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
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Bbbrrrrrr
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
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
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
foursome
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.
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.
Saturday, 20 November 2010
SSWC10NZ
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
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
Friday, 19 November 2010
Rob Penn
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.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
winter's here. note to self...
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.
Monday, 18 October 2010
Country Mouse Goes to Town
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
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
friends in high places
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.
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.
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Cross is back
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, 4 October 2010
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Guilty?
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
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
Friday, 24 September 2010
things of beauty
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.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Midweek microadventure
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
Vikki
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
tour of britain.
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.
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.
Friday, 10 September 2010
The Terrex (3)
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...
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...
Thursday, 9 September 2010
The Terrex (2)
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...
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
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.”
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
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)
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...
... to be continued...
Sunday, 5 September 2010
Big Wheels
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
Vikki
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