A Girls' Cycling Compendium

Deep Breath

2012-01-22T21:17:00.002Z

Yesterday afternoon I went back to the scene of the crime and it's fair to say, it was more of a challenge than I expected.

I know I've lost a lot of fitness (and put on a bit of weight) since the crash, so I've been putting in the effort over the last few weeks to try to get some of my fitness back. Going to the gym, taking the long, hilly route home and I've even been going running a few times a week!

So, when a friend suggested a ride at Innerleithen, I figured I should give it a bash. After all, I've got over the fear and I'm feeling a bit fitter again and it was time to face that demon.

The day didn't start well....hair appointment in the morning went well until they ran out of hot water mid-shampoo. So I was later than I had planned setting off to Innerleithen. Quick text to say I'm running late, but on my way. Then the road was closed and there was a big diversion. Second text to say I'd be quite a bit late now.

I eventually arrived feeling a bit stressed and surprisingly anxious!

We set off up the hill and almost straight away I started to feel a bit overwhelmed. I knew I should be able to ride at this pace, but I was really struggling. I was getting myself into a bit of a tizz and the more I tried to stay calm, the more nervous I was getting.

I knew it was ridiculous, but I realised I was going to have to face this demon on my own. So, a few deep breaths, slightly teary eyed, I made my apologies and set off on my own. A few minutes later and Chris caught me up...he knew how nervous I was so decided to ride with me...just to make sure.

The climb up to Minch Moor was tough. I kept plodding at my own pace, but I was in a much more noodly gear than I would usually be. I decided not to take the short cut and to keep pushing on up to the top, just to prove to myself that I could. The descent from the top, which is usually a super quick, whoopy ride was a bit more subdued than usual, but as I rode, my confidence started to grow a bit and I decided not to take the chicken run around the rocky drops.

I made the first one, went a bit faster off the second one, then let go of the brakes all together on the third. By the time I caught up with Chris at the next marker post, I was starting to grin.

There was a bit of a diversion because of logging work, so Chris suggested we go a slightly different way. After a few minutes I was totally lost, until we popped out on a fire break at the top of the downhill runs. Chris had planned this all along so that I'd have to ride some of the more techy trails and test myself.

We agreed that I'd just see Chris down at the next fire road so that I could mince down at my own pace.

I watched Chris head off down the trail and felt the nerves build up again.

Deep breath. I've done this before. I know I can do this. Another deep breath, then I set off after Chris.

I had to give myself a bit of a talking to, but I managed not to do any panic braking and made it down to the fire road in one piece.

Did I want to do the next bit?

Deep breath....yes. What the heck, let's do it.

This time I managed to keep Chris in sight, so I must have been going a bit faster. There was a bit of an incident with a tree, but I made it again and wasn't feeling nervous any more.

Then we were on to the last bit of trail back down to the car park. I'd made it and I'd faced the demon of the crash site.

It was an incredibly frustrating ride because it was clear that I'm not as fit as I was and it was more of a challenge than it should have been, but I proved to myself that I can still ride the scary stuff (okay, so I rode it slowly, but I rode it!).

It'll be a wee while before I'm back to where I was before the crash, but at least now I know I can still do it.

I just need to decide now whether to sign up for the enduro at Innerleithen next weekend.....

Jac
x

Onwards...

2012-01-03T20:51:00.002Z

Regular readers will remember the guest post from Lesley back in August, and her start back to cycling fitness after a diagnosis of (and subsequently successful treatment for), breast cancer. Well, an update email popped into the inbox from her, and it seems a landmark has been reached...

I’ve just got back from a long weekend in the Yorkshire Dales with Rich and as I ride into work my legs still scream whenever I threaten to actually put some effort in, needless to say it was a brilliant weekend.

The weather forecast was not a pleasant one, but since breast cancer earlier this year my attitude to weather has somewhat changed. Whilst packing for the weekend I just couldn’t decide which bike to take – road or mountain? Due to the surgery I’ve had I’ve only ridden on the road so far and have been itching to get back on my mountain bike but I know my fitness isn’t what it used to be and my upper body strength is considerably weaker. However, the mountain bike won and with it packed in the van I knew exactly which ride we were going to do.

Back to this time last year, along with a group of friends, we rode a superb route in the Dales from Ingleton. Everything was perfect, the sky was blue and clear, the sun was up there, the air was crisp, the scenery simply beautiful, the trails quiet and the company good. You know, one of those rides that stays with you long after you’re back home. As it happens, due to last winter’s weather and my ‘unfortunate’ start to this year that ride was the last decent off road ride I did. Now I’m not sure why, perhaps it’s something to do with starting where I left off but as the months of my recovery have gone by I have become slightly obsessed with doing it again.

Well last weekend that’s exactly what I did.

The wild and windy weather was ‘challenging’, meaning a few hills had to be pedalled down as well as a few hills pushed up, but I soaked up every minute just incredibly happy to be there again. And as I rode out of the Clapham tunnels, knowing that the end was only a few miles along the lane I was grinning like an idiot.

I’d done it, I’m back where I want to be and I can’t tell you how good that feels.

Macaroni Cheese

2012-01-02T19:03:00.002Z

I've now had almost three months off the bike following my ungracious crash back in October - I did sneak a few rides in early on, but got a stern telling off from my doc who told me not to ride until I stopped getting headaches, dizzy spells and wobbling....that took until late December! Then, would you believe, I got a stinking chest infection!.

Over the last few weeks, I've been out for a few rides and I've really struggled. Although I'd managed to do a few, quite dull, turbo sessions since October, not being on the bike for such a long time really meant that I'd lost an awful lot of fitness and the chest infection left me wheezing and coughing. So rides where I should have been blasting along having great fun, were hard work and a wee bit depressing to be honest. Struggling to keep up, toiling up hills and just feeling like I've got no strength in my legs at all and wheezing away like an old woman.

I know I'm no Gunn-Rita, but it shouldn't be this tough!

And to make matters worse, I've got the fear! Descents I usually love are making me nervous, which is not good!

So, on New Year's Eve, I decided I needed to get out and do a fun ride at a leisurely pace, so I suggested a local ride on some trails around town, mixing up some rooty stuff, quick stuff, some practice on drops and jumps I know I can do...just to remind myself that I can ride a bike.

Well, the climb out of town wasn't exactly a breeze, but it wasn't as tough as when I did it a few weeks ago. Then I rode the steps I'd wimped out of a few weeks ago when the fear took hold. Then I made it up that short sharp climb. Up that long slog and managed to keep chatting. Then we were at the highest point....it wasn't as bad as I expected.

Then for the fun rooty descent....managed to hang on to Chris' wheel, just, so I must have been going at a good pace. Jumped those few drops...still on Chris' wheel. Leaned into those greasy corners and didn't panic when the bike wobbled under me...just dabbed and pushed on.

And I'm smiling and giggling!

Rode the steps...and the next, steeper, ones (opted out of riding the concrete steps of doom, but I wouldn't usually ride them anyhow).

It's all starting to come together. Now that I'm having fun, I'm starting to go a bit quicker too and keeping up with Chris, just.

Then it dawned on me...macaroni cheese...when I'm feeling under the weather, I like a big bowl of macaroni cheese to cheer myself up. This ride is my macaroni cheese ride. It's the ride I do that reminds me that I can ride a bike and that I can ride up hills and back down again and that I can do it quickly as long as I'm having fun.

I've got lots of bike plans for this year, so, I think I need a few more macaroni cheese rides of just having fun and messing about and then hopefully, I'll be back to my old self and maybe some of that fun will get my legs back into shape too!

Jac
x

Ride with the fast girls

2011-12-18T17:02:00.007Z

I saw a tweet from a random girl I'd never met about a ladies' ride she was organising, open to all, described as "easy paced". Despite being very aware that I'm woefully unfit at the moment, I decided to give it a try. I've been muchly lamenting of late a lack of fun, comparably-paced ride buddies, (the Boyf being too fast, the female friends mostly wanting to just cycle to the pub) and here was a great chance to change that. And if my legs protested too much at the unaccustomed effort I could always find the nearest station.

It was set to be a freezing (1-4 oC day) but crisp and clear and so I piled on the layers and set off, feeling keen and eager.

The turnout was surprisingly good for such a freezing December day - 14 ladies - with a wide range of riders with 8 different passports between us, with standards varying from the insanely good to the very good. Oh, and me. Ah.

No matter. The route was flat (phew) scenic (many sighs with happiness at the sight of sunshine on the Thames) and there was much interesting and varied chatter to distract me from the soreness of legs and the rasping lungs. A brief coffee stop to warm us on our way to the pub at an absolutely glorious spot complete with good bike storage. Genius.

By the time we got back to Richmond Park, 65 miles in (by far the longest distance I've ridden since the Marmotte in July) I was feeling the soreness and the tiredness and found myself dropped on the first hill. The girls waited, gently chivvied me back onto the group and then towed me all the way home. Who knew that I'd one day find myself getting a tow from a Dutch pro rider eh?

Beyond the flim flam

2011-12-07T17:01:00.001Z

Finally we're beyond the Autumnal flim flam. The weather isn't cheating any more. It looks cold out. It is cold out. It's long tights and winter boots and proper gloves. All the way through until Spring. No more getting caught out with chilly digits as you chanced fingerless gloves, no more slow cooking in a winter jersey on a wrongfully hot November day. Wrap up. Ride.

Vikki

Cold feet

2011-12-05T12:45:00.001Z

It's getting cold now. And because cyclists' feet are stuck in a fixed position, they get cold in a way that runners' feet never do. To add to the fun, most cycling shoes are designed with vents, to allow a refreshing breeze on a summer's day to cool the foot. Cooling the foot is not, however, what most people would wish for at this time of year.

To counter Freezing Feet syndrome, most cyclists use a combination of

multiple pairs of socks
toe warmers / overshoes (neoprene boots that go over the shoes)
oversocks (socks that go over the shoes)

But if you have rubbish circulation, despite all of the above, you'll probably get cold feet anyway. Properly cold feet that send spikes of pain through your feet when you press on the pedals. Not fun. So I've looked into the various new bits of technology that promise increased warmth, even when it's wet.

Re-chargeable heated insoles, either with clunky ankle battery which make it look like you're out on parole (about £25) or cleverly-hidden-battery-in-insole (£100)

One-use chemical heat pads look like tea bags you stick to your socks. Cheapish (about a pound a go if you buy in bulk) but no friend of the environment and not that realistic an option for the to/from work scenario.

This winter, due to a bargain in the sales, I'm trying winter boots. Behold (right) their clunky selves. I grant you, they're not objects of beauty, but despite their lack of visual appeal, they do make up for it in the warmth factor. I haven't yet tested their (advertised) waterproof ability. I suspect, that as with all keeping-feet-dry gear, there is the main unavoidable issue of the big hole for a leg, which then lets water into the foot. But if they're warm-er and dry-er than usual, that's enough for me. AND I won't spend 10 minutes in the morning running up and down stairs looking for extra pairs of socks / overshoes and muttering about being late.

Puncture fairy

2011-11-18T14:32:00.007Z

It's been a while since I had a visit from the puncture fairy. Several months, definitely. But I pride myself on being competent at changing tyres (if nothing else, mechanically) and always carry with me the necessary stuff. So last night when I got a puncture shortly after I left work at 7pm, cross and tired, I calmly walked to the nearest bus stop so I could see what I was doing and set to work.

I removed the gubbins from the saddle bag. I removed the light from the handlebars. I turned the bike upside down. I loosened the brakes. I took the wheel out. I applied tyre lever No.1. I then attempted to get in tyre lever No. 2. Try as I might (and there were a LOT of tries), I could not get the second lever in anywhere other than next to No.1. And when I tried to move it along, to loosen the tyre from the rim, it was absolutely jammed solid. My combined hand / arm strength was no match for this tyre. After 10 minutes of rapidly improving swearwords, I had to admit defeat, walk to the station, get the train and walk home.

Cold

Late for supper

Late for my longed-for glass of wine

And with a huge dent in my pride.

This weekend the boyf shall be removing the old tyres and I shall be applying new ones, ones that I am able to actually remove / apply myself.

EDIT : The boyf (who normally only uses his hands to remove / replace tyres) had to resort to tyre levers to get the tyres off. And he broke a lever in the process. Clearly those are stubborn tyres. I feel slightly less useless as a consequence.

The power of yoga

2011-11-08T21:07:00.001Z

I started cycling as a quick means of getting to work (30 mins by bike vs a laborious 60 mins by tube). And then I found myself agreeing to cycle to Paris. Eek. This meant a brave new world of Long Rides. Training. Nutrition. And whilst I loved being able to get places under my own steam and I loved getting fit, I did not love this new world of aches and pains. Sore knees. Sore back. Sore neck. Grr.

And then one day, on Minx, I found a marvellous DVD. Yoga? I thought. Isn't this just wafting about and humming omm for emaciated women who've nothing better to do? Minx said not. So I bought the DVD. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I then stood in my living room feeling like a clumsy prat, trying to copy the moves of the surprisingly normal-looking instructor. The next day, to my surprise, I found was considerably less sore than I would usually be on a Monday (no John Wayne stride that week). And so I stuck with it, every Sunday afternoon, frequently waking up several hours later having fallen asleep on my yoga mat.

Eventually, of course, watching the same video over and over gets a little dull and I felt brave enough to attempt an actual course. And I lucked out. I started going to yoga classes taught by the absolutely awesome Naz. She's smiley, fun, enthusiastic and not at all judgemental. I forgot that I weigh about 20kg more than she does and just set about trying to be the best I can be. I come home smiling after yoga, I sleep better after yoga. and I even seem to have biceps and triceps, for the first time in years.

All this is good, of course, except that instead of it being an adjunct to my cycling, it now appeals more than cycling. Riding round the same old roads with busy, aggressive traffic in the cold and wet or an ordered, tranquil, tiring yet stress-free hour and a half in a church hall? Yoga seems to win more often than not.

I think this is partly because, despite an average of 13 hours training a week, for six months, I was still pretty mediocre at cycling. A lot of effort, pain, exhaustion and stress to be only mediocre at something is not very motivational. So I'm going to steer away from competitive cycling and focus instead on the lovely parts of cycling. The scenery, the fresh air, friends. And of course cake. Let's see how that pans out.

Jelly legs. Jelly sweets.

2011-11-06T17:35:00.001Z

Accidentally picked hilliest route possible. Haribo stop needed., a photo by jumbly on Flickr.

I've been broken the last little while. Marathon training led to some properly mangled leg muscles. Physio one said rest, nobody likes to hear that so a second opinion was sought. Physio two said...... rest! The marathon never got run.

Some of September and all of October was spent in a mire of self pity and biscuits. November sees the start of the steady job of getting back some fitness.

It was gloriously sunny today so I headed out on the bike. I accidentally picked the hilliest route possible. A Haribo stop was needed part way round. Home with another 20 miles in the bank. Jelly sweets had helped, but I got off the bike at the back door with jelly legs. And, a huge grin. A perfect ride.

There's a rat in the suburbs

2011-11-04T20:19:00.005Z

Recently a Kiwi friend was over in the UK for business and, in return for curry house recommendations, he offered to take back some Christmas pressies for family & friends in his suitcase. The only catch was that said presents would need to be at his hotel in Heathrow by Wednesday. So after a mad run about the shops to acquire and wrap said presents (it being quite early for Christmas-present-acquiring, even for organised control freaks like me), I set off after work to cycle to Heathrow. It's not far, I thought. And the exercise will do me good. Except that the normal 15 minute journey by taxi down the A4/M4 isn't generally something people want to attempt by bike.

My Garmin offered two routing options: Car (ie via M4) or Bike (via every side road in West London). It does not, sadly, offer a "Reasonably Direct but Not Hellish Scary" option. I opted for the detour as I didn't fancy dicing with death and instead suffered miles and miles of endless kebab shops, horrible council estates, angry mini cabs and series of traffic lights. And lo, eventually, I arrived at the posh hotel, ran the gauntlet of the condescending concierge in my lycra and then contemplated my options.

By this stage it was 8pm. I was hungry, more than 15 miles from home, and could not face another Endless Detour of Grim Suburbs. Sod You, Garmin, I said, as I set off down the A4, I shall find my own (Direct) path home. As the traffic increased and sped up, I retreated onto the pavement. I turned my front light on to full beam just in time to illuminate an enormous rat, just in front of me, at which I squealed like a girl and nearly fell off. In an attempt to repel further rodents, I sang loudly. It didn't work. Apparently rats they do not fear the power of Dolly Parton songs.

Eventually, with a couple of duff dead end turns and some lucky recognising of place names, I made it home and inhaled half the fridge. You can tell it's been a while since I've been cycling regularly. Schoolgirl errors 1) to not check maps BEFORE you set out and 2) not take enough food for all eventualities. Gah. More cycling required.

Ouch!

2011-10-17T20:13:00.004+01:00

On Saturday, I headed down to Innerleithen with Katie and Gen to remind ourselves how to ride scary stuff after months of cross country and cyclocross (we're all doing the Innerleithen Night and Day Enduro in November). I also wanted to get out on my new bike and give it a proper test run (as I was packing it into the van, Chris reminded me that "it's not the Remedy, remember, that bike could get you into trouble"...yeah, yeah).

We hadn't realised it was an uplift day, so whilst all the big boys loaded their big bikes onto the uplift lorry, we pedaled and pushed our less big bikes up to the top (funnily enough, nobody on the uplift was actually going right up to the top, so we had that bit to ourselves).

It was quite late in the day when we started, so we did 2 runs of trails which were used for the DH Enduro earlier in the year, then we decided to have a last whizz down one of the less techy DH trails (the wee notice at the top promised swoopy, bermy, doubles and tabletops and none of the big drops mentioned on the other notices and it would take us to the top of Cadonbank for a final scoot back to the carpark).

I set off first, with Katie and Gen close behind whooping and hollering. I knew I was going quite fast when I had to stop to wait for them to catch up at one of the intersections, but it was all hanging together quite nicely and I was having great fun.

I popped over one of the wee jumps, cheerily saying hello to the group of boys standing by the side of the trail. Then things got really fast.

Still in control.

Faster still.

Round that berm...phew, that was close.

Over that wee jump.... woohoo

A bit faster...

Down the drop...

SMACK!

On the ground, bike on top of me, lots of blood pouring out of my mouth.

Katie appeared a few seconds later and Gen a few seconds after her and they quickly moved my bike from on top of me and helped me sit up.

Uh oh...the worried faces didn't look good.

Lots of tissues pulled out of bags and handed to me to try to stop the blood.

It was starting to get dark, so we needed to get off the hill. Gen took my bike, Katie took my Camelback and I stood up, then sat back down again.

Uh oh...I'm not going to be able to drive home....I feel really beat up and dizzy.

A quick phone call to Chris to ask him to drive down to pick us up and then a very slow walk back down the hill.

By the time we got back to the carpark, it was properly dusk, I was feeling sick, dizzy and very sore, my mouth was still bleeding and my teeth really hurt.

Chris arrived, helped Katie and Gen pack their bikes into our car and quickly explained how the car worked and then we headed off to A&E.

I must have looked pretty awful as I tried to tell the triage nurse what had happened (covered in mud and blood, shaking, hobbling and crying in that "I think this might be bad" sort of way).

An hour and a bit later, nothing broken, lots of massive bruising, slightly concussed, pretty woosy and a very busted up lip (I not only split my lip open, but I cleverly managed to bite it too) I'm packed off home with instructions for Chris not to leave me alone...just in case.

So now, I feel like I've been in a massive crash. Everything aches, it hurts to move, it hurts to breath and it hurts to cough. My lip is so swollen I can't eat unless it's chopped into very small pieces and I can only drink through a straw and my teeth feel like something's not quite right.

I know it'll all get better soon, but at the moment I feel very sorry for myself.

I have learned from all of this though....if I'm going to be pushing myself on DH trails, I really should wear a full face helmet rather than my xc helmet. It wouldn't have stopped me crashing and I'd probably still have bitten my lip, but I wouldn't have split my lip and probably wouldn't have got concussion.

I also learned that I have some very good friends who know what to do in a bad situation...thanks guys!

On the plus side, it proves I was pushing my limits apparently! Maybe I'll just do it a wee bit more carefully next time.

Jac
x (except I can't pull a kissing face at the moment)

Relentless

2011-10-13T19:52:00.004+01:00

Well, it was quite a weekend....quite a wet weekend that is!

Chris and I arrived in Fort Bill on Saturday morning to the sound of rain pattering on the roof of the van. We set up camp alongside some friends, diverted the river that was flowing through the car park and our pit area, signed on, had a bite of food and then before we knew it it was 11.45 and I was lining up on the start line.

We had a vague race strategy to allow us both to get some riding in and get some rest too, but as they say, the best laid plans....

It rained and rained and then rained a wee bit heavier. Luckily it wasn't cold, but the rain and the gritty mud started to take their toll very quickly. Brake pads were wearing out in 2 laps; because we were doing double laps, kit was only wearable for a couple of laps (the wet and mud and grit meant that you had to change whenever you weren't riding) and the gazebo leaked, badly. A friend who was soloing had to pull out because he couldn't afford to go through any more brake pads!

Then it got dark and the rain got heavier.

After my second night-time lap, I went back to the van to tell Chris that I was mutinying only to find him curled up asleep! I took that as a sign, so I promptly went off to get some hot food and a hot chocolate before curling up for a few hours, fully intending to head back out before midnight.

Unfortunately the rain got heavier and the wind picked up, so there wasn't very much to entice me back out on my bike, so I curled up in my sleeping bag and listened to the weather raging outside.

Just before dawn, it calmed down a little bit but our pit was completely destroyed by the wind, so we had to pack everything up. What made matters worse, I had left both my waterproof jackets and my waterproof shorts hanging over the back of a chair in the gazebo...the chair had blown over and my things were lying in the stream which was running through our pit again. Great!

But it was daylight and there were still several hours to go before it was finished, so I decided I might as well put some soggy kit back on and get out on my bike again rather than just hanging around a wet car park waiting for friends to finish. Luckily, that made Chris feel guilty, so he was there at the transition area to take over when I got back in.

Just as the event was drawing to a close, the rain stopped and the cloud started to lift, so we were finally able to get a glimpse of Aonach Mor.

It was probably my least energetic 24 hour race. We actually did a 9 hour race on Saturday, hung about for 12 hours overnight, then did a 3 hour race on Sunday morning - quite a civilised way to do a 24 hour race if you ask me! Despite the terrible weather and bike destroying grit I think we ended up having a bit of fun and we managed to win our category too, which was an added bonus.

The clean up exercise is still going on though, but hopefully we'll get it all sorted out before I head out for what promises to be a very muddy ride at Innerleithen on Saturday!

Jac
x

It could all end in tears

2011-10-06T20:49:00.002+01:00

There aren't any Scottish cross races on this weekend, so Chris and I had a wee think about what else we could do to keep us out of trouble and somehow settled on riding at Relentless 24. Since neither of us could take Monday off work, we've decided to do it as a pair.

The only time Chris and I have raced together as a pair was in Portugal last year at the Geo-Raid. Although it didn't end in divorce, it wasn't our most successful race, so hopefully this weekend will be better.

We'll certainly not have the 30c heat we had in Portugal to contend with...it was a balmy 10c here in Edinburgh today, so I suspect it'll be a bit nippier in the middle of the night up at Fort Bill.

The brioche and pasta's been bought, the bags are packed (with a few extra layers and waterproofs for good measure) and the lights are charged, so it looks like we're definitely doing it! In fact, I can hear tyres being pumped up downstairs as I type, so I think it's pretty definite.

I'm not quite sure how we'll get on, but as long as Chris doesn't eat all my brioche, I'm sure we'll be fine!

Jac
x

It Must Be Time for Cross

2011-09-25T14:31:00.003+01:00

I'm not sure what it's like further south, but up here in Scotland, the leaves have well and truly turned and they're starting to lie in nice crisp piles on the trails. The chessies are falling off the trees ready for collecting.

It's just a tad too cold to leave the house in the morning without armwarmers (and a spare base layer just in case). And chat has moved from big rides out in the hills to cross.

So I've had to dust off my cross skills over the last few weeks and remember how to forget that it's a tad scary hurtling down a hill on drops with brakes that just might not stop you in time before you hit that tree. But oh, it' fast and it's fun!

The first race in the SCX series is next Sunday and I'm hoping to see a few new girly faces on the start line this year. I can't guarantee the weather, but I can guarantee it'll be fast and furious, muddy and cold and it'll hurt. There might even be tears, but we'll love it!

See you there?

Jac
x

Cycling adventures of a small kind.

2011-09-18T15:11:00.007+01:00

I'd heard (at length) before my arrival about my goddaughter's new bike. "It's purple, Livvy" (said with great excitement) and so a plan was struck for a bike trip during my next visit. Fortunately her mother had not simply bought the nearest purple bike but had invested in an islabike, which are designed to have gears and levers than small hands can use and, crucially, don't weigh the same as a large truck, unlike lots of kids bikes.

We set off for the playpark, 4 miles away, with mum slightly handicapped by the wriggling weight of 3 year old sister. It transpires that even on a good kid's bike, 4 miles is a long old way for a six year old and there was a certain amount of "I CAN'T" and "MY LEGS HURT" to contend with.

I resisted adopting my mother's stance of bracing reminders to "BUCK UP" and instead we invented mini-races to the next tree / signpost / cow, cheered her along with loud and tuneless renditions of every song we could remember and invested in a bit of good old-fashioned bribery (kids will do almost anything for a mini egg, it seems). I am proud too that I eventually managed to persuade her that going downhill at a good speed is the reward for the uphill and she released the brakes enough to get up to a slightly alarmingly wobbling 12mph.

Once at the playpark I rediscovered the joys of swings, got my bum stuck in unflattering fashion on the slide, and found all this yoga means I can finally do the monkey bars. Go me. (oh yes and the kids had fun too...).

We set off home through heavy showers (cue choruses of all the rain-related songs we know) and then saw the most spectacular rainbow (more songs) and finally we got back for well-earned tea and cake. I didn't let on that this is one of the biggest rides I've done in weeks. Oops. Must Ride More.

Need some inspiration?

2011-09-14T20:11:00.003+01:00

I don't know about you, but I've got quite a few cycling heroes. They range from friends who've ridden in amazing places to friends who've overcome things and carried on riding to proper famous people who just really kick bottom on a bike.

Then about a month and a half ago, a new hero appeared on my radar.

I was making plans to head over to Ireland for the Singlespeed World Champs (more of which another day) and a friend of mine dropped me an e-mail to say that Dervla Murphy lived really near where the race was and wouldn't it be great if we could meet her?

Well, I have to fess up, I didn't know who Dervla Murphy was, so I started doing a wee bit of research before I replied to Jacquie. Oh my! Am I glad I started to investigate!

For those of you who don't know, Dervla is an 80-odd year old Irish lady who, in the 60's when she was in her early 30's, decided to cycle from Ireland to India...on her own...on a singlespeed (she took the gears off because of concerns about being able to get replacement parts).

Then she wrote a book about it and the adventures she had along the way called Full Tilt; Ireland to India with a Bicycle. I won't give the story away, but suffice to say, it is an epic tale and is more than just a little bit inspiring!

Dervla has since gone on lots more cycling adventures to all sorts of places like Cuba, South Africa and Russia (in her 70's!) and has written about her trips.

So, feeling duely awestruck, I replied to Jacquie saying, yes, it would be amazing if we were able to meet Dervla whilst we were in Ireland and I volunteered to contact her publishers to find out if it was possible.

I really didn't expect any response at all, but within 24 hours, I got an e-mail back saying that Dervla would be around on the 25th and 26th of August if either of those dates suited.

So on Friday the 26th Jacquie and I took a roadtrip through County Waterford to meet up with Dervla. We were like a pair of giggly little girls as we went to the address we'd been given to find that not only had Dervla agreed to meet us, but she'd invited us to her home!

I'm not quite sure if Dervla knew what had hit her when Jacquie and I turned up (we're about as opposite as two Jac's can be, but somehow it works), but she treated us like two old friends.

Try as I might to act cool and not like an awestruck fan, I was desperate to find out some things about her riding experiences. So I asked whether, at 82, she still manages to get out on her bike....Not really, after a hip replacement, it's a bit difficult to get on the bike, so she's on the lookout for a step-through frame to get going again. She does however swim in the local river every morning...more than I'm brave enough to do at less than half her age!

Hearing Dervla speak so passionately about experiencing and exploring different places by bicycle was truely inspirational and the fact that she does it with a fraction of the fuss I make about a 24 hour race (forget your high tech lycra shorts and jerseys (sorry Debbie!) try a pair of gabardine slacks, a Viyella shirt and woollen undies!) made me appreciate that riding a bike shouldn't be a complicated thing. Dervla was never a racer, she was never a sponsored rider, she didn't do tonnes of training, she was, and still is, a regular girl who just gets out there and rides her bike to see places and things and have fun.

I think Dervla is proof that we girls really can do anything we set our minds to on a bike, whether it's riding the trails in the woods that we've always shied away from or riding across that country we've always fancied, any of us can do it if we really want to. I know I've now got lots of plans to just do those rides I've thought might be too challenging - Thank you Granny Dervla!

Please read her books (Full Tilt is a great place to start) and let me know what challenges she inspires you to have a go at!

Jac
x

Cycletta Bound

2011-09-11T09:28:00.002+01:00

Today the first of the Cycletta sportives takes place. I'm a bit gutted that I can't be there because no matter what theories I read about the usefulness of women-only events, my own experience is that women gain in confidence when they ride together and I'd love to see how it goes. Happily, two Minx girls, Jayne and Amy won places to ride and are going to report back. Catch up with Jayne over at her blog, and read Amy's winning entry and thoughts leading up to today. That's her left, introducing her daughter to the joy of mountain biking.

"I am itching to play on wheels!Mountain biking holidays, daily shop, getting to work – before Baby girl my bicycle was my only mode of transport; even when 6 months pregnant I commuted 20 miles a day in London rush hour, singing Mama Cass to my bump. Baby girl has her own seat on my bike and loves going on adventures, but I don't get the chance to go on adventures of my own in quite the same way. Space and time to myself would be amazing. Other people choose spas and makeovers, but to reconnect with 'me' and make me feel oh-so-very-free I need only one thought in my mind: keep the wheels turning."

"Well, so much for my summer of training! The promise of getting out on my bike sans baby every Monday was swiftly brushed aside by the humdrum of everyday existence. Even getting in the saddle with baby hasn't happened since a jolly to Dulwich Park at the start of summer with daddy and baby in tow."

"Now with less than a week to go, I am feeling under prepared for the 40k ride organised by Cycletta. I am, however, incredibly excited and looking forward to the scenery and the feeling of freedom as I pedal around the circuit. No baby, no work, no mobile phone (well, in my bag, just in case!)...it’s going to be bliss!"

"Is this it??? It this the end of summer? Trying to get set for a ride today made me feel like winter is upon us. We didn't go far, but just enjoyed being in the saddle. Indigo loves cycling - she throws her arms in the air when we go fast down hills and sometimes puts her hands back so that with each rotation her little puddies hit your knees. This results in no end of giggles."

one day...

2011-08-31T14:32:00.007+01:00

I know it seems like it was only yesterday, but Minx has been around for over seven years now. And we have some customers (although that seems like the wrong word), who have been with us since the beginning. We get to chatting over swapsies emails, (really if there were a way to perfect virtual coffee no one would get any work done around here), and I get to know what they like to wear, I even have them in mind when I'm buying certain things for the range. And I always notice (hoping things are OK), when it's been a while - as it had with Lesley (that's her, left, on the Mary Townley Loop) when her email popped up in the inbox yesterday. She wanted to know if she might guest blog and attached a piece for me to read. Here it is:

Funny old thing life. You start the year positively enough (with a walk up Cross Fell with my husband in my case), full of plans, rides to be done, adventures to be had and this year there’s going to be absolutely no excuses – life’s too short and all that.

Then the unthinkable happens, what should have been a straightforward visit to the breast clinic a few days later turned out to be not so straightforward. You know it’s bad news by the atmosphere in the consulting room but that doesn’t stop the belief that it cannot possibly be you they’re talking about, it’s not real, it’s not happening now and it’s certainly not happening to me….it’s gone so quiet and every one’s looking at me….I’m not going to cry…really I’m not. …

A few weeks and one mastectomy later I’ve got the biggest grin on my face and you want to know why? I’ve just been told that the cancer has not spread - no further treatment required and from that moment on I have considered myself one of the luckiest people alive, because essentially I’ve just been given the rest of my life back . You know that thing you call, ‘your life’, well I didn’t realise it but I had been taking mine for granted. I’ve lived with the assumption that I would automatically live the life I want to, till I’m old and wrinkly and would shuttle off when I’m good and ready thank you.

I love the outdoors, always have done. Over the years I’ve walked, rock climbed, back packed, canoed , but it’s cycling that has grown to be my main love and it’s that, that has helped keep me going through this whole experience. During what I can only call ‘very dark moments’, when I didn’t know how long my future would be I would revisit my most memorable rides in my head: bowling along the ‘mad, little road’ between Ullapool and Lochinver with the smell of gorse in the air, making it to Cape Wrath (in the sunshine too), conquering Ventoux, riding the Mary Townley loop with old friends, my favourite local ride up the Chase …. the list goes on. But it isn’t just reliving memories that has kept me together, the support from my family and friends has been amazingly positive, quite over whelming in fact. I’ve had cards, letters, text messages, phone calls, flowers and friends have even given up rides to walk with me.

I have been so impatient to start riding again and whilst undergoing ‘reconstruction works’ the one question I have consistently asked my consultant is ‘When can I get back on my bike?’. Eventually, after promising I would be really careful she gave me the green light. That first ride was really special – only 11 miles which left me unbelievably tired but it gave me back the hope that my life was going to return to normal and gradually it is.

Although it won’t be the ‘normal’ it was before. Now, I’m just an average rider, not the fastest or the slowest, I don’t even enter races but I still set myself challenges, I like to feel tired at the end of a ride and I like to be fit. I now look forward to going out and making it hurt, to pushing myself harder than I’ve ever done, to getting wet ,muddy, cold, hot, sweaty, cut and grazed, blown all over the road, because if I’m feeling those things that means I am most definitely alive.

There’s going to be no more ‘I’ll do that one day….’ All my ‘one day’ dreams are now in the planning, they’re getting dates set against them, in the not too distant future I’ll actually be doing them. Because as I’ve recently learnt, shit can indeed happen and sometimes that means we might not be around when ‘one day’ arrives, I’m not going to risk that happening to me again.

Good luck with your ‘one day’ plans.

Footnote: You might be interested to know that I am only 46, I’ve never smoked, don’t drink , am reasonably fit and there’s no history of breast cancer in my family. What made me go to my GP was (1) a husband who kept on at me to go and (2) a very small area of eczema on my breast (I actually went along expecting to be referred to a dermatologist). I had no lumps at all but as it turned out I did have breast cancer. So if you notice any changes in your breasts not just lumps, don’t hesitate, go straight to your GP.

utopia

2011-08-26T13:45:00.003+01:00

i went to basel last weekend for a spot of black forest riding. once the (hot and hard but ultimately worthwhile) riding was done i got to spend a day indulging in a spot of what i love doing most in unfamiliar cities: aimless wandering.

aside from the fact that it's a beautiful place full of old churches and new paint, basel is also, like many places on the continent, absolutely bike friendly. trams and bikes rule the city centre, cars happily give way to cyclists and pedestrians, and it is almost impossible to get lost on a bike thanks to the right signs, in the right places. people were riding bareheaded and gloveless on an amazing array of bikes and, because it was relentlessly hot, simply walking up the hills before hopping back on at the top and continuing on their way.

on sunday, the utility traffic was joined by 'serious' sports riders; mountain bikers with helmets jammed in backpacks as they headed out of the city for the hills in the morning, road riders unapologetically sweat-stained and tired-looking as they pedalled home in the evening sun after their races and rides, a few even with numbers still pinned to their jerseys underneath their musettes.

a good place to be a cyclist. when will uk cities be like this?

j.

Trans Wales Mk 6

2011-08-23T08:01:00.007+01:00

It was my 6th Trans Wales and the last one. Cue sobs and violins. This time, I was going with my fiance to have a holiday. We were racing solo but planned to ride together. We are almost exactly the same pace.

The week was a delight. There were 180 riders and I can honestly say I had a proper conversation with all of them. There were people from Nepal, Belgium, Spain, America and 11 other countries. Matt Page was racing. There were speedy riders, slow riders, holidaying riders, racing riders. It was Wales. Mud, rain, sun, hills, sheep. It was perfect.

Andy and I took the days super steady and completely turned ourselves inside out on the 'special stage' time trials. We collapsed after each one (there were 7 in the 8 days of riding, including the prologue) in a heap of giggles, sweat and adrenaline-fuelled exhaustion. For the first three there was nothing between us. Andy had me by half a second, then I pulled back by 2 seconds... and so on. It became the most important race for us and received special mention by the commentary team after each stage! The fact that the solo women's race was equally as tight was not nearly as exciting.

Unfortunately, Andy fell off a cliff with two days to go. Not literally. His lack of riding caught up with him and he crawled round the last few days leaving me to scream ahead and take a convincing win! I have yet to decide what my prize should be. Bike washing duties for a month perhaps?

The Trans Wales (RIP) was a beautiful event and I always come away thinking that it is the one event which really captures what mountain biking is all about for me. It's fun riding your bike fast, but it's also fun JRA (just riding along) chatting to folk and enjoying the scenery. We took over 200 photos during the week and ate more cake than I dare to think about. My jeans are tight :-(

So, the Trans Wales will return in a different format. We hope. I'll keep badgering Mike Wilkens until it does. But now it's cyclocross time as we get ready for the Three Peaks (where I don't expect I'll be taking many photos at all!)

nihon go

2011-08-22T07:54:00.000+01:00

I've been learning Japanese. Taking lessons from Emma, a fellow bicycle rider. Somehow we have now cooked up a crazy plan to ride to Japan and test out my new linguistic skills. We're at the VERY early planning stages at the moment. Still staring at the map and wondering if bandits or communists are easier to deal with. And we're certainly not going until I've learned to order more food than a plate of tuna sashimi with some sea urchin - I'll be hungrier than that when we get there.

But - all tips on super, long distance adventuring are welcome.

Vikki

Riding and Spectating

2011-08-21T17:40:00.004+01:00

After my epic failed plan to spectate at the boyf's race down in Tenterden, I decided to do it properly for his race down in Brenchley this time : get lift out & back and ride round in the opposite direction during the race, thus ensuring regular spectacting at race progress and plenty of opportunities to hand over bottles and shout helpful remarks etc.
We set off at a suitably unholy hour for a Sunday morning and found the race HQ. I then stood around looking like a spare part whilst various blokes strip changed in the car park and pinned on their numbers (me trying to avert my eyes demurely all the while). They set off behind the race car and I set off on my bike which had decided to make all sorts of clanking horrible gear-clicky noises (umn... can you tell I'm not good at this mechanics stuff?).

I rode for a couple of miles to the circuit while my bike randomly changed gears and I rued the day that I never signed up for the (free) Evans Basic Mechanic evenings. At the first corner a nice Dulwich Paragon chap said he'd have a look so I looked on admiringly whilst he turned the barrel adjuster and managed to calm the clunking.

So we set off for the first lap together, chatting all the while about cycling adventures and the gorgeous sunshine. And WHOOSH the bunch came past. The boyf wasn't in the break but at the front of the bunch and still was smiling. We rode on and about 5 miles later, CRUNCH. My rear derailleur hanger snapped, the derailleur went crunch into the wheel and I stopped, somewhat abruptly. Fortunately we'd been chatting and I hadn't been riding hard so I managed to stop without damaging the wheel.

Mr Dulwich then gallantly said "I'll push you back to the HQ" and, thinking that it was a flat course, I accepted with a very very grateful flood of thank yous. It turned out, of course, that the part of the course that we had ridden was the flat bit. And the remainder bit was, umn, not. It transpires that pushing someone who's 65kg up hill when you're 67kg is pretty goddam hard work.

We stopped briefly over the brow of one of the hills so I could hand over a bottle to the boyf and then continued on to the first corner so I could watch the rest of the race. I chatted to the marshalls, shouted, cheered, jigged up and down and he came 11th. Hurrah. So at least one of us had a good day. I just had an expensive day. New rear hanger, new rear derailleur. And some ibroprufen for the sore elbow I landed on. I should probably also be sending some to Mr Dulwich who'll have some sore quads tonight I imagine.

The revenge of the cyclists

2011-08-19T17:36:00.004+01:00

I don't know about your companies, but my company, and many of my clients, have annual golf days. Which, as far as I can work out, involves a bit of wandering around a golf course and then a lot of eating and drinking. As I can't play golf, I am excluded from such out of office jollies. Which is rubbish.

And THEN it transpired that one of my clients (indeed my most important client) is also a cyclist. As is his MD. And one of his other customers who was visiting from overseas. And so a plan was born. A ride to Brighton, lunch by the sea and return. Possibly by bike, possibly by train, depending on enthusiasm levels. Marvellous.

We set off bright and early, thanking our lucky stars for the glorious sunshine. It was a very mixed ability group and, for once, I was one of the fittest in the group, so was able to just pootle along, admiring the views and chatting.

It was certainly a novel experience not to be the slowest in the group - indeed I can't remember the last time that this was the case - and it was great to relax and not feel perpetually guilty for slowing people down.

We got to Brighton, ordered some delicious food (do absolutely go - Terre a Terre - most incredibly delicious Veggie food - I suspect we lowered the tone of their establishment in our sweaty lycra but they were gracious and lovely and provided jugs and jugs of water to quench our thirst) and beer (of course). And then meandered back onto the train and home. Sod cycling home...

we went to sits and it was great

2011-08-14T01:27:00.002+01:00

or, how working an event can be lots of fun when you squeeze plenty of riding in, too.

start by making the most of the journey. some people do this by listening to audio books; learning a foreign language; etc. i did it by getting up at 05.00, catching the first train to manchester, and then riding 75 miles to catton park.

the joy of riding at stupid times of day is being able to use major arterial routes which are easy to navigate but usually hellish. this is the a6 out of central manchester and i am pretending to be a bus. it's alright, nobody saw.

it rained a bit. then it rained a lot..

second breakfast whist drying out in leek. bad coffee and two dime bars are sometimes all it takes. also mostly thinking about shaggy and his succesful ctr. go shaggy!

you have no idea how exciting this place is.

one note: if you are planning to ride to catton park, be prepared for the last hour and a half after rocester to be the most boring road riding you've ever done. end psa.

so, the sun came out and some people ran and then we raced bikes for a bit.

there were lots of people being very enthusiastic about the racing bit (and with good reason; it was fun)...

but the general vibe was so laid back that our team decided we'd be stopping at midnight for a kip. what?! i don't think so. particularly after it poured with rain on my first lap.

shoes of dread. cold, wet. don't make me put them on.

the effective pre-lap routine has been completely different at every race i've ever been to. this time: sweet tea/85% chocolate/smart gel/warm thoughts.

very few things better on the second day of a race weekend than waking up in a sun-warmed tent.

checking lap times. amy won solo in an extremely convincing fashion; elsewhere the gritty kitties team of new mums came happy second whilst stopping to breastfeed between laps (making them absolutely the toughest team on the field) and the formidable big rob/competitive grace combo won mixed pairs too, despite me nearly riding over competitive grace's head in the middle of one of the night laps. sorry grace. our team got in a respectable 25 laps in between the odd bit of 'work stuff', which was enough to give our two 24 hour racing virgins a good intro to the love/hate experience that is 24 hour racing and enough for the rest of us to enjoy the super-fast, super-singletracky and (mostly) super-dry course, whilst all the time hoping those big black clouds would stay safely out of the way over there, please.

although the joy of the work bit means that we've still got to clean and dry most of the stuff in this picture. and none of it's my socks.

j.

is it OK to cry now?

2011-08-13T20:19:00.005+01:00

I have been a very bad blogger indeed this summer, in as much as I haven't... Not sadly because I've been living a high life that's far too important to interrupt, but because I fell off my bike the day after THE wedding and ripped the ligament off my thumb. The short version is that I needed surgery, (a quick aside and major thank you to Salisbury hospital who made sure it was done fast and seems to be populated with unfailingly cheery staff), and had to spend six weeks in plaster - which added to the three weeks before the op. and another week after the op. but before the proper cast made it around ten weeks of comedy typing and remarkable inactivity.

It's very uncool, but I don't do 'perky injured girl'. It's more whiny depressive - I couldn't ride, or even run. And yes I know I should have been dragging the turbo into position and firing up a Sufferfest, but I really (and I mean really), didn't want to. If anyone ever wants to carry out research into whether or not eating your way to wellness works, well let me save you the time and report that no, it does not. I'm prepared to concede that the odd bowl of Cherry Garcia might be a mood enhancer, but as recovery food it doesn't really cut it and you find yourself newly out of plaster, a stone (and a bit) above your fighting weight and wondering why you can't get up those hills or into your favourite shorts.

But I'm back on the bike- my Jones with its sweepy bars and provision for constant changes of hand position is most comfortable (I can't manage the dropped bars on my 'cross bike yet), so I've swapped to flat pedals (can't risk any fail-to-unclip moments) and taken to the trails. Having no expectation of speed or fitness it's been just lovely. There's joy to be taken too in the hugely improved balance and core stability that comes from weeks of yoga practice in a cast. And not a little fun to be had matching nail varnish to the bright pink velcro on the block I wear when carrying out my physio exercises.

The 'bugger' moment came yesterday when new x-rays revealed some collateral damage. Damage that can't just be fixed with more surgery. It's going to be a lot of (probably increasingly brutal) physio and a chunk more patience.

So lock up the Cherry Garcia folks, and does anyone have any suggestions for what bars I can put on my Surly?

Minx

no fuss endurance downhill

2011-08-01T02:16:00.004+01:00

even less happening on the racing front for me this summer, mostly brought about by a collision of apathy regarding done-it-all-before events/faces, lingering illness/slowness/weakness and a utterly crushing work year, which has crippled any intention i might have had of doing anything about the lingering illness/slowness/weakness. i did do a running race, though, which was fun.

thankfully someone with more sense than i managed to talk me back into the annual pilgrimage to fort william last weekend for a brief interlude of downhilliness.

the format is simple: you have six hours to cram in as many runs of the world cup downhill course (thankfully sans massive gap jump) as you can. up in the gondola, down on the track; up on the gondola, down on the track; and so on. it starts with a le mans sprint (and if you thought they were bad at 24 hour races, then try doing it on a narrow track wearing a full face helmet and armour, shoulder to shoulder with 150 pushing, shoving, giggling blokes), then 1.5 miles uphill on fireroad to join the course (again, hard work on a downhill bike but more fun if you discover that actually you're not as unfit as you thought you were and pass a lot of people), a similarly nose to tail ride down the lower section and then it begins in earnest.

the course is... interesting. fast and swoopy, rough and rocky, tight and rooty, smooth and jumpy by turns. there are high penalties for failure, not least because speed is your friend and the course is hewn out of the side of britain's biggest mountain; hitting it when speed ceases to be your friend and instead is just propulsion, is painful. it's scary enough to cause uncontrollable nervous giggling on both sides of the car when first glimpsed on the drive in but it's just rideable enough that there were still folk there racing on hardtails. impressive. you have to love the british...

needless to say we had a huge amount of fun. the no fuss team excelled themselves once again with the most chilled out atmosphere and even secured the services of the sunshine; the top of the ben was visible almost all weekend, thus dispelling the myth that it's a figment of the tourist board's imagination, and even the midge had the decency to only swarm twice daily. there was spirited heckling, airhorn and trackside flashing by a group who'd travelled all the way from devon to support their riders, good natured jibing in the lifts, and a lovely hour spent red-flagged on top of the mountain (hope the chap they were retrieving is okay), chatting and chilling and soaking up the view. ten runs was enough to fetch second place two minutes behind super smooth angela coates; i was mostly pleased to notice a gradual embravening of the jumping reflex as the day wore on though.

we topped and tailed the racing with a decent amount of warm beer, charred meat products and needless burning of stuff ("to keep the midge away"), and we will of course be back next year for more because if you can actually ride, rather than just pedal your bike around in circles, it's one of, if not the best event in the country.

things to remember for next time:

try and do a little bit more practising of the gnar in the intervening 364 days. simply hopping on a big bike once a year and hoping you'll remember how it works is not good enough, no matter how good the bike is (and it was very good; big thanks to upgrade for the loan of the pivot phoenix skill enabler).

gnocchi is great pre-race brunch food; all races should start at tea time.

buy more armour.

j.

Cross Country Racing, eh?

2011-07-31T19:09:00.003+01:00

Although I've been having a bash at racing for a few years now, I've never actually done a proper cross country race...until today that is.

Today was round 5 of the Scottish Cross Country Series in Perth, which is local (ish) so after some peer pressure from Katie, I decided to give it a bash.

I learned some important stuff....

1. Print out the map and don't try to wing it from memory and using the larger scale AA road map. Taking almost 2 hours to get to a race which is only an hour away isn't good race prep!

2. Don't ever ride to registration with a water bottle carrier slung over the right hand side of your bars. When you turn, the bottle carrier will shimmy along your bars, trap your brake lever, lock on the front brake and cause you to go over the bars in an instant, in front of all the other folks faffing and getting ready by their cars. It's not great to start a race with a bloody elbow and covered in dust from the fire road!

3. Singlespeeds don't always work on very hilly courses when you're racing with whippets. Yes, I can make time up on the descents, but there's only so much time you can get away with losing on the climbs because they're just that wee bit too steep to ride.

4. Trying to race after 2 weeks of gastroenteritis and not eating isn't a good idea...I don't need to tell you that your body needs a wee bit of food in there to be able to function properly.

5. Yes, recovery drinks are good, but ever better are Perthshire Burgers! Eat them after a race and they will help you feel better!

So, not my best ever race, but for my first XC race, it was a good learning experience. It was an Edinburgh podium in the slightly older than the whippets category and there's a new piece of silverware (well, slate-ware really) on the shelf.

I'm not sure if I'm an XC convert, but the SXC champs are at the start of September at Drumlanrig which is one of my favourite places to ride, so I might give it a bash again soon.

Jac
x

Back in the saddle

2011-07-31T17:52:00.005+01:00

Vikki's post about taking the scenic route home reminded me of what I first liked about cycling : being able to travel under my own steam to new places, to explore the countryside and ooh and aah at cute villages. So when the boyf announced he had a race today in deepest darkest Kent, I decided I would ride down to spectate and cheer. New countryside, new villages in glorious sunshine - the perfect antidote to my recent motivational slump.

Kent was beautiful, filled with orchards bursting with apples, fields of strawberries which wafted their mouth-watering aroma across the road. Oast houses, villages of half-timbered and wooden houses. I loved it.

Whilst I loved the scenery and loved the sunshine, I did not love the headwind. And I most certainly did not love my Garmin which decided to only alert me to some of the turns that were required. And when I accidentally went on the wrong route, it then spent 10 mins re-calculating the route whilst I either pedalled in a random direction or whilst I tapped my heels impatiently by the side of the road. Most frustrating.

And to add insult to injury, the combination of start faffage + wind + garmin wait + detours meant that I finally arrived at the race only to see the race marshalls packing up. Fail! Fortunately I still had enough brownie points in the account to get a lift home...

Hometime

2011-07-27T17:58:00.001+01:00

Taking the scenic route, a photo by jumbly on Flickr.

Commute.
Summer.
Scenic route.
Perfect.

Vikki

Motivational Slump

2011-07-19T21:24:00.004+01:00

After six months of being utterly focused on training towards the Marmotte, I'm feeling demotivated and struggling to get properly back into training. I feel bored with cycling. I'm also bored of rain. Bored of squelchy shoes. Bored of grey skies. Bored of laps of Richmond Park. Bored bored bored.

Clearly I need a new challenge. However I have used up all my holiday chips so it'll have to be a London-based cycling challenge and all suggestions would be very welcome. There are a few Surrey / Kent Hills sportives in the forthcoming months but that all feels like simply a continuation of my Marmotte training, riding up the same old hills in the same old rain. I don't fancy racing as I have the reaction-times of a tired slug and fear that I would connect with tarmac rather too often. Maybe time trials? The boyf dismissed them, saying they're dull and start at O'Dark O'Clock, but I feel sure this cannot be a universal truth. I know I need a target and I suspect I need training buddies. There's only so much masochism a girl can do.

While I work out what I'm training towards, I still need do to some sport, so that I can eat cake and still fit into my jeans, of course. So some swimming, perhaps, and some spinning classes. And let's hope that inspiration strikes.

Learning : heat & hills

2011-07-10T21:07:00.000+01:00

I've learnt : How to manage heat.

I live in England where summer is a notional period in the diary rather than an actual indicator of hot weather, so learning to manage the proper heat of summer that you get elsewhere is kinda tricky. Some friends suggest doing all your training rides whilst wearing far too many layers. Another turbo trains in front of his fan oven. I, however, am a fan of less masochistic methods: wicking clothes and cunning hair solutions.

I have a huge amount of thick hair and find that a pony tail just sits in a hot clump on the neck, making you feel hotter by the minute. Instead, the Heidi look solves this problem. Wind goes down the back of your helmet and creates a wonderful draught of chilly breeze down your neck and back. If additional cooling is required, a quick dip of the head in the nearest horse trough and you've got a moving coolbox on your head. Genius.

I need to learn : How to descend.

I have always been crap at descending, but with my recent fall still fresh in my memory, I am now at whatever the polar opposite of warp speed is. I descend like a Granny with a cup of tea in her hand. And whilst in theory this doesn't really matter, (cycling not being my day job and all) I was pretty hacked off in the Marmotte to get overtaken by at least 50 people on each descent that I'd laboured past on the ascent. So cruel to lose those places just by being a scaredy cat. The boyf tells me that girls are often crap at it. So does anyone know of a course with hints & tips to teach us girls how to do this going fast down hill thing? Chalk lines on road showing lines to take and stuff?

2011-07-06T21:51:00.000+01:00

Last weekend was the Black Mountains 3 Day race and it was a fabulous weekend. We were lucky with the weather and spent 2 long days riding gorgeous natural trails in the Brecon Beacons, plus a cheeky time trial on the Friday night. It was a great first-time event and I really hope they run it again. It was also good to be back pushing hard and feeling strong and able to give it some beans without being scared I was going to end up in bed with fatigue afterwards.

A massive thank you must go to the organisers. I hope they run it again...

Fi

Marmotte Madness

2011-07-04T19:15:00.008+01:00

As the big day approached I started to get more and more apprehensive about the task ahead of me. Tears were shed. Kit was organised. Re-organised. And then organised again.

The night before I woke up every half an hour and panicked some more, which helped a lot, as I'm sure you can imagine. But then, at last, 5am was there and we got up and on with the day. The pre-race organisation was a little, umn, Gallic, (ie no instructions and entirely up to you to ask people / work it out) but I found myself in the right pen and next to a lovely English woman to whom I could chatter to take my mind off the wait and the freezing cold (6oC in race kit isn't really the most fun thing).

And then finally our pen of 5000 - 9000 start numbers set off with a chorus of clicking cleats and swear words as various people proved, not for the last time that day, that they don't know how to ride in a straight line or at an even speed. The sun was up, the mountains were glorious and various lovely lovely people were lining the road at this unfriendly hour to cheer us off.

The first few hours were pretty stressful given the volume of cyclists, with people swerving, stopping, speeding up, shoulder barging and generally behaving like drunk people at a disco, but I stuck with a few French Velo club guys and tried to keep safe and keep ticking off the miles.

The feed stations were complete bedlam (see pic below of the queue at the first Col for the feed station) and unless you brought specially sharpened elbows you'd have no luck. I gave up and stuck to rural fountains and the food I'd brought with me.
As the Marmotte is a very long, hilly, sportive (174km with 5000m of climb), it was always going to take me A Very Long Time, so to take my mind off it all I resorted to my usual sportive games :

Guess the nationality (by the kit, the bike, the size of the rider and their tan)
If the kit's pre 1984 and looks like an explosion in a kid's crayon box, they're French.
If they've got a Eddy Merckx bike AND a tan, they're Belgian. If pale, they're English.
If they're very tall and have a tan, they're Dutch. If v tall and no tan, they're Norwegian.
If wearing Rapha, they're English and so on.
Every time I got it right I got a point, if I got it wrong, deduct a point. The aim is to get to the top of the hill in plus numbers.
Bike Bingo
spot a hybrid, a MTB, a hand-made bike, an old-school racer and someone with a pannier
Mental arithmatic
eg ok so there's 17km to the summit. Divide by 8, multiply by 5, that's about 11 and a bit miles so at 6mph that's going to take me 2 hours etc etc

And that got me as far as Valloire and up much of the Galibier. And there I made my schoolgirl error of using untested foodstuffs. EPIC FAIL. I had forgotten to buy enough gels to take with me, assuming that I'd be able to buy the necessary out in France. Mais non. So I ended up with a different brand that, it transpired, my stomach he did not like. At all. So with many a lurchy UGH I'M GOING TO VOMIT I made my way up the Galibier. Very. Very. Slowly. Dolly Parton was called into service.

At the top I ate my last remaining energy bar that was pre tested and thought that as no mad efforts would be required on the descent, my stomach might settle down. I underestimated both the stubbornness of my stomach and the windy nature (both twisty and gusty) of the road. So at the bottom of Alpe D'Huez I was still feeling decidedly queasy. And yet I took the bizarre decision to have another of the stomach-churning gels (the logic was that calories = good, I think) before setting off. The 21 virages seemed to last for an eternity, with shouty rock music urging me on as I sobbed and churned the gears. I was utterly miserable and I don't think I looked at the view once! But I got there. And my official time is 9h45*. Getting round in under 10 hours with no tears was my target and I managed 50% of that, so I'm pretty chuffed.

The boyf (who'd finished 4 hours earlier) met me at the end with coke and crisps and a bouquet of victory flowers and despite being rather shocked by the sobbing and the lack of speaking (I am normally the chattiest person in any given situation) for "the longest time" he gently nurtured me back to good humour and laughter and even got me talking about ideas for my next challenge! It's amazing how quickly you forget pain...

*Official time excludes the descent of the Glandon. In theory to make people descend in a rational, safe, fashion, as the time it takes doesn't count. It didn't quite work like that in reality. Anyway, total Garmin time was 10h30.

Bad Karma

2011-06-30T21:16:00.002+01:00

I think I've been suffering from some bad bike karma after selling the Jooly.

Firstly, the Spot's been getting mysterious flats...fine when I'm riding, but each time I take her out of the hut, hey presto, there's another flat.

Then, at Puffer Lite last weekend, just after I'd got over my usual dark thoughts, my brakes packed in, on a nice, fast little descent! (Quite sketchy but maybe secretly a little bit exhilarating!) And ended up having to pull out of the race because they couldn't be fixed.

So either it's some sort of bad voodoo from the Jooly for selling her, or the Spot's pining for the Jooly and giving me a hard time.

Bikes, eh!

Fingers crossed it doesn't last!

Jac
x

Farewell Old Friend

2011-06-23T20:57:00.002+01:00

It's been a long time coming (almost 2 years in fact), but I was finally persuaded to sell my Jooly Superlight at the weekend and I feel like I felt when I was 14 and got dumped by some boy from school.

After much arm twisting and badgering, I was persuaded that it was time to try to sell the Jooly with a view to replacing it with something newer and shinier, so I finally started asking around to see if anyone would be interested in giving her a good home.

As soon as I'd asked, I wished I hadn't, but it was to late.

Money changed hands on Friday and she went off to her new home with a fresh sprig of lavender tucked into the bars for good luck.

So she's gone. I know her new owner will have lots of fun with her, but she's going to be a hard act to follow. So rather than rush into anything new, I'm going to spend the rest of the summer with the singlespeed trying to generate some more fun memories on bikes starting with Puffer Lite this weekend (you can create quite a few memories in 12 hours!).

Jac
x

Close Encounter

2011-06-19T18:50:00.006+01:00

OUCH. I have road rash, whiplash and a bashed helmet.

On my last long ride yesterday I came a cropper in the rain, with an unexpected car move (did he indicate and I just not see it? torrential rain certainly didn't help) and my high speed avoidance resulting in an abrupt close encounter with tarmac.

Obviously I am very glad that actually the above injuries are all that I do have. And the bike is fine too. So I shouldn't complain. But a sore neck and lots of ouchy bits of me is not what I was hoping for at this point in my marmotte preparation. Any MTB hardy souls who get these injuries on a regular basis have my utmost admiration. And do please send your handy hints for a speedy recovery.

PS no photos as it's bits of me that I'd really rather not share with the internet that are the best-shredded...

Tour de Mont Blanc May 2011 by Fi

2011-06-12T16:03:00.002+01:00

Pain au chocolate in Chamonix, France; pizza and icecream in Cormayeur, Italy and muesli in Champex-Lac, Switzerland. A delicious 4 days of riding on the Tour de Mont Blanc. Gorgeous scenery, tough climbs and teeth-gritting descents. Perfect mind-laundry. Read more soon in the new regular feature on www.cyclistno1.co.uk - The Epic Ride. We're inviting readers to submit their own epic rides, adventures and stories about their two wheeled trips.

You got a story to tell?

2011-06-09T16:38:00.003+01:00

So for the last six months I've been mostly on my bike. Or stretching. Or yawning and complaining about how tired I am. You see I've been training for the Marmotte, which is a fairly chunky challenge even for a decent cyclist - and for a slightly chubby recreational cyclist who'd only once done 100 miles and never climbed anything more than 2500m in a day, it's a serious, daunting, OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I SIGNED UP FOR? kind of challenge.

So what is the Marmotte (other than a cute Alpine animal?) It's a sportive of 190km (118 miles) with 5000m of climbing.

Say it really quickly and it doesn't sound so bad does it? Hmmmm. Well I'm scared. Really scared. Whilst I'm a lot fitter than I was (smug moment at the doctor when she said I had a very low pulse), and have managed to lose some of the lard, I'm still slow. And so it's going to take me a LONG time. Probably ten hours or so. So if anyone has any good musical suggestions, do please send them my way. Even though I'm a huge fan of Dolly, I suspect even she might wane on the third repeat.

Livvy

30 second update

2011-05-23T13:33:00.003+01:00

I've been very quiet on this blog since I got back from racing the Patagonian Expedition Race in February. Well that's because a combination of the arduousness of that race (a word?), going out there with a virus and training very hard for it for a very long time, has left me with chronic fatigue syndrome. Rest is good, people. Rest up and rest well!

It has 3 months of grim days when I couldn't lift my head, good days when I thought it was all in my head and mediocre days when I would get overtaken by the old granny on her shopper on the way to work.

Then gradually things started to change. I have been eating well thanks to my nutritionist Jamie Richards, exercising well thanks to yoga, my new-found obsession, given up racing (other than for tea and cake) and don't train any more. Ever. I ride a bit, run a bit, kayak a bit and do a lot of yoga.

And now I feel good. I managed a 5 hour adventure race on Angelsey with my boyfriend on Saturday (www.openadventure.com) and my first Ocean Kayak Race yesterday in our beautiful double sea kayak. And on Thursdsday I'm off to mountain bike around Mont Blanc. 40k a day. A proper holiday. None of this flogging-yourself-til-it-hurts business. Those days are over.

I celebrate the return of my health. Every day that I can pedal, can smile, can put energy and vigour into my life is a good day. Long may it last.

Fi

Jumps and Drops (Scary Skills Day)

2011-05-22T20:50:00.005+01:00

Friday saw 7 girls turn up at Gisburn Forest for the scary skills day, sorry, Jumps and Drops day, with Ed from Great Rock.

I was a bag of nerves on Thursday night - how gnarr will the day be? What if I'm the most chicken? What if everyone else is really good? Would I be able to commit or would my hands involuntarily grab my brakes like they usually do? It wasn't helped by Ed's e-mail telling us all that if we want to do the 4 foot drop on the DH course, we should bring a full face helmet. Eek! 4 foot drops are way beyond anything I've even considered trying to ride, so this was going to be way beyond me.

By the time I arrived on Friday morning, I'd convinced myself that I'd be happy just to listen, take it all in and watch. I'd just never be able to do any of it, but I could still learn stuff. So I was more than a little bit relieved to hear the other girls say they were nervous too.

After some nervous laughter, we set off to learn scary stuff.

We started off with manuals (controlled wheelies for those of us who don't do techy speak). I think it's fair to say that none of us were particularly stylish or controlled when we started, but after some practice, Ed had us all doing manuals.

Maybe I can do this then, I thought.

Then we moved on to rear end lifts (endo's without pulling the breaks) which proved to be a bit more of a challenge, but again, Ed managed to have us all doing it in no time at all.

Next, we had to try to combine the manual and the rear end lift to do a bunny hop. I've only ever managed bunny hops by yanking the bike up with my pedals before, so this was a bit of a revelation for me.

After stopping for lunch to dry off a bit and warm up (the weather had been pretty grim all morning), we set off to put together all the skills we'd learned in the morning and try manualling and jumping off drops. I'm always being told to lift my front wheel when I'm dropping off stuff, but never been able to do it, so I didn't have much confidence that, after just a few hours, I'd be able to "get air" off a drop like the boys do when we go riding.

We started will a drop I'd usually roll off, so it didn't seem too scary and after just a few attempts, we were all managing to manual off the lip of the drop and some of us were even managing to jump off the drop. This was a massive step forward for me and I already felt that I had achieved loads (no more being told to lift my front wheel!).

Next, Ed persuaded some of us move on to the next drop. This one was a lot bigger. I'm sure it wasn't quite as big as it looked, but it looked like it was about 3 foot tall, built from stone with a concrete slab on the top.

Jenn, Cat, Ros and I spent several minutes walking round the drop, looking at it from the top, then from the bottom, then further back up the trail, then back to the top of the drop, but all we were doing was making ourselves more nervous. So, Jenn decided just to go for it. Unfortunately, because it was quite a short run up, she didn't manage to get quite enough speed, tried to stop at the top, and somehow managed to roll off the drop.

Then it was Cat's turn. She managed to get speed up, got off the drop really nicely, but then when she landed, her forks compressed and it all went a bit wrong. By the time I rushed over to the top of the drop, she was lying in a heap on the trail looking pretty beat up. Luckily, she got off relatively lightly with a grazed and bruised chin and a bashed shoulder.

After that, Ros and I decided that the drop wasn't for us, so we suggested to Ed that we move on to something else.

Ed's choice of taking us to the quarry didn't seem like an easier option to me! Then, when he pointed to a big rocky drop, I really though he was kidding, but he was serious!

I could swear the drop was about as tall as me (although I'm sure it wasn't really) and it was narrow with a really short run out, so I really couldn't see how it could be possible for me to ride this.

As I stood at the top I couldn't figure out how I could possibly ride down it, but Ed was confident we could all do it, so I decided to at least try riding up to it to see what it was like. Jenn and I took our bikes further up the quarry and took a few deep breaths. Jenn decided to go first and rode it like a pro!

Then I rode at it, all the time, the little voice in my head was screaming "Don't touch the brakes! Hold on to the bars like your life depends on it! COMMIT!", whilst I kept muttering under my breath "Come on! You can do this!". Then I rode off the drop and found myself riding away from the bottom, in one piece!

I made it!

Just a few hours earlier, I wouldn't even have considered riding to the top of something like that to have a look, but I'd just managed to ride the biggest drop in the world (well, it seemed that way to me).

Just to prove to myself that I really had done it, I went back to have another try and again, found myself riding away from the bottom in one piece. If I could do a backflip, I think I would have!

So, maybe I hadn't managed to ride that first big drop, but I did manage to ride something I would never have dreamed of riding before and that's a huge step forward in my book!

I'm not sure I'm a gnarr rider yet, but if nothing else, I've found a new way of looking at trails and have a bit more confidence. I'm already thinking about my local trails and how I can ride them differently, better and maybe smoother. I can't wait to go out for my next ride and play!

Can we go out for a ride now?

Jac
x

saturdays are for riding

2011-05-16T10:39:00.003+01:00

Just a quick reminder that this coming Saturday (21st May), we're hosting a ride from Hebden Bridge.

If we end up with a very large group of ladies then we'll possibly split into an easy and harder ride but nobody will be left behind. We have all sorts of trails here - not all straight up - and the only requirements are a working mountain bike, helmet/gloves, a spare tube and food/drink to keep yourself going. And yes, there will be cake.

Coffee Cali, Hebden Bridge. 10.30am to ride at 11am.

(Blazing Saddles are just around the corner if you need to shop but as there are likely to be a fair few of us, a larger meeting point was needed - the fact that it's a coffee shop is purely coincidental, ahem...)

Fingers crossed for less of this...

And plenty of this...!

j.

24 Solo (and more short stories)

2011-05-09T09:44:00.002+01:00

This weekend was the European and UK 24 and 12 hour solo champs. It was the same venue as last year, Newcastleton, Scotland (just down the road for me), but with some upgrades to facilities and slight changes to the course. The weather conditions, though, couldn't have been more different from last year - blazing sunshine and dry dusty trails last year v biblical rain and wet muddy trails this year. So it was quite a different race from last year.

I had entered the 24 almost as soon as the entries opened, but then did nothing about it. No training, no real thought to how I was going to do it, I just put it to the back of my mind until a month ago I realised it was almost time and I was not ready by a long shot!

So, as you can imagine, it didn't really go quite as I hoped, and the biblical rain and horrible mud, didn't really help my cause.

From my very first lap I was battling with my usual dark thoughts of throwing in the towel, but because my towel was already covered in mud and soaking wet, that wasn't an option (our tent had a huge puddle in it when I woke up on Saturday morning and a bunch of my things were lying in the puddle, including my towel and some of my riding kit!).

For the first few laps, the course was really busy because of the combination of 12 and 24 hour riders, but as time went on, it got quieter - the bad weather was taking it's toll on riders and bikes and several riders decided to call it quits early. My lap times weren't great, but I was managing to keep consistent times and was starting to enjoy the trails, but then I had a bit of a mishap....one of the fun, if a bit sketchy, muddy descents had got a bit muddier since my last lap, so I decided to try a different line...bad idea. Wobble, don't touch the brakes, oh, avoid that tree, thump. Bike flew over the top of me and I was in a very muddy heap on the ground with my bike on top of me. Luckily a marshal was at the top of the hill and came rushing down to get my bike off me and off the trail. I stood up and checked the bike, which was fine, but I realised that I had ripped a huge hole in the bum of my shorts and an equally huge hole in my bum cheek! I didn't really want to lose a lap, so I decided just to finish the lap with my bum hanging out the back of my shorts. Not very lady-like I know, but it was dark by this time and not many people on the course, so I figured nobody would notice (and if they did, they'd be in an equally bad state, so probably wouldn't pay too much attention).

Then the rains came, and I mean proper rain. So after my next lap, I know I shouldn't have, but I decided to take refuge in my tent until the rain eased off a bit. The next thing I knew, the sun was up... I'd managed to doze off and sleep for several hours and I was more than a little bit cross with myself!

So, having missed the dawn lap, my favourite, and now being several laps down on where I should have been, I went back out on to the, now almost deserted, course. I managed to ride a few more laps, but by the finish, I was quite a few laps down on where I'd hoped to be (as well as being another pair of shorts down!).

Despite all of that, it was another great event and the support and encouragement from my shared pit crew, other riders and other support crews managed to keep a smile on my face even when I really should have been crying.

Now that I'm home, clean, dry, rested and the sun's out, I'm taking stock of the weekend.

1. The massive black bruise on my right bum cheek has reminded me that I must remember to take arnica to events.
2. I must take a waterproof with me if I think there's even a remote chance that it'll rain (so that I can't use being soaked through as an excuse for stopping for a bit).
3. I need to find the time to train. My next big event is a month from now, so just enough time...maybe, if I really, really try.

Jac
x

P.S. I'll try to find some pics of the epic muddiness and pop them up.

Short Stories

2011-04-14T21:14:00.002+01:00

How do you know when it's finally time to say goodbye to your favourite old shorts?

Is it when the stitching frays a bit along the seems? No. They're still hanging together. It'll be fine.

Is it when the chamois starts to get a bit lumpy? Nah. It's just molded to the shape of your bottom. It's not chaffing, so it's still fine.

Is it when you notice a slightly thinning patch on your inner thigh where your thigh rubs against the saddle? Oh no. That's just aero-dynamics...less resistance at your inner thigh.

Is it when you make a speedy dismount, desperately trying not to go pelting into the stream, but manage to catch that slightly thinning patch on your saddle, wobble and tumble a bit and hear that unmistakable sound of ripping lycra? Yes. It's probably time now.

Jac
x

It might just be spring

2011-04-09T20:33:00.007+01:00

Today was officially a lovely spring day!

I've not been able to get out riding all week, so this morning's blue skies and tweety birds were all it took for me to decide to ride out to visit my Dad rather than drive....well, that and a quick pedal change (we seem to be down a pair of pedals at the moment, so there's a rotation system going on), some indecision about whether or not to be brave enough not to wear winter kit, opting for a compromise of roubaix 3/4's, base layer, jersey, arm warmers and gillet rather than winter jacket and then I was off.

20 minutes later, my foot came out the pedal suddenly...or at least I thought it came out of my pedal. When I looked down, I saw that the pedal was attached to my foot, but not to the crank. Ahem...maybe I didn't put it on quite tightly enough, but luckily nobody saw me go a bit pink with embarrassment and I quickly put it right and got back on my way.

Within another 20 minutes, I was by the seaside and breathing in salty, seaweedy air and heading down the coast under big blue skies. Although it's only April, the beaches were crammed with people (admittedly they were all huddling near the carparks behind wind breaks and wearing lots of clothes, but they were at the seaside).

The coast road's always pretty windy, so my plan was to ride out along the flat, but windy, coast road and return by the less windy but quite lumpy inland road. I was relieved to turn off the busy coast road out of the wind and start heading cross country on peaceful little roads.

I managed to spot lots of pheasants, lambs, cabbage fields (which smell quite strong), a hare and a dinosaur. I really did spot a dinosaur...

I stopped off at my Dad's for some lunch and cake (and a bit of oohing and ahing at the fact that I rode over the big hill from the coast road) before heading off for the return leg. By this time it had actually started to get a little bit warm but I wasn't quite brave enough to take my arm warmers off. I think I had a bit of a glow going on though.

I decided to go for a bit of a randomeer and took a left onto a very small road which was deserted but turned out to have some brand new tarmac on it, so I felt very spoiled....traffic free road and not a single pot hole to be seen. The road was so quiet, it felt like I'd stepped back in time and the road signs only made the feeling stronger....when do you last remember seeing a sign telling you were 1 and 5/8 miles from a town?

Although having the roads to myself was bliss, my randomeering did add a few extra miles onto my ride, as I discovered when I realised my gas tank was empty and I hadn't brought any food with me and there was still 10 miles left to go. Luckily there was milkshake and Portuguese potatoes waiting when I got home.

Fingers crossed tomorrow's just as lovely as today and I might even be brave enough to wear shorts rather than roubaix 3/4....maybe. I'll definitely take some food though.

Jac
x

tick tock tick tock

2011-03-28T23:14:00.003+01:00

the clocks have gone forward and it's all downhill from here. don't waste it are the words of the week.

there's enough light in the evenings to ride after work and enough warmth to do it in short sleeves. the knees are out and already a state but the trails are as buff as they ever get; every day from now 'til october will end with a race to the top of the hill. chasing the sun, chasing the dust, chasing the summer.

go!

j.

Patagonia

2011-03-21T17:05:00.002Z

Fi writes:

I've been back from Chilean Patagonia for a month. Sorry about the delay. I feel like in the past 48 hours the post race fog has lifted.

UPDATE:

What did I do: The Wenger Patagonia Expedition Adventure Race

Where is it: Chilean Patagonia

What is it: 10 day expedition adventure race, including mountain biking, trekking, kayaking and navigation

Who did I race with: Team Adidas Terrex, former World Adventure Racing Champions

How did it go? Well. We won!

I'm in the process of writing an article about the experience and finding it rather draining. It was 8 of the hardest days of my life, yet the most exhilarating. The report will follow, I promise. In the mean time, share our finish line moment:

The Paw of Guilt

2011-03-13T20:23:00.005Z

Today was my first mountain bike time trial. It was the last of three races in the Innerleithen winter series. The race is run in a typical time trial style - riders are set off at 1 minute intervals to ride a fixed course. Today's course was a 25k loop using a combination of the red xc course, combined with bits of dh and some random brand new trail cut especially for the race. Of course, being Innerleithen, there was a fair bit of climbing...actually, there was a lot of climbing!

The weather's been pretty bad up here over the last week, with quite a bit of snow falling over the last few days. Luckily though, most of the snow had melted on the trails, but it was still pretty cold, so I had to ride with a few layers on.

The race started at the bottom of the first big climb up from the car park, so there wasn't much of a warm up before we were right into it. I'm not very good at climbing at the best of times, but with no real warm up, I'm pretty rubbish, so I was passed by a few people pretty quickly. But my theory was that this was quite a long race, so if I managed to keep a steady pace, then I'd be fine.

I managed to keep that steady pace up the first climb and was looking forward to the first decent (which was the first decent on the Enduro I did at the end of January). Then I started going down and realised that the snow melt had left the trail very, very muddy and very,very slippery! Although I didn't exactly crash, I didn't spend much time on my bike - most of it was slipping off the trail and landing on my bum. I knew I should be able to ride this section, but ended up having to get off and run / stumble with my bike a lot of the way. I managed to get back on just before the bottom of the first section and got on to the fire road.

I knew there were a few folk just ahead of me so I charged off along the fire road hoping that I might be able to at least get them back in my sights, but I didn't see a soul. My heart sunk...how could they have managed to create such a big gap in such a short time? I pushed to try to get up the hill a bit quicker to try to make up some more time, but still no sight of anyone. By the time I got to the next marshal, I was feeling pretty down. Then the marshal told me that I shouldn't be coming up that fire road...I should have gone back down the hill and come up the trail through the woods to where he was.

As I turned back to try to find where I'd gone wrong, I really didn't know if I wanted to keep going. I knew I'd lost a lot of time, done several extra kilometres and extra climbing, so there was no way I'd manage to make up the time now. I eventually managed to find the trail I should have gone down, carried on and got back to that marshal about 25 minutes later.

By this time, I had decided that I wasn't racing any more. I was just riding the trails, on what had turned out to be a sunny, if cold, spring day and enjoying being out in the woods riding on some brand new trails. So I managed to settle back into a good steady pace and started having some fun.

The trail wound up and down the hill, using mostly single track, made much more techy by the muddy conditions...proper mud that'll take several washes to get out of my kit and made my tyres completely useless! The freshly cut pieces of trail were a real challenge. They were often almost fall line and very loose and greasy and more often than not I ended up slipping off the side of the trail and hanging on to the nearest tree to stop me slipping all the way down the hill.

The last part of the course combined trail centre trails and freshly cut trails which were fast and flowy, and despite there being 90 odd riders, surprisingly quiet (maybe that's because I'd gone the wrong way and had been passed by loads of folks whilst I was charging off up the fire road!). I managed to talk myself into riding some of the rocky stuff I wasn't sure about, only to realise there was another rider just behind me listening to me telling myself "Don't be such a girl! Everyone else can ride it. Just pay attention." I just hope he didn't think I was talking to him!

I finally popped out at the finish to a big cheer and with big grin on my face.

It might not have been my finest race, but I ended up having a lot of fun and getting pretty mucky in the process. Despite that, I managed a double podium! Third in the senior women's race and winning the overall series!
Ah, yes. The paw of guilt....knowing that we were racing today, I made one of my post race fav meals last night so that we could heat it up when we got back. So I made some tasty meatballs and a nice thick tomato sauce to go with them. Unfortunately, I had put the tomato sauce out in a tub, but hadn't put the lid on the tub properly. So when we got back and I went to start heating things up, I noticed that the lid wasn't on the tub...then I noticed that there were specks of tomato sauce all over the kitchen worktop, and some on the floor. Then our lovely, but very inquisitive cat, strolled into the kitchen to welcome us home. As I crouched down to say hello to her, I noticed that she her paw was very red, tomato-ey you could say...There goes the fav post race meal.

Jac
x

jumps and drops, tea and cake.

2011-02-28T18:27:00.003Z

The title says it all, really.

Our favourite bearded trail guru, Great Rock is running a women's 'Jumps & Drops' skills day at Gisburn Forest on Friday 20th May. I will be there learning how to jump and drop, as my goal for this year is to be able to fly stylishly over the last stepdown at Fort William, which means I need to learn to commit :)

A massive bike and/or super skills aren't necessary but the desire to be a better rider is (and I'm sure we all have that in spades). Ed's got gentle encouragement (and fluffy facial hair) down to a fine art and it'll be a rare opportunity to progress your riding in the supportive atmosphere that we all know you only get with an all-female group.

Then, because it's a Saturday the day after and Saturdays are for riding, we'll be hosting a ride from Blazing Saddles in Hebden Bridge on 21st May. A sort of sociable Minxes get-together if you like - nobody will be left behind, we'll stop for tea and cake at least once and we'll take in as much (or as little) of the great riding in Calderdale as we feel the need for on the day. Because sometimes it's nice just to pootle...

If there are enough ladies to warrant splitting the group then we'll do so but don't worry about being too fast/slow, there are enough trails here for everyone. Hopefully spring will have sprung by then, too :)

j.

Even Grumpy Miles Count

2011-02-27T15:54:00.002Z

Today's ride didn't start well. Having woken to sunshine and a vague plan to get in some steady (OK, slow) miles on my own after a short social jaunt yesterday, things began to unravel fast. By the time I'd got dressed in three-quarters and a windproof jersey the sky had darkened and I took everything off to start again with my warmest bibs, a thermal jersey and waterproof at the ready. Making extra porridge I expressed an interest in trying a route on the SatNav. I'm still finding my way around here so thought it would make sense to try and join up some places I DID know. I've only used a SatNav on my bike once before and it worked out well having my route handily placed up front, so extending my knowledge would be good - right?

Somewhere between finishing my second coffee and actually getting out the door there was a "Mummeeeeee' as I was summoned to see a particularly hysterical Total Wipeout contestant, (but then aren't they all?) Cue yet more minutes more of my life being sucked away - but really how can you walk away from Crash Mountain? And is it just me or does everyone else plan the line they'd take?

Let's gloss over not being able to find any zip ties for the SatNav, which necessitated rearranging my carefully planned pocketage of pump, money, inhaler, Shot Bloks and phone. The rain started falling when I'd progressed about a mile from home. Special freezing rain. I thought about friend John Ross who starts the Iditarod Trail Invitational today and decided it would be beyond wimpy to cut my ride short. And of course the rain got harder, as did the head wind. Honestly, I'd like to viciously document every miserable mile that passed under my wheels but then I'd have to set light to the computer to get closure. The briefest moment's happiness came ironically on a climb that was exceptionally smooth tarmac, and for a few minutes the sun waved at me too.

I would love to be able to report some life changing epiphany, a moment when, through the suffering it all came good. But that was it, the weak sunshine was followed by hail, I didn't 'ride through the pain', instead just took grim and perverse pleasure in fixing my eyes on the rain-shiny revolutions of my front tyre, knowing from experience that every groveling ascent would go towards one day in the summer when I will storm a hill somewhere and wonder 'where that came from.'

I'd given up stopping to carry out the whole performance of removing gloves, getting SatNav out of pocket, squinting at the screen through driving rain, stabbing at it hopelessly with the little thingy, working out where I'd gone wrong (through a reluctance to go through this process as often as I should in the rain), sorting out a way to rejoin my route, putting the wretched thing back before finally struggling back into soaking gloves. As a consequence I was relying on following my nose - which as anyone who's ever ridden with me will know is fatal, as I possess no sense of direction. I did try to to foil my inner (faulty) compass by consistently going the opposite way to the one I thought seemed best and finally limped home, hailstones still fresh on my jacket. No one even glanced up from their lunch as I stomped my mud splattered self up the stairs, a faintly strange feeling in the chamois being proof that even if you have the very best zip-out bum Gore tights, not getting the angle right as you hide behind a hedge, leads to unpleasant consequences.

So I'm tired now, and unhappier still because examination of my higgedly piggedly route reveals it wasn't even close to being as far as it felt. I bloody hate it when things don't come together and am taking only the tiniest comfort from the fact that even grumpy miles count.

Minx

Wheeze

2011-02-22T20:41:00.005Z

I've had a run of bad luck health wise since the start of the year. A yukky flu just after New Year, followed by an equally yukky chest infection over the last few weeks have meant that I've not really been able to ride as much as I would have liked.

I thought I was well on the way to recovery, but all my good intentions of "just going for a gentle pootle" on Saturday went out the window when I woke up in the morning wheezing and coughing again. So I decided to spend my time doing something much more....tasty...

...a giant birthday crispy cake for Chris' birthday.

I promise I'll ride my bike this weekend.

Jac
x

it's all glamour.

2011-02-02T21:15:00.004Z

fresh test bikes to ride always means one thing is certain: nasty, nasty weather. or, to be more accurate - nice(ish) weather that slowly leaks away whilst the hours get eaten up by emails and phonecalls until the nasty weather arrives right on cue.

this means i ride a lot in the rain, and i ride a lot in the dark. so i might as well like it.

the rain and the mud and riding home through town mostly black from head to toe feeling tired and warm. being up there with the wind howling through the trees, lights glowing across the valley, so wet you don't notice the rain anymore except for the drips on your eyelashes that catch on your cheekbones as they fall, watching tiny patches of blue sailing across the sky way up above the clouds, thinking about why the bike is doing what it does at the same time as wondering what there might be in the fridge for second supper later on...

except of course i love doing the same thing in sunshine and shorts and summertime. but that'll be here in due course. in the meantime - well, love the meantime.

j.

Running out of excuses

2011-02-02T20:07:00.006Z

Sunday was "The Big Day".

Over the last week I had got more and more nervous about the race until, come Saturday night, I could hardly sleep. I usually get nervous before races, but it's usually nerves about how I'll do and whether I'll be able to do as well as I'd like to do, but it was different this time....I was nervous about whether or not I'd survive! Would I crash horribly and break everything? Would I be so slow that I'd get in everyone's way and end up causing a pile up? Or worse still, would I end up chickening out and not finishing the race?

So when I woke up on Sunday morning, I lay in bed for a few minutes taking stock...nope, my legs hadn't broken overnight, so I couldn't use that excuse. Then I went downstairs...nope, the car hadn't been stolen, so I couldn't use that excuse either. Car keys weren't lost, bike was still in one piece, shoes hadn't disappeared, hadn't run out of contact lenses, so it looked like I was going to have to do it.

It was a really cold morning, so I packed an extra few layers into my bag and then jumped into the car. As I left the house, I could see that there was a light dusting of snow on the Pentlands and on the drive down to Innerleithen, the temperature got colder and colder (could I just say that I'd not brought enough warm kit and had to go home?) and then the snow started (maybe it would be cancelled). By the time I pulled into the, already busy, car park, it was obvious that the race was on and a few folks had already started heading up the hill.

I decided to get myself organised and head up the hill as soon as I could, otherwise nerves really would get the better of me. So after a few encouraging words from Helen, I picked up my dibber from Dan and started my slow ride up the hill.

The views weren't as lovely as they had been last weekend, so my mind was racing with "what-if's" as I rode up.

Chris had volunteered to marshal at the race and was waiting for me up at the top of the hill when I got there, with offers of chocolate, cups of tea and words of encouragement. There were only a few of us at the top, so I asked the guys behind me in the queue if they wanted to go first since I'd be mincing and slow, but they said no, so I warned them again that I'd be really slow, so could they wait a wee bit before coming down? I expected this to be met with rolled eyes or groans, but they were quite happy to give me tonnes of space. Phew!

So I dibbed my dibber and set of on the first down.

Dan had taken me down this one a few weeks ago and I'd been back to play around on it last weekend, so I knew what was coming. The full on crash last week had left me a bit shaken (and with a fat lip and swollen cheek), but I forced myself to put all of that out of my mind and just focus on what I was doing. I knew there were bits I had minced badly before, so kept expecting to get to them, mince again and come off, but I found myself down at the next fireroad being dibbed in by the next marshal before I knew it. I had somehow managed to make it down the first down.

There was some chat with other riders about what was coming up next. They started talking about how difficult stage 2 was and I started to get a bit nervy again. Afterall, Dan had taken me down stage 2 and I thought it was okay...it was stage 3 I was worried about, but all the others were talking about stage 2 as if it was the trail of doom! So there must be a bit of stage 2 that Dan didn't take me down.

Since I'm very good at getting psyched out, I decided to head back up the hill again before I heard any more about stage 2 and just get it over with.

Back up at the top, I bumped into a few familiar faces and got more words of encouragement from Chris and the other marshals. A few folks headed down stage 2 in front of me, but there was nobody behind me as I dibbed again and set off.

This one was more pedally at the top but it wasn't the trail I was expecting it to be....this was what I thought was stage 3. I knew the top bit was fine, it was the middle and the bottom bit I wasn't looking forward to. There were some pretty gnarly bits coming up that I'd had to walk when Dan took me down this one, so I was waiting for those bits to come up. I rode past a couple of guys who cheered something at me (I couldn't really hear very well through the full face helmet, so who knows what they said, but I'm fairly certain it was something encouraging). I managed to avoid the urge to grab big handfuls of brake and next thing I knew I'd reached the end of the middle bit and was greeted by cheers from the marshals and medics....I'd somehow managed to ride all the bits I'd had to walk the other week!

I knew I couldn't ride the bottom bit though. It was near vertical, loose, greasy and, quite frankly, bloomin' scary! So I rode as far as I could and then made use of all the cyclocross riding I've done, jumped of and slipped and slid down to a slightly less vertical bit before jumping back on to ride down to the waiting marshal and dibber at the bottom.

I'd made the trail of doom without crashing horribly!

The ride back up to the top for my final down was a long climb. There weren't many people around, so I had the forest to myself for the 30 or so minute amble back. After a few minutes of riding, I realised I was smiling and humming away to myself. I had one more down and I knew the last one (which I had thought was stage 2) was going to be a good one.

Back up at the top, there were still a lot of people just setting off on their first down, but Chris was still there with shouts of encouragement and offers of chocolate (I don't think everyone was offered chocolate though!).

Final dib and I was off.

The top section was straightforward enough, then across the fireroad, down the steep drop in to the fast, rooty, wiggly, tree dodging section. I knew there were bits on this section I had struggled with, like the massive drop offs (okay, maybe not massive, but they seemed massive to me) and the steep switchbacks, but again I managed to avoid the urge to grab handfuls of brakes and shut my eyes, and I forced myself to ride the first big drop off and the next few were suddenly much less scary.

Then I rode past a marshal who blew his whistle. Not being used to the whole downhill thing, I assumed that meant I had to get out of the way, so I pulled over, jumped off the bike and looked around to see the fast guys come past, but nobody came. So I hung around for a little bit, shrugged and then got back on the bike. A little bit further down, another marshal whistled at me, so again, I got out of the way, but nobody came past me. So when I passed the next whistling marshal, I decided to just keep going. By this time I could see the bottom, but managed to slide on a particularly greasy corner and gracefully sit down beside a tree....right in front of the girls with cameras.

Luckily it was only the girls who saw and they just cheered encouragement at me, so I jumped back on, round the final few lovely bermed corners, round the tree and to the final marshal to dib for the final time.

I had made it and not only was I still in one piece, but I was grinning like a looney and had really enjoyed myself.

I rolled up to the timing tent to be welcomed back by Helen and Dan who ware both eagre to hear what I thought of the course and how I'd got on. I got my final times and my hoodie (my prize for being one of the first females to enter the race), which was very welcome since it had got properly cold by this time.

I managed to get changed and watch the last few riders come down (whilst gibbering away excitedly to my friend Jo and telling her all about my heroics and adventures - sorry Jo, I must have been a real bore!) before the prize giving. Unfortunately, because it was so cold, most folks had headed off as soon as they'd finished their race, but I hung around and found out that not only was I not dead last, but I'd managed to come 4th!

My aim had been to get down the hill in one piece, without crashing or getting in everyone's way or chickening out. In the end, I was so glad that my excuses had all fallen through because if I'd used the excuses, I wouldn't have had nearly as much fun.

I'm not sure that I'm ready to take up Helen's offer to do the mini downhill in a few weeks time, but I think I'll have to invest in a full face helmet of my own once I give Jenn back the one she loaned to me (even if they're not the most flattering look for me!), and I think I'll go out to play at Innerleithen a bit more.
Jac
x

2 weeks today

2011-01-21T07:49:00.001Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybYsLxcGq8E&feature=player_embedded

So excited.

F

Oops

2011-01-16T19:31:00.004Z

How can you enter a race by mistake? That's just ridiculous!

Well, you might think so, but it's easier than you might imagine...I should know, because it looks like that's what I've managed to do.

I spent most of last week ill in bed with the flu feeling very sorry for myself. When I started to feel a wee bit better, I decided that I needed to start setting myself some targets for this year. So, I started jotting down some ideas of rides I really want to do (some of which I'd planned to do last year but ended up not doing for various reasons), some places I wanted to visit, some friends I need to catch up with and so on.

Then Chris suggested I enter the Innerleithen Enduro at the end of this month. "What is it?" I asked..."Like it says, it's an enduro at Innerleithen. Dan's organising it."

I figured I might as well.

Then I got an e-mail from Dan asking if I wanted any coaching before the race. Again, I thought I might as well take him up on the offer. He's planning the course, so it would be good to get some tips from him.

So, Dan picked me up this morning and we headed down to Innerleithen to ride the course and get an idea of what it's all about. It became obvious on the drive down that it wasn't an enduro in the sense that I'm used to...this one is a downhill enduro.

At this point, I should point out that I've never done any downhilling in my life, never mind done a downhill race! But, I thought I might be able to make up some time on the climbs and mince my way down the downhill bits....nope, that's not an option either...the climbs aren't part of the race.

It turns out that the format of the race is that we start at the bottom carpark and ride / push / walk / crawl right up to the top of the hill and ride the first, timed, downhill section back down to the bottom. Then ride back up to the top to ride the second, different, timed section. Back up to the top again to ride the final, timed, downhill section.

Dan explained this as we were riding up to the top the first time and I started to realise what I'd got myself into.

We spent the next few hours messing about on different bits of the course, trying bits time and again until I cleared it, Dan talking me through how to ride the really techy bits (whilst I figured out exactly where I'd have to jump off the bike and run), and generally giving me an idea of what the course is all about.

So I've got next weekend to head back down to Innerleithen to have another go before the race. I might have to try to squeeze in some night rides and play about on the big bike to figure out how it works.

I've looked over the entry list, but since I've never done any downhilling, none of the names mean anything to me (except Crawford Carrick-Anderson), so I've got no idea what I'll be up against. Since my main aim for the day will be just to get down the hill three times in one piece, I think there's a pretty good chance that I'll manage to do the race in a record slow time, so maybe I should be practicing jumping off the bike and getting out of fast people's way.

Now I just have to try to get hold of a full face helmet!

Jac
x

challenges

2011-01-06T00:53:00.003Z

braver friends are busy doing 30 in 30.

stuff that, 3 in 3 will do me for now.

one: bimble up the valley and back to spectate at the excellent todcross. watching strong riders struggling to haul themselves up the chimay cobbles of doom confirmed i'd made the right decision to watch and not take part. no love for racing this time around.

two: round delamere with friends. fresh trails and fresh air, a happy amount of trees, flowing singletrack, a bit of sunshine. smiles, giggles and lots and lots (and lots) of cake. delicious.

three: road ride, the longer usual loop that has been beyond reach for a while. along, down, drag, up, down, up, along. all safely in the bubble of light and faith that i know and love.

good beginnings.

j.

Cross at the Castle

2010-12-13T20:03:00.003Z

This weekend was saw the final two races in the Scottish Cyclocross series at Glengorm Castle on the Isle of Mull.

We've had some pretty awful weather over the past few weeks, so we weren't sure how many folks would be able to make it, or if we'd be able to make it. After the Scottish Champs being cancelled the weekend before, and a race being cancelled the weekend before that, we'd lost a bit of momentum. However, we had a bit of a thaw on Thursday last week and decided that we'd try to get there.

Chris and I both managed to take a half day from work on Friday so managed to make the drive up to Oban in daylight. We didn't have to worry about the roads at all - there was no snow or ice on the roads at all (only small piles at the side of the road). By the time we got over to Mull it was dark, but there was no snow in sight - in fact, at 7 degrees, it felt almost like summer after the cold weather we've been having at home.

Saturday was an early start for us to get up to the race site, set up the timing system, help with sign on and course marking and then before I knew it, I had to run off and get changed to fit in a practice lap before my race.

The course on Saturday was probably the driest I've ever raced on Mull! Yes, there was quite a lot of mud and water, but not the hub deep stuff we usually have to race through. Although it was drizzling and a bit damp, it wasn't too cold and the views out over to Ardnamurchan were as breathtaking as ever.

Although there weren't huge numbers of riders, there was some really good racing in all categories. The series winners were already decided, but second, third and further down the field were up for grabs, so for some riders, there was everything to go for.

I've not had a great season, but being back on Mull, seeing the views at the front of the castle, got me going and somehow my legs did me proud. I wasn't top 3, but I had a very respectable ride and felt quietly pleased with how I'd done.

On Saturday night, most of the racers joined some of the Tobermory locals at the Christmas ceilidh at Aros Hall. Despite the hard racing during the day, there was plenty of ceilidh dancing (and a fair bit of beer too!).

Sunday morning came round a bit too quickly and Chris and I had to head back up to the castle early doors to help Davie set things up for Sunday's race - the final race in the series and the Santa Cross World Championships. To compete in the Santa Cross Champs, which forms part of the Scottish Cyclocross Series, you need to dress like Santa. Not all the riders wore Santa outfits for Sunday's race (and so didn't qualify for the champs), but about 80% of us did, so the race was on again!

Sunday's morning was very different to Saturday - it had got very cold overnight and the temperature was well below zero, leaving the ground was frozen hard. Even the muddy bits were mostly frozen. So the racing was much faster on Sunday and as we rode past Cow Belle Corner at the front of the castle, we were all cheered on with shouts of "Go Santa" or "Go Mrs Claus".

Again, my race seemed to come together and for the first time all season, I was able to keep up with the riders I've been desperate to catch all season and even managed to get past some of them. No podium, but the racing started to feel like it did a couple of years ago, so I'm quietly hoping that it's all coming back again.

So that's the Scottish Cross series over for another year. It's been a good one with lots of good racing, some new courses and more pretty bikes to check out. We've had a few disappointments too...2 cancelled races and a champs that's been postponed until January. But all in all, it's been another good season and there's been lots of smiles and fun along the way.

My cross bike's looking a bit sorry for itself now and is going to need a bit of TLC over the next few weeks to get it back in shape. One thing's for sure, the cross bug's back, so the bike won't be left to gather dust in the shed until next October! (Although if we get the bad weather they're forecasting for the end of this week, it might have to rest for a few more days.)

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes...

2010-12-06T15:24:00.003Z

...and my fingers and feet and lights and bell...

After a week of having to commute to work by bus and trudge several miles through the snow every day to catch the bus last week, I was fed up and desperate to get out on my bike (even if it was just to commute) so last night I decided that, no matter what, I was going to cycle to work today.

So I dug out my toastiest winter kit, packed up my pannier and went to bed happy in the knowledge that I wasn't going to have to sit on a bus in the morning. The weather forecast was for some light snow flurries, but generally just cold.

This morning I woke up and no more snow had fallen (none of the foot or so in the garden or in our street had gone either mind you), so got myself ready for riding to work. Then just as I was going out the front door at 7.20, it started to snow a bit.

Although it snowed most of the way to work it was quite light, so quite pleasant. The roads were pretty quiet too, so I smiled all the way in. Then just as I reached the gates at work, it got a bit heavier. Phew! I thought. Made it just in time.

Well, that's what I thought!

It just kept snowing and snowing! At 2 o'clock, we were all advised to start making our way home. All of the buses and trains in the Edinburgh area had been cancelled, the motorways were all grid locked because of snow, the Forth Road Bridge was closed and most of the local schools were closing again.

Most of my colleagues either had the prospect of a 2 or 3 hour walk home into Edinburgh or being completely stranded at work.

The roads were surprisingly quiet on the way back into the city, but because everyone was trying to get home at the same time, the roads out were at a standstill. I wasn't quite sure how my tyres would cope in the slushy / snowy icky stuff on the roads, but they coped better than most of the cars which were getting stuck at every set of traffic lights. Aside from a few exciting slides, the only problem I had was that my gears froze and my freewheel kept freezing.

All I can say is hurrah for winter boots (my new, un-holey ones arrived on Friday), amFib tights and bicycles!

An adventurous weekend

2010-11-30T10:19:00.002Z

What a few days. Just had to share.

Saturday I raced an eight hour adventure race in the New Forest. I knew from the first 100 metres that I was in trouble. Stuart Lynch had stepped in at the last minute to race with us after our team mate was injured. He's the ex World Champ and one of the world's leading racers. He flew. I panted. We (my fella and me) spent 3 and a half hours trailing 30 metres behind him on the run. The bike wasn't so bad. I could keep up. Just. Flat out. Freezing cold. Exciting. Loved it.

On Sunday morning we were stiff and a bit sore, but at 8 on the dot, Stuart arrived at our flat, along with Adidas Terrex team member Mark, who I'm going to Patagonia with in February for a 7 day expedition race (http://www.patagonianexpeditionrace.com/). We were going paddling and then mtbing. I was desperately trying to clean our bikes, but the hose pipe was frozen and I was out of time. The bikes went on top of the car, still damp...

After a bit of faffing we set off on the paddle from Rhos on Wye (Why) down to Bigsweir. It was -7. We watched the ice form on our cags and along the shafts of our paddles. The kayaks were covered in a film of ice. The rudder stopped working. It was beautiful. People stared.

At Bigsweir we left the boats in a ditch and walked to the car to change into bike kit. A bit of motivational discussion was required to carry on, and we had to take one of the bikes apart and spray everything with de-icer before it would work! But we carried on.

A hot chocolate later at Clearwell Caves and it was dark. So we rode on through The Forest of Dean, hooning through the frosty singletrack. It was beautiful, peaceful, freezing and magical. I loved every second.

Monday morning and I was grateful to be going to work (via the osteopath). As I was getting my quads pummeled, I received a call from my boss. "Fi, meet me at Chepstow, I'm riding with Rob Penn." We met Rob at a book event a few weeks ago and he is interested in our research (into the image of cycling).

So I drove home, changed back into my warm kit and headed out on the bike. I rode 2 and a half hours in -5 degrees. My third mad day in a row. Writing this on Tuesday I can't believe I'm still alive. The training is obviously paying off. I am working out when I can get out running again!

2 months til Patagonia. Bring it on!

F

Bbbrrrrrr

2010-11-28T20:00:00.002Z

This weekend was meant to be a double header in the Scottish cyclocross calendar with two races in Glasgow, but because of a last minute change in requirements of the local council, Sunday's race had to be cancelled. The situation didn't go down too well with the racers since this was the second race to have been cancelled at late notice in this series.

However, disappointment aside, Saturday's race was quite an event!

Most of the UK has seen quite a bit of snow over the last week, but central Scotland escaped the worst of it until Friday night. We woke up to a few light centimetres of white stuff on Saturday morning.

We've had plenty of very cold cross races in Scotland, but no snowy ones that anyone could remember. Saturday saw cold and snow.

Since I was helping out with lap counting for the first few races, I didn't have to strip off to my cycling kit until just before my race, which was a good job...it was freezing!

I eventually had to shed my puffy and several base layers, just before my race to fit in a quick practice lap. Well, actually, it wasn't so quick! I rode around with a few other riders and we all exchanged anxious glances as we got back to the start line. Although the temperature was below freezing, the sun had softened up the ground on sections of the course and created a sort of snowy-slushy mud which had the consistency of wallpaper paste.

Although the course had no real technical features, it proved to be a really challenging race. Frozen brakes turned the descents into icy/muddy skid fests and saw the course tape broken all over the places as riders careered through the tape at the corners and the bottom of descents. The slushy mud made the climbs feel like everything had gone into slow motion - I was pedalling for all I was worth, but was just inching forward through the brown, muddy snow. Then frozen gears meant that I (along with lots of other riders) had to finish the race in completely the wrong gear because I couldn't change gears any more! Mind you, running proved to be the easiest way to get round bits of the course anyhow.

I've never done a cross race where I've managed to do so few laps, but this was a toughie! There were lots of cold, broken people on the finish line, all asking the same question - "How did I manage to do so few laps?"

I quickly put back on all the layers I'd taken off to do the race and went back to lap counting - relieve not to have to be riding round the course any more, but wishing I could be somewhere much warmer.

By the time we eventually got home, I found that I'd managed to get frost nip on my left foot, so I was relieved not to have to go out and race again today. Instead I spent the day watching the snow fall outside....I'm not sure we'd have been able to get to the race today even if we had wanted to!

Since I'm commissaire at next weekend's race, the Scottish champs, I won't be racing again until the grand finale of the series on Mull at the start of December. I think I'll spend the next few weeks investigating those foot warming techniques Jenn mentioned earlier!

Jac
x

foursome

2010-11-23T10:56:00.007Z

Not a whole lot of adventuring going on at the moment, more plodding round the same old loops when time and wellness allow and more waiting for winter proper to arrive (hurry up snow). None of which makes for good reading. So, inspired by Ira (who makes beautiful bikes and thinks a lot about adventures, and makes me think about them too every time his words pop up in my reader), here are four things which make winter better.

I went to Minnesota in February to cover the Arrowhead Ultra and learnt a lot about surviving cold weather. Since then I've pretty much given up on winter boots: I've tried all of them and none of them work for more than two hours, so the current long ride set up includes two pairs of socks, a pair of oversized Sealskins with a hole cut in the bottom, overshoes and a sheet of reflective insulation, plus a possible bright spark of an idea which involves sewing/sticking a pair of overshoes to a pair of tights and seeing if I can make the whole thing watertight (Yorkshire nights are long). For shorter rides when I don't want to deal with the whole clumsy mess, chemical shoe warmers are the answer. Toasty, simple, great. Except I've nearly run out of the American imports so need to source some hideously expensive UK ones. Damn.

Embrocation. If you're lucky enough to be able to use the full strength stuff without volcanic skin eruption then consider yourself blessed (and try putting it on the back of your hands/top of your feet - The Enforcer swears it works better than wool). If you can't, like me, then La Gazzetta Della Bici's Verde oil is ace: much milder, smells gorgeous and still does a good job of loosening things up if you will insist on going out in knickers when the temperature is hovering around freezing because your legs look better in them than they do in tights. It adds another layer to the particular smell of a cyclist's home, too: lemony-eucalyptus, WD40, Persil and something slow-cooking in the oven. Lovely to open the front door to.

My sheepskin boots were a gift from a dear friend who clearly knows me very well (or has just been on the receiving end of my icy feet one too many times). They get worn pretty much every day of autumn, winter and spring and have been known to make the odd trip to the post office by mistake. Yes, they're granny-esque but they're warmer and much tougher than either slippers or Uggs. They've saved me dropping screwdrivers, a hammer and the filleting knife through my toes on various occasions, too. Maybe they should make a steelie version for cosy workshop use.

Proper tea in a proper tea pot. Another gift from another friend and one which has weaned me off my bad coffee habit. At least until elevenses time, anyway. Rituals are one thing (kettle on whilst I potter about in PJs, pot brewing whilst I get washed and dressed, tea drunk with the three-biscuit breakfast over the sifting of the inbox, flickr and twitter of a morning), pleasure is another (Booths have a fabulous English Breakfast blend, not so keen on the Russian from the new shop in town but really looking forward to cracking open the "espresso of teas" Assam). Bone china for breakfast, pint mug at teatime.

Simple pleasures.

j.

SSWC10NZ

2010-11-20T17:26:00.008Z

Where to start?

I've never been more east than Eastern Europe and I've always, always wanted to go to New Zealand, but it was always just that bit too far to go and I just couldn't find enough justification to spend that much time sitting in a plane. That was until the Singlespeed Worlds for 2010 were announced and they were in Rotorua, New Zealand.

All of a sudden, a trip to NZ to visit my aunt and uncle, see the country I've always wanted to see, catch up with some friends and ride a race seemed like the perfect honeymoon for Chris and I (okay, so it was a year after we got married, but we never were all that conventional!).

So after months of planning, we left work early on a Friday night and headed off to catch a flight to Auckland via Heathrow and Hong Kong.

The journey out was fairly uneventful and passed relatively quickly (I say relatively, because 24 hours sitting in a plane can only go so quickly). The most exciting bit, other than actually landing in Auckland, was probably landing in Hong Kong. Looking out the window, it looked just like something out of Swallows and Amazons... little craggy, tree covered islands popping up through the sea mist and little, brightly coloured fishing boats bobbing about just below us. A definite note to self to try to go back and spend more than 4 hours in the airport there!

Anyway, we got to Auckland, a bit sleepy, but generally ready to go. We only spent one night in Auckland before picking up our ace campervan and heading down to Rotorua.

We had 5 days in Rotorua before the race and spent most of them doing tourist stuff with my aunt and uncle or riding around in Whakarewarewa forest, where the race was going to be.

The town of Rotorua is different to anywhere else I've been before. It's in a volcanic (live volcanic) caldera and so has lots of thermal stuff going on. From bubbling, steaming hot pools of water in the town centre, to stinky bubbling mud pools, to the infamous sulphur point. Riding around town and seeing steam coming up through the ground, or rising up from a clump of trees in the park is very different to riding around town here in Edinburgh, that's for sure! Oh, and the black swans swimming around on the lake are very different to the swans we have here in Holyrood Park.

The only word to describe the riding in Whakarewarewa is awsome! The forest is massive - a combination of managed pine forest, giant redwoods and natural bush. There are also over 100k of bike specific trails in the forest which are maintained by Rotorua Mountain Bike Club.

The trails are all graded in a similar way to the trails here, from beginners trails to black "expert" trails and the National DH course and they're all really well marked, so it's pretty tough to get lost. It is, however, very easy to end up out in the forest for a lot longer than you had intended because it's so difficult not to ride just one more trail just to see what it's like...and, oh, we might as well do that one now that we're here.

The mix of trails, terrain and technicality was incredible. All singletrack, some of it buff and swoopy, some of it mad and fast, some of it lung busting climbing, some of it heart-in-mouth descending, but all of it fantastic! It was just like riding through tropical forest with tree ferns (Ponga trees apparently) and palm like cabbage trees alongside sequioas.

Race day was Saturday and it's possibly the busiest singlespeed race I've ever been to. With over 900 riders there were a lot of people and a lot of interesting bikes. Saturday was the first properly hot day since we had arrived in New Zealand, so it was off with the arm and knee warmers before we headed to the start. The race start wasn't the usual Le Mans, bike hiding thing of most SS races. Instead we had to do a kind of NAScar thing...900 folks riding around in a circle, very slowly for 2 minutes until someone quietly opened up the tape and riders started piling off up the first bit of track.

The trail started with a bit of a witch of a sandy climb which saw most riders off and pushing, especially since the traffic was very slow moving. The climb was worth it though, since we were straight into a bit of fast decent which had most folks grabbing bunches of brake.

From then on the trail got quieter and much more fun. I decided to opt out of all the beer shortcuts, only because it seemed a shame not to ride all of the trail. I managed to find a bunch of blokes to ride round with who were about my pace and skill level, so we kept egging eachother on to ride the techy stuff and make it up the climbs. After the first lap, I was completely out of water, so I had to stop at the beer stop and drink a beer to be able to get some water. (No! It's not just an excuse!).

Most folks didn't go out for a second lap, so there were none of the traffic jams I'd come across on the first lap and I could go as fast (or as slow) as I liked down the techy descents. I managed to clear everything on both laps and was feeling pretty pleased with myself until I got the the watersplash almost at the end of my second lap. I got through the water, up the little slope on the other side and then started down the sloppy descent back towards the fire road just as my uncle jumped out and shouted "Go on Jac!". I looked round to see where he was and lost it. Luckily he had a camera and managed to catch it all on film...

Just around the corner I rolled into the finish area to be handed a beer and catch up with everyone to share the usual post race stories and watch the decider for next year's Worlds. That also gave me the opportunity to check out some of the fantastic costumes. Those of you who know Damo will be pleased to see that he really outdid himself this year...

The decider was a sort of horizontal bungee where the contestants had to stretch the bungee as far as they could and place a beer can the furthest from the start. You'll be pleased to hear that the team from Ireland won, so we'll be going to Ireland next year and hopefully I'll see some of you there too.

There's a lot more to tell and a lot more pics to share from our NZ trip, but I'll save that for later.

Jac
x

Rob Penn

2010-11-19T08:51:00.003Z

Last night, a crowd of us went to see Rob Penn speak at Waterstones. I've read his book, 'It's All About the Bike' and found it really interesting and rather inspiring. This guy is Seriously Passionate. He wrote about the history of the bicycle, right from it's crank-less, chain-less, odd-wheeled early days right the way through to the sleek carbon shiney days of now.

Rob is a down to earth guy. He swears, he giggles, he speaks with fire in his eyes. He loves his bike and loved the process of building it - by visiting each and every manufacturer individually in person and selecting the finest components whilst gaining a history of the company and a patchwork history of the bicycle.

I'd recommend to anyone.

But what of the colour? Well he knows its controversial. His eyes turned down and glanced at his paper when he got on to the subject. People hate it. Almost everyone, he said, hates it. Apart from him. And that's the point. The frame was designed for him and every component selected after careful though. For him. It is a weird looking machine because we're used to seeing a certain style of bike these days - angles and smoothness in the right places. He's got carbon forks on a steel frame and carbon handlebars and carbon brakes on a bike with a Brooks saddle and hand built wheels. It is eclectic, and so much love and thought went into it. For that reason, I think it's beautiful.

winter's here. note to self...

2010-11-03T14:06:00.002Z

ride when the sun is shining whenever you can. steal the time. dawn rides, lunchbreaks, storm surfing, sundays.

and when you can't: embrace the filth.

j.

Country Mouse Goes to Town

2010-10-18T21:31:00.007+01:00

Things are just about getting back to normal after the Cycle Show now and my brain is unscrambling stuff and gradually reassembling it into cogent thoughts. Well mostly.

To anyone that spoke to me in the weeks leading up to it, it will come as no surprise to know that I was (putting a mildly) a bit nervous. I thought I was taking Jenn along for solidarity but as she arrived to help me finish loading the van she confessed to being a tad shaky herself. Honestly, you'd think you could depend on someone that's braved bears and ridden 48 hours straight for the last part of the GDR. But no. It's true, you really can't get the staff.

I've done a ton of shows before in corporate life, but this was a first for Minx and it felt like playing with the grown ups. When on of our regular customers said she loved the idea Minx was going, but actually didn't like the idea that everyone else would now know about us, because we were 'hers', I felt like rushing back to the safety of her apron strings and hanging on for dear life.... I've always had the utmost faith in what Minx was set up to do, but it isn't mainstream and Earls Court is a big stage. I always swore we would never do it unless I could do it well, and truthfully the budget meant we were flying more on imagination and love than slick 'retail as art' installation.

We felt pretty smug when our late departure from Wiltshire meant we breezed into the unloading dock. Less smug when our 'two hours to throw it all together' turned into four. There was also a dodgy moment when the Ikea flatpack stools turned out to need the one tool we hadn't packed and it looked like we were going to have to ask a boy for a loaner (insert joke here). Frantic rummaging turned up the emergency Crank Brothers 17 that always gets chucked in and our collective honour was saved. With four minutes to go until the lights went out we were slapping on poppy stickers with increasingly careless placement when a passing comment was shouted. "That's the best stand in the show!" I nearly cried. Especially when it turned out to be the Creative Director that shouted it.

From the moment the doors opened the next morning it was a whirl. We had our moment in the press sun after an interview with the Guardian. Not to mention possibly the worst few minutes of my life, a video interview with Singletrack. I could go on forever, we had a ball, I was sorry when it was all over because I was enjoying riding my bike around London, talking cycle clothing and meeting so many really really lovely people. There was some serious stuff, some conversations that got me pondering - and not all in a good way. But that's for later. A 'state of the nation address' as Jenn would say. For now, here are my best bits:

Flagging down the delivery van with the printed copies of the Compendium that arrived from the ever excellent PPG people (Q "Can you print this in time for the show, in erm... six days?" A "Yes") with moments to spare.
The unrelieved joy of an empty marshalling zone in Seagrave Road car park.
Jenn's ability with Ikea instructions.
THAT comment after four hours of flat pack assembly and no food.
Staggering into the Premier Inn on the Cromwell Road at 11.00pm carrying enormous bags and pushing two bikes, to be met with the warmest welcome and not an eyelid batted.
Duncan from The Front Yard Company bringing and planting our PlantLock for us.
Wagamama.
Hotel room picnics.
Early morning spins through Hyde Park.
A man in white Lycra on a Boris Bike
That girl in a red skirt and hi-viz jacket who looked so unutterably chic I nearly chased her down the road to ask for a picture. But I am way too cool for that. And she was too fast...
Boris bikes generally.
Feeling like a tourist ("hello birds, hello Albert Hall, hello High St Ken" etc.) in amongst the go-faster bike commuters.
Remembering....
Never tiring of explaining why.
All the lovely people that brought us coffee.
The fact that EVERYONE lifted the skirt on the bike dress.
Talking, talking, talking.
Olivia and her genius way with plaits.
The sheer age range of women cyclists from teens to retirees.
Actually the huge number of daughters....
The shining eyes of the girl who, having ridden one only twice JUST HAD TO HAVE A ROAD BIKE. And wants so fiercely to race it too.
Prontaprint on the Old Brompton Road for stepping up to the mark with half and hour until closing and us having run out of cards in just one day.
Teenage boys taking Minx badges - what - really?
Explaining that yes those are our bikes and then giving a quick run down on the joy of each as required. The commission invoice is in the post guys....
Supportive texts from Susan in Chamonix - I missed you!
Bar Italia on Saturday night.
The blokes in the next van that passed us a Twix at the lights as we headed home.

I will probably keep sneaking back to add to this list, but I have to press 'publish' at some point. Seriously, we had such a blast - my thanks to everyone that came to talk to us and supported us, but most of all my thanks to Jenn. Turns out it was only a tiny bit scarier than bears after all.

Minx

friends in high places

2010-10-12T21:57:00.004+01:00

last week we were in london (of which, more later). the week before that i was in france with the trans provence crew reprising one of the better bits of last year.

t-p is a point to point enduro event that mixes steady-away linking stages with some of the most mind-blowing high mountain riding i've ever experienced. i've never touched anything in the uk which can even remotely prepare you for the riding here; for singletrack which goes on for so long you start to wonder if you're dreaming (and later on still have time to pinch yourself), which packs in so much rocky, droppy, swoopy goodness that all you can do when you get to the bottom is giggle and grin like a clown.

the highs and lows of a total immersion event like this are pronounced. arriving tired and sick after a tough few weeks of stuff back home there was some fretting about how well i would cope with the job in hand. pre-riding stages, keeping in front of the racers and gathering them up at the end of each leg with a minimum of grumpiness despite very long days and the occasional logistical hiccup. not to mention a level of technicality which would have me grazing the edges of my skill daily and cause its fair share of spills for everybody.

still though, we pulled it off. good folks and plentiful laughter once again saved the day. there is something about the mixture of beautiful high mountains, warm (ish) sunshine and friends who know when to feed you chocolate and when to just shut up and ride, that makes life better. even when you're flying home too soon.

anyone need a guide for 2011? :)

j.

Cross is back

2010-10-10T20:00:00.004+01:00

Today was my first cross race of the season.

Although I've been riding my cross bike a lot over the past few weeks, trying to sharpen up my skills and remind my legs that they need to work a bit between now and Christmas, I knew it was going to be a tough 'un.

After the increase in rider numbers in the Scottish Cyclocross Series last year, we had to make the decision to split the races, so the women now race with the Juniors and Vets rather than one big race for all categories. We've got some pretty gnarly Vets racing at the moment, so the pace of our race isn't much less frenetic than the senior mens race. There were over 70 riders in our race, including 15 women, so it was going to be a busy race.

The race started a bit slower than expected because of the number of riders trying to get rolling, but I managed to squeeze my way past some of the juniors and vets who were gridded in front of us girls. Then everything came to a clattering halt...there was a big pile up of 7 or 8 riders with bikes and legs and arms everywhere. I had a momentary dilemma over whether to stop and help the riders who were down, but I had an unusual surge of red mist (which I very rarely get) and found myself stepping over frames and wheels and jumping back on my bike to get going again. I'm still not sure if I feel guilty about it or not.

The rest of the race was great! The pace was fast...much faster than the last cross race I did. I knew there were a couple of girls in front of me who had managed to get through the pile up at the start before I had made up my mind not to help (yes, I do feel guilty now) and I knew I'd really struggle to catch them, so I decided just to make sure I didn't drop any places.

The laps were long and really mixed...straight, fast, hardpacked sections to hammer along (bunnyhopping the speedbumps); rooty, slippery singletrack through the trees; long, draggy climbs which were tougher than they looked (but they did let me pick off a few riders and get slightly further up the field); the run up which was really more of a clamber up with bike over shoulder; then the fast and furious descents. All that and not a second to catch my breath.

It was great and it was great to see all the familiar faces again and all those grins at the finish line. It was also great to be racing cross again after taking last year off from cross racing...it's cold, it's muddy, it's wet and it's blinking tough, but I love it!

Unfortunately I'm going to miss the next three races in the series because Chris and I are off to the Singlespeed Worlds in New Zealand on Friday. I think the chance to ride some new trails somewhere completely different and having some adventures along the way might make up for missing a few cross races...maybe. I'll let you know.

Jac
x

monday morning.

2010-10-04T08:37:00.004+01:00

(last week.)

j.

Guilty?

2010-09-25T18:22:00.003+01:00

It dawned on me last weekend that the cross season was fast approaching and that I've badly neglected my cross bike over the summer whilst I've been out having fun on my singlespeed. So it was with some trepidation and a vague sense of guilt that I pulled my once much loved cross bike out of the shed to see what sort of state it was in.

A bit of a wash and some chain lube seemed to indicate that all was well with the exception of some pretty tired looking brake pads.

Having ridden mountain bikes since early spring, I wasn't quite sure I remembered what to do with a cross bike, so I commuted on it all week, taking the long, off road routes home from work (mostly in the dark) just to see if it all hung together.

The first memory that came flooding back was just how fast my cross bike was. Arriving at work with a big grin on my face after finally breaking that commuting time challenge I set myself at the start of the summer.

The next memory was that the brakes aren't quite as responsive as the disc brakes on my mountain bikes. Unfortunately I only remembered that as I was pelting down a rocky rooty descent, ever so slightly out of control. Luckily my arm warmers protected me from the worst of the bramble thorns of the bush I ended up in.

So after a week of commuter cross, I felt vaguely ready for today's mini cross race....a small, unofficial, friends only Skull and Cross Bikes race in some local woods. A short, pretty techy course with slippery roots, some rocky drops and some descents which I had to force myself to ride down against my better judgement (descents seem so much steeper on drop bars) and a beer short cut just in case the section through the nettles and brambles got too much.

It all flooded back after the first lap. Heart in throat as I'm hurtling down descents pulling on the brake levers with very little happening, running / stumbling up hills with my bike slung over my shoulder desperately trying to breathe as I'm slipping and sliding on the mud, cranking up the gears to hammer along the flat bits only to have to shift down in an instant to hit that hill, going through the start / finish hoping that this time the bell goes, but it doesn't, then finally crossing the finish line to be greeted by lots of other grinning, wheezing faces who're talking about how much that hill hurt or how sketchy that descent was or how that root just spat you off every lap.

So do I feel guilty for neglecting my cross bike since the spring? Not at all...I'm going to spend the next 4 months loving it and riding it and myself into the ground, suffering and grinning in equal measure.

Jac
x

things of beauty

2010-09-24T15:33:00.002+01:00

2010 NW Gentlemen's Race from RAPHA on Vimeo.

"a defect in the gentleman's mind confuses pain with joy, and they ride on."

j.

Midweek microadventure

2010-09-15T15:39:00.001+01:00

First light
Originally uploaded by jumbly

Charge lights. Ride bike. Meet friends. Eat chips. Drink beer. Ride bike. Seek shelter. Night cap. Forest noises. Warm bivvy. Sleep outdoors. First light. Drink tea. Ride home. Breakfast earned. Smug grin. Midweek microadventure. Do it!

Vikki

tour of britain.

2010-09-14T22:46:00.002+01:00

got up early on saturday and rode to the top of the hill to watch the tour of britain go by.

never mind that it rained.
never mind that i felt like shit.
never mind that from a choice of three brutal climbs, they cheated and took the riders the easy way up.

for an hour or so the bicycle folk outnumbered, outcoloured and outsmiled everyone else on top of the hill and that alone was worth the ride.

lovely.

j.

The Terrex (3)

2010-09-10T12:45:00.002+01:00

Windermere is big. It rained and the end of the lake never seemed to get any closer. I resisted asking 'how far' (something I never do... so demoralising) but it was the closest I ever was during the race. Rain trickled down the back of my neck and I could feel my base layer soaking up warm rain water. The smell... my smell, of unwashed bodies and days old sweat puffed up warm and sickly every time I twisted my torso. The air was full of water. We were damp. Spirits, bodies, kit.

Eventually we landed at Winderemere Canoe and Kayak and rushed our boats through the carpark, sorted out our kit and got ready for the next bike leg. If we hurried, we'd make the next ferry. Steve lead the race... running around the buildings to the queueing cars. We didn't quite make it, but fortuitously ended up waiting outside a bacon butty van! So for 20 minutes we refuelled in the rain, drinking tea and eating delicious bacon rolls.

The ferry was surreal. People stared. We stared back. The rain lashed down.

Steve winced as we got back on our bikes. We were over 30 hours in now and his saddle sores were raw. He never once complained, but in his post-match analysis he wrote 'Things I would do differently: Buy bike shorts more than once every three years." I saw his sores. They were unbelievable. He resorted later in the race to wearing his shorts inside out and once put them on back to front because we got changed in the dark, on a hill in a sleeping bag. Not a good move!

The bike leg saw us fix our only puncture of the race and continue to storm past other teams. People were dropping checkpoints left right and centre so we had no idea what position we were in. We were fairly confident we had dropped back to fifth behind the other FGS team but that was fine.

The sun came out eventually and we drifted calmly into transition at Langdale for the dreaded Langdale to Langdale trek. This was going to be an overnight trek, which would take us high up into the mountains; up over Scafell in the early hours of the morning. It was the Make or Break stage of the race. A lot of luck would be required to hit the checkpoints in thick clag and zero visibility.

Unfortunately luck was not on our side.

To be continued...

The Terrex (2)

2010-09-09T14:32:00.002+01:00

The start:

As I came to on the coach, I looked out the window at a massive flat expanse of sand: Morecombe Sands. Two lonely flags stood a few hundred metres out from the 'shore' and a wind-battered camera man was waiting patiently half a kilometre away. The Start.

Racers hugged their team mates and lined up under the clock, waiting for the count down. Adrenaline and fear was pulsing through everyone. 3... 2... 1... we were off. Teams ran 4 abreast, splashing through the enless puddles and dipping in and out of the streams and rivulets that cross the sands. Not a cockle in sight, nor a Chinese cockle picker.

Chapel Island never seemed to get any closer. Hours went past and then suddenly we were dibbing our first checkpoint and heading back across to the land. 25km of flat running on a hard surface. My ham strings were tight and my quads tired. I had 3 days to go...

In the first transition we grabbed our kit and sat out the penalty we had been given from the prologue the night before. We had 33 minutes to sit out (which was triple the time we finished behind the lead team). Barney looked unhappy. He had pulled a muscle in the prologue (explaining our slow time) and was suffering today. But we had a 14 hour bike leg to look forward to.

It felt wonderful swinging my leg over my bike and pedalling off across the grass. The miles flew past. We were riding strong but comfortably and picking off team after team. We were soon up in 4th place, despite Barney's crippling cramps. An orienteering stage saw Andy take over the navigation reigns from Steve and we stormed round the course, enjoying the tussocky running and the fading sunlight.

The first night snuck up on us at the top of a brutal uphill hike-a-bike which spurred off from the bottom of Hard Knot Pass. Reaching the top, the hiking just got harder, as we lurched and draggd our bikes down hill over bogs and boulders! Another push and we were up over the top and were greeted with the finest descent I have ever done. Rocks, boulders, loose shale... every inch of my tired body taught with concentration. Every little scrap of skill I had was employed on that descent. Four smiling and relieved team mates met at the bottom to discuss the next section (the Ghyll Scramble), fill camelbaks from the stream and give our brakes a chance to cool off.

It's lucky there is no rule about nakedness in AR. The Gyhll Scramble involved complete submersion and as it was 11pm we knew we would never dry off afterwards, so to avoid getting too cold, we decided to put waterproofs on and nothing else! The scramble was exhilarating and really bonded our team, who had been struggling under the weight of Barney's suffering until the descent. Now the mood was really up and we were forging ahead!

A final push and we arrived at transition for a quick kayak in simply beautiful conditions. It was still, the moon was full and clear and the clouds were illuminated. Coniston was peaceful and quiet and we were in heaven.

Finishing the kayak, however, the drizzle had started and we experienced a rather demoralizingly slow bush whacking trek over to the big tea-and-toast transition. 10km in 3hrs. Exhausting! Overdue a sleep, we changed, ate and grabbed an hour in the frame tents at Windermere YHA.

Refreshed and ready for day 2, we grabbed our kayaks and set off on the lake for some rainy paddling...

Research suggests a new era of cycling may be here to stay

2010-09-09T14:28:00.001+01:00

What with the rise of the Middle Aged Men in Lycra (MAMILS), Boris Johnson’s newly opened Cycle Superhighways in London, Clare Balding’s new BBC4 series on cycling tourism, and the outstanding sporting success of the likes of Cavendish and Pooley, could we be forgiven for thinking the UK is on the cusp of a new era of cycling?

This was the question asked by a team of academics at the Bristol Social Marketing Centre at the University of the West of England (UWE).

Professor Alan Tapp with colleagues Fi Spotswood and Sarah Leonard commissioned YouGov to undertake a UK wide survey that asked: what do British people really think about cycling? Their research investigated the opinions about cycling amongst a representative UK sample of adults. 3,885 people aged 16-64 were interviewed in early summer 2010.

Professor Tapp comments, “We wanted to find out if cycling is still the ‘poor mans transport’ populated by badly dressed social misfits muttering about gear ratios, or a fashionable activity of good looking people who rock up to the office with the latest carbon frame. We asked questions about how congestion, global warming and ever rising fuel prices might persuade us out of our cars and back onto two wheels.

42% of people think cycling has become cool.

“Our findings suggest that most people see Jeremy Clarkson-esque critics of cycling as missing the point. An impressive 42% of the British public think that ‘cycling has become cool nowadays’, and, good news for those forty-something men with mid-life crises, 38% agree that bike technology is much sexier nowadays. Perhaps surprisingly there was also encouragement for government initiatives, with 43% agreeing that ‘there’s a new push by the government towards getting people to cycle’.

“These pro cycling feelings might be a symptom of traffic jam stress as much as anything. A whopping 43% of us agreed that ‘When I’m stuck in a traffic jam I sometimes wish I were cycling’. The success of the likes of Chris Hoy and Mark Cavendish might be rubbing off on us as well: a surprising 18% of us admit that ‘The success of British cyclists has encouraged me to think about cycling more myself’.

“But cycling lobbies can’t quite break out the champagne just yet. It was quite clear from the study that Britain is still a divided nation over cycling, with a die-hard 28% of people agreeing that ‘roads are for cars not bikes’ - In fact, only 12% of us cycle quite or very often (once a week or more). What’s for sure is that getting over our love of cars isn’t going to be easy: 54% say ‘I would not support any measure that penalises car use’. Perhaps the divided nation theory is best highlighted by the finding that 39% agree that ‘global warming has been exaggerated’with a similar number, 38%, disagreeing.

Can things get better for cyclists? Well, we could certainly use our Olympic and Tour de France heroes to help us market cycling as a way of getting about. After all, at the moment, more people recognised David Cameron (picked out by 59%) as a cyclist than Chris Hoy (53%), and Boris Johnson (48%) was a more famous cyclist than Victoria Pendleton (27%).

Commuter cyclists not serious career people

Accepting that the UK is still dominated by a ‘car culture’, the researchers investigated whether UK cyclists see themselves as a breed apart. How do cyclists see themselves, and what do the motoring majority think of them?

Findings suggest that the way cyclists see themselves isn’t always matched by how outsiders see them.

Cyclists see themselves as independent minded and free spirited, environmentally aware, adventurous, and even a bit rebellious. They are also less likely to see themselves as conventional or boring.But a different picture emerges when non-cycling people were asked what they thought of cyclists.

Some descriptions such as fitness conscious and independent minded were not surprising but interestingly the general public thought that cyclists were less happy than they were- perhaps because they see cyclists getting wet and cold. Professor Tapp concludes, “We were also surprised to find that cyclists were seen as lazy and non-cyclists percieve cyclists as less hard working than they are. Maybe the perception is that if you are a serious career professional in the UK, you don’t cycle – you drive a 5 series instead.”

insert prefered term here on bikes

2010-09-09T11:37:00.008+01:00

women/damsels/divas/lasses/ladies/bitches/chicks/girls on bikes.

You might have seen and responded to Sacred Rides' call for input from female mountain bikers a few weeks back. The report from their survey is now up and it makes for interesting reading.

(If only for IMBA Canada's fantastic 'been there, done that' slot on the back page.)

Thoughts? There's a lot in there that to me is blindingly obvious - the majority of respondents are in the affluent 30-50 age group, are type A characters who are deeply immersed in an active lifestyle and who love the outdoors, who got into mountain biking as a result of an introduction from a friend or partner. And then stayed into it because they like it.

But also plenty that was surprising. Is mountain biking viewed as *that* 'hardcore'? Do we lack female role models? Is finding other women to ride with - or men that you can tolerate/will tolerate you - so difficult that it puts women off riding entirely?

Really?

Comments please...

j.

The Terrex (1)

2010-09-09T09:26:00.003+01:00

Over a week has past since Barney, Andy, Steve and I (Team FGS! Choc Malt) sprinted across the finish line of the Adidas Terrex Expedition Adventure Race. Yes, we sprinted. After 3 and a half days of racing with only 2 and a half hours of sleep, we took it upon ourselves to sprint from the end of the Canadian Canoe final stage to the finish line in Keswick Town Centre. It was an emotional moment. Barney could barely walk and yet the drive to finish with a bang got his adrenaline pumping and had him gritting his teeth and dodging through the shoppers and the tourists up the high street. As the race planner Bruce gave me a hug, I wouldn't let go. He whispered 'Fi, you're shaking'. I was fighting the tears. It had been a tough weekend.

... to be continued...

Big Wheels

2010-09-05T20:30:00.001+01:00

Tails
Originally uploaded by jumbly

Today was the Knutsford Great Race. A once every ten year Penny Farthing race. We went to spectate. I now so want to try riding one. I wonder if by the time 2020 rolls around I will have managed to not only acquire one, but have mastered riding very big wheels at speed?

Vikki

Ride the Lights

2010-09-01T12:45:00.003+01:00

Blue
Originally uploaded by jumbly

Met up with Amy last night for Blackpool's annual Ride the Lights. The prom is closed off to all traffic, open to bikes. Thousands of people pedalling along under The Illuminations. It's not hard riding, or fast riding, just pure, cheesy grin, fun riding. We factored in a chips and beer stop too, just for good measure. A top evening!

12:12 and a break for 6

2010-08-31T22:41:00.000+01:00

Sorry its been a while since my last blog... the last 6 months have seemed like they have been happening to someone else.
For one thing I actually heard myself utter the words..

"its more important than riding"

and that made me feel slightly sick as so far in my life nothing as made me feel quite like I do when I ride my bike (I know... not even that :-)

Being made redundant in September last year I was looking forward to being able to ride more... but it didnt quite work out that way!.. funny how life does that eh.

Moments to myself as the tarmac slips away under me, thinking about which way my life is pulling and where is it I am meant to be.

Messages sent to me at just in the nick of time. Hearing a very dear friend of over 20 years has been paralysed in an accident the day before I was supposed to be throwing myself willfully off the top of Pic Blanc maybe just saved me for something yet to come.

Last weekend I had THE most relaxed fun ride at the "12:12 TORQ in your sleep" sadly my last race for 6 months, 2nd place with great company on my local trails and a huge grin on my face.

I will miss you all but there is somewhere else I need to be for a while.

See you all in March. I am going to Haiti to work for a medical relief agency for 6 months. If anyone is around over Christmas and fancies coming riding to laugh at how stupidly unfit I have become I will be looking forward to it........

enjoy the winter

Elaine

simple things.

2010-08-28T00:10:00.005+01:00

mad light.

good bikes.

big skies.

living here.

j.

48

2010-08-25T20:02:00.002+01:00

I've tried my hand at soloing some 24's, some 12's and some 10's, so when someone suggested I have a go at a 48 this week, I had to give it a go. 48 minutes that is.

Last night, a group of locals (Scottish Cycling, Edinburgh Road Club and the Tri Centre) put on a 48 minute dirt crit on a local(ish) country park. It was a 7.15 start, so we had a bit of a mad rush to get there after work, but we made it in time to see the end of the under 14's race and have a quick practice lap before we set off.

The format was pretty much like a cross race.... as many laps of a short course as you can do in 48 minutes. In hind sight, my cross bike might have been a better bike choice, but the Spot's at the top of the heap at the moment, so it was the first one to hand in the mad dash to get out the door.

It was a fast, swoopy, grassy, muddy, steppy, uppy, downy course, some short sharp ups, some fast, lumpy downs (with some hucks if you got it right) and no respite at all! It was fab! I managed to make 3rd place in the ladies race which was great, but the two girls in front of me were, well...I was old enough to be their mother, which was less great!

Chris managed to win a tub of cookies for riding the steps on the course and we got some beer from our friend Andy, so all round, not a bad Tuesday evening!

Roll on the cross season (I might have to do some fettling with the bike this weekend though).

Jac
x

Happy Campers

2010-08-24T10:28:00.003+01:00

Fi writes:
I am camping in my own flat. Or that's how it feels. I have just got back from the Trans Wales (rain, sun, mud, climbing, sheep, old friends) and am packing for the Terrex, a 4 day non-stop expedition adventure race in the Lake District. There are piles of kit all over the flat and friends in the AR world are posting pictures of their houses on Facebook, covered in equal amounts of kit. Eventually each bit will be pared down and split into stuff sacks, labelled and stored in a massive duffel.

I am excited. I've been ill so still have the slightly shakey remnants of an undiagnosed virus but nevertheless am excited. I've never raced for 4 days non stop before. 250k biking, 100k running/trekking and 65k paddling. And Other Stuff. Climbing, abseilling, Other Stuff. Can't wait.

And the best thing about this race is that I get to do it in a team of 4. 3 boys, one of whom is my fella. The feeling of shared excitement, shared pain, shared exhaustion and shared experience is so valuable. Sunsets are always more beautiful when you have someone to gasp with, and tiredness always more bearable when you have someone who understands just what it feels like to not sleep for 3 days.

I'll let you know how it goes. Better get on with decanting the 12 tins of rice pudding and 8 tins of spagetti hoops into plastic jars.

stoke.

2010-08-11T21:58:00.002+01:00

i.

am.

knackered.

busy busy busy of late. no bad thing, but the last thing on my mind as i drag myself out of bed in the morning and through a day's work is getting on a bike at the end of it.

still, though, i find myself thrown into the company of a particular band of folks, and loving it. all good riders, all enthusiastic and encouraging, and all thoroughly possessed of the stoke.

stoke /stoʊk/
–verb
1. to poke, stir up, and feed (a fire).
2. to tend the fire of (a furnace, esp. one used with a boiler to generate steam for an engine); supply with fuel.

spend enough time in the presence of the right sort of stoke and it has a habit of rubbing off on you.

so yes, the weather has been shit. yes, it has greyed, rained. poured. and yes, apart from a brief cold-stops-play hiatus, i've been riding trails every single day and loved every minute of it. even the bits where my legs are filled with acid and concrete and my vision has blurred with sweat or tears and i simply cannot get in enough food to stop the spots dancing because i really, really should be at home having a rest.

i love the trails that i have come home to. i love that in the brief time i was away i learnt new methods of approach and have a new belief in what i can do. what i want to do.

i love that the thought of riding my bike tomorrow makes me smile.

j.

TransWales Approaches (first 4 days only)

2010-08-11T14:25:00.003+01:00

Saturday morning. Grab and stuff stuff into a bag. Make sure arm warmers, socks and jerseys coordinate. Remember recovery drink plus denim mini skirt to wear over compression tights. Never sacrifice style for being sensible (or speed, safety or anything much else).

Saturday afternoon. Curse at bridge toll. Arrive Wales, dump bags in Builth. Drive to Cwmsomethingorother and pedal back to Builth.

Saturday evening. Drink one to many.

Sunday to Wednesday. Pedal lots. Up, down, up, down, rain, sun, rain, sun, sleep, eat, sleep, eat. Laugh lots. Nice photos. More fun memories. Forget. All. About. Work. Locate car in Cwm-s-or-o. Drive home.

Thursday. Remember all about work again. Feel like we've been away for weeks.

The Open 24 Adventure Race. North Wales. July, 2010.

2010-08-06T08:28:00.003+01:00

The Open 24 took over our house. My boyfriend Andy was the ‘planner’ and I was racing it. He had to keep the details secret so I was often banished from the room as he schemed with Open Adventure boss James about what the 62 pairs of racers would get up to. 24 hours is a long time and a lot of adventure could be had.

As it happened, 24 hours wasn’t enough and there was a prologue to the 2010 edition of the Open 24; a swim across Rhoscolyn bay followed by an hour of exhilarating coasteering. “Look at the horizon. Cross your arms. Then jump into the swell”. Horizon. Rock. Spray. Sea. Plunge.

At the end of the coasteering course we were ferried by speedboat (RIB) across the waves to Rhosneigr. Gripping hard to the handles on the boat. “Don’t let go”. Heart thumping in your ears, fixed grin, involuntary squeals, teeth chattering against the chill and the excitement.

And the race hadn’t even started.

We stripped off our wetsuits in the drizzly slipway, stirring quite a few bemused looks from the kitesurfers and dogwalkers. Andy battled against the wind and his distracted audience to deliver the pre-race briefing. “It’s Plan B. Plan A has been cancelled due to the weather, so it’s plan B. Does everyone understand?” Yes. No sea kayaking. More cycling. We packed our race bags and then lined up for an underwhelming chasing start on the beach.

The exhilaration of the prologue faded fast as we hit the lanes of Angelsea for the hastily organised ‘lane quest’ of Plan B. Pedalling into Newborough Forest we were pleased to get off the bikes and enjoy a trail run through the trees and out across the sand to the lighthouse. But then it was more bikes, more lanes, more drizzle.

The kayak spiced things up. Rarely is there kayaking in UK adventure races, and even rarer is there kayaking when the weather puts paid to Plan A. The Menai Straights may not be the most exciting stretch of water, but it was lovely being in the boat, feeling the waves underneath the hull and resting our leg muscles.

Far too soon it was biking again and a full 9 hours after the start we crawled up the final hill to Ogwen Cottage and the evening transition. Plenty of racers were milling around, gearing themselves up for the night, going through kit check and contemplating their route. Andy and James were nervous about the night trek, and with good reason. They had returned from putting out checkpoints earlier that week drenched through, exhausted, sore and tired. They were scared that racers would feel they were just nipping up the Glydrs and that it ‘must be safe, it’s a race’. Them Glydrs is big, and at night and in the clag, can be treacherous.

The night trek was by far my favourite stage. After a steep and sweaty climb up Ygarn and into the dusk, we wrapped up against the penetrating cloud and settled into a steady pace, concentrating on our torch light and picking clear and sensible lines through the rockfall and then boggy grass. 5 hours of trekking, 4 hours of total darkness. We stumbled upon other racers, held brief conversations and then were left alone with our own breathing. Slipping and jumping down Devil’s Kitchen took all concentration and focus, then another steep climb up towards Tryfan, slurping water from the streams as we went. Night made the mountains bigger and the race didn’t matter. It was fresh and empty and beautiful.

I realised we were faring well at the next transition. We jogged in and quickly changed back into bike kit, snatching a shake and a sandwich. In the light of my Maxx D I could see racers sitting on the gravel floor, tending bruised and blistered feet, looks of broken exhaustion on their faces. It had been 14 hours now since the start. Still 10 to go. Let’s keep moving.

The bike stage was short and fast through forestry tracks and down into Dolwyddelan. Easy points clocking up. The regular beep of the dibber. Satisfying. Then the final trek stage was upon us. We knew this would hurt the most. Tired feet trudged up through endless logging tracks and fireroad, cool grey morning draining the colour from the landscape. We pushed just hard enough to move quickly but never fast enough to feel like we were really racing. Another final push up a steep rooty track, overtaking other teams, half asleep and pushing down on their knees with gloved hands. We were out on the moors and enjoyed a tussocky descent through deserted slate mines into the deep mine special stage at Rhiw Bach.

How did our forefathers work down mines? We slipped down into the belly of the earth, freezing water rushing over our numb feet, hands feeling for grip along the slippery tunnel walls. The pick marks and the metal rails were still there, echos of an industry not long died out. For half an hour we rushed around underground searching for checkpoints, before being spat out the bottom of the mine into the tropical heat of a Welsh Sunday morning.
One stage left.

4 large hills loomed on the final bike leg before we could roll over the finish line at Betws-y-Coed. Hill one hurt. Snickers. A gel. Some water. Either the sugar intake of the descent on Penmachno’s rocky singletrack trails did the trick. Climb 2 was easier. A final orienteering special stage had us ripping through deep undergrowth for an hour, giggling at the bramble scratches round our ankles. We shared a grin with friends racing against us and then pushed off. One hour left.

Tiredness had come and gone that morning. When we left the mine, my eyes were gritty
and red-ringed. But as the heat of the day picked up, so did my energy levels and with an hour to go I felt like I could carry on all day. With fifteen minutes to go, we rolled under the finish banner, greeted by a sheepish looking Andy and an exhausted looking James. Racers were lying on the grass all around us, sipping tea, munching on sandwiches, swapping stories. Eagerly awaiting the results.

I lay my bike down on its side and knelt on the warm grass. I stripped off my sweat-soaked top and wiped some mud from around my eyes and the sweat from my cheeks. The journey was complete. We had run, paddled, biked, explored. And I felt the warm comforting feeling of my eyes closing as I lay on the grass.

Series Results (The Open 24 was the last race in the 3-race series):
Female Pairs ::
1st Barbara Lonsdale/Jackie Scarf
2nd Jenny Allen/Judith Hughes
3rd Liz Barlow/Sally Ozanne

Male Pairs ::
1st Tom Gibbs/John Houlihan (Adidas Terrex)
2nd Andy Mitchell/Phil Scarf
3rd Kim Collison/Neil Hamblin

Mixed Pairs ::
1st Steve Fisher/Fi Spotswood (Team For Goodness Shakes! AR)
2nd Chris Morgan/Anna Sloan
3rd Emily Brooks/Jake Morgan (Planet Fear)

Thanks to: For Goodness Shakes! USE Exposure Lights, Squirt Lubes, Spoke Shirts, James Kirby Photography. www.openadventure.com.

long days.

2010-08-03T20:58:00.005+01:00

holiday tales, a little overdue.

so: to the alps. an open week, bookended by a flight to geneva at one end and an appointment with alp d'huez at the other. what to do, what to do...

find panniers, fettle steed. buy maps, twice. dispatch work and family crisis. overly complicate journey to airport. board plane. heave big sigh of relief.

except, as ever, it took two grey, humid, windy, miserable days of difficult navigation and lakeside traffic and struggling to make my thoughts heard above the din to realise that i really wasn't in a holiday sort of mood. plans were only developed as far as a line on a map. cols cou, perret and colombiere fell rapidly and it was only afterwards i realised i'd been there before and it wasn't much fun then, either.

so, a day off - sleeping, eating, drinking, reading - then resume.

calmer, quieter. hot days demand early starts and so the rhythm comes. up with the blue skies, pack up, climb a mountain, take a picture, ride down the other side to breakfast, and repeat. the beauty of point to point riding, covering any amount of purposeful distance under your own power, is not in the achievement at the end of it, but the peace attained whilst in the midst of it. ride, eat, sleep: it's that simple.

i think i've mentioned this before.

experiences aren't remembered as a convenient narrative. at least not in my head, anyway. instead, they become a collection of snapshots, as much to do with touch and feel as sight and sound. words and pictures.

beaufort.

marmot.

storms.

sweetness.

aravis.

roselend.

iseran.

galibier.

snow.

sun.

tradition.

travellers.

peace.

quiet.

more travels. more adventures. time rides on.

j.

thirty degrees.

2010-07-21T23:47:00.003+01:00

home from travels and trying to readjust. much-needed peace and quiet in the midst of total chaos and some new experiences which themselves will lead to more.

of which, more later - but for now it's enough just to be reminded what seventeen consecutive days of sunshine feels like.

hint: warm.

j.

Minxes up mountains

2010-07-15T08:08:00.003+01:00

OK, so no bike in sight, but I had a fantastic run round The Black Mountains on Sunday so thought I'd share. This is me reading a map. I should have known it would be 'up'. Always is!

And I've just had some fantastic news that I wanted to share because I need advice - I've been accepted into the 3 Peaks Cyclo Cross race. Any survivors out there who have some top tips?

Off to North Wales tomorrow for a week of studying and yomping up mountains on wheels or foot. If the weather clears we'll be climbing tomorrow evening. Can't wait!

F
x

Meals on wheels

2010-07-09T21:57:00.001+01:00

It's OK to take all the leftover pasta for lunch when you've commuted by bike. Isn't it?

Vikki

Are you tough enough?

2010-07-07T16:12:00.003+01:00

What a great weekend! I went over to Kent - to Rye - for a very old friend's wedding. Thinking 'I won't know anyone else who's there, so it'll be an early night', I entered the 'Are You Tough Enough' Army Cycling Union 6 hour enduro the next day.

As is the way of these things, I ended up drinking too much champagne and arrived in very sunny Bracknell with a seriously dry mouth, no pedals and a bag full of squashed and disorganised kit.

Stuff got sorted (can't really remember doing it myself, but must have) and the race kicked off. The first lap was waaaay too fast and I was breathing like a steam train, so peeled it right back. I wasn't fussed about 'racing' and was riding with a camelbak for adventure race training - getting those back muscles nice and worked!

The singletrack was supersweet - no straight lines and lots of fast bermed corners and dust. We were caked in red-brown dust, which stuck to our sweat, snot and suncream. At one point a guy I'd been leapfrogging with over took me and I looked at his face as we exchanged a few words and it suddenly occurred to me for the first time that I might also look like a bourbon biscuit dunked in chocolate shavings.

The ride only became painful when excrutiating hot spots on my feet made standing very difficult. Until then I'd be riding out the saddle, attacking the climbs and working the corners hard. I rode the last few laps like a sack of potatoes. But by then I'd realised no one was chasing so I could relax and ended up climbing off with half an hour to go to drink tea and eat the pain au chocolate I'd sneaked from the B&B that morning.

I'd recommend this enduro - great course, lovely atmosphere and awesome prizes. And, which is tremendously exciting, I saw a snake on the trail! Only a little one but I nearly ran him over and screamed as I swerved to avoid it!

Puffer Lite

2010-07-06T21:53:00.008+01:00

Puffer Lite

2 weekends ago I tested my mettle again. This time at Puffer Lite.

Puffer Lite is the summertime little brother of StrathPuffer (the most northerly, winterly 24 hour race in the world…apparently). Whilst StrathPuffer is a 24 hour race in January with about 17 hours of darkness on some interesting, rocky, techy trails, Puffer Lite uses the same course but is a 12 hour race in June, 8pm to 8am, with about an hour and a half to 2 hours of darkness.

It’s also the Scottish Singlespeed Champs (yup, that’s right, a 12 hour singlespeed champs).

Chris and I drove up fairly early on in the day because Chris wanted to drop me off before going off for a ride in Torridon. So I arrived at about 1pm…plenty time to set up camp, fettle with bike and snooze before signing on at 5 and then getting down to proper pre-race fettling.

The forecast had been for heavy rain, so I had taken hot weather and wet weather kit, just in case. Luckily, the rain turned out to be a few big sploges of rain just before we started.

At 8pm, the Le Mans start saw most folks dash off to get their bikes and then disappear of up the hill. Since I’m not one for starting out fast, I just started as I meant to continue…a slow, steady plod, enjoying the sunshine, views, trails and company.

My plan was to do double laps and just stop off in between to get fresh water and food. The first 4 laps went well and I managed to keep up a good pace. The course was great and the conditions were about as good as they could get. The trails were buff and dusty and fast. I didn’t need to put my lights on until about 11pm and it didn’t really get dark until after midnight. That’s when the dark thoughts started.

I pulled into my pit at about 2am feeling pretty deflated and not really sure I wanted to keep going. One half of me knew that if I didn’t finish the race I’d only be letting myself down and I’d end up kicking myself afterwards. The other half just kept asking why I was doing this.

While I was sitting having a bite of brioche, Chris wandered into the tent and told me I was a lap down on the winner. That made up my mind. I wasn’t racing anymore – I was just going to keep plodding on, forget about pushing myself and just enjoy the trails. I also knew that it would be dawn soon and I didn’t want to miss that (one of the benefits of soloing is that you know you’re going to be the one who gets to do the dawn lap).

So off I went again. The sun started coming up at about 2.30 and it was lovely. The course was pretty quiet by this time, so I managed to take in the views over the hills and forest all by myself. With the dawn, my spirits started to lift again and I started having fun again.
After another double lap, I pulled in to the pits and Chris told me I was 5 minutes down on the leader now. So I’d managed to make up half a lap. I knew it was unlikely that I’d be able to make up any more time at this stage, but I wondered if I might just be able to start pushing a little bit harder to see what happened.

Another couple of laps got me through to just before 7am and I was still 5 minutes down. I really didn’t think I’d be able to make it up so I decided to just go out and enjoy my last lap. I wouldn’t be up this way for a while, so I might as well enjoy the trails and the views.

I got back to the start finish area about 20 minutes before 8 and Chris told me that I’d managed to make up the time and had won. I was on the same lap as second place, but I’d managed to get in before her.

I headed back to the tent to have my finish line cup of tea and while I got changed and cleaned up (it’s the first race I’ve finished in Scotland where I’ve been completely coated in dust!) Chris went off to get my lap timings from the timing folks….it turned out I was a lap up on second place, so I’d somehow managed to make up that lap I was down during the night. I’d also managed to win the Scottish Singlespeed Champs too, so I was doubly pleased.

The folks from Square Wheels did themselves proud again and put on another fantastic event. The weather gods and the other riders made the event another memorable one – thanks!

The Open 12

2010-06-29T15:16:00.004+01:00

Having just recovered from the hole in my knee caused by hitting the deck at Bristol, I gathered my kit together into several large IKEA bags and headed to Yorkshire for the 2nd race in the Open Adventure Racing Series. The first race is 5 hours, the 2nd is 12hours and the 3rd (in a month) is 24 hours long.

If you've never adventure raced, then give it a shot. It's such good fun. You are time limited and in pairs and have to chase all over the countryside (we're talking the Best of British here - Lakes, Dartmoor, Yorkshire Dales, Highlands, North Wales etc etc) looking for checkpoints. In addition to mountain biking and running there is often kayaking, climbing, abseilling, a bit of swimming, canyoning and caving.

The Open 12 was hot hot hot and I can honestly say for 12 hours I pushed somewhere beween 98 and 100%. We had won the Open 5 so were 'series leaders'. The clear favourites (who beat all the male pairs too) had missed a checkpoint on the orienteering stage so we had 30 points on them. In the Open 12 they beat us overall by 29 points... and the Open 24 is on TV (Channel 4) so I'm looking forward to a bit of fame (sweat-soaked, unwashed as I will be)...

The Open 12 started near Hawes and went, well, everywhere. A 3ish hour run stage had us high up in the fells and after scrambling up through a canyon with some refreshing dips in freezing water, we jumped on the bikes for a 5 hour mtb stage, complete with a waterfall scramble and submerged checkpoint beneat Hadraw Force - the highest freefalling waterfall in the UK. Very, erm, breathtaking (was very cold!) Luckily it was sunny and windy enough for us to dry off pretty quickly when we were back on the bikes.

After a midge-ridden over night camp chatting with the other competitors and our team (team For Goodness Shakes), who had 4 pairs in the race, we set off for day 2 - a 5 hour stage. This began with a tandem abseil off an overhanging cliff and then a 16k trail run towards Semer Water, which we had to swim across, complete with bike helmet, pack and running shoes! At the other end we met our bikes and had a 2ish hour frantic ride around the dales in the baking sunshine, desperately trying to clear the course within our time limit. We knew that Planet Fear (the favourites) had beaten us by 25 points the previous day so if we could clear the course we wouldn't lose our series lead, even if they took much less time.

We thrashed up the final hill to the finish line and were unfortunately 1minute 37seconds late, which gave us a 4 point penalty - but still 1 point ahead in the series table. I am now at home tending festering blisters (my crash at bikefest rather limited the amount of running I've been able to do!) and reeling from getting home to find our 2 hardtails had been stolen from the garage. [If anyone sees two beautiful Whyte 19 trails out there looking a bit homeless, they're ours. Andy's even has 'Andy Wilson Team For Goodness Shakes!' engraved on the USE seatpost!]

Another lovely weekend, then, tearing around the countryside on bikes and foot and generally having a rip-roaring time with mates. Awesome.

Commute

2010-06-22T20:33:00.003+01:00

New studio. New commute. Blissfully traffic free for all but a mile. No excuses not to travel by bike.

Vikki

New Shoes

2010-06-18T18:41:00.003+01:00

I should probably throw out at least one of my old, broken pairs now, but.....well, a girl can never have too many pairs of cycling shoes, can she?

Jac
x

idle ruminations

2010-06-15T11:12:00.003+01:00

trek racing's extended road trip movie has become essential morning coffee viewing.

does anyone else think the soundtracking is back to front, though?

j.

things wot i learnd at brizzle 12

2010-06-09T16:32:00.006+01:00

1: trees are an issue.
2: i do not like taking it seriously.
3: angry speed is good for going fast but is not good for smiles.
4: winning a twelve hour race by 31 seconds is cutting it rather too fine.
5: whether they like it or not, my friends are my heroes.

j.

Bikefest

2010-06-08T16:12:00.004+01:00

I had totally gone off mountain bike racing, preferring to ride rather than race, but always do Bikefest because it's my local event on local trails and the banter is always good. I had a brilliant weekend - caught up with loads of old friends, soaked up the excitement and generally chatted away to heaps of lovely people.

The riding was great, too. The trails were harsh, dry and fast, just as I like them. Brutal on the body and needing good lines and good technique.

The racing, at least for me, was a catastrophe. I 'mixed-paired' on Saturday and we kept it fast and fluid until my partner cramped all over (including his chest!) and had to pull out. But still, 9hrs of interval training can't be bad! I had Sunday's solo 6 to redeem myself, too, so I didn't really mind. I spent the remainder of the time cheering on my boyfriend who won the Old Gits Male Pairs with some panache!

I wasn't exactly looking forward to Sunday. I haven't solo-d a mtb race since 2008. Not with some great announcement to 'retire' or 'hang up my wheels'; just because I've been doing other stuff which has been really good fun. The thought of riding round in circles for 6 hours didn't fill me with excitement and I was really pleased to have battled with my demons over night and arrived at Ashton Court feeling strong and ready. Relaxed but nervous. A good combo.

The start was clean and calm and I decided to settle into a 29-30 min pace and do 12 laps. If that meant I won then so be it. If not then, whatever - I was tired from the day before and didn't really care.

The first two laps flew past and I had a big gap on the girls behind already. I set off on lap 3 feeling pretty happy with how I was riding. My quads were tired from all the flat-out the day before and I was pretty sure someone would be climbing faster than me (I was right) but the singletrack was flowing well and my body felt surprisingly good considering my little stack the day before and the Ashton Court Battering you always get in the dry.

Then, out of nowhere, my front wheel whipped from under me and I crashed hard on a flat piece of gravelly singletrack. I still have no idea why. I quickly stood up, straightened the handlebars and jumped back on. Auto-pilot. A hundred or so metres later I stopped because going over the bumpy rocks was wobbling the hole in my knee too much and hurting like hell. I stopped, started crying and then couldn't breathe. I was having a panick attack from the shock. Great.

Luckily my friend Jez (you'll know him if you do enduro racing - he has 1 leg) stopped and calmed me down. For a few minutes he just made me breathe deeply. Once I was breathing normally I decided to carry on riding. I still hadn't really looked at my knee. I struggled round the rest of the lap. It hurt. I was caught and overtaken by Sarah Forbes, the eventual winner, but couldn't have cared less, as I pulled into the pit where I saw Andy and Jenn and they took my bike off me and packed me off to A&E immediately.

So I am now recovering from 2 layers of stitches in my knee - to patch up a hole that goes bone-deep. I'm hoping there was no bone damage - at the moment it's too swollen to know. I've had 2 days off work and am bored senseless, but still keep feeling dizzy and drifting off to sleep mid sentence.

But so what? This is an occupational hazard, right? Right. Mel Alexander has a broken pelvis. I have a cut. (Mel is on the road to recuperation and is being amazingly strong about it - I wish her all the best and look forward to her whipping my butt again very soon). In the mean time I'm planning what I'll be doing the moment my stitches come out. There's nothing really wrong with me and I have realised, despite and because of all this, that I do actually enjoy mountain bike racing and want to do a little bit more. Maybe. Between adventure races and road racing, and running and kayaking (and recovering from injury).

Stay safe people.

Summer

2010-06-04T13:14:00.003+01:00

Clouds are gathering in the sky and the forecast is rain for Bristol Bikefest this weekend. But nothing can dampen my spirits. I love this event and am very excited... I had to come to the office today because I knew working from home would mean packing kit and 'testing' bikes in anticipation.

But I really hope it doesn't rain!

Last week we rode the Tour of Wessex 3 day Sportif which was great fun, if a little 'up'. The first day was wet and made me curse ever getting into road riding. Then the sun came out and we were streaming all round the south west, working hard but with banter, sun and sandwiches. I have 325 miles in my legs from those 3 days so will I have recovered for bikefeast? Well, we'll find out tomorrow!

Hope to see you there

Fi

To Fall in love again

2010-06-02T22:19:00.003+01:00

I've often read articles in the bike mags preaching that we re-visit our local trails and not over-look the joys on our own doorstep because we are weary of riding them. I have riden many of my trails purely as a highway to somewhere else and paid little attention to many of them. This weekend I had some friends over to ride and we decided to not go too far from the pub so local trails seemed like a good plan, I was elected leader.
In my efforts to piece together the "best bits" for my visiting delegation I set off making it up as I went along and purposefully took routes I wouldnt normally lace together. Stretches I would always only ride in one direction because they were going TO or FROM somewhere, I reversed. Where I would always turn right, I turned left and vice versa, I actually found some stretches of trail I had never seen before and was followed by a string of smiling faces.

Later in the pub one of my friends said to me " i didnt realise there were so many great trails round here" and I had to reply "neither did I".

Great feeling to fall in love with your home trails all over again! Maybe the weather has something to do with it :-)

Happy days!

See you all in Bristol this weekend.

Elaine

24 (A slightly different perspective)

2010-05-27T21:08:00.008+01:00

When I found out that the UK 24 Hour Solo Champs were going to be at Newcastleton, just 2 hours down the road from home, I knew I had to give it a bash.

My confidence has taken a bit of a beating since the Trans Portugal last year and I’ve struggled to shake off a persistent virus and to get back to the level of fitness I had before the TP. So my only objective with 24 Solo was to finish and feel like I’d really tried. I’d soloed a 24 a few years ago, so I knew it was going to be tough and that my mind and body would have to work pretty hard to go the distance. But that also meant that I’d been able to do it once, so I should be able to do it again.

Chris and I had to Newcastleton to recce the terrain in March. Riding around, it looked like it had potential to be a really interesting course with plenty of singletrack, climbs and views to keep me switched on for the 24 hours. Based on that ride, the gearing on my singlespeed was lowered to a spinny 32-20!

We arrived at Newcastleton early on Friday evening and found that Steve had already found a good trackside spot for our camping and joint support crews, just before the start/finish area. While Chris set up our camp I went off to register and see what was happening and figure out what the options were for dinner. I managed spot some familiar faces who all said encouraging things …well, actually they all said I was mad for racing singlespeed, but that’s as encouraging as it gets really.

Friday night involved the usual pre-race nervous chatter and a few beers and then off to bed early in the hope of getting some sleep. My body had decided that I really needed to stay awake for 48 hours though, because, through a combination of nerves and a sloping campsite, I hardly slept.

By 8am on Saturday morning, it was already hot. Chris came back from a ride round the course very hot looking, so a spare bottle cage was promptly put on my bike to carry a bottle of water for skooshing over myself when I got hot (I have learned something from racing in hot places!).

Before I knew it, it was rider briefing time and then time to roll down the hill to Newcastleton for the start in the town square. Each rider was called up to sign on, in front of all the other riders, supporters and the rest of the town. Then the race started with the Copshaw Common Riders (a group of local riders on cruisers of all shapes and sizes) leading us racers out of Newcastleton and back up the hill to the trails and we were off proper.

The pace was pretty quick and I could already see the lead guys charging off up the hill, but I wasn’t in any hurry, so I hung back and enjoyed the views and the chat at the back of the field and then joined the gentleman’s queue at the first section of singletrack. Once we got to the top, riders starter to thin out and we could start riding. It was blinking hot though, so I was grateful of that extra water bottle to pour water down my back whenever I got too hot. Okay, I was riding around in soggy clothes, but it stopped me from overheating.

My first few laps went quite well and I really enjoyed the course and felt pretty good. I was having a lot of fun cheering on the other riders and shouting encouragement as we passed each other. Lap three started to change a wee bit though. I’d been riding through the watersplash rather than crossing the bridge so that I could cool down in the water. Unfortunately, this made my shoes quite wet and they started to stretch a bit and then start rubbing. So I ended up with blisters on each foot, which were quite uncomfortable. I didn’t have a spare pair of shoes with me, so I just did the straps up a bit tighter and hoped for the best.

Before I knew it, it was time to get the lights on the bike and start preparing myself for the ride through the night. I knew from the last time I’d done a solo 24 that the toughest time would be around 2am, so I started preparing myself for that inner battle.

Things started to get pretty quiet out on the course and I found that I’d often ride almost half a lap without seeing anyone. Then I’d come across a couple of riders sitting by the side of the trail having a chat and admiring the moonlight, so I’d stop and have a bit of a chat with them before reminding myself that I’m meant to be riding my bike.

I carried on and pulled into the pits at around 2am for some hot food. Despite Jenn’s sage words of advice, I sat down to have a bowl of pasta and then started to feel a bit peaky. I could see concerned faces looking at me from our combined support crew when I stood up and started wobbling. I was determined to do this thing though, so I picked up my bike and started off again, only to start shaking uncontrollably. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it round the lap like that, so I pulled back into the pits to be met by Chris carrying my puffy jacket. He took me back to the tent and instructed me to get changed into fresh riding kit and get into my sleeping bag until I warmed up.

I thought that was my race over. As I lay there shivering in my sleeping bag I heard Amy and Grant come and go and started to feel pretty desperate. All I wanted to do was finish a race and prove to myself that I could still do it, but my body didn’t seem to have the same idea.

It took me just over an hour to warm back up again, but when I did, I had a sudden surge of energy and decided that I wasn’t going to be beaten by temperature again! And anyhow, I didn’t want to miss the dawn lap (that’s what 24 hour racing is all about after all!).

So, after fumbling around to get new contact lenses in, I got back on the bike and set off again. I’d dropped a couple of laps, but it didn’t really matter. I’d managed to get back out and was going to finish.

Chris writes: And praise the wee baby Jebus for that as I was mentally preparing for the brutal fight of wills necessary to get Jac out of a snug soloists sleeping bag and back on the bike…

The dawn lap was everything a dawn lap should be… peaceful, hardly anyone on the course, tweeting birds in the trees and mist rising from the valleys. Lovely.

Dawn also meant we were almost finished, so I had to start thinking about how many more laps I was going to do – this was a ‘short’ 24 hour format, we had to be finished within the 24 hours and any lap which finished after the 24 hours wouldn’t count. I really didn’t want a lap not to count, so I had to try to figure out how long my laps needed to be and how long my pit stops could be. So I decided I could do another 2 laps.

On my last lap, I rode round and thanked all the marshals – they really did a top job, sitting in the woods all night. I rolled back into the campsite at around 10am and wasn’t quite sure what to do. I should have time for another lap, but what if I didn’t make it?

It was when the support crew of one of the female vets, Anne Dickens, said that I should at least give it a go, that I thought, what the heck! My legs felt okay, so I might as well ride for a bit longer. After all, how often do I get to ride my bike for 24 hours? I didn’t want to waste the opportunity!

So I went out for another lap and had a blast! I charged through all the bits I’d been cautious on until then, singing away to myself and thanking all the marshals again.

As I was climbing up the last climb of the course, one of the quick male riders rode alongside me for a bit. As we were riding along, he turned to me and said “I think you’re awesome for doing this on a singlespeed.” then rode off in front of me. That was it. My bottom lip started to go. The combination of someone saying something nice like that and knowing that I was only minutes away from finishing was quite overwhelming, so I had a bit of a sniffle. I stopped for a moment at the top of the last descent to pull myself together and tried to make myself look vaguely presentable for crossing the finish line, then off down that descent for the last time.

I crossed the finish line with an immense sense of relief. I hadn’t known for sure that I could do it, but I made it. My legs did their stuff and kept pedalling even when my head was telling them to give up.

I rolled back down to the pits amidst calls of well done from other riders and support crews. The beer I’d asked for on the finish line was waiting for me, but all I wanted was water, so the beer waited until later.
The prize giving saw the first ever UK Solo 24 hour champions crowned, as well as a rookie and a singlespeeder. To have been a part of it really felt like something special.
The support from my pit crew and other riders as well as the marshals, organisers and, of course, Joolz were all big contributing factors to me carrying on and not stopping when things got tough (or cold in my case). I know they won’t all be there next time, but they helped me get over the hurdle and reminded me that racing for me isn’t about being the fastest or strongest, it’s about having fun, riding with new people in new places and just pushing my body to see what it’ll do.

What’s next? Well, I’ve washed the bike and I’m planning a ride tomorrow evening, just for a few hours this time though. Oh and I need to buy a new pair of riding shoes.

Jac
x

A Girls' Cycling Compendium

Deep Breath

Onwards...

Macaroni Cheese

Ride with the fast girls

Beyond the flim flam

Cold feet

Puncture fairy

The power of yoga

Jelly legs. Jelly sweets.

There's a rat in the suburbs

Ouch!

Relentless

It could all end in tears

It Must Be Time for Cross

Cycling adventures of a small kind.

Need some inspiration?

Cycletta Bound

one day...

utopia

Trans Wales Mk 6

nihon go

Riding and Spectating

The revenge of the cyclists

we went to sits and it was great

is it OK to cry now?

no fuss endurance downhill

Cross Country Racing, eh?

Back in the saddle

Hometime

Motivational Slump

Learning : heat & hills

Marmotte Madness

Bad Karma

Farewell Old Friend

Close Encounter

Tour de Mont Blanc May 2011 by Fi

30 second update

Jumps and Drops (Scary Skills Day)

saturdays are for riding

24 Solo (and more short stories)

Short Stories

It might just be spring

tick tock tick tock

Patagonia

The Paw of Guilt

jumps and drops, tea and cake.

Even Grumpy Miles Count

Wheeze

it's all glamour.

Running out of excuses

2 weeks today

Oops

challenges

Cross at the Castle

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes...

An adventurous weekend

Bbbrrrrrr

foursome

SSWC10NZ

Rob Penn

winter's here. note to self...

Country Mouse Goes to Town

friends in high places

Cross is back

monday morning.

Guilty?

things of beauty

Midweek microadventure

tour of britain.

The Terrex (3)

The Terrex (2)

Research suggests a new era of cycling may be here to stay

*insert prefered term here* on bikes

The Terrex (1)

Big Wheels

Ride the Lights

12:12 and a break for 6

simple things.

48

insert prefered term here on bikes