybe I'll have gentle ride to the coast in my Foska England top, or maybe it's time to get the Northwave skeleton out again. So hard to make decisions, I just don't know what to wear.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/342656

Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games

2011-07-31T15:30:00.000-07:00

The 1970s. Ahhh. Why two men sat in a small studio watching loads of grown up kids playing silly games was funny I'll never know, but it was. The English version, "It's a knockout" was slightly Butlinesque, a bit, cold and windy on a Tuesday. Just like the inflatable arch at today's start line, deflating because the generator ran out of diesel.

But the European version, "Jeux sans Frontieres" with its crackly phone-line commentary, its nighttime timetable, and all the international rivalry that thirty years of European peace could muster. Whether Stuart Hall ever actually said "here come the Belgians" is a moot point, but that's just what happened today at the front of the start line of the Eddy Merckx Gran Fondo, as the great man himself, and he is now a lot greater than he was in his prime, rolled to the start line flanked by his two faithful compatriots, laughing and joking in their native tongue. Not French. Flemish.

Ask anyone who knows nothing about cycling to name a famous cyclist and chances are, if they are under 40 they will mention him, the Voldemort of the peloton. But, if they are over 40, under 73, (my Dad, who is 75, will mention Beryl Burton and Reg Harris) they'll mention Eddy Merckx, undoubtedly the best cyclist of all time. Just look at his palmares if you don't take my word for it, it speaks for itself.

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

Apparently the legend had been on top form at the depart village on the Saturday, signing autographs and full of the Flemish equivalent of Bonhomie, which according to an agent for the event that I overheard, is not always the case. But like a true professional he didn't let people down today, and by all accounts rode to Bridport and back, about 40 miles. Which isn't bad given the nature of the terrain, very lumpy.

The event started in the grounds of Cricket St Thomas Hotel, near Chard in south Somerset. We swept down the drive with Eddy in the lead, and the rest of us just behind, all of this being filmed for a DVD which of course I'm going to buy. I had taken the precaution of being at the start line first, so yes, I rode on his wheel for the first 100 yards, when I was being eased gently out of the way by the young Belgians who were naturally very protective.

As we turned onto the proper roads, the gradient pitched sharply upwards to the tune of about 7%, having previously been rolling downwards. Mr Merckx waived his arm and told us we could all go through, as it was going to take him a while to get to the top of the hill.

What is the etiquette in these situations? As I was the first in line, I thanked him for his company, wished him a good day, and started climbing at a normal pace, as instructed. I expected others to follow suit, I mean, he is 66, so I'm sure he doesn't mind. But no, after about 30 seconds I turned around to see that everyone else, I mean everyone, was pedalling up the hill at 3 mph keeping a distance behind him.

Well, I couldn't go back so I kept going, and no-one passed me for 4 miles! Maybe I have less patience, I certainly meant no disrespect, I was honoured to ride with the man. After all, 106 miles is a long way, and having had little sleep last night I knew my energy levels were a bit suspect.

After that the sportive settled down into a regular ride, and very enjoyable it was too. A nice warm day, part of the country I'd barely ridden in, and a nice relaxed vibe to the whole thing. Run by the same people that brought us the Cotswold Classic earlier in the year, it threw in more sharp climbs, long grindy hills, steep descents, amazing views, and the most boring road to cycle in Somerset.

There were a few bits of road I'd traversed before. On Day 1 and 2 of the Tour of Wessex, the Endura ride, and as the northerly bit crossed the route to my parents' house, some of my rides to them too. But for the most part it was all new, especially the lovely cliff-top road from Bridport to Dorchester with an outstanding vista of Chesil beach and Portland Bill, fantastic in the sunshine.

We also went through Poundbury

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

which was very strange, a bit like being in an over sized set of Trumpton or Camberwick Green. From Dorchester we headed up to Sturminster and Gillingham, and I passed a pub cooking the same food as the last time I passed it on the ToW over a year ago, at the same time of day. Smell is the sense most closely linked to memory so don't argue.

There was a vicious south-easterly wind blowing, which had been a problem on the coast road, but now acted as a tailwind, as I got into a group charging up the valley to Gillingham. I stopped there to take a paracetamol as my neck was a bit sore, and I was solo from there on. But once the 2nd feedstop was out of the way south of Bruton, a strange thing happened. I started to pass people. I think I kept a pretty even tempo for the whole ride, and even out-climbed one or two people on some of the wickedly steep gradients.

From Bruton and Castle Cary we went across that road, dull, dull, dull to Somerton. The wind was now largely a cross wind all the way home, and I thought the route would be fairly flat. But the sting in the tail was a 20% gradient at mile 103. Almost everyone was walking, nothing left in the legs and there was no shame in doing so. Did I? What do you think?

When I arrived back at the village I felt absolutely wasted, dehydrated and a bit stiff and sore. Free hot pasta would have helped but there was only cold tubs of the stuff and a drink so I had my recovery drink. Edy Merckx was long gone, back to Belgium no doubt, although I would just say that his bike and kit are absolutely awesome. And there was plenty of that to admire as I slurped away.

My cycling time had been 6 hours 38 minutes at a creditable 16.0 mph for the 106 mile course. Add in 15 minutes of stops for an official time of 6-53, and about 7000 feet of climbing. Precise figures on the Charlie link below. What was particularly pleasing was that I'd ridden on Saturday and Friday too, and though I'm a bit tired and sore I feel OK, all good preparation for August.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/336708

As for meeting heroes, well I'm in two minds. I always avoided meeting footballers, Trevor Brooking was so much better on the pitch than he could ever have been in person. And Eddy Merckx has commented that he is not the same person now as he was in the late sixties and early seventies. And yet, and yet, he had enough swagger, enough panache, and enough authority about him to see how he bossed the peloton. And a sportive.

Next time I'll know.

Like horses over the hill

2011-07-30T04:57:00.000-07:00

I've planned a legendary ride tomorrow, and as family plans changed I had a window to ride this morning. Added advantage of three days in a row, my first since last September, meaning at least some preparation for going to the Pyrenees at the end of August. In life, in work, in cycling, there are no new ideas, it's all about the quality of the implementation. And seizing your opportunities.

This is not a rehearsal.

Skip is off to Kernow this afternoon, and wanted to get a ride in before two weeks enforced rest. Actually that's rubbish, she's taking her bike with her and will probably do more in the next two weeks than I will, mais chacun a son gout. Or some such.

Religion is a club.

So off we went in the drizzle and the mud and the cow poo, all of which made for a dirty day, on a gentle, spin your legs loop over the levels and back, with a stopover at Sweet's cafe, Somerset cycling mecca, with it's board of the Somerset 100 still proudly displaying our names at numbers 42 and 77 respectively. How great it was to be able to choose our own numbers.

Celebrity is a job.

Pity the poor civilians, who arrived at the cafe when it was empty, only to find it filled within 10 minutes with approximately 20 sweaty, lycra-clad, slightly damp MAMILs and Skip, and a female triathlete with socks up to her knees. Very wrong. They, the civilians not the socks, must have thought they had been transported to an episode of the twilight zone, or maybe not. Skip basked in the adulation that her Rapha Etape cycling jersey produced, and it is very fetching I have to say, whilst I did my best to keep eating, for tomorrow we ride.

It's your world you can change it.

I have now topped 3000 miles on the various bikes so far this year, which is amazing considering the lack of opportunity I feel I have to ride. Just shows what can be done if you set your mind to it. It was a great ride, even if slightly autumnal, and it's still July. Can't wait for summer. But I'm always saying that. Time for a bath and food, but not at the same time.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/334731

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CuvQz1qOsQU&NR=1

Hang on

2011-07-29T13:06:00.000-07:00

A very short post today, as time is short. Isn't it always? We have but a short time upon this earth and all that. Anyway, rode to work, rode home, added in an extra hill on both journeys. Belmont Hill near Flax Bourton on the way in, which I love for its crinkum crankum switchbacks and constant changes of pitch and surface.

On the way back, after the by-now obligatory Dundry Hill, and Winford hill, I felt compelled to launch downhill towards the Chew valley by another route and return to the top of the hill via a back lane which had more mud than tarmac.

I have also been studying the noble art of descending, as perfected by the third oldest tour winner in history. Two changes, one don't grip it so hard, (stop sniggering at the back) and relax. Two, focus 30-40 yards ahead, not immediately in front of the wheel. I tried both these out, and like all learned behaviour, it will take a while, but it certainly made me go faster, while paradoxically feeling safer. Let's face it, everybody hurts when you crash, but just maybe this will enable me to enjoy descending in the Pyrenees.

One more word about the current state of weather forecasting in this country: Hopeles. I really will shut up about it now.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/334217

But there's a fire inside

2011-07-24T13:22:00.000-07:00

Mark Cavendish won it easily in the end, and that Australian bloke did quite well too. Even in his moment of greatest triumph, Cav still came out with this:

"If you sit back on what you have done, you're not going to progress"

OK, not original, not surprising, but how many of us would be thinking about the next challenge, right after we have won the green jersey, the Champs Elysee stage (for the third year in a row, first time it's been done by anyone)?

And as for Cadel Evans, well he has just been the embodiment of tenacity and determination. Someone described him as like a diesel, consistent, reliable and powerful. His TT performance yesterday looked like someone had lit a fire in his engine, never mind put diesel in it. A worthy winner, and at 34 gives all of us grey-hairs hope.

This morning I was up early to meet Skip for a hilly ride. As I know how much she likes a plan, I made one, involving a fair few climbs and about 47 miles. Of course, she won't listen to entreaties to rest or take it easy, and I think after her riding in the last couple of weeks she was a bit bushed. Although I was a bit surprised to see her right behind me as we crested Shipham Hill, and my third climb of Burrington in 7 days was the most pleasant one yet, as we chatted away about this and that.

But at the top Skip decided to bail, wisely I think, meaning that I no longer had to stick to my plan, although I kept to it for the most part, just added one or two extras in. I had thought that the descent down into Blagdon, which is about 16% at its steepest, had been resurfaced. Well, only the bottom bit has, so it was a bumpy ride past the pub at the bottom, where I saw the NEG outriders having a chinwag. I think they must have been shepherding the Colin Carfield Memorial Road Race, run by Somer Valley CC.

From Blagdon, I headed down past the reservoir and then to Butcombe and up the hill to Row of Ashes. This was where I changed my plan and decided to add in a trip to Wrington, up over its eponymous hill, down Goblin Coombe, up Brockley Coombe and then back on track towards Winford.

From there it was into Chew Magna and then the long way round to Bishop Sutton, former centre of the coal-mining industry, and not to be confused, perish the thought, with Bishops Sutton.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bishop_Sutton

I always love a new hill, but they are hard to find. Next ACG route, I will get my own hill, because I can take them up the road that goes to Hinton Blewet. Be afraid, for it looks like a bump on google, but turned out to be a nasty short 12% climb, even steeper going down into the village. I'll have to spring it on you now.

Then it was Litton, Chewton Mendip and up the long drag to the hill above Wells on the main road, and I was starting to flag. Still, a super descent down into England's smallest city, followed by half of the climb up Old Bristol Road. I say "half" because I wanted to recce a back lane from Wookey Hole back to OBR, in preparation for the Tour of Britain stage in September. I have another plan, that's two this week, which involves seeing the stage in three places during its course. It will require a certain amount of flexibility, and grippy tyres and good brakes, but it's doable.

So down into Wookey Hole, village not caves, and then the sting in the tail, Ebbor Gorge. Not the steepest, it maxes out at 17%, but it is narrow, cars come down and up it with regularity, and it's one of those ones where you can't get going again if you stop. Which I didn't, but I certainly went slowly.

From there it was pretty much downhill to Cheddar, where I succeeded in scaring the wits out of grockle about to cross the road in front of me. No, that's not accurate, she didn't have any wits to start with.

As I came up the bypass, past Axbridge, I realised I'd have to do a circuit of my village to top 100 km for the day (the download doesn't show my first 2 miles into Axbridge, just in case you are really into the detail), and so I finished with the Alpe d'Huez of Winscombe, yes Winscombe Hill the hard way. (Expect more reference to the famous hill in the weeks to come! I'm half thinking of suggesting the Alpe d'Huez of the Pyrenees to Bunny).

So fairly slow all round today, just over 14 mph, but a shedload of climbing, if the Mendips had categorised climbs I'd say there were a smattering of all categories in this lot, including the HC of Burrington and Ebbor. And my neck and back are better too, just got to get some good brakes though, somehow I don't want to go to France without them.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/101366710

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/327455

There's always gonna be another mountain

2011-07-22T16:35:00.000-07:00

"This is the bedrock of reality: however grim you feel physically, whatever defeatist temptation clouds your mind, giving up solves nothing. The kilometres ahead of you, the steepness of the road, the suffering, mental and physical, that it's going to take to surmount them: all that lies ahead of you and won't go away. The inclemency of the weather may change, granted, the geology will not and time ticks on. Thinking you won't make it is like worry-it changes nothing and merely adds the weight of anxiety to the problem. This you can do without, so shun it in favour of the reality: I can't go on, I must go on, I will go on. The formula may be simple: it most decidedly is not simplistic. It has to be earnt and learned from the inside out"

Graeme Fife, page 105, "The Beautiful Machine"

I have read many books and articles on cycling, and a lot about the Tour de France, its history and tradition. The passage above is not just a great piece of cycling literature, it sums up my whole life in so many ways.

I have been delighted and awed by Thomas Voeckler this week. In what has turned out to be the most exciting and closest Tour de France for a long time, he has personified the spirit that the race demands. Heart, soul, body and mind. Right down to today, when he was cooked on Alpe d'Huez, he gives Pierre Rolland, his loyal domestique, permission and encouragement to go and win the stage. His jersey gone to the shoulders of the younger Schleck, who may lose it to a rehabilitated and somewhat more human Cadel Evans tomorrow, he still gave his all, leaving open the possibility that he might claw his way onto the podium.

Perhaps we all dream that he might just win, but it seems unlikely. Even Contador managed some human frailty, lashing out at a spectator who taunted him with drug accusations on the slope of the final mountain of the Tour.

And then there is Cav. Struggling through the mountains, but as honest as ever, even about his climbing limitations. I managed to avoid the result of today's stage, and it made for a great experience, not knowing who had won. But right at the end, up popped Mark, who looked as knackered as I do after an easy sportive, to say how hard he found it.

Who will win yellow? Evans would seem the favourite, but Andy put up a good fight in the TT last year, so you never know. And don't rule out Voeckler. All it takes is for Evans to puncture, lose time, anything could happen.

And what mountains we have seen. Hats off to all who completed the Etape this year, especially anyone who plumped for the one in the Massif Central. Not content with dishing out a broken femur to Vino, numerous other injuries to the professionals, including a rogue French TV car-driver wiping out Flecha and putting Hoogerland through a barbed wire fence, the elements devastated the amateur field last Sunday with sub zero temperatures and massive rainstorms.

Skip did the Etape in the alps, as did one of my work colleagues. I bumped into the latter today, he did it in 4 hours 55, to sneak into the top 100 (at least) so well done to both of them. The climb of the Galibier looked tough, but the descent looked unbelievably scary and fast. Add in the heat, which their fellow riders might willingly have swapped for their weather, and all in all it looks like a tough 68 miles.

It's only just over a month until I get to sample the Pyrenees again, Bunny and I are off to base ourselves near Luchon over the Bank Holiday weekend. We are not sure what we are going to do yet. Well, cycling for sure, my friend already, but which mountains we are going to tackle, well that's still to be decided. One things for sure, my friend already, I need to get some practice.

Which brings me to my own ride today. In to work at stupid o'clock, I left home at 5.45AM and I could be forgiven if I forgot it is actually Summer. Rain, cold, wind (a headwind both ways today, oh joy). The ride in through Wrington over the hill and down, was pretty direct, owing to a need to be at a networking breakfast in Bristol by 8 o'clock. Still, it was worth it, and the bacon sandwich was nice.

I also got a good going-over by the osteopath today. The culprit? Well mini MR may have delivered the coup de grace, but it seems that the Red Madone is not set up properly and has put undue pressure on my back and neck. Oh dear. That is probably why K-1 feels so comfortable at the moment, it's not wrecking my body.

By the time I came to ride home it was predictably warm, so I did my best to stuff some layers in the back pockets. Particularly as I had a mind to do a few climbs of my own. The direct route up Dundry Hill is the Alpe d'Huez of Bristol. But with fewer drunk Dutch people for sure already my good friend, and a lot more traffic. Which is why I took the scenic route up its slopes.

The descent gets steep, up to 17.2%, and combined with the high hedges, twisty corners, and lots of gravillons, is enough to frighten Andy Schleck, so naturally I took it easy. Good job, I met a car halfway up, or down, and inched past on the single-track road.

Once up again to Winford manor, I decided to go straight down the A38, which was a blast as the traffic let me do my 40 mph+ descent thing down, and do Burrington Coombe. I'd enjoyed the climb so much last Sunday I decided to do it in sunshine, and at least I had a tailwind helping me up that part of the route. From there it was over the lumps and bumps on the top, before heading down the gorge, which was fairly dry.

So I only did 48 miles or so, and not very quickly. Given I'd been awake over 12 hours, and had a hectic day, I was quite pleased. I may not have climbed like a mountain goat, but I did see lots of them on the slopes of Burrington. What we need now is for the Prince of Orange to start standing on the corner where the ice-cream van is parked, and start Somerset's very own Dutch corner.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/325097

The Artane Boys Band

2011-07-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

If anyone is going to Torquay before 23rd July, and wants a discounted Italian meal, let me know, I have a discount card which I didn't get to use when I was in Devon last week. While I'm on it, I also have a five pounds off voucher for ladies skincare products at Boots. Has to be used by 9 August. In case you hadn't guessed, I'm doing the reckoning for my holiday, emptying out the wallet to see what lurks inside its depths.

What wonderful, sunny weather we had, with just one light shower the whole week. And not a breath of wind. The isobars on Mr. Kettley's chart remained resolutely widely-spaced. Which was a shame, since the one thing mini MR and I love to do in Devon is to go body-boarding in the sea. So we contented ourselves with a bit of swimming, and a lot of eating and a fair amount of drinking.

I call this rest and recuperation.

So today, I had already decided to do the Great Weston Ride again, repeating our round trip into Bristol for the start, and then ride back from the finish at Weston, a trip of just shy of 85 miles. Skip and I did it with Rosa Luxemburg last year, this year it was just we two.

You can imagine how appreciative I was of the torrential rain and gale-force westerly winds, ideal body-boarding weather really, still not like me to grumble. I was quite pleased with my efforts given I haven't ridden a bike for 10 days, you never forget you know.

K-1 came out of the shed for the first time since March, courtesy of my sore neck, one of those injuries more commonly associated with the likes of Rio Ferdinand, but painful nonetheless. And the black bike is more comfortable, even if the indexing was a bit out at times. The 23 mm tyres certainly helped in the wet, especially the flooded sections, of which there were a few. Potholes lurk beneath to trap the unwary on their skinny tyres.

I was also up for a bit of descending practice, and did quite well on some of the shorter hills, but when faced with an 8-14% hill, awash with water and littered with gravel I decided I didn't want to be out of control and crash, and reined it backed in. Or rained it back in.

I got back and washed the bike, hoped for better weather and watched Cav win again. I do love his immediate post-race interviews. It's no good watching them on the highlights programmes, they've been sanitised by then, and you miss that authenticity and honesty of reaction. You see it in his eyes, his expression and hear it in his tone as much as his words. The perfect antidote to all the bland sports interviews we get nowadays. Then of course there is his jersey, let's hope that by this time next Sunday we can celebrate another stage win in Paris, and the maillot vert draped across his tiny shoulders.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/99752044

Like smiling, crying and celebrity.....

2011-07-16T15:40:00.000-07:00

I have eight minutes to type this entry and I'm not going to waste a single second. My bath is running, that takes 8 minutes, and I need the bath to loosen my back up. Mucking about in the sea plays havoc with your posture. Particularly when you have a 10 year bold hanging from your neck at the time. And I need to loosen the back up before tomorrow (just) because I'm doing the Great Weston Ride and there and back again.

They say that the original of the species is more deadly than the male. Them, you know the ones. I'm not so sure. I always tell people that enthusiasm is more important to focus on than confidence, because, well, because a wise woman, now travelling internationally in her work, once told me this.

In case you are wondering what this has got to do with cycling, well that is for me to know and for you to ponder upon. Let's just leave it at this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJaoD3YVopw

We'll be swimming in the sea

2011-07-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

Did you ever watch "The Likely Lads?" I'm thinking particularly of the episode where Bob and Terry tried to go all day without finding out the result of the England match, so they could watch it on Sportsnight (there's a blast from the past) and enjoy the anticipation.
Well yesterday I was in a similar boat. I'd had my enjoyment of stage 3 of the Tour spoiled by inadvertently switching on the radio on the way home, thus hearing all about Tyler Farrar winning the sprint. Then on Tuesday it was squeaky voice himself, yep, Cadel Evans, winning the first one (Bunny was watching) in Mur de Bretagne. Or should that be on Mur de Bretagne? Unfortunately I checked Twitter and found out the result in advance.

I knew Cav was in with a chance to win yesterday, and I wanted to see it unfold without knowing the result. But I had the school play to negotiate, and the other Dad I choose to sit next to is also a cyclist. It made for an interesting conversation but all the time I was nervous in case he brought up the result of the Tour stage. In fact he's off to do the Etape this weekend up the Galibier and Alpe d'Huez, so avoiding the Tour in conversation was problematic. But I managed it, and I also managed to remember to leave the radio switched off in the car on the way home.

Once home I settled miniMR down in bed, plumped up the cushions in front of Eurosport, and got ready to watch the stage. My phone beeped, it was a text, it was Bunny, I saw the opening line.....just in time I remembered where he was. And where he'd been. I averted my case and watch the race as if live. And so it came to pass that I saw Cavendish win a difficult stage on a windswept Breton coast. And then give an awesomely frank press conference.

If more people were like him the world would be a much more honest place. There would probably be a few sensitive souls getting upset, and maybe more fights, but at least everyone would know where they stood. Or rode, or something.
Bunny had been just 200 metres from the finish line, wearing a union jack cycle top, jumping up and down and cheering him on. I bet the French loved him, let's face it, they do all they can to stop Cavendish winning, so anyone supporting him must be unpopular.

So, today, the last ride before a whole week off the bike as I get a chance to rest and recuperate down by the seaside. I'm not even that fussed about the weather, as long as it's not cold, we can go on the beach, even if it's raining. This morning it wasn't raining, but it was wet, and a bit cold too. Puddles all over the roads, one of which I cycled through and discovered had a deep pot hole within it. It's my first puncture on my way to work for ages, and I thought that the super skinny tyres would be hard to change, but they were OK, and 15 minutes later I was back on the go.

With a lovely tailwind to spur me on I was into work in a pretty quick time. Even better the wind had dropped by the time I came to go home, so I wasn't too slow in the reverse direction. The torrential rain didn't help, especially as it slowed the city traffic to a crawl, and I really didn't want another puncture in that weather. So I was cautious and avoided a lot of puddles and cracks in the road, as well as going a bit more slowly on the downs.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/97676212

I'm quite pleased with how I felt riding home. Although not busting a gut, and it was Thursday rather than Friday, I felt reasonably strong. I have eased up a bit in the last few weeks, and one or two things have sorted themselves out in other parts of the Mendip world. But I think I've managed to recapture a bit of the joy I had lost a couple of months back. The rejuvenation started on the Somerset 100, continued on the Dartmoor classic and reached a peak last weekend up Gold Hill.

I'm also entered for the Great Weston Ride on the Sunday after next, if you are local, come and joins us, and let's get a train of happiness going all the way to the wonderful world of Weston super Mare!

And it's you when I look in the mirror

2011-07-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

Last week Skip and I stayed down in Devon the night before the Dartmoor classic. As we had arrived at our guest house (two single rooms by the way, let's be 100% clear about THAT) quite early, we decided to go for a drive. It actually turned into a trip round all the places that I used to play football, go to school, or ride/crash my bike when I was a kid. That was about all I did between the ages of 7 and 14.

Well, in the same era, a certain bread manufacturer, Hovis, other breads are available, had a very evocative advert where a little boy on a bike pushed his steed, to the top of a cobbled hill, and then rode down it again while a warm northern voice, suitably backed by a comforting brass band, gave the corporate message about how good the bread was. The fact that the ad was filmed in Shaftesbury, deep in Dorset, a million cultural miles from the dark satanic mills as it's possible to get, is neither here nor there. You see, one of my lifelong ambitions has been to cycle up that hill, Gold Hill, thus proving that southerners are tougher than northerners once and for all.

The story now also has an added twist in that the new face of Hovis, is none other than our favourite cyclist born on my birthday (albeit 16 years later), step forward Victoria Pendleton. In the clip below, she burbles on about a load of guff, but it's great seeing her attempting to cycle down the hill on an old bike, with what appears to be highly dodgy brakes, and as I found out, it's a very steep hill.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hC3gAo_Z0T4

I was visiting my parents this weekend, and guess what, they live about 20 miles from Shaftesbury. So I designed (yes, me, planning, what next I hear you cry?) a route around Cranbourne Chase, about 50+ miles, plenty of tasty hills and some long descents as well as a bit of rolling terrain. I did not get off to the best of starts as after about a mile I realised I'd left my water bottles on my Mum's kitchen table, so had to retrace my route.

But once that was out of the way there were no more hitches and I was away into the early morning sunshine and the peaceful quiet lanes of Dorset and Wiltshire. The views were stunning as I climbed each chalk escarpment, and the villages that followed the spring lines (remember that in geography?) were full of thatched and red-brick cottages and small water courses by the roadside.

For a short time I was back on a section of the Lionheart sportive route, before diving down the A30 and tackling a 20% climb back up to the top of the ridge with the military badges on it. From there it was through leafy lanes, encountering a line of four Caterham sports cars, countless motorbikes and one horse with rider and plenty of hi vis. I understand the galloping over the fields malarkey, but not the plodding round the lanes bit. Each to his own I guess.

Next it was date with destiny, Shaftesbury and Gold Hill. It's actually a traffic-free zone and I'm not sure it includes bicycles, but I had figured that with it being Sunday, and only about 10.30AM, few people would be around to object. Wrong. Well, there were hordes of people, it was a medieval fayre in central Shaftesbury, including Gold Hill, and I was dressed in my best Lycra, blending in as well as tomato at a cucumber convention.

Even though it wasn't the steepest hill of the day, the very uneven and oddly-shaped cobbles made it the toughest. I confess to walking up the steps, but apart from that I met the challenge. I'm running out of childhood ambitions to fulfill.

From there, all that was left was the climb of Zig Zag hill, which is lovely. After a short 10% section at the bottom it's a fairly easy 6%, before the final push up to the top of the downs above Tollard Royal. As I crested the hill I became aware that there were many more cyclist about than usual. Yes, you've guessed it, I had wandered into a sportive route, (the Santini National Trust Kingston Lacey sportive to give its mouthful of a title)sharing mine. One of their marshalls even tried to give me directions when our paths diverged. I guess sometime you can't make it on your own.

http://www.votwo.co.uk/CustomContentRetrieve.aspx?ID=1164331

Gratifyingly I was picking up speed as I sped through Tollard Royal and Sixpenny Handley (6d Handley on one sign) and powered on towards Cranbourne. Right through a swarm of horse flies, one of which was kind enough to sting my head. A sharp sting has been replaced by a low-level throb and a slight swelling. I have to be a bit careful about these things and was grateful I'd taken an anti histamine for my hay fever.

Just the last small hill was left and I was back into Alderholt in a shade over three and a half hours for 53.5 miles, a really lovely ride. The first couple of hours were particularly delightful as there was virtually no-one about and I had the roads pretty much to myself.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/513605

On a hillside desolate

2011-07-01T14:04:00.000-07:00

First a bit of news: Mendip rouleur has joined the twitterverse! You can follow me (and let's face it, it's going to look pretty said if you don't) by following the link below. I really promise to tweet very random and odd but interesting thoughts and observations. Unlike my first tweet tonight which is exceptionally dull. Not selling it am I?

http://twitter.com/#!/mendiprouleur

I haven't ridden to work for three weeks, and the last time it was pouring with rain on the way home. It has also been distinctly murky in the mornings, so it was a real pleasure to be able to ride in with sunshine on my back. So nice in fact that I detoured by way of Ashton Park and then Jacob Wells Road, where I surprised minimendip rouleur waiting at the school gates.

And guess what? Yes it was sunny in the evening too, although there was my old friend Mr Headwind back again to make life a bit harder. So I thought I'll do the hard hill (Dundry) and then head through the Chew Valley and do Harptree and back via Cheddar, thus making a genuine loop for the day.

But after Dundry I couldn't be bothered, so the route is a frying pan with a wonky handle as I needed a dose of tailwind to keep me happy, so came home via Banwell in order to get it.

The tan lines are coming along well, although it's not helped by wearing different shorts on a regular basis. I still have this differential tan on my arms from last week. I really need to find a sunny day where I can ride westwards during the afternoon, or eastwards for a whole morning. Whilst on the subject arm warmers, which I needed this morning for the chilly start, are also problematic if you don't make sure they are pulled up to the same point on both arms.

I was not that fast on the way in, and a bit slow on the way back, but the main thing was it was just nice to be riding. I have no major events planned until the Pyrenees at the end of August, so will just concentrate on my hills, and on enjoying riding. That's the main thing right now. Too many other things to worry about as it is.

I am also very, very jealous of Bunny. He is off to Brittany to watch three stages of the Tour, and what's more he is going to cycle to each from his house in the country. Still, he is missing out on the pleasure I had this evening as I laboured up St Peter's Rise. Nearing the top I actually had a good rhythm going albeit a slow one. I was slightly dismayed to see a car doing an eight point turn in the road in front of me, completely blocking all progress.

I slowed, and I gasped, more for breath than anything, but no complaints came from my lips, but I guess my presence was enough to cause offence. Perhaps he was a body language expert or an NLP practitioner, able to do Jedi mind tricks or something. I was obvioulsy doing something wrong.

"You f******g p***k" this charming man shouted at me out of his window as he sped away. Bet you don't get that level of warmth in Mur de Bretagne.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/509453

It's where you came from

2011-06-26T16:37:00.000-07:00

Skip does her usual erudite and eloquent job of describing today's Dartmoor Classic, the best sportive in the United Kingdom. I'm not brooking (my joint favourite) any argument over this one, Di Canio convince me otherwise. (ouch).

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201106

I do disagree that she held me up however, I was 17 minutes slower on riding time than last year, and 20 minutes in total, and given my recent form, the heat, unaccustomed to which I am, the wind, and my failure to eat much before the second feedstop, I don't think I could have got anywhere near the 7 hours 5 minutes required for silver. I'm quite happy with another bronze medal in any case for two reasons.

Just like anyone, a bit of external validation never goes amiss, and there will be some people going home without a medal, so it does actually mean something.

I'm still pretty buzzy, even 8 hours after finishing, or maybe it's my very red arms that are stopping me sleeping. At least I too have razor-sharp tan lines and Frankenstein hands, the marks of a true road cyclist. Bizarrely, my right arm is a deeper shade of red than my left. It's glowing like it's radioactive. The first hour or so was quite misty, so it wasn't until we had turned eastwards, exposing said right arm, that the sun came out in full.

I wonder if there is a living in keeping obscure statistics, and copious collections of random, or not so random, data. Regardless, here are some of mine:

Irrespective of the GPS data, (Charlie lost the plot a couple of time today), the official mileage, as measured by Cateye (other wireless cycle computers are available) was 105.79 miles, and the climbing was somewhere north of 10,000 feet. Not a fact that last one, a rough guess. In 2010 I had to expend 56calories per mile, this time it was 61, meaning it was a bit tougher or something has gone wrong with my heart, or both.

Today my maximum speed, 45.9 mph, or 73.44 kph, was the second fastest I have ever done, and the fastest on a 50 tooth large chain ring (as opposed to a 52). Picture the anorak that one came from.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/498740
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/95031961

Of course this ride owes much of its charm by virtue, and it is a virtue, of taking place in Devon. Land of my childhood. And the views today were truly spectacular, especially as they happened just before a monumental climb (Rundelstone/Merrivale) or breathtaking descent into Tavistock, Horrabridge or Moretonhampstead.

And I never, ever tire of going there, to the moors, the sea, or staring into my old house and remembering how I escaped onto the carport roof when I'd been sent to my room. Or driving round various places and seeing all the crash sites of me on various bikes, or football pitches where I played with my friends into the dark evening until we could barely see the ball. And the Mid Devon cycling club has organised a fantastic event, I encourage you to enter if you can.

Be quick though, I think more and more of us will be heading down there. Me? Well maybe, but right now I'm thinking of that bungalow where I'm going to retire to, play a bit of football, ride my bike......

You've such amazing grace

2011-06-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

Pivotal times. There's a lot in this so concentrate. Or go and look at Facebook if you get bored easily.

There's a time when life seems a bit dull, and every ride is the same as the last, and your work is like a giant hamster wheel, and let's face it, we get stuck in a rut.

Today marks the end of the week for me. My weeks run Monday to Sunday because my heart rate monitor does a weekly count of what I have done, and you know how I love a good gadget. This time last week was a bit of a low point. Bunny says I'm the living embodiment of KBO, but it was clear to me that if I kept BO, I'd soon be well and truly B'ed. So something had to change.

I came into this year's cycling season pretty revved up. I hadn't really revved down from last year and although this was great for early season events like the White Horse Challenge, I was rapidly slipping down the curve of performance towards mediocrity and boredom.

It's a small step but I have eaten really healthily this week and set myself some personal fitness targets. Got some rest, gone to bed at sensible times. Been busy but focused at work. Less will be more. I went to a fantastic conference in London on Friday, which though not relevant to a cycling blog, also gave me an opportunity to meet interesting and amazing people and discuss lots of new and different ideas.

And I also realised just how amazing so many of the people in my life are. Don't worry, just because I sat next to an American author and world-renowned coaching expert on Friday doesn't mean I've gone all gushy. It does mean I see the wood for the trees, the wheat for the chaff, the stones for the moss (it's all I can think of). Amazing people. You know who you are, and I admire and respect every one of you.

Except for the Texan, you have played fast and loose with your honesty for too long and the time is coming, I'd fess up now if I were you.

Anyway today was the Somerset 100 Charity ride for Above and Beyond, (supporting the cancer hospital in Bristol, still time to sponsor me via link at top of the page). It started in Wedmore so Skip and I rode over there, for an 8.30 start. About 50 riders was the final count and I can honestly say I enjoyed it more than anything I have done in ages.

Because I was so well-rested I went off reasonably quickly in a group at the front, but dropped off the back to wait for Skip, who had been caught at some lights. To begin with I was doing most of the work (mainly on the asy flat bits), about half way round we switched over and she did most of the work (on the tough climbs. It was hard, it's the 3rd longest single day ride I've ever done at 117 miles, but I really enjoyed her company today. We are like that.

But the best thing was the whole vibe of the event. Every penny went to charity, a mobile broom and feeding van patrolled the course, driven by volunteers, making sure everyone was OK. Everyone was very relaxed and just nice to each other. Run from Sweets tea rooms, it was all part of their annual fund-raising day, and we arrived back to see the place packed with classic cars, a plant sale, trampolining, horse rides, and all the usual paraphernalia of a charity day, with everyone giving their time for free. People enjoying themselves, doing what the English do best.

The route was largely flat with a few chunky and draggy hills towards the end. From my perspective it doesn't get better. Show me heaven, and if it has a nicer view, friendlier people, then make me a convert.

My performance was better, I averaged over 16 mph for the whole day, including our ride out there and back, the latter was very slow because we'd been gassing at the funday, and although I'm tired and stiff, I can see me getting a bit better before the season finishes. Coupled with all the other dietary and fitness changes I'm making, and of course that perspective, well you won't need to show me heaven, I'll be there on earth.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/93437450

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/484603
way there

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/93438013
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/484604
ride

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/93437021
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/484598
home run!

It's the good advice that you just didn't take

2011-06-12T12:02:00.000-07:00

I had, as you will know if you read yesterday's post, a good rest yesterday. I did feel fairly zonked in the morning, but by the time mid-afternoon came round, brownie points in the bank, sun still high in the fluffy white clouds-azure sky day, all my backed-up Sky plus programmes watched, I was so twitchy to get out on the bike it was uncomfortable.

But I rode it out, if you'll pardon the pun because today was scheduled to be Bristol's Big Bike ride, and I was really looking forward to it. I'm becoming more and more fond of "the rules" (note, those of you who don't care for straightforward Anglo-Saxon language may care to avoid these rules)

http://www.velominati.com/blog/the-rules/

and with rule 5, 9 and 21 to the fore, I figured that despite the atrocious forecast, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger.

Because I was so rested I woke before my alarm went on (or went off depending on your fancy), and had a thought. These new super-skinny 20mm tyres are not good in the wet. I'll swap my wheels from K1 for the day, after all, don't want any mishaps do I?

If you thought yesterday was ironic, well that decision surpasses any vestiges of the word that can exist.

I picked Skip up and we drove into Bristol, parked at work in our basement courtesy of a secured car park space, and changed into full wet weather gear. Not only was the rain torrential, it was blowing a fair gale too, a nice south-easterly that I expected to be a horrendous cross wind on the M5 Avon bridge, and a headwind across the levels to the base of Brockley Coombe.

Last year 5000 people turned up for BBBR, this year it looked like only a couple of hundred hardy souls had braved it, but you know what, see rule 5 I thought, I'm going to enjoy this in the same way I enjoyed Exmoor Beast 2009. See Rule 9. At that event the organisers, faced with far, far, worse conditions, let us ride to an altitude of 1500 feet, around 100km of wild moorland, and we all thumbed our noses and the elf from safety.

Unfortunately the BBBR organisers are as weak as that man's clenbuterol concentration (it's still a banned substance though), and five minutes, yes five minutes before the start they cancelled the whole thing. As well as the weather they blamed an accident on the Portway. Well, Skip and I decided to thumb our noses again, as did many others, and we went anyway, figuring it would take them hours to get the signs down, and that didn't matter anyway, because we know the route. It's only 38 miles, what could possibly go wrong.

I was off like a rat up an aqueduct, past the coned-off accident which was as much of a danger as the West Ham strikers last season, and bombed down the Portway towards the M5 pedestrian bridge. Just before I got there bombed seemed appropriate as "bang" my back tyre blew. We quickly found a sheltered (and unfortunately dark) spot and 13 minutes later we were off again, up onto a very windy bridge, and another puncture.

Once onto the other side it soon became apparent that the cause was a very small split in the external tyre wall, along a seam. Given the few miles I have done on them, it must have been there for some time, but I haven't ridden them since Mad March Hare. It also explains the blow-out I had back in February outside Glastonbury. So best laid plans AGAIN!

The Captain came to our rescue, both bikes into the back of his car and back to the office. Big, big thank you to him, I am in your debt, and look forward to returning the very generous favour. We changed, I grumbled for England and we went home. Below is the shortest ever output I have had from Charlie Garmin:

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/470793

I tell you, by this time next week I will make a coiled spring look as lax as the Spanish cycling Federation.

All I can say is that I expect the Somerset 100 to be terrible, I will have a shocker, my bike will fail on multiple occasions and I expect the weather to be the worst in living memory. Is someone trying to tell me something?

It's just a state of mind

2011-06-11T01:12:00.000-07:00

"Do you know what irony is Baldrick?"
"Of course I do sir, it's like silvery or goldy, only less valuable."

It's Saturday morning and I have had a very busy week, at work, at home, in my head. Just as the past is a foreign country, my head is a foreign country most of the time, I have to have the phrase book out all the time. So as I type this, trying to find a comfortable position for my back and neck after my latest near-miss with an automobile, whilst cycling down a hill at speed, looking out the window to blue skies and sunshine, knowing that I'm riding tomorrow and the forecast is for torrential rain, having ridden home last night in cold, driving rain and wind, seriously under-dressed, balancing hypothermia and skid risk on super-skinny tyres, the man on the radio is talking about introducing measures to counteract the effects of a drought.

Irony? Baldrick knows nothing.

The answer to the drought problem in East Anglia is simple. Don't bother with standpipes, rationing or hose-pipe bans. Just arrange for me to have an extra two or three weeks holiday, in the national interest, and get me to cycle around Bury St. Edmunds, Lavenham, Attleborough or Wisbech for the duration in lightweight summer gear and (particularly) summer shoes and socks.

It will rain for a month.

As soon as I go back to work the good folk of Suffolk, Norfolk and wherever, can enjoy unbroken sunshine for the rest of their summer, allowing the grain to ripen properly, and wheat yields will top 4 tons an acre.

As for the near-miss on the way into work, well they seem to be happening so frequently that I'm getting tired of writing about them. I always take extra care ddescending St Peter's rise in Bedminster. It is urban for a start, with lots of parked cars and so I gave them a wide berth, but usually once I get to the bend in the road I can see far enough ahead to take my fingers from the brakes and let gravity do its thing. So it was slightly disquieting that it was a car pulling out from a parallel parking space on the other side of the road and coming across my path that made me swerve suddenly into the gutter and brake sharply.

Luckily it was dry in the morning or I'd have been off. If it had happened in the evening when the roads were awash with rain I'd have had no chance. I didn't notice for a couple of hours but my neck and back are very sore, I suspect the avoiding action didn't help.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/91506795

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/467815

I'm beginning to think this post is becoming a bit of whinge, so time to get a grip. The ride in yesterday was actually lovely. It was cold, very cold for June, but nice and misty and speckles of sunshine falling into the lanes, helped by the super-early hour of the day. I think life doesn't get much better than moments like that. Few people were up and about, a desire to be at the office by 7.30 meant I left at 5.45, and with the mid-summer sun, it gives enough light to do that.

Thank you to everyone who has sponsored my efforts in advance of next week's Somerset 100. It means a lot to me to be able to raise funds for Bristol's cancer unit, and the ride itself promises to be a great one, almost the antithesis of last week's Dragon debacle. There are a few other activities going on at Sweet's cafe too, all in the same cause, as well as a very modest 35 mile ride on pan flat ground that everyone could do. So if you can ride a bike, want to support a great local cause, meet nice people and have a bit of fun, why not come along and fill the last few remaining places?

Sign up here:

http://www.somersetcycling.com/Somerset_Cycling_Somerset100.html

When you're riding at your own risk.....

2011-06-05T14:14:00.000-07:00

As the nice man from the Dragon ride said, "go that way and you are riding at your own risk, with no food stops, no signs, no insurance, and no mechanical support, no official time, so I want your number please if you do".

Not exactly a tunnel of love is it? Skip's blogged things from her vantage point, so I'm not going over old ground (unlike if I had actually got to do the 120 mile route, where you have to do the same climb from the same direction, twice, which is clearly wrong in so many ways).

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201106

And I have done a bit of my own venting on a cycling forum, here:

http://www.bikeradar.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=12781853

I am left with a feeling of disappointment that for the third weekend in a row I have not accomplished what I set out to do. I was really looking forward to today, and although I felt a bit sluggish on the main climb of the day, actually I wasn't as my average speed was up there with my best sportive performances. It's just that Skip was on one today and seriously kicked my butt going uphill. Heaven help me when she gets fast on the downs, ;-)

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/90350816

There was one funny moment when we came round a corner, to be greeted by the sight of Port Talbot in all its glory and Skip said, wow, "what a view". I was behind her, watching her wheel, and looked up at the desolate industrial wastelands and nearly wet myself. "South Wales finest", was my paltry response. The Bwlch climb was great, I would have liked to have seen more of the beauty of the Welsh landscape, than be routed through nondescript roads, and dual carriageways.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/456153

So what to make of all this. On the one hand it was a pleasant day out in company, if only with a route that was too short and a bit dull. On the other it was quite a lot of effort and hassle to end up riding only 70-odd miles, with less climbing than I could do round here, but that at least has eased me back from the overtraining trap I was falling into.

Swings and roundabouts, six and half a dozen, every cloud and all that, silk purse and sow's ear. No I know that last one isn't relevant I just wanted to see if you were concentrating. Actually there is a much funnier version of the same sentiment, but it's far too rude to put on my blog. Especially now my boss reads it.

I think I'm still in the "life is too short" programme I have been in since Friday night. So despite my irritation at the thwarting of best-laid plans today, I don't think I care that much. My other big event of this weekend was Kung Fu Panda 2, and the message, "Inner peace", yes I could certainly do with some more of that please....

It all adds up, and what you have is enough

2011-06-03T15:01:00.000-07:00

Some days are better than others, and for me today was one one of those for wildly contrasting reasons. Being Friday I rode to work, had a nice strong coffee in the morning, and got loads done. I don't want to be fate-tempting in case it all goes wrong, but it was the complete opposite of "one of those days".

It was blisteringly hot on the way home, it had been fairly warm on the way in too, even at 6.30AM, so I'm hoping things cool a bit for Sunday and the Dragon Ride. I'm hoping my new 21mm tyres will make all the difference for the 120 mile route. It will also be delightful to be back in Skip's company for a sportive, I've really had enough of all day cycling on my own.

On my way home, as I was cycling up Old Hill in Winford, I came across a strange scene. It's a narrow country lane, and yet two cars were parked in a passing place and there was a knot of people, hugging each other and kneeling by the verge. As I got closer I could see they were all visibly distressed, crying and comforting each other and putting bunches of flowers in the hedge.

I felt like I was intruding on something very personal and private so I didn't linger. But later when I got home I found out that a woman had been thrown from her horse at that spot last evening, and later died in hospital.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-bristol-13638405

It's a short and precious gift, this life. However yours is, easy, tough, happy or sad, I urge you to treasure it, because you just never know when it will end, do you?

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/451947

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/89899267

Every eye looking every other way......

2011-05-28T14:41:00.000-07:00

First get this straight. My body is totally capable of getting up tomorrow morning and riding 117 miles on a bicycle from Somerton to Lulworth and back. It's also capable of getting up on Monday and riding to Dunkery Beacon and back. Good food, sudacreme, compression tights can all work their magic, and I've ridden the routes before, so they hold no fear. Even the weather can be beaten, well it's not the jungle or the Aspin in a downpour, is it?

My head however has said "no".

Overtraining is a funny thing. Sometimes it affects you physically, sometimes psychologically, a subset of which is probably one's motivation and joie de vivre. And taste buds, mine have just gone loopy today, nothing is tasting like it usually does. My overload is not particularly cycling related, although I have done about 300 miles more in 2011 than I had by this time last year. No, mine is caused by doing too much and never saying no. Or similar. It's too difficult for me.

So I am not riding the 2nd and 3rd day of this year's Tour of Wessex, I'm going to rest tomorrow, and spend time with my family on Monday. Of course this is all relative. In the time between arriving home and getting in the bath, about 20 minutes I would guess, I had written a list of 11 jobs to do on my "rest day", but as I'm doing the blog now it will be one less thing to get between the sofa and me. And some of them do involve the PC or the telephone, so that doesn't really count does it. And it is useful.

I rode fine today, the wind was awful, much windier than last year and a fine intermittent drizzle that feels horrible in combination with the wind. The route had changed from last year, mainly the first 15 miles towards Glastonbury, wiggled all over the place. In total it was a mile longer, and my total time was 3 minutes longer than 2010, although my cycling time was 5 minutes less. Too much faffing and gossiping at the feedstations. Given the conditions I'll take that, count it as a marginal gain.

The route of today was a clockwise circle (well frying pan actually) from Somerton to Glastonbury, Wedmore, up the gorge (I never tire of that phrase), down to Wells, up to Shepton, Evercreech, Bruton, King Alfred's Tower (despite doing the hill without stopping, my back wheel kept slipping which added an extra challenge), then over to just shy of Warminster, lots of Deverills, Meere, Stourhead, Castle Cary, back to Somerton.

It's a great route, I love the bit down past Clearwater Lake, a long descent, which was one of the few bits I did in company.

I rode pretty conservatively for most of the day, because my moment of surrender didn't come until about 80 miles in, after chatting to GB. Despite that I was very, very nearly wiped out in three separate incidents. Twice by cars (one cut in in front of me requiring sharp braking on my part, the other a man in Bruton pulled out of a junction as i was descending into the town and just didn't see me-he did have the grace to stop and apologise, and we parted friends). The really annoying one was descending Old Bristol Road into Wells, at about 40-45 mph, into the noisy wind, and a fellow participant cut in front of me just before the bend, with no warning.

Perhaps the time has come to say goodbye to the sportive and hello to the Audax, farewell to the Accelerade gel and hi to the packed lunch.

Skip and I exchanged a couple of texts after my decision too. We are off to do the Dragon ride next Sunday, and that was one of the principal reasons behind bailing out of tomorrow and Monday. For today I was pretty much on my own the whole way, either too fast or too slow for the groups, and my climbing was rubbish, fatigued. I seemed to collect a train of people behind me going into the wind on the exposed flats, only to see them all sail past me as the road pointed upwards.

Although I briefly chatted to the Father of Socialism, aka Astana Man, and bumped into the other GB at the last feedstop, there was no-one to talk to for the best part of seven hours. Solo sportives are not fun. So what point in tiring myself out when with a bit of R & R I can get my mojo back in time for a spin around South Wales in company next weekend? I've ticked of the Tour of Wessex 3-day, I really don't need to do it again, do I?

Skip suggested an easy recovery ride for tomorrow, and it was very, very tempting, but I resisted. But it was difficult. To say no that is.

Here are my stats, now in two formats:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/88528829

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/439543

Nothing to do with cycling, but I had a hilarious e-mail from Scott Parker today. I think it went to all West Ham fans, although it did say "Dear Guy". Here is the quote that had me chuckling:

"Together in the new season, everyone starts with a clean slate and the club has the chance to make sure this new chapter in West Ham’s history is as exciting on the pitch as it will be off it.

All the lads will be doing their best to make that happen but as a team – players and fans together – is when you can most make things happen."

Somehow, I don't think you'll be among them Scott, do you?

I'm getting blown away

2011-05-22T12:14:00.000-07:00

Do I have a downer on weather forecasters? Well, today the BBC online weather forecast was, unfortunately, spot on. Right. Correctamundo. Very, very uncool honey bunny. So fairly dry, a heavy rain shower at 4AM, leaving the roads quite wet for an early morning start. Followed by a strong south-south-westerly winds, strengthening like a hurricane, with very strong gusts just when I'm cycling through a wood. Before a lovely sunny evening with the winds easing down quietly as I stare from the sofa out to our garden.

Today was the Black Rat cycle challenge, the first of those sportives I mentioned on Friday. And not an original part of my cycling itinerary for 2011. It's a long story so plump up your cushions and prepared to be entertained. Last year I did the 100 mile sportive which consists of riding in a figure of eight (itself highly dubious) and incorporates any hill of consequence in North Somerset and the Mendips. East Harptree, the Gorge, Old Bristol Hill out of Wells, Burrington, Wrington (the hard way) and a few around Portishead and Failand for good measure.

They did give out a nice souvenir glass tankard, embossed with the Black Rat logo. It is a cider in case you didn't know. My son commandeered said tankard and was not chuffed when I broke it about two months ago. On a whim I e-mailed the organiser and asked if he had any left, and he kindly drove from Clevedon to my house to deliver two replacements. So I felt I ought to enter his sportive because at the time it was struggling to fill up.

Anyway, a ride is a ride as Not the Nine o'clock news nearly said, so I thought give it a go anyway. I entered the 100 mile again, which now had the added spice of Ebbor gorge instead of Old Bristol Road, making it even harder. And, here's the clever bit, I thought it was only about 8 miles to Backwell so decided to ride there and back. Bet you wish that I was smart like you? It's 12.5 miles. 25 mile round trip.

I also had a new top on though, and a new gilet, which did add a frisson of excitement. I was not feeling very energised by the whole idea of the sportive, tbh, and the new Northwave top did help alleviate that. Mrs Mendip Rouleur thought it looked like all my other kit. "It's just red white and black, like the rest".

"No, no, no, no" as Thatcher or Paisley may have said, (actually the latter would have said [imagine accent] "never, never, never"), I told her straight. All my other tops are predominantly red, with a little bit of black and white, this one is black, with a little bit of white and red". Honestly, no sense of fashion. The gilet is black too in case you were wondering.

With the wind at my back, I mad good time to the HQ, and signed on, chatting to a few people I know, including two from last year's Bristol to Land's End trip. I was supposed to be meeting four people from work, but as the first group left, there was no sign of them, and I was getting cold. I waited for the second group to go, and then thought, "they can catch me up, they're younger than me". Sorry guys, I am too impatient.

So off I went, around Nailsea and the lanes around there for a bit, up Brockley Coombe, and then down towards Felton. There was supposed to be a diversion by the roadworks, but no signs indicated anything, so there followed a shaky descent on a road scraped of half of its tarmac. A couple of people got punctures, but I was lucky, and was glad of the nice smooth tarmac down into the Chew Valley.

Once we turned into the wind at Chew Magna, it was like going backwards, and I was actually pleased to get the chance to go up East Harptree hill, even though it is a toughie. I was also getting deja vu from last year. Because of the rapid frequency of the hills, no big groups were forming. It was interesting to overtake a lot of people on climbs, often the same ones who had bombed past me on the flat. I think I am finding the up stuff a lot easier than 12 months ago.

That said, there were still loads of young types, with sinewy frames, and even more sinewy bodies, and I tried to hop on their wheels whenever I could. Some of them are a bit crazy, or not local, or both. A couple overtook me near the funny roundabout at the bottom of Shipham Hill, you know the one where there are always accidents because no-one understands priorities.

Most of the time I was on my own though, and quite frankly I was getting bored. Bored with cycling on the same roads, bored with having no-one to listen to, bored with having no-one listen to my inane ramblings, and most of all, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, BORED WITH THE WIND.

By the time I reached the split point for the two routes, at the top of Cheddar gorge, I realised what lay ahead of me. I had done 47 miles at this point, 12 of them to get to the HQ. I had another 78 to do if I was doing the long route. And I quite fancied watching some of the Giro on Eurosport, it's shaping up as a really exciting race. Except for the fact that the Clenbuterol kid is going to win again.

So another 5 hours in the saddle, plus Ebbor gorge, and most depressingly a few miles on the levels into what was becoming a gale-force wind. But if I did the short route....

Well, what would you do, if your mother asked you?

There were still a couple of tasty hills though. First it was down into the Chew Valley again, around Nempnett Thrubwell and up to Row of Ashes the steep way (have a look at the gradients in the link below!). Then came the two scary moments of the day. When riding in strong crosswinds cyclists often get blown across the road a bit when they pass a gate-opening in the hedge line. So I was used to this, but as I came down the A38 for half a mile to try and take the right turn for Wrington the wind was blowing me all over the place, never known anything like it. Worse than Exmoor Beast 2009.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/428151

Over Wrington Hill (the steep one) and down into Goblin Coombe, and lots of leaves were flying off the trees in the wind. OK, not too bad. Then a few twigs. All right, just watch carefully. Then a branch. Not a big one, but still a bit unexpected.

Also a casualty of the wind were most of the signs in the last 10 miles. I just followed the crowd, except that there weren't many people about, so I made a best guess and came back in just under 100 km, about 61 miles. I spoke to the organiser later (the same man who delivered the mugs) and he said that wind had not been the only saboteur of the directions. A number of reports had come in of people ripping them down. Probably short on direction in their life so needed the arrows.

I did the sportive in just over 4 hours, and I then had to make the 12.5 mile slog back home, into the wind, to bring me up to just over 85 miles for the day. If you look at the Garmin download you will see the contrast with the cycle in, when it had been less windy and I was taking it easy.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/87249325

I apologise unreservedly for the spaghetti-like route that I rode today. I will do better in future.

I am getting some funny cramps tonight, from deep within my upper inner thigh muscles, never had them before. Any expert opinions would be gratefully received. I think today can serve as a useful training ride, but it has left me wondering about next week and the Tour of Wessex. May have to break a cardinal rule and take my ipod. Still at least I got a free bottle of cider today, which I can drink while I watch the Giro...

So lost inside your head

2011-05-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's nearly mid-summer, well only a month until the longest day of the year anyway. This morning, as I left to go to work on my bike, it was a typical Spring morning. Nice and sunny a bit misty, birds chirping, deer running alongside me in the field. I was on the road, the deer was in the field.

I expect a bit of chill first thing in the morning, it's nice, a bit of an edge to start the day. But even though the temperature rose during the day, it turned out to be quite a cold day in the sun. On the way home there was a ferocious headwind as well, and I had to put my morning layers back on, and I was still cold.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/425050

It's been manic at work so I had a lot of thoughts whirling away in my head. And the wind doesn't really help instill the stillness that cycling often gives me. I miss that. It seems like May has been one headwind after another.

I did my best to take it easy today, just a short hill up out of Wrington on the way in, and mainly flat on the way back. For I have somehow managed to enter lots of events in the next six weeks. In fact I have a sportive every weekend bar one until the end of June, and Bristol's Big bike ride on the bar one. And if I ride into Bristol and back that will make it of sportive distance too.

And they are not small sportives either, well one is, my charity ride is relatively easy. I may eat those words in a few weeks. All the others are frighteningly difficult and challenging. Fate-consider yourself un-tempted.

As predicted the R word finally happened. They say it's not despair that gets you, it's the hope. At half time last week all the results were going for us, and I foolishly started to believe, because I wanted to believe. Despite 40 years of evidence to the contrary I just wanted everything to be all right.

Thanks to everyone who has sponsored me so far. A pound of your money would still be gratefully received, I hope to raise 100 from 100 people but just like the weather it has not turned out as I expected. All contributions gratefully received. Many thanks.

http://www.justgiving.com/mendiprouleur

You've broken every code

2011-05-15T05:00:00.000-07:00

A Sunday ride with Skip, and because both of us had been hitting the hills recently, we decided to do a flat easy run out to the south-west, to a cafe we hadn't been to before. More on that later.

Of course because it was flat and exposed, and all the hedges had been pollarded or removed, it was predictably windy, mainly from the west. But the route tacked and swerved around those peculiar right angles you get in rural areas, and we did our best to cover the ground as quickly as we could. By and large we succeeded with a healthy 16 mph + average for this route:

http://ridewithgps.com/users/30887

I can't give you precise statistics because Charlie packed up half way round, it's something to do with having pre-programmed routes but we got where we planned to and didn't get lost.

Yesterday was "Black Armband Saturday" in memory or Wouter Weylandt and all those who have died on a bike in the last year. I hope it catches on as an annual thing, 100 people a year in the UK alone die on the bike, so we need events like that to raise consciousness of the facts. Move us all away from the opinionated hysteria and into constructive territory. Although a day late, Skip and I decided to honour the principle and wear black armbands.

Given that I have few items of kit without black sleeves, it limited my choices a bit, and factor in the wind and mild temperature, and the need to test out some new items of kit, all this contrived a situation where every single article of clothing was from a different manufacturer, but still colour co-ordinated.

So the Hilltop cafe in Pawlett. I don't think it will be winning the Cafe of the Year competition. I was attracted to it by its name, given that it is about 50 feet above sea level, means either someone has a sense of irony, or they take that slight bump in the landscape very seriously on the Somerset levels. The cafe is right next to the A38 halfway between Bridgwater and Highbridge. It is somewhat traditional.

Walking in, I was struck by the resemblance, in look and feel, to a cafe I used to go to when I worked in London, and I detected traces in the accent of the bloke running it. All the tables were laid out on a grid pattern, a bit like desks in an old-fashioned school. As I ordered my bacon sandwich, I noticed a sign on the counter that said customers were not allowed to "mix and match" from the set menu, unless you were prepared to pay extra.

I wasn't asked how I wanted my sandwich, brown or white bread, but I wasn't fussed really. We sat down and started to chat, and i noticed another sign, telling customers they were forbidden from having meetings, because it took up table space and valuable car parking places. Reader, you will not be surprised to know that this cafe was not over-brimming with customers, and the car park had our two bikes, the tandem of the only other paying customers, and a rusty tractor that looked like it had sen better days.

Another sign. "No chips served before 12". And another, " children's portions only for children aged 14 or younger". Do you need a birth certificate? By now this Fawltyesque atmosphere was beginning to make me smile. Probably not what was intended, and I can't see the approach catching on in modern customer service circles. Does this man actually want to be running a cafe?

When my eyes caught sight of the next sign "Anyone consuming their own food on these premises will be shot" (I promise it said this, I am not making it up, there was a picture of a gun too, just in case you couldn't read) I started to laugh. Then a twinge of anxiety. I'd brought my water bottle in with me, had I sipped any?

Paying a visit to the loo before we left, these were outside in an outhouse by the way, and of course there was sign saying they were for paying customers only, I realised they wouldn't be winning prizes for cleanliness either. Now I can't imagine you would go there if you were not going to the cafe, there is nothing there that would drag you to drive there, but be warned, there is also a sign saying they will clamp your car if you park in the car park and don't visit the cafe.

You couldn't make it up, maybe it was one of those TV reality shows where they film your reaction.

Couldn't let today go by without mentioning the R word again. A series of very, very fortunate events would have to happen to save us now. West Ham that is. I only hope that our spineless and clueless owners see fit to appoint this man as our manager. If not the famous Derry son, Martin O'Neill, then it just has to be Mad Dog himself. Step forward martin Allen, your club needs youoooooooooooo.

My usual excuses

2011-05-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

A regular Friday with a trip to work. Like all the riding I'm doing my best to vary the route because it does get tedious turning over the same roads time after time.

So this morning, and a wonderful sunny, misty Spring one it was too, I headed up through Congresbury, A370 and then turned off at Flax Bourton and up Belmont Hill, through Failand and down across the suspension (and best) bridge (in the world), down through Clifton and into work.

For the way back I took on the Alpe d'Huez of Bristol, or Dundry Hill the steep way, on the main road towards Chew valley. Whilst there are only four hairpin(ish) bends on it, I bet it's far steeper, it peaks at about 18.5% according to Charlie, and is pretty much never below 12% for about a mile. Rubbish comparison, but then there are probably few Citroen Saxos on Alpe d'Huez either, which generally makes cycling harder.

From there I headed through Chew Stoke and then wiggled past Nempnett and Butcombe, Blagdon, and Churchill, before climbing over the Mendips through Rowberrow and Shipham.

By the time I got home I was pretty tired for despite my best endeavours I hadn't really eaten enough in the afternoon and was exhausted. My speed on the way in had been pretty healthy, but it's really difficult to pick up speed in those narrow lanes round Butcombe, gravel on the descents, blind corners, and there was nasty headwind most of the time. OK I admit it, I'm trying to explain away a rubbish performance. But I'm sure the climbing practice will help towards my great leap forwards.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/413034

If you have managed to read this far, I'd like to ask you to sponsor me. I know you get loads of requests but this one is quite small. All I want is for a one pound donation. One of my rides in June is a charity one for the same oncology centre in Bristol that I raised money for last year. I'm doing a 100 mile ride, with 100 people so I thought if 100 people sponsored me 1 pound each that would mean a lot of people gave a little.

The link is here, and at the top of the blog. http://www.justgiving.com/mendiprouleur

Skip and I are out on Sunday, doing a flat and fast ride to the south west. We are going to a new cafe too, I bet Mark Cavendish doesn't have to worry about these sorts of things. Actually I was over his house last weekend. No, not a grammatical error, I was looking down on the Isle of Man, though a cloudless sky from 30,000 feet in an Easyjet plane. Looked pretty flat from there, no wonder he's a rubbish climber. Bet he's moaning now about the gravel, the wind, blind corners........

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun

2011-05-10T14:08:00.000-07:00

I rode to work today, it was sunny in the morning and raining in the evening, the route is below.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/407951

When I die I hope you will keep me in your heart, and I hope today, and for a while, you can do the same for Wouter Weylandt, killed yesterday in the Giro. I really hope he's in a better place now.

A teenage dream so hard to beat

2011-05-08T13:34:00.000-07:00

Oh where to begin? Actually, those where the opening words of the Best Man at the wedding I went to yesterday, as well as summing up all the thought whirling round my head right now. Unlike him, I'm going to start in the middle.

12.50AM. Yes AM, in the morning, with darkness outside, but music and jollity inside. Mrs Mendip Rouleur and I were the last "men" standing from her side of the extended family. On the dance floor surrounded by people young enough to be our children probably. The Undertones. Pogoing. Us that is, not The Undertones, who like Mrs MR, come from Derry in Ireland. There is some kind of family myth that Teenage Kicks was written for my wife's sister, but I've no idea if its true or not.

I loved that song, and unlike most of last night's late night revellers, I remembered it from first time around. But I don't buy its central premise. When I were a lad, a teenager, all that "does she fancy me?", "my friend likes you, do you like her?" and the worst of all "I really like you as a friend" stuff, caused me no end of anguish. Bikes and football are so much easier to understand. Plus ca change.

I was eight sheets to the wind, having a riot, and given that this was a mixed marriage, yes Irish to English, in fact Lancashure, I wasn't entirely sure where I fitted in. Weddings are like that, either a fight breaks out, or they become a huge melting pot of drunk people getting to know each other, laughing at the smallest things and generally having fun. This one was the latter and I did.

At one point I thought I'd arrived at a Jane Horrocks sound-a-like convention, but they were a great laugh, and the Irish, well they were themselves, we even had the Pogues near the end, the music not the real thing. Though they are about as Irish as me.

Of course, there was a price to pay, a slightly shaky me was one of the earliest into breakfast because of the lunchtime flight back to Bristol. And I'd missed the ACG ride over some hills to the Walled Garden. So with a flurry of texts when I got back home, I found out the route, vaguely, and decided to do it. I knew I wouldn't catch them up. Mainly because they finished about 6 hours before I started, and there was no coffee stop. But it was going well, despite the strong southerly wind, until the rain came.

BBC weather on this occasion, and me with just a light gilet and shorts on. No overshoes either. I always find the best thing to do is just go as fast as you can to keep warm. And I did alright considering the depredations of last night.

Maybe I should do it before sportives, there's a thought dook,

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/404515

You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway

2011-05-02T09:26:00.000-07:00

Opportunity knocks. Pretty loudly, with an imminent warning that he's not coming back until at least next Tuesday, so rest or no rest, if I want to go out on my bike with him, I'd better do it today.

I couldn't persuade Skip either so it was just me, the bike, and a few thoughts left over from the Cotswold Spring Classic. Skip and I have a habit of revisiting old conversations, I think there must be some deep psychological meaning to that, unfinished business maybe. Today, events unfolding half the world away, took me back to my own words. There are not right or wrong answers, only cause and effect, action and consequence, morality is relative, sometimes, and as Chou Enlai is reputed to have said when asked about the efficacy of the French Revolution, thought for a moment before uttering "too early to say". And this was 200 years later.

Is it wrong to kill people? Does it depend on your perspective, or the consequence? Or the virtue of those doing or ordering the deed? Is it a good thing that some people feel good that someone has been killed, or bad that people like me ask questions about the complexities of morality?

Perhaps I'd better stick to cycling, it's simpler. If possible it was even windier than yesterday, coming from the north east, straight down the gorge into my face. Again, there were few cyclists about, the ones I saw were tanking it in the other direction. I'm glad I wasn't going down the gorge in that wind, you get some strange eddies and flurries around some of the bends and corners.

I was originally going to turn left at the top of the gorge, but couldn't face the direct headwind anymore, so changed tack a bit and headed along the road towards Green Ore. Horror of horrors, that stretch that had smooth black asphalt, now has horrible newly-laid chippings on it, no idea why they have done that when there are so many pot-holed roads they could have attended to. Like yesterday, once again I headed down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Turning towards Litton I was at last out of the wind, and when I got on the main road through the Chew valley, it was pretty much a full tailwind.

Never has that road been so enjoyable! I was flying down the hills so fast it gave me loads of momentum to get at least half way up each succeeding uphill, and the gale on my back was akin to a helping hand over each crest. When I got to Blagdon I decided to take the steep road to the top of Burrington Coombe. Delightfully, the old knackered road on that hill has been resurfaced with some lovely smooth tarmac, which will make descending it a lot safer in future.

It's pretty steep at the bottom, but once past Yew Valley it settles down into a steady 8%, with a couple of short steeper bits here and there. Once at the top I had that tailwind again, this time for the long sweeping descent of the Coombe. And just as hoped, I recorded a new maximum speed for the year, and probably the fastest I have done with a 50 tooth front chainset ever (wow, anoraks of the world unite, I can't believe I have just recalled that fact without looking it up). 45.3 mph. I'll just check..........As I thought. I have only been faster on a bike 3 times, and all were on my Kona, which has a bigger top gear.

From there I wended my way home via the Langford Arms (I really must stay there one day to see what it's like and who else stays there), Ghost hill and Sandford. About 36 miles all in all, and I think that makes a pretty good training loop, with a bit of everything thrown in. Charlie records a point top speed of 68mph, but that couldn't be true, it did feel great though.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/393166

Too slow to notice what's wrong

2011-05-01T08:52:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago Skip and I were going to do this hilly ride over to Bruton and back, for some reason we decided to go to Glastonbury instead. I think I was tired or it was raining or something. So today, after the 84th Bank holiday of the year, and all family duties fulfilled we both found ourselves with an opportunity, or a window, and probably because we are both getting very bored of doing the same routes, we resurrected the Bruton loop.

First up was Shipham Hill, then along to Charterhouse, across the top of the Mendips and down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Then we wiggled about a bit, eventually descending on the main road into Shepton, before peeling off on back roads, down another marvellous descent into Evercreech, and over the big hill north of, and into Bruton.

The coffee place on the high street looked fab, only there was nowhere to put our bikes, so we bumbled on through Ditcheat, Wraxhall Hill and across the lumps and bumps near Pilton, skirted Wells and ended up and Sweets. Where I had a lovely bacon sandwich, and Skip had a walnut and carrot cake, or death on a plate as the atopic me calls it. Well it was lunchtime by now.

Fuelled by strong coffee we made good time on the remaining, largely flat route home. From there it was a short blast back through Wedmore and Clewer and back home. By the time I made it home my total mileage was about 65 miles, with just over 5000 feet of climbing, and all done at an average of 15 mph. Surprisingly. I say this because there was plenty of climbing, and descending on dry gravelly and unknown roads, so it was wasn't always possible to go flat out.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/390901

Here are two sequences of dates that depress me. 1932, 1978, 1989, 1992, 2003 and almost certainly 2011. I'm typing this because I can't stand the pain of the inevitability of watching the Irons go down again. But it's gonna happen, almost certainly if form and history are anything to go by. And there is nothing I can do about it. I just have to decide whether to renew my season ticket again. I have had it for 21 years and I'm seriously wondering if it is worth it.

The second sequence may affect you as well, especially if you are around about my age. 1983, 1987, 1992, 1997, 2001, 2005, 2010. Quite easy this one, the general election sequence. That's not the depressing bit. I have lived in five constituencies in those 7 elections. And not once has my vote counted for anything. Like most of you I'd guess. Our stupid electoral system puts the power to change a government in the hands of less that a million people. Is that democracy?

Of course AV is not a great system either, but it's not complicated STV is a great system and that is complicated), and anyway, we have a complicated tax system, and that doesn't stop them. So if you are wondering what is the point of voting on Thursday, and can't decide, do it for me. Stop me moaning about one tiny thing for one day. Because like the old saying goes, "if voting changed anything, perhaps they'd abolish it", and we just don't notice do we?

You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess

2011-04-29T04:52:00.000-07:00

When my friend the Marketeer was pregnant I used to give her a lift home from work, giving her the chance to observe my driving skills and patient and calm approach to the traffic. It was a good experience for me, she has this saying, which although ostensibly about rush-hour journeys, is actually much broader than that:

"Everyone is just trying to get home"

Think about that for a moment.

I thought about that too when the driver of a fan from Archway Brickwork and Paving undertook me and then gave me the finger and a mouth full of abuse. I got some more of that when I OVERtook him at the next set of traffic lights. Before you ask, my behaviour was exemplary, I didn't say or do anything at all. But I guess he had a bad day, and after all, he was just trying to get home.....

Yesterday I had a fairly typical commuter run on the bike to work and back. Hills on the journey in, into a very stiff north-easterly breeze, and a very cold start too, practically winter weather. Quite the reverse on the way home. Off came the sleeves on the jacket, and the leg warmers and I was still boiling hot. Fortunately the wind was now behind me and I fair flew home along the flat at just under 17mph average. I missed a bit of recording on the way in because I forgot to switch Charlie back on at one point, but it's accurate enough.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/232147

These long weekends caused by Easter, Spring holiday and of course the Royal Wedding are great for extra cycling, as well as getting all those extra jobs done. I'm quite ambivalent about the wedding, pleased to have the holiday, but slightly annoyed that some of my money will inevitably be diverted to pay for it all. I was thinking back to 1981, the year West Ham lost the League cup final in dubious circumstances, (he was offside), my Dad painted the garage door and I did my O levels. And a terrible economic situation, and riots on the streets, and a bleak future ahead of us all. Government needs a bit of a distraction, let's have a circus to take their mind off it all.

Oh, and a royal wedding, yes that was supposed to be a love story too. What I'd really like to watch is the reception, rather than the service or the dress. See how the slightly edgier Middleton relatives cope with the wrong knife and fork, or whether there's any altercations and Fergie shouts "leave it Andrew he's not worth it". Probably not, but it it's an amusing image.

But maybe, just maybe, they are trying to get home too.

It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk

2011-04-25T11:49:00.000-07:00

The Cotswold Spring Classic 2011, 170km version (about 107 miles in English).

Skip and I were discussing blogs, how hard it is to find something interesting about our riding or new or innovative.

Here are the facts: It was hard work, the hills were of the steep up and steep down variety (largely), with the odd gradual descent to make up for it. I rode every inch, unlike a lot of people who, perhaps wisely, walked up the 20% wall at the end of the ride, and then had the energy to finish OK. It was my first century ride of the year, so given I used the same nutrition strategy as last week (90 miles) it was no surprise that I was a gibbering idiot at , um, yes 91 miles.

Skip brought me home on her wheel, much as an indulgent parent collects their drunk teenage child from their first party, and calmly and lovingly puts them to bed with a paracetamol and a large glass of water. Once I'd had the cycling equivalent, a free pasta meal and a recovery shake, I felt much better. But I have learned my lesson (again).

Our mood was pretty relaxed for most of the ride, we had agreed to pootle, and that's pretty much how it panned out, it was a lovely day, gentle on my mind as these things go. Some of last week's White Horse route was involved as well as a section of a Cotswolds ride I did last summer, so familiar territory. And of course K1 was born and raised in Stroud, although I was on the Red Madone, but I knew from collecting K1 from the bike maternity ward, that Stroud is like Cornwall- no flat bits.

We even got given an Easter Egg by the organisers, one each, which just goes to show how healthy living is prompted by these events. I'm going to eat the lot in a minute. The most bizarre incident of the day was two (and it has to be said, Northern) tourists, out walking down the afore-mentioned 20% wall, deciding to take my photo as I cycled up it. No idea why, perhaps Skip can tell you:

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201104

(a great review by a great blogger). Skip and I are both happily married to other people, but she has developed this worrying trait of saying "yes dear" to me as I blather on about bad driving, potholes, or Taylor Swift (don't ask). I know I can give the appearance of a grumpy old man, but inside this whinging exterior, is a youthful, optimistic person struggling to get out. So I am going to give you some unsolicited advice, that if followed, will gladden your heart.

Next weekend, or this week if you are off work, give that wedding business a miss, and go for a lovely walk in the wood. See some bluebells, have a picnic, and enjoy the fresh air, be gentle on your mind too, you might enjoy it. I know I'm going to.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/228738

Those were the happiest days of my life

2011-04-23T09:26:00.000-07:00

OK, a bit of an exaggeration, the title. But honestly. For those who remember the Cadbury's Smash adverts in the seventies, all you need to do is paraphrase it to something like:

"They climb out of their beds. They put on all their clothes. They get into their metal boxes. And then they drive around the countryside".

A day like today demands to be a cycling day. No matter that Skip and I are off to Cirencester on Monday for the Cotswold Spring Classic, 106 miles of fun, the Axbridge Cycling Group was on. As well as Danny Rose, King of the Hill, Boots, Skip, Wonderboy and me, we were joined by one of those strangest of creatures, yes a triathlete, or TriC, as Skip has named her and I have plagiarised.

It was also St. Georges Day. As I awoke to the sound of people burbling on Radio 5, I dimly heard a conversation about how no-one knows how to celebrate it in England. Presumably in Barcelona they do. The Catholic Church even debates whether he existed, and it was a close run thing between him and St Edmund (of Bury St Edmunds, and definitely a real person) as to who would get the English patron saint gig.

So to honour the day I wore my cross of St George/3 Lions Foska top, with matching red shorts. A throwback to the days of the Raid Pyrenean too. And decided to salute whenever I saw a St George Cross, much to the hilarity of one and all. Bunny once asked me if I was a fan of Billy Bragg, "Of course" I said, "I thought you probably would be" he said in his very mild, slightly right of the centre ground way. One of the reasons is that Billy (another West Ham supporter btw) knows how to celebrate all that is good, non-jingoistic and radical about being English. Lollards, Levellers, Tolpuddle martyrs, Chartists, Suffragettes, they were a long line of radical English groups, but they didn't seek to exclude or discriminate or persecute. So there.

So the ride. Yes leisurely in the sunshine for the most part. Over to Glastonbury for coffee and then back, nothing too strenuous and man it was hot when you stopped. There was just a moment when boys started to be boys, but Skip got us all back on the chain gang with one blow of her acerbic tongue. Good on her too.

And yes that is my leg, with near perfect chain ring tattoo. Skip is going to get a real one of these at the end of the summer. I'm not, but it must say something about the ACG that a lot of us seem to get these. I wonder what?

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/376133

Let it go

2011-04-21T12:50:00.000-07:00

Parky. What a great word. Only the English language could have such a great expression to describe temperature. It's said that the Inuit have 50 words to describe snow, whereas we must have thousands to describe the weather. If you are one of my readers in, what we now describe as, most of the world, this may all be lost on you. We also find it remarkable to be having a mini heatwave in the middle of April. Temperatures are not tropical, but they are high, up into the 20s Centigrade.

But not at 6.30AM this morning, just after sunrise it was a bit nippy, misty, cool, requiring a lightweight jacket, but not cold enough for leg warmers or long fingered gloves. But beautiful too, the sun was a sight to behold as it rose above the mist and the hills, and as I cycled up Long Lane out of Wrington I was struck by how lovely the landscape round here is. If you are in most of the world you should come and have a holiday in North Somerset. Hire a bike from the Leadman at Cheddar cycle store.

Where the Red madone is going first thing on Saturday. When I was a kid I had a reputation for trying to fix things that were slightly broken and making them considerably worse. Well my chain was rubbing against my front cage and you can guess the rest. So I was back on K1 today which made a pleasant change.

I also decided to do the full Dundry Hill, and even went exploring along Whitchurch Lane. Big mistake. I have never seen a country road with so much glass on it. All along the strip down the middle, it's a single track road, and in patches at the sides. Such a shame because the views from up there are marvellous, but I'll never ride up there again, pleased to get away with it today. It's also a rat run, which was very nervy on the 18% descent, with a blind bend and a car coming up fast towards me.

On the ride home, where it was distinctly hot, the hottest ride of the year by far, I decided to take a wrong turn, and head out across Kenn Moor for some time trial practice. The sharp-eyed will see that the mileage is a tantalising 49.9. I knew this was going to happen because I know how far from home I am at certain points on the route. That I chose to do nothing about it is a sign of progress. All I have to do now is have a really enjoyable ride in the Cotswold Spring Classic. It's a bad sign that I'm thinking about all the classifications for Monday, I need Skip to keep me in check, and help me to take this enjoying business seriously.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/372838

It's only two years ago, the man with the suit and the pace

2011-04-17T10:43:00.000-07:00

Exactly two years ago today I was having the most epiphanous (is that a word?) day I had ever had in my life. It was Day 9 (Geordie accent) on the Bunny and my Land's End to John O' Groats ride, from Connel (just north of Oban) to Inverness. 106 miles, give or take, in a north-easterly direction up the giant wind tunnel known as the Great Glen. Into a howling wind. All day, after having cycled about 700 miles in 8 consecutive days, hideously under prepared, and injured in knee and neck. The only good thing going for that day was it wasn't raining. It was so bad you had to pedal downhill to get anywhere and I was lucky to break 10 mph on the flat.

At around 5PM, I'd had enough, I pulled into the Fort Augustus Health Centre car park, and figured they must have cortisone in there, I'll persuade them to give a random non-local Englishman an injection to cope with the pain. Umm, quickly realised that wouldn't wash. There was nothing for it, I'll bail, this is horrible. Then I thought, hold on, when will I get the chance to do this again? And anyway it's only 34 miles to Inverness, pasta, a shower and a bed. Then tomorrow is the last day, and I have come too far, in all senses of the word to give up. And in any case, I don't give up. As Bunny says, I am the living embodiment of KBO.

So I ground out the miles, arrived in the gathering gloom, stuffed my face with pasta, and blasted the final 123 miles the next day. And learned a thing or two about myself. Apart from don't ever think of walking into health centres in sweaty lycra and ask for drugs, or that I'm made of sterner stuff than I gave myself credit for. No I learned the visceral meaning of the six Ps. It's a training term.

So today, the White Horse challenge. I had a plan. Pedal like fudge and don't stop. There were a few nuances to it, but that was the basis of it. Eat properly in the days leading up to an event, and rest properly, I have found a good night's sleep really does help, it's not just something your parents say. I also did my best to stay with the fastest group I could for the first 25 miles on the flatter sections (see me lurking at the back in the photo, hanging on for dear life), and was fortunate to buddy up and take my turn with a couple of others on the more draggy uphill bits. Blast down the safe hills, and unlike the chap who decided to face-plant the floor, take it easy on the dangerous descents.

As you know I did the maths (note "s") on Friday, but had another realisation, I just had to be a little bit faster than last year on every section, marginal gains see. And be lucky on the puncture and mechanical front.

I think the scenery was as wonderful this year as it was last year, it was certainly a nicer day, in fact it was hot by the end. I didn't really look too much to be honest, although I saw the White Horses as I cycled up the hills.(If you want a description of the sights and route, see last year on 25 April.) And as I took the briefest of stops at the two feedstops, I was absolutely hanging by the time I got to White Horse Hill, the final big climb. They had a special timing mat for that one hill, for me they really shouldn't have bothered, it must be embarrassing. I relied on gels (I had four of them, and I certainly am paying that price this evening) But on arrival back at the lovely Shrivenham village hall, I had a new experience. The sight of a full car park. One or two had gone, but my time, just under 5-09 including all stops, 5-07-38 without stops, for an average speed of 17.4 mph, means that I got all three objectives for the day, including that gold standard.

It was always on really, I just had to keep up the pace and not worry about fading. Adrenaline tends to take over for me in the last five miles, so once I'd done the last hill I knew it was in the bag. My heart did skip a beat when I rounded a corner 15 miles from home and the bike stopped moving. It was only the chain falling off but if I'd had any mechanical fault, that would have been it, little margin for error. So to beat the time of last year by 33 minutes shows how far I have come, last year I was pleased as punch to get silver, today it would have been a disappointment.

Not sure if I'll do it again, everything went right today, and I could enter on a day of appalling weather and have no chance. It's still the best ride you can do I think, the best scenery, lovely people, no idiotic cycling at all, I think it attracts an older clientele, or maybe one that just knows not to go into health centres and make stupid requests.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/219891

This crazy world that we live in will keep on spinning around

2011-04-15T12:22:00.000-07:00

If you are a similar type of parent as me, you are probably used to your children reminding you when you do things you have told them not to, or not done the things you tell THEM to do. As I am also in the training business, this happens to me all the time at work, as well as when I sanctimoniously pass on my words of folksy wisdom to others. Like an Australian killing stick they keep on coming right back at me.

This coming Sunday I'm off to do the White Horse challenge, a delightful ride that circumnavigates Swindon, and eponymously goes past four iconic chalk horses. And you know how much I love a good chalk carving, and the Uffington White horse is the best bar none. You can keep your Long Man of Wilmington and Cerne Abbas Giant. Where else could you cycle up Dragon Hill and pass an Iron Age hill fort? Eh?

Last time I did this ride it all went rather well and I got a silver classification and was only 22 minutes off gold. So I had been telling anyone who would listen that was one of my goals for the year. Until today. I've been ill for the best part of two weeks, and though now largely recovered my peak flow (lung capacity measure nothing to down with down there) is still down at 430. To put that in perspective normal for me is around 480, whereas normal for any other 46 year old man would be about 600. So "chesty" sums it up.

And then I did the maths. (note the "s"). I have to improve by 6.5%, 22 minutes, do an average speed I have never done before, do each mile about 15 seconds faster than last year. Last year I only stopped for 12 minutes at all junctions, the two feedstops and all other points. The doubts were creeping in.

So I sent Skip a text, and she reminded me of a few motivational facts, told me, in effect, to re-frame a few things, and add just go for it, what have I got to lose? This dose of my own medicine induced a bout of positive thinking. This year is supposed to be all about enjoyment of cycling first and foremost, so that's what I'll concentrate on. And as today was National Happiness Day, I'll add a secondary objective to be faster than last year, and a tertiary one to get a gold time. We'll see how I go.

If today's ride is anything to go by it should be a good day. I'm taking the Red madone as I did today, I think it is quicker than K-1, and the weather forecast is looking up. I did a couple of small hills on the way into work, and came home along the flattish A370. As I was slowly down for a traffic light, which predictably turned green, I was passed by another roadie, skinny as a beanpole with an enormous backpack on. Going like the clappers too, so perfect for a free draft for a couple of miles until our paths diverged.

It was also pretty cool, as in cold rather than trendy, first thing, given I leave at 6.30 it is always going to be until the summer at least. So it was leg warmers and detachable arm time again. Still, I didn't need lights today, which is a real sign that summer is on the way, and I was home by 7PM too.

It was also the first time I have enjoyed riding for a couple of weeks, not that i have done much of it. My mood's been a bit down of late, been a bit self-absorbed. It's amazing what a carbon frame and a couple of spinning wheels can do for me, easily pleased. Now if that isn't positive thinking I don't know what is.
And now I've managed to post a proper link, though I have no idea how I did that. Here is a proper Charlie link:

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/362834

The sunlight hurts my eyes

2011-04-10T11:38:00.000-07:00

I was off work sick on Friday. It was a beautiful and very sunny day, and when I went to get up to cycle to work I found two things had happened to my body. One it seemed to be strapped to the mattress, although I couldn't see the straps, but something was making it extraordinarily difficult to get out of bed.

That was soon cured however by an equal and opposite compulsion to exit the bedroom with sudden alacrity and move into the smallest room as fast as I could. These two forces, the effects of the virus that has invaded my tonsils, and something altogether more unmentionable, meant I spent the whole day looking out of two windows, wishing I was cycling.

I was still ill yesterday when we went to my Parents' house in Dorset, I really think I should start making my own paracetamol, I'm going through a packet a day. And I was still ill today, although I feel better than I did at 7.45 this morning, when I knew I had to go down to Axbridge in case anyone was joining the ride I was supposed to be leading. No-one had said they were coming, but we now have all kinds of insurance-related issues if an officially designated ride leader isn't there. I won't go on, it's too boring to type. I made myself go cycling.

I'm not sure if it was a good idea or not. Half way up the hill out of Clewer, (it may be John's hill) I thought it wasn't as I left my breakfast by the side of the road. Good job I was on my own really. In fact I'm not sure if it was an ACG ride or a solo ride, how will I classify it in my very sad spreadsheet?

So I did a loop round the levels then over Brent Knoll, up the coast to the Brean beach cafe, then back via Canada Coombe and the Banwell caves (not actually inside them, past them). It was very sunny, and (whispers quietly) hot. So much so that I think I'm going to need suncream next week for the White Horse Challenge. There you go, just ruined the weekend weather for next week.

It was a lovely day as well, but there didn't seem to be many cyclists out, maybe they are all doing events like Skip who did a sportive today, or Bunny who did a duatholon yesterday. I still don't know why it's called that when there are three legs to it, I know there are two sports, but the taxonomy seems all wrong. I need to get out more.

But fair play to them both, Bunny as usual is modestly stomping up whichever leader board he's entered for, and Skip had a fantastic performance in a long sportive in the south east. I had hopes of a Gold for next week, but that would mean I need to do the 150km in sub 5 hours 20, and with this virus being hard to shake, I may just settle for enjoying myself, particularly as it's going to be pouring with rain.

On the subject of sad statistics, my K-1 odometer reads 7000.0 miles as of today. Which is quite something in a little under two years. I've done mileage on the other bikes and a hire bike as well, but I think that's about the equivalent of cycling to Santiago in Chile, assuming you could cycle across the ocean. Well, all right, I know it is because I googled it, but it's a fair way in any direction. I shall be watching closely for the moment it hits all the sevens. Ushuia in case you were wondering, always wanted to go to Tierra del Fuego.

Sorry for the moaning, my usual cheerful self will be back next week.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/212983

We get to carry each other

2011-04-03T07:37:00.000-07:00

I'm not one for promoting the use of performance-enhancing drugs, but today I'll make an exception. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Sainsbury's Paracetamol plus" without which today's ride would not have been possible.

I awoke to find that my tonsils had re-invented themselves in the night, and were now determined to be squidgy golf balls, dangling in my reddish throat. Now I understand yesterday's fatigue. The sensible course of action may have been to hole up in bed, with hot lemon and a good book, but that would underestimate the power of paracetamol combined with a dose of caffeine.

Skip didn't take much persuading to go to Glastonbury rather than to Bruton via Shipham gorge, and after the first 10 miles or so I started to feel slightly less than terrible. (This of course is man-wussiness of the highest order, but then I am allowed to moan on my own blog). I thought I might be following her wheel all morning, so it was good to actually start to feel better as the ride went on, especially after some more caffeine, courtesy of Heaphy's in Glasto, and some lovely lemon cake. For the most part we rode round side by side, chatting and just enjoying ourselves, which is what it should be about isn't it?

It turned into a lovely ride, as after coffee we wheeled round through Shapwick and Edington, Burtle and Mark, and back past Badgworth Arena and down Notting Hill. This is a lovely descent as it is generally enclosed by trees so has little wind, and is fairly straight with a nice run-out at the bottom. I decided to push the bike a bit and was suitably adrenalised when my back wheel jumped a bit. Still I topped over 42mph, not the fastest of the season but OK.

The weather was OK too, the wind dropped, the sun came out fleetingly but there was no rain, and for one last time I have decided against washing the bike. I promise to do it after the ACG ride next Sunday!

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/342011

Don't look back you can never look back

2011-04-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

I didn't ride to work today, so when Mrs Mendip Rouleur said she needed to go into Weston to pick up some train tickets, I volunteered to go for her, it would give me a chance to do a quick loop and stretch my legs. Also work out the frustrations I have been feeling this week (steady) about a number of work issues, and the sad capitulation I had just witnessed on the TV. 2-0 up at half time? I ask you, Year 5 could have put up more of a fight, it's only Wayne Rooney.

I'm going to make another confession. I wore, (imagine conspiratorial whisper) a "hi-viz" gilet. Yellow. Two reasons, the sartorial obviously, it matched the yellow top (almost) but also I know what Weston is like at the best of times, and Saturday afternoon is not the best of times. I wanted to give myself a fighting (though maybe that is an inappropriate word on reflection) chance of survival. Clearly it worked but there were a few dodgy moments with Subarus, souped-up Saxos, that sort of thing. As well as the the usual roll of SMIDSY incidents.

The trip also enabled me to swing by the Toyota garage and have a look at possible new cars, for my beloved, very un-green and great-in-the-snow Rav-4 needs work doing to it that will cost more than its value. Gulp. As Mrs Mendip Rouleur says, no-one has died (I probably won't reflect that one back to her next time she has a lack of perspective, I may be clever but I'm not too clever for my own good), so it's just a case of getting it sorted really. Clearly the car will need to be big enough to fit at least one bike inside, and preferably two. Priorities after all.

It was pretty windy, and chilly on the way there, glad I had the gilet really. But it won't be long until the local idiots are joined by the boys of summer, and Weston will be very unsafe territory for cyclists. I was going to keep it flat but decided to give Canada Coombe a go, as well as a new GPS recording site, which has a natty feature of telling you the gradient at a given point on the route, you have to roll the mouse over the elevation profile. The maximum today was about 18% if you can't be bothered to do that.

I also feel a bit sluggish and under the weather. I thought it might be because of not riding for a while, but as I feel exhausted after only 25 miles, I think I may have a bug. Great time to ride 60 miles to Bruton and back tomorrow then.

Charlie's route below:

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/205697

Esta undecision me molesta

2011-03-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

Today I awoke sore and tired, and of course having lost an hour into the ether of British Summer Time. Straight away the Rouleur household was into panic mode as we had all agreed on a morning trip to watch Rango at a cinema on the outskirts of Bristol. And it is a great film, slightly surreal for a children's movie, but it does have Jonny Depp, Ray Winstone and Harry Dean Stanton amongst the cast. If you like your entertainment Zen, you should go.

I saw almost all of it, I think I missed only a couple of minutes while I was dozing. But that probably added to the whole experience in any case. By the time we were travelling home it had turned into a really nice, sunny Spring day. And the roads were full of cyclists. I should be resting, but I don't get an opportunity to ride in daylight during the coming week, and it might be raining next weekend. I just couldn't make up my mind when we got home with the TV and sofa looking very inviting too, should I stay or should I go?

Well, what would you do?

So now I am even sorer and tireder, but it was a really great ride, and despite doing the Gorge, the HNP on Mendip, Long Lane (easy Wrington Hill) and then a few lumps and bumps on the way back, I was OK.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75378835

I thought a lot about the census while I was riding, I am confronted by this monstrous intrusion of questions as i type this, and I have to fill it in today apparently. Not sure if they would know if I filled it in tomorrow, but as you know "Conformity" is my middle name.

Don't get me wrong, I love questions, I make my living through asking them, encouraging others to ask them, and know when and when not to ask the right one. I just wish they could have asked a few interesting ones instead of all the drivel about numbers, ages, occupations, blah, blah, blah. So here, just for fun, are the ten random questions that occurred to me this afternoon:

1. Why do black clothes make you look slimmer than you really are, and white ones make you look fatter?
2. How important is size?
3. Did Lance Armstrong take performance enhancing drugs that contravened the rules?
4. Was there really no room at the inn, or was that dramatic licence?
5. What persuaded Anekin Skywalker to cross to the dark side?
6. Who decides when the clocks go forward and back?
7. How many Kings of England were actually called George?
8. When do children start tidying their rooms without being asked?
9. How many cyclists were out today in North Somerset, and who was that large group near Churchill school?
10. What is the Church of England for?

Feel free to add a comment and ask you own question, in fact I'll give a virtual prize for the best one, right where is that form?

She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's the salt of the earth and she's dangerous

2011-03-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

But I call her Skip. Happy Birthday, and like all good long distance communications, I'm sorry that I can't be there tonight, but after today, I can barely walk, never mind drink. Is that plausible enough now?

Today was an Axbridge Cycling Group Birthday ride celebration and (for me at least) recovery ride after doing a few hills yesterday. Official Mendip rouleur complaint: I ordered flat! Quite a group assembled in the Square this morning. I'd got up a bit early to warm up and test my stamina by cycling down into Winscombe then up to Shipham before delivering Skip's present so she, or I, didn't have to carry it round with us.

I didn't have a problem buying it, not what I would have chosen for myself of course, but then presents are for the receiver. I did toy with buying some cycling kit, and went to elaborate lengths to try and pretend I was buying stuff for my Mum to make sure it was the right size. But, and it's a big but. Buying clothes for women is fraught with hidden, no very visible dangers. For one thing, Skip, well she's a rebel, and most cycling clothes for the ladies are pink or mauve and very twee. Or any that aren't are unavailable, and people at work told me not to risk buying a blokes pair of bib shorts.

The size thing is a minefield. What is a size 12 exactly? Apparently if you buy size 12 and it's too small, that's no good, but if you go for 14 that could be insulting. And, while no-one cares about how they look on a bike as much as me, I really didn't want to get it wrong. She does colour co-ordinate her nail varnish after all.

So I went for a set of DVDs about he who must not be named in case the over-litigious Texan actually reads my blog. Which I doubt, but I read he gets e-mail alerts every time his name is mentioned on the web. A bit like googling yourself for the paranoid.

So the ride, well we went round the levels, up to Catcott and Shapwick, down to Sweets and then up a new hill on the way back from Panborough. Back past the windmill and down Notting Hill. Boots was route plotter and manged to find some roads that would put Paris-Roubaix to shame, as well as a nasty climb which had hitherto been hidden.

I'd like to think I did my stints on the front, because for some reason we were on it today, the reason being we were either trying to keep up with, or impress Superman and Superwoman (see entry on 13 June 2010). They don't come out with us much and when they do we always seem to be busting ourselves to pretend we are really good cyclists, just in case they never come back. I think.

I did spend a lot of time looking at the back of my fellow cyclists today. Take Skip for example,

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103

A very clean rear, of her bike, gleaming derailleur, and smaller profile than last year. (Actually I have no idea if that's true, I always look at her knees and brakes, as i am a gentleman, but Bunny says so, and he's married, aren't you Bunny?).

The Knight of the Realm, who joined us for ten miles before peeling off to his shop. Absolutely filthy. Haven't you got a sponge? Muc-off? Get the cub scouts round, no wonder your gears keep seizing.

Boots is slowly metamorphosing into a modern cyclist. New bike, made, I think, of carbon(?), he now hows an Endura top and today I noticed a matching water bottle. One day the saddle bag will be gone and he will sport a sleek helmet and lycra shorts. Mark my words.

Superman and Superwoman have their national flag proudly etched onto their top tube. But was that a stars and stripes I spotted down near the bottom bracket?

The Shipham MTB, who is not even from Shipham, so after his performance today is now officially King of the Hill, today he committed a heinous crime allowing his yellow shell jacket, poking out of a rear pocket, flapping in the breeze, like a 1920s dancer.

And me? Well I was the worst offender today and none of you even noticed. Or at least you didn't comment. Or perhaps you couldn't care less, but I feel furtive, like a thief who has got away with it but still feels guilty. For this morning on entering the shed, I found the K-1's front tyre completely flat. Time was a factor, so I made a decision. Quicker than you could say, "where's the team car" I put one of the original wheels on. With deep section aero rims. Another brand for heaven's sake!!!

I'm sorry, I've let you down, I've let the Symmetrical and Matching Standards Board down, but most of all, I've let the tyre down............sorry.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75186118

Seven o'clock in the morning and I've been riding the overnight train

2011-03-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

Commuter run. That time of year when it's very cold, misty and silent in the morning, and very warm, sunny and noisy as anything in the evening.

What to wear? Do I need to tell you? I made sure I had detachable arms, detachable legs, hats, anything that you can detach quite frankly. Clothes not anatomy. It is most definitely spring though, and it was delightful to be riding in weather that is other than cold, ice, wet, fog, grime, you get the message.

On the relatively flat way in, I crossed over a bridge near Flax Bourton just as a beautifully sleek high-speed train was going underneath. I thought about waving to the window as it went, but chose not to. Somebody might wave back.

Then it was up Belmont Hill, with the mist down below, and the rising sun just starting to burn it off, it was really enjoyable. Over the suspension bridge and into Clifton, I was meeting the Princess for her inaugural commute into work. She has a (imagine lip curl) mountain bike, with (grimace) panniers. Actually I hope she never gets a road bike, she's a natural. Imagine Contador without the clenbuterol and with the build of a woman. And English, long blond hair, OK nothing like Contador, but potential to kick my butt.

On the way home I decided to do Dundry Hill in the daylight for a change, and although I had to put my clear shades on towards the end, and I had to slow down going down Long Lane because a bus was blocking my way (it's my hill don't you know) it was a great ride home. Best of all the overall route has a delightful frying pan shape. And that has to be good news.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/75029677

Never stopped me dreaming

2011-03-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

Well she didn't let me down, 96.82 miles of the Endura Lionheart sportive, based at Longleat. Unlike Charlie, who duly loaded up with the official route, cut out on one occasion and missed three miles of recording.

But that was about the only thing that went wrong with the day. It was almost an impromptu ACG ride, although the Liberator disappeared quite early up the first hill, to be seen later at the finish. Skip and I rode most of the route together, although I struck out on my own occasionally, and it was on my own, there were no groups today.

The main route into the Longleat estate was also the route out for the sportive, meaning we had to get up at stupid o'clock again, and in the gloom of the early start, there was faffing to be done about clothing. Hindsight proved me right almost immediately, as the steep starter climb warmed me up nicely, meaning the ditched warm layer was not missed. We all got off to a good start anyway and I may have caught a glimpse of three lions as I did my early morning lap of the Longleat estate.

And the weather got better, and better, and sunnier and sunnier. I even had a great number, clickety click. The countryside was fantastic too. Somehow, in our congested part of the country, the organisers had managed to find a pretty deserted patch. Apart from nice quiet roads (barring a short stretch of the A303) that is, with great surfaces for the most part.

There are many things that make our country great. Marmite. The Radio times. Early closing days. Stiff upper lips and mustn't grumble (I know, I know, this is aspirational). But I have discovered a constant in my life that I thought had left. Where would this country be without the humble village hall? Harvest festivals, cub scouts, parish councils, youth clubs, teenage parties, cricket teas, and now, sportive feed stops.

It gets better. The Women's Institute supplied us with cakes, in particular the chocolate and banana version. All the cakes had their creator's name by the side, and it is with regret that I can't remember who did my sponge of choice.

To be fair, by the time of the last of the three, yes three stops, I was on water and jelly babies, but I got up King Alfred's Tower without stopping and the last draggy climb called Gare hill.(as in long rather than a male hill dressed as a woman). There is significance in the name though, it was almost certainly the site of a meeting place in Anglo Saxon times, where the local freemen would vote on important decisions, proto-democracy before the Norman Yoke.

Skip has done a great blog on the ride here:

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103

Today I was ravenously hungry and my backside feels like it's been dancing with a cheese grater, oh happy days! It is amazing that despite having done lots of sportives in the past two years it takes a bit of re-acclimatisation to get back into the swing of things. I'm sure I'll be fine by the weekend.

My official time was 7 hours 10 minutes but my cycling time (according to my ever-reliable cateye) was 6 hours 26, reflecting how much time I spent enjoying the landscapes, particularly Fovant Down, sight of the regimental chalk badges, and a traction engine rally in Wilton. There were some fantastic bridges too, I do love a bridge, a lot of today's were those little stone ones over shallow water courses. Very common at the base of chalk escarpments.

So lots to see and do, besides riding my bike. Come to Wiltshire for the day and see history, beauty and listen to the wind, the larks, and not much else.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/74152946

I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel

2011-03-18T13:40:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I have to make a decision between two beautiful choices. I love both of them dearly, but as will all difficult choices, I have to do some nailing of colours to masts, and pick one.

I am conflicted for they both offer different things. They are both stunningly gorgeous, sexy, and slim. Bot can do things to me that I dream of for days afterwards, the touch of their skin under my hands has me swooning.

One is flighty, twitchy, skittish and plays a bit fast and loose. The other more comfortable but still quick, more upright, less noisy, but, and here's the rub, a bit less dependable than previously.

So despite all this beauty it is the reliability that makes the choice. And I'm not as torn as i thought. At least the recent reliability anyway. The Red Madone it is then for the first proper sportive of the season, the Endura Lionheart at Longleat House, just shy of 100 miles, that's the plan. Loads of people from work are doing it too, well at least three anyway. Along with Skip, and the Liberator. So it should be a good day, particularly if i can get on the Liberator's wheel for the day.

Today I took it easy in terms of route into and back from work, going via Congresbury and Long Ashton. It was pretty damp and dismal on the way in, but lovely on the way back, and amazingly I managed an average far in excess of anything else i have done this year. Worryingly everything seemed to flow very nicely, which, in my superstitious manner, means I'll have a stinker on Sunday. Oh well, it's not a race is it?

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/73692804

The best you can do is to fake it

2011-03-13T08:09:00.000-07:00

ACG time again today and my first ride since going back to work, and since the Mad March Hare last Sunday. I'd joked about being a coiled spring, but in reality I felt more like a coiled slug. After a heavy lunch, no, after lots of heavy lunches. Because, dear readers I am carrying a bit too much extra baggage after the winter. Bunny was kind enough to imply some of it may be muscle, and that is true, as my waist is about the same size, but this year I have lacked a bit of discipline to avoid the metaphorical sausages.

It was also the first outing of the year for the Red Madone (OK, I give in, my inner pedant has won over my desire to be idiosyncratic), given the front mechanical mess that is Kinetic 1 at the moment. I'd dropped the latter off for a full Spring service at Leadman's LBS yesterday, so out came the Trek today. Bit of getting used to, especially the saddle, but a pretty good alternative I'd say.

We made quite a peloton (I have totally capitulated here) today, seven of us in total. Doc, on his first outing for a while, Skip, Boots, Shipham MTBman, and his two MTB mates, Figgy (because despite his diminutive and almost Moss-like frame, [less attractive, considerably less attractive, but equally skeletal] he never stopped eating, in particular a packet of fig rolls flapping out of his back pocket) and Broadway Danny Rose. (You'll work it out). The official start of Spring is not until 21st March, but today's weather was decidedly Spring-like.

I had suggested some hills, so it was up the gorge, with Figgy disappearing into the distance, and I found it harder than usual. We re-formed and bombed across the top, through Priddy and then down the Old Bristol Road into Wells. From there we went up through the Horringtons, which was as painful as it sounds for me, with Figgy disappearing into the distance. You can see the pattern can't you?

Once on the top again, it was a short hop to another new cafe, Hartley's cafe bistro (according to itself) on the B3135 between the A37 and A39. We briefly debated the five criteria for my cafe of the year competition, and yes, I do intend to seek feedback from others. It's a nice place, bit of a lack of cake, but reasonably-priced bacon sandwiches more than made up for it. It also has a farm shop, with some interesting cider, but no way it could fit into my jersey pocket.

Anyway, my criteria are:

1. Value for money (not the cheapest, but the best value)
2. Cleanliness (includes toilets)
3. Friendliness and service, and how cycle-friendly they are
4. Quality of food and drink, and range and particularly how good is the cake?
5. General ambiance and quirkiness, eco-friendly, landscape views, ethics etc.

If you don't like it, start your own contest!

Once out of the cafe, despite the sunshine, I was a bit cold, perhaps because we started with the descent of the fabulously-named Binegar Bottom. Down through Chewton Mendip, then Litton and East Harptree, we then hit that particular hill, and it was here I felt I was going backwards. Figgy disappeared into the distance, then Boots disappeared into the distance, and my legs felt like they were made of lead.

This got worse and worse as we formed a group across the Mendips, and then down from Tynings Farm to descend Shipham gorge. The stats are quite good given all the climbing, but I feel shattered, which is amazing given I haven't ridden for a week. But, and it was a big but, the "G" stands for Group, and sometimes you can't make it on your own, and I must say I really enjoyed being out with the Group today, a really friendly bunch, and a jolly good ride.

As predicted West Ham have just been knocked out of the FA Cup, so I can now go and slump on the sofa for a couple of hours. Bring on the Lions......

http://connect.garmin.com/player/72799601

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/72799601

PS There must be a better way to post these links, if anyone knows, can they let me know please....:-)

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

2011-03-07T13:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to do the Mad March Hare sportive in the middling counties of Warwickshire and Worcestershire.

Marvellously I did it with Skip and Bunny, all of us riding pretty much together the whole time. Nothing beats cycling with your mates, chuntering away about this, that and the truly pointless. Yesterday I didn't convince them at all that fox hunting and opera are tools of oppression of the elite to keep the masses in their place. But who cares? I enjoyed myself.

And we are all blogging, cut and paste the links down at the bottom. It was also a very early start, and five hours sleep the night before, for long, tedious reasons, and a leaving do the night before that are not ideal preparation. But it was OK, and I didn't need to do anything but give Skip a good listening to for a couple of hours on the motorway, which made it a lot easier for me. I also realised a stop in the M42 services is better than a portaloo for those essential regular preparations, but if you look at this picture of me at the top of the hill-climb, you'd have thought I hadn't bothered:
http://sportivephoto.thirdlight.com/viewpicture.tlx?albumid=295851&pictureid=14600787

Notice that I am numberless, mainly because I couldn't find the energy, will or patience to tie fiddly numbers in the early morning cold, and you can't get your number out of a jersey pocket when cycling up a 15% hill. Unlike the downhill, which seemed to be a bit novel. Skip enjoyed it anyway, but then she had matching nail polish. Matching to her jacket that is.

http://sportivephoto.thirdlight.com/viewpicture.tlx?gsearchid=1299535602&pictureid=14600994

The ride was beautiful. Take churches. Straight pointed spires, a lightning rod to heaven, on the top of idyllic crests, with streams in the valley below. Spring flowers, clustered on lawns in the churchyard, bursting though the drab winter coldness as if to poke the devil's weather and say, "greyness will not defeat us, we are yellow and we will proclaim the spring".

Or bridges, no other nation on earth does bridges like us, just ask Isambard. We must have crossed the Avon (of the Stratford upon variety) a few times, and one bridge with its passing places for carts, its arches, its stonework, what more could you want? Do you know Avon means river? I love that. Saxon to Celt: "what's that called?" Answer: "Avon", Saxon names it the River River.

So there I was about 69 miles in and I got a taste of what it must be like to be Andy Schleck. My chain came off, for about the fifth time that day. Except this time one of the links was half-sheared and the rest was jammed in the front mech. A bike without a fully functioning drivetrain is like, well, it's like, a bridge without a river, or a church without a spire, they just don't work.

Except Andy Schleck has someone on hand to hand him a bike, he doesn't have to take it to his LBS on Saturday morning, or walk the last 3 miles to the HQ. But then he doesn't have mates like Skip and Bunny who will rescue him so he doesn't have to either. I had to walk about 3 miles before Bunny came and got me, but if it is to happen at least do it when friends are there. Thanks guys.

Still a good ride, and a DNF is a DNF, no matter what gloss my friends or the official timekeepers put on it (5 hours dead in the latter case, which is close to Bunny's 4-50 and Skip's 4-57). I don't care though, not now. I will look back on the day with a huge fondness, for riding together is as good as it has got for me. My time is respectable, given the preparations and early-season, but yes The chain was broken, but some other links have been forged a bit stronger I think.

Charlie and blogs below:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/71678941

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103

http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/

Put on the bright suit Billy, head for the right side of town

2011-03-05T11:45:00.000-08:00

While I have your attention I'd just like to mention the Black Rat Challenge in Bristol on 22nd May. Last year I entered this sportive (see my entry 16 May last year) and despite the damp weather I had a great time. The route has been improved for this year so give it a go. I have a conflict of interest, it's West Ham's last game of the season, unless they get to the Cup Final (and by raising the possibility I now know it won't happen), and if it's make or break time I may have to go, we'll see.

I think it is a great test to ride all your ,local hills in one go, we wouldn't normally do that, and by entering to force yourself to conquer them i think. Besides there's the camaraderie of strangers....and the honour of the ACG!

But Jeremy, the organiser of the Black Rat, did something amazingly kind today and replaced the glass tankard I got as a souvenir from last year. My son drinks out of it, although he's not onto the cider just yet. Given the family history it's only a matter of time, but the original tankard got smashed, and Jeremy gave me, in fact made a journey to give me, two replacements. Well, with kindness like that I think I'll have to enter his sportive now.

Speaking of rats I was in a bit of rat trap myself last night if the rumours about the establishment I was in are true. I'm now over this morning's hangover, and it has a vague connection to cycling in that I rode into Bristol last night, and home this morning, for my boss's leaving do. It was a very surreal occasion I can tell you (the do not the ride), but I'm not sure it's the idea carbo-loading for tomorrow's Mad March Hare. We'll see.

It's been great to be on holiday and ride during the week, in daylight, even if it has been a bit chilly. So yesterday afternoon as the last hurrah of that before I go back to work next week. The season starts now....

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/71323196

What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know

2011-03-02T10:57:00.000-08:00

Do you know what my problem is? No I don't either, but if you find out, let me know.

It was one of those "best laid plans" type of days again. Meet Skip in the Square, same time as Monday, and cycle the same route as Monday, but in reverse. I made a strategic decision to put new tyres on K-1, as well as new brake blocks, in advance of the first sportive next Sunday. Moral of this particular story, don't start fiddly, annoying jobs at 10 o'clock at night when you are already tired.

Everything that could go wrong seemed to, I won't bore you with the details, for they seem trivial in the cold light of day, but at the time they all collectively drove me nuts. Being the obsessive type, I had to finish, and get the bike in a halfway decent state to ride this morning. I'd promised to meet Skip see....

But caffeine is a wonderful thing. Despite three hours sleep, a bitter north-east wind and distinct lack of sunshine, off we went up Shipham gorge, and across the top, down Burrington, Walled Garden cafe, Wrington, Ghostly Hill, Sandford and Winscombe.

I like the Walled Garden. I know it's expensive as cafes go, but as my Dad says, there are no pockets in shrouds. It has the best view of any cafe in North Somerset, and great armchairs. And it's on one of my favourite hills, and the scone I had today was superb. Chacun a son gout I guess.

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201103

I'd just made the turn towards Barton when I noticed that our convivial chatter had stopped, and Skip was, well, not there. I waited a few minutes, and then turned back, to find her half a mile back fixing a puncture. Both her tubes, (missus) were also holier than thou, so I gave her one of mine. This didn't quite take as long as my fettling last night, but it had eaten into our limited time, and Skip's patience, and with one tube left between the two of us, we made a tactical decision to head for home by the quickest route. Which was up Winscombe Hill to my house in my case, and down the other side for her.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70890975

My problem? Sometime I don't know when to give up, and sometimes I give up too easily. But how do I know when I've got it right? That is my problem.

Winds have changed, whisper in the trees

2011-02-28T12:04:00.000-08:00

One of my favourite sayings is this: "These are my principles, if you don't like them, I have others". OK, it's a joke, but it has a serious point behind it too. I hope I'm never so inflexible and dogmatic that I can't be persuaded or change or evolve my opinion on something. You can sense what is coming can't you?

Skip and I agreed to go for a recovery ride today, it was planned to be a very flat run out to Fairyland for good coffee and trivial conversation. But there was a cold north-easterly blowing, and I hate coming back on the flat into the teeth of that. Especially when I'm a bit tired. Holiday? Just glad I left my Blackberry in England these last few days, I'm an addict. I'll have to bury it under the patio like Mandy Jordache.

Remember her? Along with having TV's first lesbian daughter, she was the soap character who finally did for her abusive husband with a kitchen knife, after weed killer and paracetamol had failed to do him in. A definite case of murder, with the husband's body under the said patio they nearly got away with it, and it was not pesky kids but a leaky pipe that sent her to prison.

So most of our conversation was trivial, light, fun, but somehow we drifted onto the death penalty for murderers. I don't know much, but it ain't trivial. And whilst I'm prepared to listen to your opinion or principles, all the logical arguments in the world won't sway me on this one. Killing people is wrong. For anyone.

So we didn't go to Glastonbury, we went all over the place instead, mainly looking for an open cafe. But we avoided the busy roads and chatted about this and that, and all in all it was a good ride.

Skip has done a great blog on the ride, which featured lots of chat, a disappointing chocolate cake, my third new cafe in under two months (how many are there in North Somerset?) and a great ascent of Burrington Coombe.

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201102

It turned out surprisingly hilly too, how did that happen? With the Mad March Hare running on Sunday, I better get some sleep. Which is not what my friend the boss will be getting, that happens when a child is born, so lots of love to little Elizabeth Hope and her parents. xx

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70647951

You pulled me out of the past and landed me in today

2011-02-27T15:47:00.000-08:00

Day 2, and while Thursday was mostly riding in the Republic with a bit in Northern Ireland, today, or rather last Friday, was the other way around. The howling wind, more like a hurricane if you ask me, was still present, if anything it was even stronger. A few rain clouds were threatening and I was very glad I had changed my tyres the night before.

When I first took Kona over to Ireland last October I had left the old 25mm tyres that had been present since I did LEJOG. In 2009. A lot of miles ago. Given that I had fallen off last October, and an innocuous piece of road, and that the tyres were now more square that round in profile, I decided to fit a couple of new 23mm ones. Bingo! The old tyres pretty much fell off, with no levers needed, and it didn't take too much effort to fit the new ones either.

So less rolling resistance and better cornering, what more did I need? Well a tailwind would be nice, and I did eventually get one. But not till the second half of the ride, and after i had battled down a flat(ish) south-westerly road for an hour and a half.

I could also have done with a few more cyclists about town. I had noticed they are few and far between in Derry city, even at rush hour on Thursday I saw hardly any. This is different for me as Bristol is crawling with them, and I think this makes things safer. It was pretty clear that the drivers had no idea what to do when faced with a road cyclist doing 15-20 mph on their streets. It wasn't hostile, it was lack of experience or ability to judge my speed that caused them to pass too close or over take in all the wrong places.

Once out in the country it was a bit better, and the roads are a lot quieter than in Britain. I headed to Strabane, home of three of the West Tyrone Brigade I mentioned yesterday, all killed in an ambush by the security forces back in the eighties, on the road I cycled on out towards Plumbridge. All very, very young men, killed for something they believed in, but still, what a waste? A beautiful road it was too, the natural beauty of the hills interrupted by the strange beauty of the wind turbines. I don't really hold with ghosts, but I can imagine that if there are such things there would be a lot of them in those desolate places.

It was lovely cycling country again though, up into the Sperrin Mountains. Steep climbs were interspersed with steep, but largely straight, descents. There was some light drizzle coming from the side now as I headed east, but the roads were very quiet and the country became wilder and wilder. The original plan had involved a slightly longer trip to Cranagh, but I was up against the requirements of a family function, so, running out of time, I turned for home at Plumbridge.

I can't wait for an opportunity to cycle some longer climbs out that way in the summer, when hopeful it will be warmer and drier. But don't bank on it. I now had the wind at my back on a long gradual descent all the way to the obviously-named town of New Buildings, apparently a loyalist hotspot, if the kerb stones are anything to go by. I know these things are about identity and tribal territorial markers, and I also know I don't know the culture of the place like my wife does. But, I'd love to know how they organise that kind of thing, is there a New Buildings Pavement painting group?

Later on that night I watched a programme on the Irish TV station, RTE, during which one commentator said that the Irish reaction to difficulty is one of three options:

1. Apathy
2 Moaning
3. Pick up a gun

I actually think she's missed the fact that the people of Ireland did something amazingly constructive and brave when they forged the Good Friday Agreement, but then I don't understand the culture do I?

I was now on the final blast back up the main road to the city, over the Craigavon bridge and back to Culmore. 57 miles and I enjoyed it tremendously. If anyone wants to come with me to enter the Inishowen 100 sportive on 14 August, let me know, it will be fantastic.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70439335

In the cracked streets trampled underfoot

2011-02-27T10:48:00.000-08:00

In terms of community background, 53.1% of the Northern Irish population came from a Protestant background, 43.8% came from a Catholic background.

What is your first response to that demographic fact? Does it stir opinions or emotions in you? No? How about kerb stones painted red, white and blue? Or murals on the walls of the end of a terrace, commemorating the deaths of Charles Breslin, Michael Devine and David Devine of the West Tyrone brigade of the IRA? Or even roads that are so windy and rural, that you can't tell if you are in the North, that is further south than the South, or the South, that is further north than the South.

Once again I was cycling in Ireland, or Northern Ireland or both. Heaven knows how sensitive I need to be. I could have written a post all about the cycling, and be patient, I'll get to it. But it's not often that you get to cycle in two national jurisdictions on two consecutive days, and when one of them is having an election, where the most of the parties derive their origins from a dispute most of us have either forgotten, or never really wanted to remember.

See how careful I have to be with the words? It's a place where in years gone by, having the wrong name in the wrong street would have got you into trouble, serious trouble. But it's also a place that had a bloody and vicious war for nigh on 30 years and they euphemistically called it "The Troubles". Doesn't sound too serious?

At a family party about 10 years back, one of my brothers-in-law, meaning well, drunkenly told me "I don't care if you are English you're part of this family". What do you do with that? Incidentally at the same party, another brother-in-law drunkenly said something much ruder. But then, they had also grown up in the seventies, and while I was playing Subbuteo or three and in, they were playing with rocks and bottles and it wasn't much of a game.

United by a different language, that's often said about us and the Americans. Well I can tell you on the back of 17 years experience, and much study of history, it should be said of us and the Irish.

So, the cycling. It's gorgeous. Blooming marvellous, perhaps some of the most beautiful scenery around-just have a look at that photo! Once again I started from Culmore and headed north, over the border into the Republic, up the coast to Muff. No jokes at the back. Then it was up, and up into the hills and over the top to Buncrana. Last time I came this way the long downhill stretch was full of ice so it was quite nice to bomb down the slope. The wind though was starting to play its part, howling off the sea from the South-West. As I turned into it and headed down the eastern shore of Lough Swilly I knew I was in for a treat. It was one of those days you have to pedal to get down hills, and long for a climb to give you a bit of shelter.

My speed was not helped by stopping all the time to take some photos, nor by glancing at all the Election posters of the various political parties. And there are a lot of parties and a lot of candidates. On Thursday I was in the Donegal North-East seat, and most of the candidates faces looked very sombre and serious, befitting the seriousness of an 85 billion Euro debt I suppose.

One Sinn Fein candidate was smiling though (perhaps it helped), and he was later elected along with one each from Fianna Fail and Fine Gael. And in case you are confused about what they all stand for, I wouldn't worry too much, the general consensus would seem to be that the IMF is running the country anyway. Gael was certainly apt in all senses of the world, political storm, check, financial hurricane, yes. Vicious cycling headwind, most definitely.

One sign of the times was the huge number of empty but brand new houses at the roadside. The housing market has collapsed along with the financial market, and pretty much any other market you can think of.

Eventually I swung away from the flat and up into the hills again, after a short detour over the border into the North then back into the South. I was heading for an Iron Age hill fort called Grianan :

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

It is also the name of my shed, but that is another story. It's owned by the Office of Public Works (the fort not my shed) and has a commanding position overlooking the Maiden city (careful with words again!) as well as Loughs Swilly and Foyle. The final half mile of the climb was brute, on a paved access road up to the car park. By now it was a howling gale with rain approaching from the Atlantic, I concentrated on getting back to my temporary home as fast as I could.

It was a fairly long descent down into the town, through the Creggan estate, and towards the Promenade. Although peace has been present for over a decade, I'm generally careful about talking to people, my accent marking me out straight away. But one schoolgirl got a dose of Anglo-Saxon when she stepped out without looking, right into my path on a city centre descent. Good job too, I was doing 30 mph and she would not have missed me if I hadn't.

Finally with the wind at my back I made it out of town back to Culmore and completed 40 miles. The wind and climbing played havoc with the speed, and having been up at 4.30AM for the flight over, I was not at my best. Still an enjoyable ride though.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/70439269

Won't you tell me something true

2011-02-20T13:12:00.000-08:00

I have turned over a new leaf. It happened Friday night, only I was so tired and spaced out that I forgot to write about it then. I have even posted about it on Facebook, where I am a member of the Save a Cyclist campaign. I had been training the subject of "Emotional Intelligence" on Friday, along with a short piece about Assertive behaviour, so it must have dawned on me to try some of it myself. You know the old maxim-"Do what you've always done and you'll get what you always got"? Well all the anger and shouting didn't seem to be helping.

I've also been watching a series of lectures on BBC4 about political philosophy, I think called "Justice", they are given by a Harvard Professor of political philosophy. Is it ever right, morally to lie? That was the question last week. The truth I think is that people can not be made to see the truth but they will believe a lie if they want to. The truth will only ever be found when you decide to seek it for yourself. Once you see it, you can never stop.

So whilst my instant, human reactions my be understandable, even justifiable for some, I decided to thank a motorist for their considerate driving. I was coming down Brockley Coombe, which is a fairly twisty and dark road at the best of times. Even with my lights I was having to take the corners pretty wide, and most cars were doing their usual Friday night thing. Cutting too close as they overtook, or dazzling me with full beams as they came towards me. Neither of which is helpful when you are doing 30 mph on a dark, damp, road with nice sharp corners.

But one lady didn't. She waited, at a safe distance behind me. Let me get to the bottom, didn't rev her engine or anything. So I pulled alongside her and thanked her at the traffic lights at the junction. And today I made a point of thanking every driver who waited, either coming towards us, or behind us, and do my best to ignore the idiots. Kindness is the way. We will spread good driving across the highways and byways of Britain through our smiles, waves and gratitude. I'll just need a few reminders from my friends now and then if you don't mind.

Back to today, I met Skip and the Liberator in Axbridge for a fairly, but not exclusively hilly ride:

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201102

It felt hilly because it included the Gorge and Wrington Hill, the nasty one with the really steep section towards the bottom. But I actually did more climbing on the commute on Friday, albeit over a slightly longer route. It was also really nice to go to yet another new cafe, the one in Kingston Seymour, which everyone is always talking about but I'd somehow missed out on. The Liberator was also, pleasingly, fascinated by Charlie Garmin's functionality, although Charlie let the side down by throwing a technology tantrum. We never did get to Ham Lane to see the water buffalo (yes really).

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/69249233

One thing all that elevation did do was give me the opportunity to clock the fastest point speed so far this year, at 43.8mph as I came down a slightly damp Burrington Coombe. I need new tyres and I think brake blocks may be good too.

I'm back over to Ireland on Thursday, hoping to fit in two rides, possibly with another cycling club. We'll see how brave I feel and what the weather does. And I'm taking new tyres over there too, in the hope of staying on the bike this time.

It's been a long cold lonely winter

2011-02-18T13:12:00.000-08:00

This is a weird situation. I'm listening to a live stream of U2 from Johannesburg (singing Amazing Grace segueing into Streets Have no name right now)as I'm typing this, I'm finally on holiday from work (two weeks, what will I do with myself? No, don't answer) and very, very very tired.

I rode to work today:

http://connect.garmin.com/player/68893656

Long Lane, Dundry, Airport, hills, nearly 3k feet of climbing which I was surprised with, but Charlie wouldn't lie, would he?

And back. It was fun, and despite the slight damp, drizzle and early morning/late evening dark, which slowed me down a bit on the descent of Brockley Coombe, spring is coming. "Here comes the sun" I thought, as I crested Long Lane near Wrington, and arrived at work in proper daylight. There are daffodils and crocuses shooting up through the stony ground.

Better things are coming. Believe. Forget THEM, soon the world will be a better place, and not just because u2 are sweeping over me, or because I'm on holiday, or because I'm going to Ireland, or even because the Spring is coming and we are riding some sportives TOGETHER Skip, you better believe that so keep up because neither of us are going to hang around, we are going to kick arse.

No the world is going to be a better place because it just will be. Have some faith please at the back.

That's enough from the soap box, I'm going to get something to eat now. We are riding Sunday so I better get some sleep too.

Where is the hope, where is the faith?

2011-02-13T08:48:00.000-08:00

Did you ever watch "Thirtysomething"? It was an American TV drama series first broadcast in the early nineties. I used to watch it, and I thought those east-coast Yankee advertising chaps, with their endless insights into the human condition, were so cool and sophisticated. I longed to earn their wisdom, be erudite like them, and have an urbane yet strangely folksy life. The most inspiring character was one protagonist's wife, cannily named "Hope". Symbolising all the optimism that latched onto the show in the period it was set, post Berlin-wall tumbling, and pre 9/11.

Thing is, I caught a re-run of it yesterday afternoon, as I slumbered in front of my TV, channel-hopping and trying to forget that the weather was fantastic outside. I watched with some fascination before I realised it was not an episode I had missed. What a load of self-indulgent pretentious clap-trap. Who were these inexperienced naive fools. You see, it wasn't the programme that had changed, or even the zeitgeist (well, not that much). And it isn't truly fair to say that it's me that has changed either (as I am still full of plenty of the afore-mentioned clap-trap, and quite proud of it), although of course I have lost my top-end speed.

Because cynical, naive, idealistic, optimistic, hard-hearted, empathic, even plain old nice, these are the words we use to judge another's perspective. I am round the back of the outbuildings, putting a tarpaulin on the leaky shed of life (see, I told you), whereas back in the nineties, I still thought it was all about getting a flash car and climbing the ladder.

All of this is a long-winded answer to a question I was asked last week, and no I'm not angry anymore, after all what's the point?

Today, the official Axbridge Cycling Group went sailing to Glastonbury. It was wet, I was about a stone heavier, in accumulated water, when I got home compared to when I left, and a layer of skin has been air-blasted from my face by the wind. At one point cruising, no make that battling, across the levels we were pedalling like crazy on the flat and still only doing about 13 mph. On the same stretch on the way back we topped 22 mph, thus statistically calibrating the gale's impact.

It was a bit of a two way split at times, between Boots, Boy Wonder and I in one group, and Skip and M (name to follow when I've thought about it), I think I caught the latter two talking about shopping at one point. Boots and I actually managed to drop Boy Wonder in the headwind, but once the return leg came there was no catching him as usual, even when I tried to sneak up on him. Still got his top-end speed see.

My bike got its third wash in seven days too, and I had to give the chain a bit of special attention as a few bits of rust are creeping in to the crannies between the links. Once the spring comes I might treat myself to a new chain and give K-1 a service. It's been a winter with a lot of weather. Sorry about the rain, I take responsibility given my Friday comments. So far this winter we have had virtually no mild, dry, windless sunny days........if God will send his angels, it just might be something to hope for.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/68045837

Spilling over down the drain

2011-02-11T15:45:00.000-08:00

A lot has been said and written about the Winter we are experiencing. Last time I cycled to work I thought, "man this is the coldest yet". But as I have had that thought about seven times already, I reasoned it couldn't be true. But then the next day my son told me that it had been minus 5C when he left for school an hour after I left home. So it in all probability it just may have been the coldest.

But, and you are all going to hate me now because I'm about to tempt fate, (say quietly to yourself and the weather god won't hear) "we haven't had much in the way of rain". Until today. And the next six weeks I suppose. Sorry.

The morning ride was quite pleasant, a bit of drizzle, and the roads a tad damp, but nothing untoward. On the way home I was just starting to think that the forecasters were wrong, when right on the dot of the forecasted six o'clock, the heavens opened and down came the deluge. I did my best to avoid all the traffic by going around as many back roads as I could. Spray from the cars just about finishes my morale off for the day. So although I arrived home doing a passable impersonation of a soggy towel wrapped around a drowned rat, I was at least happy.

I have devised a coping strategy to stop me getting annoyed with bad driving. As those that know me may have expected, it involves counting, categorising and recording. I've seen sense and decided not to start a spreadsheet, so FOR NOW it's just the first two. There are six categories:

1. SMIDSY incidents
2. Driving past me too close and/or too fast
3. Overtaking when it is not safe to do so
4. Failing to switch off dipped headlights
5. Use of a mobile phone while driving
6. General stupidity

The score on the way in was, 0 (pleasantly, although there was one on the way home), 3 (interestingly all white vans), 1 (the old favourite-overtaking before a traffic light on red, then slamming on the brakes, with me passing him again anyway), 3 (one for the darkness, and one of them after only a minute of cycling, likely to be less of a problem in Summer), 0, (although as half the ride was in the dark and the other half was twilight, I can't be certain) and 1 (my personal favourite, reversing at speed towards me around a bend, down a hill, after just overtaking me, to let an oncoming car through a gap).

Please feel free to adopt the protocol. I gave up counting on the way home, Friday night home time commuters are clearly in a rush to get home, whereas there was a distinct mellow feeling this morning. May have been the rain, may have been me.

Charlie stats here:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/67723562

Some good climbing practice and not bad speeds given all the conditions. My favourite road was that little cyclists-only lane around the back of Barrow Gurney. I think it's been imported from Flanders, could have done with a cross bike.

I met a very interesting cyclist this week, Jim Rees:

http://www.teaminspiration.org.uk/

More on that another time.

Enjoy the weather!

The wheels are turning but you're upside down

2011-02-06T11:32:00.000-08:00

Today was a relatively long ride, but this is going to be a short blog. Skip has blogged it very eloquently here:

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201102

and in any case my head is full of the same old drivel it was last week.

It was very windy, and our route took us out into the face of it for the first half and then back with a (mostly) tailwind on the way back. I am disappointed with myself for losing my rag with a man driving a car. Maybe driving is a kindly interpretation. I probably lost it because of the puncture as we were leaving Glastonbury, quite explosive it was too, on the back tyre with no apparent cause.

My tyres are a bit old as well, which has its benefits. They were a lot easier to get on and off than when I bought them, although their grip in the wet and ice has been a little suspect of late. After as much faff as I could create, involving a dodgy valve on the old and new tyre, my CO2 canister running out of fizz, my pump, Skip's pump, we were inflated and on the road again.

You can look at the route on Charlie, High Ham, Shapwick Hill, Butleigh, they're all there. Very little rain, and great cake and coffee in Glasto.Here's the route from Skip's house back to her house then back to mine.:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/66927257

By a strange quirk of technology, my route down to Skip's house (well nearly) has recorded separately here:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/66927278

I particularly like the almost continual descent for 2 miles on the elevation graph. Sad, but that's me.

I've been musing about philosophy on these pages of late. It's a well-known truism that the English don't hold with such stuff mostly, not unless they can see the practical purpose. Stereotype? Yes of course, but what is the point of having your own blog if I can't throw in the odd generalisation if the fancy takes me.

So philosophy. It is often said by them, that people most regret what they didn't do, rather than what they did. Well last week I looked down the barrel of an opportunity and decided not to pull the trigger, let the rabbit go free. Scuttling into his warren of potential. Time will tell, puddings, proof, eating and all that, but it somehow feels, yes feels, viscerally, that it was a good decision. Morally too, and you know how I love my own moral high ground.

But then today I feel as if I rolled down the hill a bit, and said a few things to that driver which did no good to anyone, and actually could have put Skip as well as myself in a tricky situation. It has to stop, cyclists will not be saved from idiot drivers by my aggressive outbursts. Human reaction it may be, but then humanity is about more than just being reactive.

Which brings me to the picture. Jules may talk about walking the earth till God puts him where he wants him to be. I'm going to stay where I am and wait for further orders. The picture is the badge of Axbridge too, and also adorns our ACG kit. So you see the synchronicity, surely?

From your lonely seat, in your lonely cars

2011-01-31T14:38:00.000-08:00

I know you want to read something light, something wryly amusing and slightly sardonic. A bit quirky maybe, tip the corner of your mouth up and just smile to yourself, the smile of faint recognition or empathy. Something about what a tough or awkward or terrific time I had on my bike riding to and from work in Bristol.

I had worked out some of that stuff to write but my brain's been fogged on the journey back. The truth? The truth is, and I hate to admit it. I'm overtrained. Persistent cough on the bike, headaches, cramps, irritability (no comments at the back), and the training volume for January has been higher than all but four months of last year, too much too soon.

So, a quick precis of the ride:

Well it was freezing and icy this morning. I chose my clothing on the basis that I thought there would be a fair chance I would fall off so I balanced warmth with padding. Given the tentative ride down to the main road it was OK, and once past that there was little ice to be had. Back roads too, and it was daylight and sunny and beautiful by the time I arrived. I took a great picture of the sunrise on my phone too. Slow though, not pushing it going downhill in the dark, and this applied especially on the way home. 40-odd miles, have a look for yourself on Charlie's stats:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/66106740

Give me a few days rest and I'll be fine. At least I don't always have to do that journey in a car in a traffic jam. It certainly induces some strange behaviour. Why do some people have to overtake to get past before the traffic island? And why do some people seem surprised that the predictable consequences of their own actions always happen as predicted? It's dark when the lights go out, and it's sunny when dawn comes. Easy really, isn't it?

Hoping I'm always there

2011-01-30T10:16:00.000-08:00

It would seem that this month I am big in France, with 37 viewings of this blog there. Alors, bonsoir mes amies francais, j'adore votres montagnes. Or something like that, haven't quite got to the bit of my "Learn French" CDs that deals with that sort of thing. But I am looking forward to going over to the Pyrenees again in August and having a crack at a few more cols. That will necessitate riding three long, hard, hilly rides in succession so I'll need to practise that again.

The Tour of Wessex is on again at the end of May and I have entered all three hard, long hilly days again. But life has presented the opportunity for a bit of consecutive riding right now as Mrs MR is working at home tomorrow. I'd already agreed to meet Skip and the Captain at 10AM today, so if I can face it at 5.30AM in the icy blast I'll give it a go.

Back to today. Flat was the order of the route, and flat was what we got. And although there was some wind, it was nothing like yesterday, and anyway, there is no ride in the world that can not be cheered up by these four things:

1. Good company. And it was really good, although I felt a bit sluggish on the bike, and I ache now, I'm really pleased I had their presence as the motivating factor to get me out of bed. Besides, I think I must have seen well over 50 other road cyclists out today, all taking advantage of the opportunity to get out. Felt like part of a social phenomenon, there were cyclists here, there and everywhere.

2. Coffee. In a rural cafe if possible. Despite my city birth and heritage I prefer the rural setting of a cafe, where your bike won't get nicked, and there are nice things like trees and birds about. As long as the coffee is warm, has caffeine in it and comes in a clean container I'm not too fussed about taste.

3. Cake. Mine was superb today. Thick chocolate layer encompassing coffee sponge with a couple of fudge pieces on top. Not too big either, so I was tempted to have another, it is true, but I held my nerve and savoured just one piece.

4. Sunshine. All day, in the sky and in my heart quite frankly.

And we got a really good train going too, the three of us. The other two had, they claimed, stonking hangovers, but it didn't show, we chatted on the back roads, and singled-up on the main roads, sprinted, waited for each other, and not one idiot Sunday-driver. A record.

All I have to do now is eat some more pasta, have a sleep, and I can have a really good hilly ride tomorrow. Bliss.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/65850682

I'm so happy and you're so kind

2011-01-29T10:47:00.000-08:00

Today's ride is dedicated to my old mate the Mad Scientist, whose birthday is next week. Happy Birthday. Everyone needs a mad scientist.

Like a present from Vladimir Putin, the wind blew in hard, fast and cold straight from the heart of Siberia. It was -2 degrees C, with a 20mph north-easterly, as if that matters. In my face. In the dark. At 6.45 in the morning. On a Saturday. Remind me again, why am I doing this? Oh, yes, pleasure. So that must make me a masochist, without the other bit, because I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

That's the funny thing about having cycling as an obsession, sorry, hobby. There is never an end to the possibilities for putting yourself in uncomfortable situations, and then dressing it up as self-improvement. Why do I do it? Because at the time it felt physically awful, yet now I look at it with a warm glow of satisfaction, and can't wait to do it again. Which is good because the plan is for an easy ride with Skip and the Captain tomorrow. Have to find a way to avoid that wind though. We'll have to find a way to get an impromptu ACG train going.

But as Bunny (who is married, aren't you Bunny?) is always reminding me, "some days make you faster, and some days make you stronger". Well it was one of the latter today. I was working,facilitating for a team that can only get everyone together on a Saturday, so what better excuse did I need. The wind reminded me of that day to Inverness, so there was nothing for it to do some hills. At least that way I could shelter in the lee of the hill on the way up, and get the benefit of the gradient on the way down.

The breeze was a blessing in disguise actually. It kept most of the frost away at least on the A38. And the A38 on a Saturday, at that time, is a great training road. The route was quite direct though so I was delighted to be going underground into the basement by 7.45, and eating a bacon sandwich by about 8.30. Which was nice.

When I wasn't doing my facilitating I spent a few moments pondering the merits of Consequentialism versus deontology versus virtue ethics. Pretentious moi? Of course, always have been always will be. Full of it. Actually my son was interested in the whole subject of whether lying is ever right, smart boy, because I have not figured it out, which leads me the virtue ethics camp I think.

I decided to be virtuous on the way home and do Dundry and Burrington. Except I mucked up my geography and arrived at the foot of West Harptree Hill by mistake. Not wanting to go along that road to Blagdon, there was nothing for it but to go up. Back in September I breezed up it, but today, man it was hard.

Tiring now, I popped a gel at the top and bombed across the top. Now there are still a few icy puddles up there, and coming down the gorge I decided to go easy. No virtue in sprinting down and breaking a bone, whatever my ethics. Lucky I did (except I don't believe in luck do I?) because the wind was blowing me all over the pace as the gorge winds in all directions and gets some strange eddies and flurries. Fortunate for the teenager who crossed the road in front of me too, I was able to miss him because I was going so slowly.

So I crawled back up the Axbridge bypass to home, satisfyingly almost completing a complete loop of around 45 miles for the day, just my road at the start and finish. Quite slow but I couldn't give monkeys. I did plenty of climbing and I'm still alive. And as that ride retreats into the memory, I'm enjoying it more and more.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/65664038

Where I am it is a lot of fun

2011-01-23T10:49:00.000-08:00

First of all a big congratulations to Bunny (who is married aren't you Bunny?) for entering a 100-mile Audax today. I'm not sure if you can actually win an audax but he was also the first one to get back to the finish. Given his lack of cycling training and the poor state of the weather, this is particularly depressing. Following the Exmoor Beast in November, I calculated that the performance gap between me and him had closed by 2 minutes over the course of a year, over 100 mile distances. So if I could continue at that rate of progress, I'd be at his level by the time I was about 70.

Unfortunately this news would seem to be a fly in the ointment. I hadn't figured on Bunny getting better as well, never mind the lack of time I'm getting for riding at the moment. Still I will content myself with the fact that I have already done more exercise than I did in the whole of last January, and 2010 turned out all right in the end.

After an abortive start to the weekend yesterday, with the ACG ride cancelled because of freezing temperatures and lots of pesky ice on the road, I once again braved the tedium of solo, static cycling yesterday afternoon. Just 70 minutes this time, but it was enough to leave me slightly tired this morning as I set off to meet Skip for a hilly ride. Before I deal with that I'll just mention that I am now officially concerned about myself. I spent a good 10 minutes planning and choosing what to wear on the exercise bike. (I settled on a black/white combination with red trim, if you are interested). I think I spend more time planning that than I do a whole host of other things. Which is telling.

Good news, today the temperature was above freezing and the brisk north-easterly breeze kept the ground frost away, so off I went to Axbridge via Winscombe, to meet Skip for another opportunity to ride some hills. I was also tremendously excited at the prospect of trying out a cafe that I had not been to before. We started by heading up to Shipham, via Shipham Hill. Half-way up a blue car gave us the pleasure of listening to his car-horn, from a distance of about 2 feet. I unclipped because I nearly fell off, and yes I did swear. His (I'm assuming it was a man) is E354 EHA, and unfortunately it would appear that the car is uninsured and unregistered. Surprise. But as far as fast cars go, that was about it for the day.

From Shipham we bombed down to Churchill, Langford then cut across to Burrington before making for Butcombe. We were now on back roads, that were largely, but not totally, ice-free, but more than made up for it with mud and water. The views were fantastic compensation for the hard work, looking out across the valley, and relatively traffic-free, apart from a tractor and a white BMW (although it won't be white now unless it's been washed).

We wended our way up and down, past Nempnett Thrubwell and onto Chew Stoke, before edging Chew Valley Lake and on to the cafe at the New Manor Farm shop, the other side of Bishops Sutton. Enclosed within an old stable courtyard, it was fairly sheltered from the wind, and also had lovely and very reasonably-priced scones. And bike racks, and finally some sunshine.

We elected to go cross country to Litton, then onto Chewton Mendip and up past the Waldegrave estate, onto the top of the Mendips. With the wind behind us we made pretty good time, before carefully negotiating the Sunday drivers in the gorge and back home. A good ride with another 2500 feet of climbing, around 44 miles too, and also almost a circular route for me. (Second best to a true circle is the "frying pan" route. Have a look at the map on the Charlie stats, you'll work it out).

Skip and I never really finished our conversation about role models. It started in that time-honoured subject- the gender-bias of the cycling press. Was that prompted because we saw a cyclist in his Bikeradar kit? Anyway, quite rightly, Skip pointed out the absence of female role models of a sporting variety, who weren't then allowed to take their clothes off for a photo shoot. But I do remember Paulo di Canio being in a woman's bathroom not so long ago for a soap advert, and i don't think it had anything to do with football really.

Be your own role model? Take your inspiration where you find it? Emulate the good, discard the bad? I don't know the answer. I'm not sure I even know the question. Better go and get something to eat.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/64740710

There's a place I go and I am far away

2011-01-20T13:21:00.000-08:00

It really is the only way to cope with the monotony. Get your technological music device for the ears out of the drawer, select a high tempo section, close eyes and dream of stories for boys.

Yes, welcome to the first ever blog of the un-bloggable. The tedium that is cycling on a static bike for 80 minutes. What can I tell you about the scenery? There were some clothes drying on the radiator? To be fair, I do have a display to look at, with lots of data. I like that. RPM? Power output? Notional speed? All there and more. But all just disguises the fact that this is not cycling, it's training, no worse, it's "exercising", perhaps the purest form of torture, keeping one's body healthy for the sake of it, rather than for my pleasure.

Good news is here though. I have booked to visit the Pyrenees again, and better still have planned three monster days to ride there. Bunny and I will stay in a place not far from Luchon, and ride some old favourites from last year, all bar one in the other direction, and some new cols too. What pleases me most is that all the rides are circular routes, and the total climbing is more than four and a half days of the Raid Pyrenean (as an aside the route of which has been changed to avoid the busy Col du Puymorens and Bourg Madame, so it's more attractive than ever, and I found out you can do it East to West). And we are taking our own bikes. Now I have something to look forward to, contemplate, and dream of when I'm on that static bike.

So I didn't move for 80 minutes, while inside my head I was far away.....

Take me to that other place

2011-01-15T10:32:00.000-08:00

http://www.kennykaiser.com/paint/index.htm

"Wet roads" by Kenny Kaiser

I'm going to let you into a secret from my past. When I was younger I used to be a member of a political party. No prizes for guessing which one, let's just say they were about as successful as my football team, and in fact I probably had about as much influence on changing the world as I did on changing the match. I left when I realised (hey, what took you so long?) that most of the other members were more interested in advancing themselves than in advancing the cause.

So I sold out and got on the hamster wheel. But occasionally, there is a twitch upon the thread, and I'm back there in my earnest, self-righteous teens and early twenties, the difference being that now I know what I sound like. No-one will ever convince me that fox hunting is a thing of itself worth getting worked up about. Animals live and die all the time, if you want to get cross, get mad that 3000 people are killed on our roads every year, 150 of them cyclists btw. But hunting? Well, as Lance might say if you asked him, it's not about the fox.

Likewise why do we swear by using words that are colloquialisms for our anatomy? Why are they ruder than "bother"?

These were just some of the topics of my brain that spilled out of my mouth in conversation, as Skip and I navigated our way around a hilly route in North Somerset today. The latter, prompted by a particularly stupid driver, 35mph (my guess) around a a bend in a battered road barely passable for one car, was the prompt. Not that we swore at him, although I did tell him to slow down.

If you want conversation about gear ratios and all that stuff, let me know. But just as I was more than content to wait for Skip at the top and bottom of hills, so I'm sure, when she agrees to cycle with me, she knows the crap I'm going to spout!

The most bemusing piece of abuse we got from a car occupant was a prolonged piece of horn-blowing, followed by the finger from the car's passenger. What had we done to deserve this? We made a right turn, perfectly executed, safely, with the proper signals. I didn't swear at him either.

You want to know about the cycling? Oh all right. I took Skip up the gorge. Yes of course it's juvenile, but when you pull a propeller through compression, don't be surprised when the engine starts. Before we did that we stopped at the Knight of the Realm's shop at the base of the climb. Very nice it is too, with lots of lovely carvings and metal work. Got to keep Mrs Mendip Rouleur away, or she'll buy loads of stuff.

We were about half a mile up the climb when a couple of young turks:

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/young%20turk

[(obviously not early 20th century ottoman radicals, just in case you don't get the metaphor. Where's my sledgehammer?)]

passed us, racing up to the first bend. Fifty yards later I passed one of them, who had more attitude than ability. One in the net for the greyhairs:-)

From there we cut across to the top of Burrington Coombe (which Skip went down for the first time today), chatting about this and that, before descending to Wrington and popping in to the Walled Garden for coffee (both of us) and cake (me). They gave us the 10% discount for cyclists, which made it quite good value, in terms of cash per calorie.

We then spun our way up to the back of the airport, where there were plane spotters, although ensconced inside their cars. I actually thought it was a beautiful day, despite the strong wind, it didn't rain and it is still mild. I'm thinking of ordering more thick winter clothes to keep the warm weather going. Perhaps if I bought a new raincoat it would stop raining too.

Every up has its down, and today that was Brockley Coombe. As lovely to descend as it is to climb. We followed some back roads round to Claverham and Congrebury before cutting through Sandford and Winscombe and back home. Over 2000 feet of climbing in the 35 miles which is pretty good, and great company for me too.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/63522297

You can keep this suit of lights

2011-01-14T13:18:00.000-08:00

Did you notice how mild it has become in the last few days. Wet, sure. But the temperature was in positive double figures today. Riding up Long Lane outside of Wrington I was like a boil-in-the-bag meal, steamed from the inside as well as the outside. To be hyperbolic, there was a miraculous window in the weather this morning, allowing me to ride into work and dodge most of the rain. Of course I couldn't utter the obvious fleecy-Buff related comment. That would bring the ice back for sure.

Of course there was water all over the roads from the torrential downpours we have had over the last couple of days. At times it was more a case of finding the dry bits, rather than dodging the puddles. Umm.

I also re-learned the lesson from last week that back roads are pretty pants to ride in the dark, unless it's dry, warm, and still. So Summer then. The dark definitely slows me down too. The mind is a wondrous thing usually, but mine played tricks on me today.

I know the back roads, I know when they go straight and when they bend, where the potholes are, the dips, all that. But in the dark my imagination can take over, and I find myself riding slower, convinced there is a bend coming up, when all logic says there isn't.

On the way home I took a rather convoluted route in a forlorn attempt to avoid the nasty block headwind coming straight up from the Bristol Channel. This eventually took me up Brockley Coombe, one of my favourite local climbs, mainly because it is not too steep, and has a few interesting bends and some woods on it. Not on the road, at the side. Really. I have taken to attaching one of my small Back-upz lights to the back of my jacket, a poor man's laser suit. Good for ascending on a twisty hill though. I am still alive after all, despite some mad driving from some of the commuters in the boxes.

I resisted the urge to dodge round the back of the airport, but I did wonder if the plane spotters go out at night. I bet they do. Skip and I have a tentative plan to go up there tomorrow, to cycle not to plane spot. But judging by how I feel, and how she feels, I have a funny feeling we'll end up some place else. Some place flat.

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201101

It was great to ride today. I have had a very hectic working week, and this felt like a great release, clearing the cobwebs and all that. It's what God designed our bodies for I think, cycling. And to paraphrase Eric Liddel, when I ride I feel his pleasure. But by the time I got home I was just about gone. To my surprise I'd nearly done 50 miles today, all that wending adds up.

It would have been apt if I had done 46 miles today. I was amazed to get to this age and realise I could, with a bit of focus, no actually a complete absence of focus, enjoy myself. How did that happen? Must have been all that wending. Sometimes you need to plan, sometimes you just need to ask for the key to the bike cupboard in the basement.

Who knows, perhaps tomorrow I'll wake up bouncing and raring to storm up a few inclines. We'll see, won't we.

Ici Charlie:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/63387373

Something is about to give

2011-01-09T10:26:00.000-08:00

I have a hunch we are in for a mild winter. No don't laugh, I'm serious. In the Spring of 2004 I splashed (pun intended) out on a Berghaus Meera peak gore-tex jacket. It didn't rain for three months. After the snow last winter I filled my shed with rock salt, well the bits of the shed not taken with bike stuff obviously. Granted it has come in useful this winter, but it sure took up a lot of room during the mild spring of 2010.

On Friday of this week my new Polartex fleece-lined super-dooper Buff (rather disdainfully referred to as "Snoods" by football commentators) arrived in the post. A toasty neck and a lovely warm bonce are now guaranteed for all freezing climate conditions. So, I think we can all look forward t warm and balmy days until the summer, when no doubt it will rain for months.

Didn't apply today unfortunately. I gingerly left my house, walked to the road and prepared to cycle off to Axbridge for a Cycling Group official ride. Just at that moment a runner came panting up the hill from the village, exclaiming, "it's very slippy and icy, be careful". What did she know? Looked OK to me. But as soon as I got to the crest of the hill, on the bit of our road with the beautiful new tarmac, I saw what she meant.

Drat, no way I could cycle on that, black, silver, any colour ice you like, it was all there. So I walked to the A38, and hoped it had been gritted. It had, but the road down into Axbridge hadn't and it too was full of the slippery stuff. My sense of trepidation, no make that fear, increased.

You know the old joke about "how do you like your eggs in the morning?" Well my take is "how do you like your shoulders in the morning? Undislocated". Back in 2006 I fell off on the ice while coming down Burrington Coombe, not an exercise I want to repeat, and which clearly nags away in the back of my mind. Should have been more sensible given what was to come.

If I had been more sensible I would have attempted to persuade people to go home, but instead we all laughed it off and headed down the A38, across the levels to Mark, and then along to the Cider cafe. Quite a short run really, with Skip, Knight, Wonderboy and newbie S (name committee meeting this week), all being fairly sensible.

When not on the ice it was a lovely day, all sunshine and blue skies, I was enjoying myself despite the concentration required to stay upright, almost like a kite blowing out of control on the breeze.

Given the state of my big toe on Friday, doing its best Gary Lineaker impression, I was lucky to be riding at all. Still it's amazing the drugs these scientists have invented for the betterment of society, that Alexander Fleming bloke came up trumps for me today.

After the cafe stop, Knight of the Realm headed off to keep shop, and the rest of us went in search of sunny roads with no ice on them. We found a few, and we also found a lot that were shaded and treacherous. Coming through Blackford my back wheel moved on the stuff, closely followed by the front, a bit like a cycling okey-cokey, but fortunately I stayed upright.

As we headed for Crickham there's a bit of a dip before the junction which was particularly icy. I passed a chap on a singlespeed, gave him a "hello" and a comment about the ice and slowly breezed past. Next thing I know I hear "thump, thump, thump", look behind me and lying on the road are S, Skip and the singlespeed chap. Skip's fall looked to have been particularly bad, indeed her helmet was cracked completely on one side, and she was looking like that Audley Harrison fellow. Except colder. And shorter and with more lycra. But hurt.

They all brushed the ice off, S being concerned about his new jacket, and we slowly made our way back to Axbridge. I made sure Skip was OK, and then after a little solo riding on the flat, south-facing and main roads towards Weston, I went home.

http://connect.garmin.com/player/62664717

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/62664717

Not bad stats. all things considered. By the way if you fancy seeing more about the ACG, I have set up a Facebook group. You do have to join Facebook, which can't be too scary as I have done it and I'm 78. Even all the party leaders, all now younger than me for the first time ever, are on Facebook. Their youth does of course give me the right to tut and make comments like "tut, they'll learn" except I'm pretty sure they won't. Or they'd be doing something more worthwhile.

What if I say I'm not like the others?

2011-01-04T13:28:00.001-08:00

Ah, New Year. As I pulled into the basement entrance at work this morning on my bike I saw the familiar face of a colleague, arriving by an unfamiliar mode of transport. Yes you guessed it a bike. He mumbled something about "new fitness regime" and disappeared inside before i could get my security pass out from the 84 layers protecting me from the frosty, cold morning.

Every year at the carpark at the end of our road, January brings them in droves, to do a Sunday walk in the fresh air in the National Trust woods behind us. By February it's back to the hard-core. Same as our changing room today, and doubtless gyms up and down the country are at their peak of busyness.

On 1st January 1990 I gave up having sugar in my coffee. To my knowledge it's the only NY resolution I have ever kept to, can't bear sugary coffee now. So I hope that if you are thinking about some NY resolution, you do it because YOU want to or even need to, not because you feel you should.

Because of the cold, the damp and the ice (yes there was some on the back roads as I discovered near Felton), I thought I'd do a few hills today. On the way home I did my (apparently) most mentioned hill in the office, the Princess knows what I'm talking about. However coming down the other side, in the sleet, the headwind and the dark, it did not seem like a good idea. For some unknown reason the local farmers had decided to leave a carpet of mud on top of the tarmac. If you have a look at the Charlie link (the second one, called player) you will see I came down the hill almost as slow as I went up it.

Cars on full beams didn't help either, and the fact i didn't eat properly this afternoon all contrived to set a very low speed. But it doesn't matter for two reasons. First, I got over 2500 feet of climbing in. Second, as I climbed up to Winford Manor I realised I don't even need to impress myself anymore. Last year I did for me, to prove stuff to myself. Now, well I can do what I need to do, I don't need to be a pretender to anyone now.

Happy cycling

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/61973885

http://connect.garmin.com/player/61973885

Got to promise not to stop when I say when

2011-01-02T11:05:00.000-08:00

Happy new year to you, wherever you are in the world.

At the moment of midnight on New Year's Day, all was definitely not quiet for me, Mrs Mendip Rouleur and Junior Mendip Rouleur. We were underneath the Eiffel Tower, watching the crackling, sparkling lights and soaking up the atmosphere of the crowds and the impromptu fireworks. Paris rarely has official fireworks on NYD, probably frowned on somewhat, doesn't quite fit the chic culture, and it would require too much protocol. But locals let them off anyway, usually dangerously, of which I am firmly in favour.

We had a fairly hectic four days, all the usual sights and activities for a city-break, but I enjoyed three things the most, from sublime (the Musee d'Orsay of course) to the prosaic (the bread, can any nation be better at bread-making than the French?) to the ridiculous (I am talking about the final corner in the Tour on the Place de la Concorde-blimey, how there aren't more pile-ups I will never know).

So the New cycling year started today. Skip and I decided to make it a late start, 11AM no less. Both of us had been carbo-loading last night, she with her extended New year gathering of the clans, me because I couldn't cane it for NY Eve because I had to drive home from the airport yesterday, so made up for lost time. It was also Skip's first time on a bike for three weeks, and it's true, you never forget how to ride. But I think she had a bit, no a lot, more sauce than me, a few too many tabs, and a lot less sleep.

We did the predictable thing and headed for Glastonbury. I think I have just about got used to the green stuff everywhere now, after weeks of snow and ice on the fields, the grass makes such a welcome sight. Not as welcome as ice-free roads and occasional dry tarmac, and almost tolerable temperatures.

We had our coffee and (me only) ginger cake, outside the cafe, and were suitably rewarded by the arrival of four gunning motorbikes, Harleys and the like, driven with magnificent aplomb by leather-clad bikers. With the usual purple and green hues of the hippies, our lycra, and the bemused tourists it all made for an eclectic mix.

On the way home we looped around Street to warm up, before deciding to come straight back. We did do a fair amount of chatting today, it was nice to get out in the fresh air and push the body into life, I've been cooped up for everlong. It's only January 2nd after all, and plenty of time to go before our events. We are both going to have to start doing a few more hills again. We have both got places in the Dragon Ride, which sold out in 18 hours, showing how the MAMIL trend is not slowing down. Interesting times I think. Despite feeling like we were ambling, we still made pretty good time, and I rounded the mileage up to 41 miles by looping round Winscombe and up my eponymous hill.

http://connect.garmin.com/player/61570046

One big circle

2010-12-27T10:48:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Allons-y mes braves.

Perfect love drives out all fear

2010-12-23T12:51:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bet you wished I'd stuck to cycling.

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

Achievements

2010-12-22T13:18:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

Here's Charlie:

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

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

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

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

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

Just done it.....

2010-12-22T00:35:00.000-08:00

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

Risk

2010-12-20T11:45:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Room 101

2010-12-19T10:00:00.000-08:00

Because it's the 101st post obviously.

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

Outside the window is a bicycle.

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

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

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

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

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

11.82........

So near and yet so far

2010-12-18T01:43:00.000-08:00

11.82 miles.

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

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

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

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

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

Be Patient

2010-12-17T11:59:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merry Christmas.

Best or First?

2010-12-15T15:45:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Improvisation

2010-12-12T06:44:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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