So yesterday lunchtime I ran home early (literally) to greet the plumber (who never showed), and then snurled up (a combination of snarling and curling) in front of the fire to read some dusty Marketing tome for the rest of the afternoon in preparation for next week's lecturing. Next thing I know, some purple cows ran past me and the sun was shouting encouragement. And my mother was riding a bike which as shiney and new and she was popping the raddist manuals I've ever seen!
At which point I woke up, realised I was getting nowhere and checked my phone or sign that the outside world still existed. "Oooh, a text"... ANY1 4 CHEEKY NITERIDE? 6 @ USUAL PLACE.
Oh yes. You understand, I had to check the new bike was running smoothly in preparation for my weekend race. And I was asleep so its not like I was achieving anything. Right?
Kit on, lights clicked in, swung out the garage door to weave through the traffic and hit the dry(ish) trails with the TNC (Tuesday Night Club). Pleasure reconvened.
I did finish reading my chapter later that night, but was in bed by 9!
Fi
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Spamtastic
A big ol' sorry to anyone that regularly posts, we had to activate the word recognition thing in the comments section because we were starting to get a lot of the weirdest spam. And frankly you don't want to wade through that stuff. OK, so the pretty panties link might have been an exception for any number of reasons, but that's what Google is for - go and find them if you must, Minx will have no part of it:-)
I have been the worst blogger of them all recently. Mainly because I've been struggling with injuries so there either hasn't been much riding or it's been confined to rehab pootles round the lanes. But I met up with Vikki (yes for the first time ever!) a couple of weeks ago and both made a pact to write more, even we aren't quite as hardcore as the rest of the Minx bloggers. (Although Vikki's reason for not riding so much at the moment is that she's training to run a marathon- so that would just be me that's not hardcore then.) But I figure there might be riders out there that will be reassured that it's not all racing, grrrrrr and freezing miles on a road bike, plus of course I make the other Minx girls look good....
I will try not to whine too much on the road back to fitness.
Minx
Sunday, 24 January 2010
begin again
Tonight, I have been writing. Putting together the plan for the spring and the summer, scribbling in the calendar, filling entries, doing sums.
Hit the North 1.5.
Downhill races in Wales and Scotland.
110km audax (two tea stops).
Yorkshire summer 'cross series.
Bristol Bike Fest.
Brighton Big Dog.
Megavalanche and Passportes de Soleil.
Yup, I think that's all the niches covered.
(I'm going to need a lot of shorts.)
But, truth be told, it's been a little hard to focus on all of that. Because I've been reading, too.
It's been a slow start to the year. Last year was slow, too. Plugs dead. Spark gone. Happy to potter. Lately though, I've noticed it coming back. The desire to get to the top of the hill first, when you're riding on your own. The determination to be smoother and neater, to leave trails that switch and carve. The pleasure to be found in riding in the rain and the wind, knowing it makes you stronger, the pleasure in the pain.
The onemorehillism.
It's back. I'm happy. But I'm taking my time.
j.
Hit the North 1.5.
Downhill races in Wales and Scotland.
110km audax (two tea stops).
Yorkshire summer 'cross series.
Bristol Bike Fest.
Brighton Big Dog.
Megavalanche and Passportes de Soleil.
Yup, I think that's all the niches covered.
(I'm going to need a lot of shorts.)
But, truth be told, it's been a little hard to focus on all of that. Because I've been reading, too.
It's been a slow start to the year. Last year was slow, too. Plugs dead. Spark gone. Happy to potter. Lately though, I've noticed it coming back. The desire to get to the top of the hill first, when you're riding on your own. The determination to be smoother and neater, to leave trails that switch and carve. The pleasure to be found in riding in the rain and the wind, knowing it makes you stronger, the pleasure in the pain.
The onemorehillism.
It's back. I'm happy. But I'm taking my time.
j.
Dragging it up by its hair
I'm talking about my fitness. This week has hurt a lot. I am trying to draf my fitness up by its hair, kicking and screaming. Last year I coasted, played and generally let my fitness and speed drift slowly away. Now I need it back and have to start again. And it hurts!
The week was long and semi-tough. Then Friday arrived I rode for 100 miles in the pouring rain and blasting wind. Not at all fun! A heavy bag on my back with sodden merino meant my shoulders were aching and still are, two days later. I collapsed by the fire on my return and was asleep in seconds. Not a pretty site.
Yesterday I could barely stagger around the flat so stayed in, warm and dry, and worked. Today I was out at 7 for an hour of swimming followed by 3 of running. Aching quads running down the final descent, shoulders still sore and chafed arm pits. Toes have turned a nostalgic black.
Do I want to be fit this badly? Yes, I reckon I do. To be honest I have loved the last week. It has reminded me of what life used to be like, before I got a proper job, when all I had to worry about was who was coming on the next epic ride and whether I had enough change for the cake shop.
Sport, as Howies so succinctly put it, is simple. And it makes everything better. And running today in the sunshine of the Mendips, chatting to (and in fact overtaking) mountain bikers and horse riders) made all of us feel silly, childish and utterly indulgent. And incredibly happy.
Fi
The week was long and semi-tough. Then Friday arrived I rode for 100 miles in the pouring rain and blasting wind. Not at all fun! A heavy bag on my back with sodden merino meant my shoulders were aching and still are, two days later. I collapsed by the fire on my return and was asleep in seconds. Not a pretty site.
Yesterday I could barely stagger around the flat so stayed in, warm and dry, and worked. Today I was out at 7 for an hour of swimming followed by 3 of running. Aching quads running down the final descent, shoulders still sore and chafed arm pits. Toes have turned a nostalgic black.
Do I want to be fit this badly? Yes, I reckon I do. To be honest I have loved the last week. It has reminded me of what life used to be like, before I got a proper job, when all I had to worry about was who was coming on the next epic ride and whether I had enough change for the cake shop.
Sport, as Howies so succinctly put it, is simple. And it makes everything better. And running today in the sunshine of the Mendips, chatting to (and in fact overtaking) mountain bikers and horse riders) made all of us feel silly, childish and utterly indulgent. And incredibly happy.
Fi
Monday, 18 January 2010
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
The Cycling Brand... what does it mean to you?
Fi writes:
My research team at the University of the West of England are just getting going on a massive project investigating the 'brand' of cycling. Brands are clever marketing tools which are really just a set of associations people have with something (and they are often signified with a logo or visual material in some way). So, a 'Gucci' bag means so much more than just 'bag' because the Gucci brand has a set of associations. Same goes for Howies, or Gore Bike Wear or Swobo. The brand adds value.
We are interested in whether cycling has a 'brand' and whether one can be created which people can build a relationship with and which will make the whole act of cycling so much more appealing to non-cyclists. We are really targeting those folk who 'could' but don't. You know the type - rusty old bike in the garage from former days, easy 3 mile trip to work, they do it in the car (spit) and are fit enough, or at least could be, to pedal there in stead.
I have a challenge for all Minx blog followers. Can you tell me in a few sentences what 'cycling' means to you.
I'll start:
Cycling is the core of my life and permeates through everything I do. I stand tall and shout from the rooftops, 'I Am A Cyclist'. I commute, road ride and race, and ride mountain bikes. The linking threads through my cycling consumption are 'fast' and 'fit'.
In advance, many thanks.
My research team at the University of the West of England are just getting going on a massive project investigating the 'brand' of cycling. Brands are clever marketing tools which are really just a set of associations people have with something (and they are often signified with a logo or visual material in some way). So, a 'Gucci' bag means so much more than just 'bag' because the Gucci brand has a set of associations. Same goes for Howies, or Gore Bike Wear or Swobo. The brand adds value.
We are interested in whether cycling has a 'brand' and whether one can be created which people can build a relationship with and which will make the whole act of cycling so much more appealing to non-cyclists. We are really targeting those folk who 'could' but don't. You know the type - rusty old bike in the garage from former days, easy 3 mile trip to work, they do it in the car (spit) and are fit enough, or at least could be, to pedal there in stead.
I have a challenge for all Minx blog followers. Can you tell me in a few sentences what 'cycling' means to you.
I'll start:
Cycling is the core of my life and permeates through everything I do. I stand tall and shout from the rooftops, 'I Am A Cyclist'. I commute, road ride and race, and ride mountain bikes. The linking threads through my cycling consumption are 'fast' and 'fit'.
In advance, many thanks.
Monday, 11 January 2010
There's something about a new bike
I can't afford it. Nope. But...
Well it's exactly the right geometry. And so pretty. After years of searching for the perfect hardtail, I reckon I've got it.
It's laid back, got mahooooosive forks, lots of rock-clearance and super wide bars that just ache to be pushed down hard around tight twisty corners.
I took it for a ride tonight in the hard packed snowy trails of Bristol's singletrack. It flew. It rode up everything I pointed it at and wouldn't let me go before it jumped and flicked and slid all around those rooty trails. It wasn't scared of the dark, of the shadows and invisible drops. It was brave.
It made me smile.
It... will... be... mine...
Fi
x
Well it's exactly the right geometry. And so pretty. After years of searching for the perfect hardtail, I reckon I've got it.
It's laid back, got mahooooosive forks, lots of rock-clearance and super wide bars that just ache to be pushed down hard around tight twisty corners.
I took it for a ride tonight in the hard packed snowy trails of Bristol's singletrack. It flew. It rode up everything I pointed it at and wouldn't let me go before it jumped and flicked and slid all around those rooty trails. It wasn't scared of the dark, of the shadows and invisible drops. It was brave.
It made me smile.
It... will... be... mine...
Fi
x
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Don't let the sun go down on you
I was 14 miles from home, tootling along on my hard tail on the road (you won't catch me on a road bike on the ice), slow but steady after a big week already, and then... the sun went in.
It wasn't exactly balmy anyway so I didnt' think it would make any difference, but it was like something dished by Harry Potter's Death Eaters. The life dissipated from my feet, then my calves, knees, quads, then my core. My fingers started hurting in the cold, my lips cracked and chapped. And what's worse, I slowed down even more. I couldn't generate my own heat, by body just stopped working.
I had eaten the bars I'd taken, I couldn't drink because I had mittens on and didn't want to stop to get my bottle out and risk cooling even more. I just plodded forward, gradually seeing the miles behind me.
It was eerily empty. I arrived back in Bristol at rush hour, only there were no cars at all. On the A370 from Weston Super Mare, normally a road to be avoided at all costs on 2 wheels, I swung down the middle of the road to avoid the icey edges, without any fear of being cut up. Bliss!
Eventually I struggled up the steep sides of The Avon Gorge and collapsed into my flat where luckily my housemate had the fire on full and I was fed tea and handed blankets to thaw.
So, don't let the sun go down on you... but otherwise, make the most of the car-free world!
Fi
It wasn't exactly balmy anyway so I didnt' think it would make any difference, but it was like something dished by Harry Potter's Death Eaters. The life dissipated from my feet, then my calves, knees, quads, then my core. My fingers started hurting in the cold, my lips cracked and chapped. And what's worse, I slowed down even more. I couldn't generate my own heat, by body just stopped working.
I had eaten the bars I'd taken, I couldn't drink because I had mittens on and didn't want to stop to get my bottle out and risk cooling even more. I just plodded forward, gradually seeing the miles behind me.
It was eerily empty. I arrived back in Bristol at rush hour, only there were no cars at all. On the A370 from Weston Super Mare, normally a road to be avoided at all costs on 2 wheels, I swung down the middle of the road to avoid the icey edges, without any fear of being cut up. Bliss!
Eventually I struggled up the steep sides of The Avon Gorge and collapsed into my flat where luckily my housemate had the fire on full and I was fed tea and handed blankets to thaw.
So, don't let the sun go down on you... but otherwise, make the most of the car-free world!
Fi
Monday, 4 January 2010
New girl on the block :-)
This is my first blog post as a Minx team rider so a little about myself maybe and then (as I AM British) a little about the weather!
I'm Elaine and I have been a fat tyre addict for about 4 years.
There... I said it...:-)
The last two have been totally unbearable with me entering, riding or racing anything and everything (OK, well except cross.........yet)
My list of places I want to ride is still longer than the places I have riden & I love my local "trails out the back gate" just as much as I do Afan or the Alps.
I seem to have collected numerous, very expensive bikes and random parts, in my garage fairly rapidly (I really have no idea how that all happened as I am always skint)
MIT.....I ride for fun.
I dont train and seem to do OK racing that way. I always told myself that I will ride as long as I enjoy it and as soon as I find myself riding because I have to or it says so on a chart on my wall then i will stop for a while and climb again (my other passion)
If I have a big event like a 12 hour (No... I will never solo a 24) then I just ride more. I sometimes call it training but thats only to cover up the fact that I am infact going out on the cross bike on the road for a few hours so I dont have to clean it when I get home!.. and to me, thats training rather than riding :-)
I once started crying when I tried to explain to someone just how amazing riding made me feel. So I guess that makes me terminal!.. I realise that I wont feel like this for ever so I am going to ride as often as I can where ever I can and accept that when the mojo goes, which it may well do, then I do something else until it comes back.
I have as yet, NEVER found anything in my life (all 40 years of it!) that gives me the kick that riding my bike does.
An unknown quote I have on the wall in my garage says "Nothing inspires me to ride, riding inspires me to live"...
So 2010 sees me joining Jenn, Fi, Lisa & the other girls cranking it for Minx and I cant wait...
I did quite a few events last year in pairs and solo and have now managed to finish 3, 12 hour solos, 2, 24 hour pairs including the Strathpuffer (NEVER again.. OUCH) and numerous other Enduro and sprint events. I am going to concentrate on Enduro events this year but I daresay I will do my local Gorrick sprint series as its quite the social gathering and I ride with a great local club who are always there to support and cheer me on no matter what jersey I am wearing.
This year I am also racing through the winter which is a first as I usually rest a little!.
The Merida Brass Monkeys Enduro series is 2/3rds of the way through with me with one first and one second place so its all to race for in the last event of the series on the 31st January.
I have also got quite the expert at snow riding this year.....:-)
I ride from my home near Swinley Forest into London quite often and I decided to ride into town to meet a friend for lunch on the ONLY day this winter that the whole of the South came to a complete standstill in the snow.
So the first time I throw my cross bike onto my back and run, is up Ascot hill past the lines of stationary cars just to keep warm! Stopping occasionally to help push a car or two.
If I hadnt actually done it I wouldnt have believed it was possible to ride a road bike on sheet ice and not only stay upright but actually get traction to climb up hills... so that was a 3 hour ride home, past all the people stuck in their cars, a little chilled by the time I got there but very well practised in ice riding with some very steady and constant pedal stokes and easy on the brakes!
So bring on 2010, dry fast trails, good kicks, no mechanicals with ale and cake a plenty....:-)
I look forward to meeting and riding with you all soon.
Happy 2010 and Happy smiley trails.....
Elaine
I'm Elaine and I have been a fat tyre addict for about 4 years.
There... I said it...:-)
The last two have been totally unbearable with me entering, riding or racing anything and everything (OK, well except cross.........yet)
My list of places I want to ride is still longer than the places I have riden & I love my local "trails out the back gate" just as much as I do Afan or the Alps.
I seem to have collected numerous, very expensive bikes and random parts, in my garage fairly rapidly (I really have no idea how that all happened as I am always skint)
MIT.....I ride for fun.
I dont train and seem to do OK racing that way. I always told myself that I will ride as long as I enjoy it and as soon as I find myself riding because I have to or it says so on a chart on my wall then i will stop for a while and climb again (my other passion)
If I have a big event like a 12 hour (No... I will never solo a 24) then I just ride more. I sometimes call it training but thats only to cover up the fact that I am infact going out on the cross bike on the road for a few hours so I dont have to clean it when I get home!.. and to me, thats training rather than riding :-)
I once started crying when I tried to explain to someone just how amazing riding made me feel. So I guess that makes me terminal!.. I realise that I wont feel like this for ever so I am going to ride as often as I can where ever I can and accept that when the mojo goes, which it may well do, then I do something else until it comes back.
I have as yet, NEVER found anything in my life (all 40 years of it!) that gives me the kick that riding my bike does.
An unknown quote I have on the wall in my garage says "Nothing inspires me to ride, riding inspires me to live"...
So 2010 sees me joining Jenn, Fi, Lisa & the other girls cranking it for Minx and I cant wait...
I did quite a few events last year in pairs and solo and have now managed to finish 3, 12 hour solos, 2, 24 hour pairs including the Strathpuffer (NEVER again.. OUCH) and numerous other Enduro and sprint events. I am going to concentrate on Enduro events this year but I daresay I will do my local Gorrick sprint series as its quite the social gathering and I ride with a great local club who are always there to support and cheer me on no matter what jersey I am wearing.
This year I am also racing through the winter which is a first as I usually rest a little!.
The Merida Brass Monkeys Enduro series is 2/3rds of the way through with me with one first and one second place so its all to race for in the last event of the series on the 31st January.
I have also got quite the expert at snow riding this year.....:-)
I ride from my home near Swinley Forest into London quite often and I decided to ride into town to meet a friend for lunch on the ONLY day this winter that the whole of the South came to a complete standstill in the snow.
So the first time I throw my cross bike onto my back and run, is up Ascot hill past the lines of stationary cars just to keep warm! Stopping occasionally to help push a car or two.
If I hadnt actually done it I wouldnt have believed it was possible to ride a road bike on sheet ice and not only stay upright but actually get traction to climb up hills... so that was a 3 hour ride home, past all the people stuck in their cars, a little chilled by the time I got there but very well practised in ice riding with some very steady and constant pedal stokes and easy on the brakes!
So bring on 2010, dry fast trails, good kicks, no mechanicals with ale and cake a plenty....:-)
I look forward to meeting and riding with you all soon.
Happy 2010 and Happy smiley trails.....
Elaine
Sunday, 3 January 2010
kit
My second training ride. 5hrs in sub zero temps.
I wore (from the bottom up)
- thick(ish) merino socks
- shoes
- fleece lined overshoes
- shorts
- fleece lined bib longs with foot loops (but a hole in the knee)
- skin tight long sleeve base layer
- thick merino base layer with thumb holes and zip up the neck
- thick windstopper long sleeve jersey
- gillet
- windstopper gloves
- goretex over-mittens
- buff round the neck
- fleece lined windstopper skull cap
- helmet
- sunglasses
So, what do you reckon? Was I cold, warm or a sweaty mess as I plodded around Monmouthshire and Western Bristol? Answers on a postcard.
Fi
I wore (from the bottom up)
- thick(ish) merino socks
- shoes
- fleece lined overshoes
- shorts
- fleece lined bib longs with foot loops (but a hole in the knee)
- skin tight long sleeve base layer
- thick merino base layer with thumb holes and zip up the neck
- thick windstopper long sleeve jersey
- gillet
- windstopper gloves
- goretex over-mittens
- buff round the neck
- fleece lined windstopper skull cap
- helmet
- sunglasses
So, what do you reckon? Was I cold, warm or a sweaty mess as I plodded around Monmouthshire and Western Bristol? Answers on a postcard.
Fi
Saturday, 2 January 2010
New Year New Focus
For a year there has been no 'training', no real racing, no tricky choices to be made over cake or abstinence. It's been heaven. I needed it, to counter the race-mad culture I had slipped into in 2007/8. Once it stopped being fun I gave myself a good talking to, dusted off the baggy shorts and stripey socks and got out for some serious kicks-n-giggles. A little bit fatter but a little bit wiser.
So how do I find myself in 2010 with an email from BADTri Team Captain congratulating me on my acceptance in to their Road Racing Team?
Is this the End As We Know It?
No. This is the start. They are a great bunch of girls who love 'hoofing it' on road. And with the fitness road racing will give me (believe me I need it) I will be able to hoof it on a mountain bike once again.
So, what of racing mountain bikes?
My mountain bikes are made for racing. I have three gorgeous bikes and am buying a new frame to pimp up my hard tail (big bouncy forks, bling wheels, shiney grey parts... you get the picture). But I don't want to race round in circles any more. I want to sharpen my elbows and race my boyfriend up and down Welsh mountains, race my own shadow round my local trails on those (will they ever arrive) long summers evenings and race the girls round the trail centres with the thrill of a cold bottle of beer egging us on faster and faster. Racing is FUN... bring on the speed!
So 2010 is going to be about going nice and fast and enjoying every second on my bike, no matter what size tyres it has.
But I draw the line at socks on the outside.
So how do I find myself in 2010 with an email from BADTri Team Captain congratulating me on my acceptance in to their Road Racing Team?
Is this the End As We Know It?
No. This is the start. They are a great bunch of girls who love 'hoofing it' on road. And with the fitness road racing will give me (believe me I need it) I will be able to hoof it on a mountain bike once again.
So, what of racing mountain bikes?
My mountain bikes are made for racing. I have three gorgeous bikes and am buying a new frame to pimp up my hard tail (big bouncy forks, bling wheels, shiney grey parts... you get the picture). But I don't want to race round in circles any more. I want to sharpen my elbows and race my boyfriend up and down Welsh mountains, race my own shadow round my local trails on those (will they ever arrive) long summers evenings and race the girls round the trail centres with the thrill of a cold bottle of beer egging us on faster and faster. Racing is FUN... bring on the speed!
So 2010 is going to be about going nice and fast and enjoying every second on my bike, no matter what size tyres it has.
But I draw the line at socks on the outside.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
regressive progression
Friday night. Leave late to miss the traffic, Radio 1, eyes on the drive. Smoothly up the M6, slingshot Glasgow, onwards up the A9, horizon rolling as the mountains cluster around. Haul up in the chosen layby, unfurl sleeping bag in the back and dive for broken sleep.
Rudely awakened. Wrestling into layers in the half-light. Base layer tucked into shorts under mid layer tucked into tights under another mid layer over shorts under vest and jacket zipped right up to the nines. Inhale steam from the stovetop, suffer apple pie and coffee burps for the rest of the day. Pack up, lock up, hit the hills.
Roiling nerves give way to exhilaration. The sun is up - it might not be seen all day but it is up and that's what counts. Miles roll on. Eat, drink. Views absorbed, perils assessed. Decisions made quickly and sensibly before crazier, more stupid ideas can be entertained. Somewhere in the back of your mind a smile grows broader as the crux is passed and the last leg looms. Endings matter less with a long before to give them substance. Watch the sunset, feel not much of anything. Eat, drink. Miles.
Finish in the dark, car safe and small and familiar. Fall around a muddy car park, stripping off to nothing and then layering up again whilst the stovetop steams and the rain returns and you stub your toes painfully on your socks. Black coffee, whole pot of. Scour the car for food. Heater on, radio on. Back on the road, smiling.
j.
Rudely awakened. Wrestling into layers in the half-light. Base layer tucked into shorts under mid layer tucked into tights under another mid layer over shorts under vest and jacket zipped right up to the nines. Inhale steam from the stovetop, suffer apple pie and coffee burps for the rest of the day. Pack up, lock up, hit the hills.
Roiling nerves give way to exhilaration. The sun is up - it might not be seen all day but it is up and that's what counts. Miles roll on. Eat, drink. Views absorbed, perils assessed. Decisions made quickly and sensibly before crazier, more stupid ideas can be entertained. Somewhere in the back of your mind a smile grows broader as the crux is passed and the last leg looms. Endings matter less with a long before to give them substance. Watch the sunset, feel not much of anything. Eat, drink. Miles.
Finish in the dark, car safe and small and familiar. Fall around a muddy car park, stripping off to nothing and then layering up again whilst the stovetop steams and the rain returns and you stub your toes painfully on your socks. Black coffee, whole pot of. Scour the car for food. Heater on, radio on. Back on the road, smiling.
j.
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
on any given
'Cross. Oh, how I love to hate 'cross. The pain, the brevity, warming up on lap four of six before bonking on lap five. Feet and hands that remain icy numb even when the core could be used to cook bacon. Taste of blood at the back of my throat, the glimpse of pink bar tape out of the corner of my eye on that turn which tells me whether I'm gaining, losing, gaining again. Wry laughs on the finish line, familiar hacking cough, hands cramping round the steering wheel on the way home.
Yup, hate it.
I do like northern 'cross better than southern 'cross, though. Southern 'cross is all terribly polite. New white socks for every race. Friendly, even when in the throes of agony. "Excuse me, do you mind if I overtake/undertake/vomit on your rear wheel? Lovely weather we're having. Did you see the latest Rouleur yet? Beautiful layouts. Some rather nice tubs. Anyway. Lovely chatting to you but I must be going. Keep pedaling, nearly there!".
Very nice.
Northern 'cross is different. Harder. Black socks are not uncommon. I have been sworn at, pushed off, elbowed, shoved. Asking around reveals this to be normal, though apparently this year has been worse than any preceding it. Up here I have had a great deal of fun with the sort of riders, all male, who wish they were top ten but have never quite managed to break top fifteen, and aren't used to girls with well-honed elbows who can and do hold their line when they have a legitimate right to it. Who are quite happy to return the verbal abuse they receive, doubled. And who can ride muddy, off-camber singletrack fast enough to keep returning that abuse right into the offending ear until the next flat field section is reached and power overcomes skill once again.
Love it.
j.
Yup, hate it.
I do like northern 'cross better than southern 'cross, though. Southern 'cross is all terribly polite. New white socks for every race. Friendly, even when in the throes of agony. "Excuse me, do you mind if I overtake/undertake/vomit on your rear wheel? Lovely weather we're having. Did you see the latest Rouleur yet? Beautiful layouts. Some rather nice tubs. Anyway. Lovely chatting to you but I must be going. Keep pedaling, nearly there!".
Very nice.
Northern 'cross is different. Harder. Black socks are not uncommon. I have been sworn at, pushed off, elbowed, shoved. Asking around reveals this to be normal, though apparently this year has been worse than any preceding it. Up here I have had a great deal of fun with the sort of riders, all male, who wish they were top ten but have never quite managed to break top fifteen, and aren't used to girls with well-honed elbows who can and do hold their line when they have a legitimate right to it. Who are quite happy to return the verbal abuse they receive, doubled. And who can ride muddy, off-camber singletrack fast enough to keep returning that abuse right into the offending ear until the next flat field section is reached and power overcomes skill once again.
Love it.
j.
Friday, 27 November 2009
carrot and stick
The week begins on Friday. I am knackered. After four days of being away with work I want to ride quite badly. It's raining. Or it could be sleeting. Whatever: it's definitely freezing. Actually, perhaps I don't want to ride so badly. But I should.
So.
Bring forth the carrot:
(Tempting as it is to dive beneath a duvet of pastry and hop-fuzzed warmth 'til spring, that's not going to help. This challenging a tea requires equally arduous miles to earn it. I know this to be fact.)
...and the stick:
(Yes, the weather has been spectacularly bad of late but also it's been just plain spectacular. Something like this is waiting every time I leave the house. Awesome.)
Place carrot on table, keep stick in mind. Endure origamiesque layering protocol. Unhook road bike. Head for the hills. Climb. Climb more. Descend. Climb again. Sunset over Bacup looks f***ing lovely (excuse the language, if you've been there you'll understand why Bacup deserves nothing better and if you haven't - don't be tempted). Return at dusk. Lights on, walking on stumps, fumbling for keys with uselessly numb hands. Unlayer, rewarm, shower whilst oven heats house and pie heats soul.
Job done.
j.
So.
Bring forth the carrot:
(Tempting as it is to dive beneath a duvet of pastry and hop-fuzzed warmth 'til spring, that's not going to help. This challenging a tea requires equally arduous miles to earn it. I know this to be fact.)
...and the stick:
(Yes, the weather has been spectacularly bad of late but also it's been just plain spectacular. Something like this is waiting every time I leave the house. Awesome.)
Place carrot on table, keep stick in mind. Endure origamiesque layering protocol. Unhook road bike. Head for the hills. Climb. Climb more. Descend. Climb again. Sunset over Bacup looks f***ing lovely (excuse the language, if you've been there you'll understand why Bacup deserves nothing better and if you haven't - don't be tempted). Return at dusk. Lights on, walking on stumps, fumbling for keys with uselessly numb hands. Unlayer, rewarm, shower whilst oven heats house and pie heats soul.
Job done.
j.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
The High Life (in the High Peak)
How amazing is winter riding in the High Peak?
Staying with The Wife, The Husband and The Arthur for the weekend was already going to be a pleasure (think amazing food, an open fire, underfloor heating and a lot of banter) but when we set off for our Sunday ride, which had The Wife hopping up and down with excitement ("you'll love it, it's amazing, there's this bit with this drop and then this other bit with this rocky section and...") we had no idea how gorgeous the next 3 hours of our life would be.
I've ridden in the High Peak a few times. Admittedly mostly at night. But I'd never been here
or seen this
or seen The Boy ride so well before:
I tend to restrict my riding to trail centres in the winter. No longer. I'm moving North.
F
Staying with The Wife, The Husband and The Arthur for the weekend was already going to be a pleasure (think amazing food, an open fire, underfloor heating and a lot of banter) but when we set off for our Sunday ride, which had The Wife hopping up and down with excitement ("you'll love it, it's amazing, there's this bit with this drop and then this other bit with this rocky section and...") we had no idea how gorgeous the next 3 hours of our life would be.
I've ridden in the High Peak a few times. Admittedly mostly at night. But I'd never been here
or seen this
or seen The Boy ride so well before:
I tend to restrict my riding to trail centres in the winter. No longer. I'm moving North.
F
Friday, 13 November 2009
All good
Sometimes it's about riding hard. Elbows in, breathless, screaming muscles, making that climb, adrenaline pumping, stomach rising, no dabbing, nailing that descent. And sometimes, it isn't. Sometimes it's rolling up the leg of your jeans and pootling to the shops for smoothies to have with a loved one. It's all riding. It's all good.
Friday, 6 November 2009
Rain
On Sunday in the Lake District it rained. All night Saturday and all day Sunday. I was doing a 5hr adventure race with a friend (who recently produced The Arthur but is still fit as a fiddle). We set off on the run, feet splashing down the tarmac lane and then mud oozing through the mesh in our trainers as we turned up hill on the muddy bridleway.
Steady, slippery rocks, lethal roots. "This'd be fun to ride", I'd say.
2hrs later we jumped on our bikes and wheeled them over the churned up field before slinging a leg over the saddle and pedalling hard up through the village to try and warm up (pancake in mouth). A strong climb up a gravelling bridleway got the blood flowing and saw was our first experience of the River Cumbria.
All of Cumbria was a river.
Every bridleway had a few inches of white tumbling water frothing over it, rushing down the hillside. Some steeper hills had become waterfalls and it was like night riding, not being able to quite see where the obstacles were. Weight back, heels down, let the bike bump over the invisible rocks. Feel your feet hard back on the pedals, socks full of water. Gorgeous technical, rocky descents, dancing over slimey roots and popping the bike around steep, rutted corners. Through the water.
Shooting hard along a flat bridleway the puddles got deeper and deeper. The description for the checkpoint was 'stream crossing' but how could we know? Everywhere was under water. Ploughing hard through a deep puddle, the ground suddenly sunk away and I was up to my hips, still pedalling, giggling. Sue screaming at me with a big grin on her face. Then 'whoosh'. the bike swept away and I slid off on my side into the water. I watched my bike tyres float up to the surface and get stuck in a bank to our left, caught by the torrent that was coming from the right, down the hillside... the stream! We found our checkpoint and hurried on through to get back before our time limit was up.
Fi
Steady, slippery rocks, lethal roots. "This'd be fun to ride", I'd say.
2hrs later we jumped on our bikes and wheeled them over the churned up field before slinging a leg over the saddle and pedalling hard up through the village to try and warm up (pancake in mouth). A strong climb up a gravelling bridleway got the blood flowing and saw was our first experience of the River Cumbria.
All of Cumbria was a river.
Every bridleway had a few inches of white tumbling water frothing over it, rushing down the hillside. Some steeper hills had become waterfalls and it was like night riding, not being able to quite see where the obstacles were. Weight back, heels down, let the bike bump over the invisible rocks. Feel your feet hard back on the pedals, socks full of water. Gorgeous technical, rocky descents, dancing over slimey roots and popping the bike around steep, rutted corners. Through the water.
Shooting hard along a flat bridleway the puddles got deeper and deeper. The description for the checkpoint was 'stream crossing' but how could we know? Everywhere was under water. Ploughing hard through a deep puddle, the ground suddenly sunk away and I was up to my hips, still pedalling, giggling. Sue screaming at me with a big grin on her face. Then 'whoosh'. the bike swept away and I slid off on my side into the water. I watched my bike tyres float up to the surface and get stuck in a bank to our left, caught by the torrent that was coming from the right, down the hillside... the stream! We found our checkpoint and hurried on through to get back before our time limit was up.
Fi
Saturday, 24 October 2009
'Tis the season
for night riding. Gotta love a slightly spooky pedal round unfamiliar trails in the dark. Especially when those trails turn into bike and rider swallowing bogs. Nothing quite like a Friday night carrying your bike across a quagmire. Still, justifies the chippy tea doesn't it?
Vikki
Friday, 23 October 2009
The rubbishness of 2009 continues apace with this:
However, before that happened I went here:
...and rode lots of stuff like this:
...with friends like this:
...and finishing up with this:
Despite being confined to the road bike, I'm still enjoying plenty of this:
and have even more of this:
...to look forward to.
New year, please.
j.
However, before that happened I went here:
...and rode lots of stuff like this:
...with friends like this:
...and finishing up with this:
Despite being confined to the road bike, I'm still enjoying plenty of this:
and have even more of this:
...to look forward to.
New year, please.
j.
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Note to self
When cycling to the parcel office it is best not to forget a bag or the ride home will involve my jacket having to accommodate more than just my belly.
Vikki
Vikki
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