Cycling Tourettes

Im better…well hopefully!

Which is good news as the ride is fast approaching; in fact I shall be tucked up in bed (not in the bar, honest) in a French hotel in exactly two weeks time having completed the first day of the challenge.

After taking a few days off training due to being sick and bed/sofa bound at the tail end of last week, I had planned to return to the bike on the Bank Holiday Monday. However after spending the morning tidying the house (no cleaning when sick) and a few beers at a friends BBQ, this idea was curtailed fairly quickly

and I wisely took the decision to have a doze on the sofa rather than wobble about the Sussex country lanes.

 In retrospect, the extra day recovery probably actually helped, and I returned to the bike on the daily commute on Tuesday morning.

Despite the overcast start to the day, the sunshine appeared briefly in the afternoon and was timed perfectly for a longer ride home. So instead of the normal route home, I chose to seek a few hills rather than a flatter course and headed for the South Downs and coastal views before heading inwards and homewards on the country lanes.

I have been commuting to work for just over 4 years now, and 2 years ago the decision to move out of town resulted in an increase in the distance from a very nice- get out of bed at 8 - 1.5 miles to a 11 mile cycle lycra clad blast.

I’m fortunate in that my commute is mostly through minor roads and the country, there is in fact an alternative route which is shorter but involves a dual carriage way and I actively avoid it.

Despite this avoidance of the main road (which is lovely and smooth due to recent road works), I do encounter the odd car driver who obviously decides that they own the road and like to beep/ cut corners/ gesture at me for have the audacity to cycle to work.

Sadly it would appear that these incidents are becoming more frequent. Notable incidents include a pick up truck just beeped at me, for no obvious reason than that I was on the bike!? And a lady who decided to undertake me…on a roundabout ….when I was turning right – wonderful driving.

Normally I try to not be confrontational and just ignore these idiot drivers, however there is the odd occasion that I am shocked enough that a few remarks might slip out. One such incident was the man in the van who decided to cut across my path on my commute home today.

For some reason he had waited until the road was clear and I was about 10m away before he pulled across my path. Almost instantaneously I let rip with a short tirade that would have not been out of place in a Tarentino film. Complete with arm gestures.

Im not sure if he noticed my reaction, or my presence at all. But it made me feel better. And that’s what matters!

NB: For all the car drivers out there, I also drive a car, and I am aware that there are a number of idiot cyclists, in fact I gave a bit of ‘advice’ to a guy who decided to cycle the wrong way round a roundabout outside work just the other day!

Stash and Sickness

It’s been almost two weeks since my last blog and on my last post I stated that I had begun spending all of my newly found free time on the bike and in the pool. Whilst this carried on into the next week, life and specifically work decided I was having too much fun and that it would bring a stop to my new freedom.

To begin with, work ramped up in both intensity and duration for the week; this was due to our staff rate dropping by 3/5ths over 7 days and the workload increasing by 50%. This meant we had literally the bare minimum staffing and we were pretty much on full gas all week. These two combined to make a pretty stressful and knackering week, meaning that after work exercise was very unappetising.

I did manage however, to keep some motivation and visited the pool a few times before work in the week, and squeezed in a longer cycle home one night to include a few hills.

I also purchased some stash from my local cycling club. For those uninitiated in sport, Stash is the real reason we play, not for medals, not for glory and not for ‘love of the game’. Stash is the reason Mr. D Beckham has travelled round the world playing for different clubs. Stash is what drives grown men to don their football boots and socks for no reason when watching their 8-year-old play Sunday football.

Stash is Club Kit.

And it took me a full 3 weeks since joining the club to invest in matching shirt and shorts. Lovely.

Despite my best intentions of racing the weekly club TT in my newly acquired stash (I even pre packed everything prior to going to work!), by the time Thursday arrived I was pretty much smashed and it only took the slightest suggestion before I found myself having a refreshing pint in the local pub garden.

The weekend following was always going to be a write off in terms of training; it was the Girlfriends birthday on the Saturday and my annual hockey reunion (read: not much hockey and lots of drinking). In order to score some brownie points, Friday’s activity involved dinner, a movie and the gifting of some birthday sunglasses resulting in permission to go out and play on the Saturday.

Needless to say, I was slightly fragile on Sunday and despite the sunshine, was barely able to walk a mile never mind balance on a bike.

The following Monday, 2 of our missing 3/5ths returned to work and inexplicably, the workload dropped by 50% (typical) meaning that finally I could get back to training.

Apart from the sickness that is.

As I am male, I would like you to know how much I was suffering. And more importantly, I want your sympathy!

It would appear that I no longer have the recuperation of a vampire/Khan from the new Star Trek Film/ my university days, and had developed a minor head cold on the Monday. Perhaps wisely I decided to skip swimming to avoid making things worse/ giving everyone else the germs. Feeling slightly better, I commuted to work on the Tuesday only to develop a tight chest.

Using the (very few) benefits of working in healthcare, I had a chat to a doctor who after a quick examination confirmed I wasn’t having a) a heart attack, b) a collapsed lung, c) a broken rib or d) a pnumeothorax and it was more likely to be a minor bug, so, I got on the bike and peddled through treacle all the way home (at least that’s what it felt like).

Clearly optimistic, I decided that a decent sleep would cure all and headed into work the next day hopeful that I would get a light jog in after work before setting the world alight with my TT abilities the next day?!

How I was wrong. And it became apparent, not with a light jog, but a Usain Bolt like sprint. To the toilet. After loosing what felt like half of the Pacific Ocean, I politely informed my boss of the events and rather quickly headed home.

The next two days were spent moping around the house with a headache resistant to all medication and a body that ached like I had lost a fight with a polar bear.

So after sleeping like a zombie/ completing Tomb Raider / sitting through Domino (terrible, terrible film) I felt slightly better and set about doing something constructive. I watched the footage of the Brighton marathon and found screen shots of myself.

That’s right. Im a TV star.

Me, centerpiece (with a white shirt)

Again, centerpiece, (white strip down the trouser leg)

Hurricaine Headwinds

With about 4 weeks to go until London 2 Paris, I have been spending more time cycling over the last few weeks.

In total I managed to get out on the bike for about 10.5 hours over the last 7 days, covering just over 155 miles in 5 rides, two of which were 10 mile commutes to work. For those who have cycled on the south coast this week, it felt like at least 99% of the miles were against a headwind!

When heading out, I tend to have a general idea of where I plan to ride, but don’t really give it too much thought. This tactic slightly came back to bite me in the arse this week as in my attempts to avoid the main roads, I took a turning and surprisingly ended up in the middle of Uckfield high street!

Needless to say, I have no clear idea how I ended up there or which direction to head home. In the end I found a sign post with the options of London or Lewes and wisely opted to head back to Lewes.

During this particular ride, I became slightly confused over cycling etiquette when a couple of riders from Brighton caught me on a flat section with a particularly strong headwind.

Im not too fussed normally when caught and overtaken by other riders (especially when there are two of them working together) but in this instance they said hello and then pulled in about a wheel length directly in front of me. I didn’t think too much of it, and was fully expecting them to pull away within a few hundred meters. But this never happened, I can only guess that the headwind had caught them out and despite them taking regular turns on the front they remained only a couple of wheel lengths ahead of me.

Needless to say, I was happy to take a breather in the slipstream from what felt like a hurricane, but after a while I wanted to keep the pace up and keep working rather than freewheel thus letting them pull away, so I began to (mentally) question if I maybe should offer to take a pull?

This is where I became confused; would they like this suggestion? Or would they think it was a bit of a piss take? Kind of, ‘Oh hi, thanks for overtaking me but you’re a little slow shall we speed up a bit?’ Im not sure this would have gone down too well. To make matters worse, the number of miles of them and me staying in touch were slowly clocking up, and I thought that it had probably gone past the point that it was acceptable for me to offer.

This dilemma started to make my brain hurt, and so shortly turned off and headed in a different direction (towards Uckfield apparently)

But still I wonder, should I have offered to take a pull?!

Contrary to the rest of the week (and BBC forecast), the sun greeted me when I pulled back the curtains this morning, and I put the bike in the car and met some friends to conquer some Sussex roads. I was tasked with route planning and decided that I would include a few hills, including ‘High and Over’ in the South Downs.

Local riders may have ridden this route and know a little of its gradient and length. Turns out my fellow riders didn’t. Just prior to the climb there is a little dip and just at the moment the dip turned upwards, a fellow (younger) rider shot past me out of the saddle, with the question ‘Where are your rainbow striped socks today?’

Unprovoked, I continued to spin on the peddles and 20-30m further up the climb, caught, passed and dropped the rider, just taking the time to remark that I had brought my King of the Mountain ones today and Il see him at the top. Job Done.

In other news, I decided to balance the cycling with more swimming and with the absence of a club master’s session (due to the bank holiday) visited the pool twice to work on a few drills suggested by Swim smooth program. These drills generally involve me drinking vast quantities of the local pool and being overtaken by pretty much everyone else. The weekly time trial was cancelled due to roadworks, so my wooden spoon record remains unblemished.

In contrast, the yearly hockey AGM was held on Friday, where I collected 2XI Player of the Season, for the second year in a row. Rock on!

Last years (L) this years (R)

Red Lights and Wooden Spoons

The last week I have spent my newly discovered freedom from revision mostly cycling in the spring sunshine.

Training for the L2P is now well underway and I spent 4 hours cycling in the countryside last Sunday, clocking up 53 miles. What struck me the most was the amount of other cyclists on the roads…they, (and I guess I can include myself in this) seemed to be everywhere!

Along with the cyclists, the spring weather seemed to bring out the best in a few of the motorists, one couple even instigated a conversation from their car whilst we were both stopped at a level crossing…. and it wasn’t even the usual abuse!

On Monday, I officially became an Eastbourne Rover, and only for the paltry sum of £10! Since joining I have been overwhelmed with the welcome into the club and the sheer amount of rides and communication that the club has! Considering the hockey club have spent the last 12 months dragging some of its members kicking and screaming into the digital age, its aspiring to see a sports club fully embracing social networking.

Joining the club means I am allowed to don the yellow and black kit, and although tempting to get everything straight away, the imminent arrival of a GPS unit and the girlfriends birthday have put these plans on hold (for a few weeks at least).

The midweek cycle is beginning to become a bit of a welcome habit, and takes in a similar route with a few strava climbs to help develop some climbing strength. The conditions from last week couldn’t have been any different. From last weeks report you can see the foggy conditions that reduced visibility to around 50ft; This week had clear sunny skies and combined with a favourable wind made for quick descending on pretty clear roads. Awesome!

Thursday heralded the weekly Eastbourne Rovers Cycling Club time trial, this week taking place over 10 miles. In comparison the course was flattish compared to the previous weeks and I opted for ‘The Whistle’ (AKA time trial bike).

Due to signing on slightly late, I was handed number 27 out of 29. For those not familiar with TT’s, number 1 is generally the slowest expected time and higher numbers expected to be faster. I am in no way a fast rider! In fact No. 27 recorded the fastest time that day with No. 28 and 29 close behind.

Upon starting the two guys behind me fairly quickly caught up and overtook me, leaving me last on the course (not that I was too bothered). The course is an out and back, and on my way out I noticed a number of riders on the return stretch swerving around a highways agency van pulled up on the other side of the road.

It would transpire however, that rather than just providing an obstacle to pass on the way back, the agency workers had decided to begin their work and begin coning off half of the road. And erect traffic lights. Which turned red as I pulled up.

Lovely.

Although this did allow me a few minutes to suppress the vomit that was trying to make an appearance, it did force me to wait at the red light (I have a deep seated hatred for cyclists that jump red lights), which is not ideal in a battle against the clock.

Needless to say, I rolled in last, taking my wooden spoon bid to 2/2. Wiggo must be quaking with fear.