Wind and wine.

Friends are visiting. A couple of days of too much food and drink and not enough sleep meant there was a danger of them driving home again with their bikes having seen nothing but the inside of their car. The Lancashire weather lived up to it's current form and this morning gave us gave us howling Easterlies mixed in with intermittent drizzle. Despite the elements, fatigue and fat we forced ourselves out to ride just long enough to justify a big roast dinner and the opening of another bottle of wine! A good time was had by all.

Vikki

honc if you're hungry

Yesterday was our annual Cotswolds excursion for HoNC. Since I started doing this event the number of 'cross bikes present has dwindled to a handful and is swamped by mountain bikes of all sorts. Which is odd, really, because why would you take a 6" travel bike on a 100km ride which has an absolute minimum of technical trails, a fair amount of tarmac and not one mountain? Hmm.



We'll stick with the (pictured, dishing out sweeties) niche, I think. There's always a fair amount of satisfaction in picking off mtb'ers one by one on the descents. And the climbs. And the long flat drags into the wind, heckling as we go. Yup, cross bikes rule. And it's got to be a unique event where you see a Daimler pull into the car park with a Whyte Preston on the back...

As for the legs - happy. Climbing well, easy spinning along the tops, descending not too mince-ily and the hollow bell of an empty tummy only made itself present at the top of the very last descent from Cleeve. Rah.

nearly there...

of the north, more later. for now - this evening. rode with an old friend. favourite trails, warm sun. much chat.
lovely.

j.

Competetive moment

I wouldn't describe myself as a naturally competetive person, but on my commute home last night I had a definite moment. Downhill from a set of traffic lights I was having to apply a bit of brake as my fixed gear legs were in danger of whirring into a situation of no return when another bike passed me. I can't quite put my finger on what it was about being passed, a situation that never usually bothers me, but something just caused me to make a ridiculously determined effort to catch up with this other rider on the following uphill. Out of my saddle stomping away I just managed to be a wheezing, near puking wreck of a girl right on his back wheel at the next red light. Fortunately I came to my senses and let it go, the rest of the ride home was without incident.

Vikki

North of The Border.

Me and a few friends just had a long weekend away North of The Border in Scotland, first time I've ridden the trails up there and it was ace. Did a Cycleactive skills day on Friday at Ae Forest, a bit of a refresher on some of the basics plus learning a few new techniques, much grinning when mastering the wheelie! Then over to Peebles for riding at Glentress. This bit of the trip was absolutely tip-top. Superb riding, rooms booked at The Hydro meant haggis as an option for breakfast and post ride jacuzzi and steam room. The best cakes ever and a bike shop full of shiney niceness at The Hub and the snow seemed to keep the midges down. Hibernian cycling heaven.

Vikki

celebration

the clocks have sprung for spring and this is 7.30pm:



so it's definitly time for the last one. i saved it for the end of winter; just like i always save a little bit of christmas for the end of winter, because january and february are long, lean times and somehow all that festivity never seems to do much more than underline the endlessness of the later, longer quarter of the year. a week's perfectly timed holiday awaits; the work is done, the email is off, the batteries are charged and the bike is loaded. may it be a long one.

terror!

so, today has been like christmas, knocks on the door all day - mostly work stuff, but also a big box of GDR equipment from the lovely people at Snow & Rock... and then these arrived:



cue several very excited laps of the kitchen before i dared risk handling sharp implements.

s o e x c i t e d !

thirty thirty zero

so, eleven was the stopping point, not just of the challenge but of the winter. prior to commencement i had embarked on the rest week that marked the end of the big volume miles for this year. it is a well known fact that rest weeks are when you will get sick, if you have overdone it (well it's meant to be if, with me it's usually when...). i overdid it so much that it took the whole rest week and another week of still feeling inexplicably tired and not really doing very much and then i got sick. ha. cease all activity, 'just' sleeping, daytime tv, no energy to be bored or even really worry about the shrinking legs, 'just' two weeks and the healing is done.

the first ride back was glorious, not least because it confirmed that less is more (a lesson i am apt to forget), my legs were still there and i hadn't missed spring, at all - rain sleet hail snow sleet gales, repeat.

unfortunately now every time i stick my nose out the door i am greeted with an endless procession of these big fat bulldozer clouds, rolling in on a north-westerly and full of weather that doesn't rain so much as torrent down out of the sky taking all the colour with it.



still, rivers for trails means no tyre tracks and hence all the super-local-super-cheek is currently fair game and i've ridden every day this week without really thinking about it and with a fat grin on my face. lovely.

Weather beaten

Rode last night with Amy. As tough as we are, we are not tougher than Mother Nature. Hail, sideways rain and blasting winds. Out on the moors, it became near impossible to keep going, common sense prevailed at some point and we got back to the road. We pedalled against the wind downhill. Soaked to the skin, numb hands, shoes full of water. The Black Dog at Belmont was a welcome sight as we finally made it to our patiently waiting other halves. Much needed good food and beer soon had Amy deciding that actually the weather hadn't been that bad, and what a good ride it had been, I think I'll need to get some rose tints fitted to my riding glasses before I can agree with her.

Vikki

A whisper

While lurking on the Singletrack blog I caught a whisper of news that some extra places were available for SSUK 08 I fired off a quick email to the race organisers, and I'm in! So 44 days to transform myself into either a race whippet or a girl who can hold her beer. Training needed either way!

Vikki

Surprise parcels

Ohmigod..... pink Sit 'n' Spin pants and Twizzle skirts just arrived from Canada. Running round trying to get Mr Minx to take a photo so we can put them on the site. One of each in my size already snaffled for (ahem) work wear.

Minx

Jamie knows nothing!

Jamie Oliver TV adverts about hot cross buns meaning winter is over, ha, that's what I say! Get up here and ride the rolling roads of the West Pennines. The first 15 minutes of todays ride was dry the rest of it was wet, cold and some more wet. My toes went numb (I have scrounged some overshoes for my next ride). A tad over 20 miles of this was enough so we headed to the safety of Amy's house where I had to borrow dry clothes and glug hot tea. Thanks to Ali for rustling up lovely plates of warming pasta. Apparently I do this for fun!

Vikki

six seven eight nine and ten

six - harveys run via cheeky trails
seven - the annual excursion to yorkshire for a beasting, which turned out to be rather fun thanks to a Pace 305, good friends and great fish'n'chips
eight - frenetic woodland tech, far beyond my current limits and only broadening the grin
nine - easing stiff driving legs with a spin between hailstorm and sunset
ten - the only let-down - 60 minutes and 27 seconds on the turbo because i was justifiably too scared to ride outside with bits of fence and rooftop whizzing about the village...

j.

Punctures!

A lot of singlespeed crunching and pushing uphill to Peel Tower. The reward of the nice bit of riding from there over the moors was stolen away by a series of punctures, a lack of planning to bring enough spare tubes and an impending menacing weather front. Ride abandoned. I have however discovered I can run alongside my bike at quite a pace over a surprising distance if I think my car ride back to my dinner depends on it.

Vikki

Struggle

Rode this morning and it was a struggle. I didn't seem to have the energy and the legs for the climbs and I didn't seem to have the nerve for the descents. This made for a lot of frustration and more pushing than I would normally do.

Vikki

5/30

just a spin, shifting snot... forgot that proper recovery weeks of doing bugger all* leave me with the fidgets like nothing else. gngnnh.

j.

*yes, i am aware that 10 hours of riding a week is not actually bugger all but it's all relative, isn't it...

Cake, shopping and giggling.

Road ride today with friends, 58 miles. A fab food stop, really good cake. 2 bike shops visited for a little spend (mmmm new road shoes). So much giggling it bordered on hysteria at times. Top day out. I'm a bit tired now though.

Vikki

4/30

i spend a lot of bike time hauling junk.

on mondays (or what passes for them) i carry all the clothing and accoutrements required for a week at work twenty-five miles along the coast - usually a three or four kilo load. on equivalent fridays i drag it all home again. in between times there are parts to ferry from one place of work to another, laundry to shuffle when the washing machine breaks down and ride gear for before/after work rides on other bikes, food shopping to collect and library books/mail to deposit on my way through town, and all the odds and ends like phone, diary, tools, ipod, lock, etc that congregate unseen in dark corners conspiring to add another kilo to the load.

all this schlepping has finally worn out my old, prized, beloved timbuk2. the lining, though not pierced in any place that i can see, is no longer waterproof. the clasp doesn't clasp properly anymore. the whole bag smells like wet dog in the rain. that bag is part of me. my left shoulder and left abs are a different shape to the right, just because i've carried everything off the left shoulder for five years. putting it on is the tightest hug and sometimes when the weather is very cold or very wet i'll carry it anyway even though the items i actually need to take with me would easily fit into my pockets, just to get the snug warmth shining through my back, to know that the little reflective tabs are fluttering out behind me in the darkness and like the eyes on a butterfly making me seem bigger and tougher than i really am.

hauling junk gets me down. it makes hill climbs hard. it rules out any fun stuff like, er, intervals. and sometimes if i don't pack the bag right and there's some unspecified object digging into my ribs all the way to or from wherever it is i'm going no matter how much i snap and jerk the bag about trying to shake it loose, it can mess things up to the point where i want to sling the whole lot into the middle of the a27 and watch it be flattened by the 700 coastway sled.

but the ability to remain self-sufficient, to exist within my own physical limits, is heartening. i don't own a car. i could have done with one tonight grinding my way slowly up the hill out of town against a northerly wind, with a heavy load and tired legs from too much yoga and a bit of a sore throat that may or may not be a cold in waiting. but then i would have been parked in the traffic jam i was carefully picking my way along.

the fact that the human brain can adapt to the size of an object that alters its proportions (in this case, one full timbuk2 topped off with a new ergon bd-2 strapped untidily to the top, its stiff harness sticking out above my left shoulder at transit wing mirror height making me six inches wider) and judge clearances accordingly without any apparent difficulty is amazing. likewise the human body's ability to still carry weight despite years of machine dependance. read some of the iditarod reports. start with jill homer. and carry your own stuff to work.

j.

3/30

more recovery. three hours of dismal frigid grey aching tedium. but i quit my job too, in preperation for the summer, so that's an up. i think...

j.

'er indoors

At a time when everyone else seems to be getting back out into the patchy outbreaks of Spring sunshine I seem to be spending more time inside. Years spent in gyms in pursuit of well-developed rowing thighs (aim achieved some years ago thanks - now will someone tell me how to get rid of them?) gave me a healthy aversion to the places. But needs (or knees) must and the gym allows me to do the sort if intensive work that, once I stopped pretending I didn't need to, really helps my badly put together joints.

The only trouble is that I seem not to be able to let it lie. Once the required hour on the cross trainer and all the physio exercises were complete, yesterday I couldn't help wandering over to the Concept 2 rower. Or Ergo as we used to call it when, pre- lifestyle makeover, it was a bolted together instrument of torture that sat in the corner of the rowing club with the special aroma of sweaty towelling (yes really) shorts. It couldn't hurt to try could it? Oh, that's interesting I can still achieve the same sort of power output, hmmm.... how does that work over 2000m then? I'll just go on a bit longer and a bit.... you can see where this is going to end can't you? But you know what? I reckon with some training I could get close to my old personal (twenty years ago) best.

Slippery slope and self-delusion not pictured.

Minx

2/30

a 'proper' 63 minute recovery ride. confess i dawdled to make it count. lambs and primroses shivering in the wintry wind, the last of the christmas cake and tea for afters. strange mix of seasons.

j.

Mow Cop

Mow Cop is a big hill, part of the Cheshire Cat Cyclosportive route. It's a 1 in 4 gradient. It's a tough climb. Thanks to Amy for persuading me to go and ride it in the sunshine and thanks to John for being our tour guide for the day. (Oh OK then I'll admit it I did have to pause part way up but I didn't resort to off and pushing).

Vikki

1/30

30/30 timely arrives to drag me out of this hole.

home from work, still chewing wasps climbing the last hill to home, riding not being the salve it has been. caught by a barn owl, finally full grown and looming huge in the dusk, hunting between hedge, field and ditch ahead, alongside, behind and ahead once more, unconcerned by my presence, utterly enchanting.

later sit on the doorstep for a while, watch the sky, feel the breeze. quiet. i like it here.

j.

Sunrise and bacon.

The photo shows Amy riding up to meet me at Rivington Pike very early this morning. Inspired by reading the blog of another local rider we decided to do a breakfast ride. Between us we took a stove, pan, plate, oil, bacon, ketchup, bread rolls and orange juice (neither of us thought to bring a fork so the bacon was flipped using a tyre lever). Breakfast was underway while the sun was still rising. It was freezing up there, I had no idea bacon could take so long to fry in such conditions (it took a while for the penny to drop and make us use the plate as a lid to speed up the cooking). Even though we'd both packed lots of extra clothes we both got pretty cold, my hands were numb for most of the ride down which made for some precarious braking. An absolutely top way to start the day though.

Vikki

Perfect evening.

Singlespeed nightride with a pub stop. I'm sure the beer had nothing to do with my stalling in the middle of a lake like puddle and having no choice but to put my foot down. Arrived home smiling with wet socks and an appetite. Husband has been dispatched to the curry shop for takeaway! Perfect evening.

Vikki

Windy

It's a myth but I'm sure we've all heard that thing that Eskimo people have 50 words for snow, well out road riding in the West Pennines today we needed 50 words for wind. It was blowy, gusting, howling etc etc etc. It was unbelievably windy, and curiously in a 50 or so mile ride the wind was only behind us on two small sections the rest of the time it did into your face with eye watering velocity or whipped side on causing serious road bike wobble. The last hill of the day, which is particularly brutal, was double tough as I had to pedal hard to get up it and still pedal to get down the other side.

Vikki

How bad can it be?

So, somehow I seem to have agreed to step in as Amy's team mate for Trans-Wales. It's 6 months away, but already I'm lurching between excitement and terror!

Vikki

More beers than gears*

So a few posts back I was writing about needing to get myself psyched up to take the singlespeed plunge, well I did more than just dip my toe today. A few chats with regular riding buddy Amy revealed that she too was interested in singlespeeding, a bit of partner not looking credit card waving by her and today we were both ready to ride offroad with no gears. Me and my bike got dropped of at Amy's this morning and we thought we might manage a few miles from her place, we anticipated a lot of pushing, we expected pain, we thought there'd be sweat, I fully expected to spend the ride tasting blood. But, you know what, it was brilliant. We both loved it. We ended up doing 20 miles, 810m climbing, a pub stop half way for burger and beer. It was different to our normal full suss, geared riding, not necessarily harder, just different. Now I'm not into giving lectures, but if anyone reading is thinking of trying a different sort of riding but is hesitant, then don't be, go for it. If you're thinking about making that first ever road ride, or venturing offroad for the first time, or wondering if the track might be the place for you. Me and Amy have the grins today to prove that stepping out of your comfort zone is a good thing.

Vikki

*More beers than gears

just around the corner

So, when race day starts like this you know it's going to be a good one...

Actually it started in the dark, at 4.30am. There are very few things I'd get up that early to drive three hours for but the Thetford winter enduros qualify, because they are consistently so much fun.

Where else can you find yourself giggling out loud as you lean the bike deeper and deeper into the luscious, swooping, buffed-to-perfection berms, pumping the dips and loving the last minute decision to put the super-grippy, super-wrapped summer tyres on in February as shoulders brush tree trunks at what feels like 45 degrees whilst following riders recede in your virtual rear view mirror?

"Yay, jump to berm! *hup* woooo! bwarrrrrppppp..."

First and second place ladies, supposedly immersed in a "ding-dong battle" but actually just having a good old natter about downhilly time trials and long travel forks...

"You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"

Short sleeves, unzipped, the red dancing shoes and the white summer socks undug from the bottom of the sock box in anticipation of a tan.

And nearly, but not quite, getting back for that eighth lap, despite working so damn hard, but not really minding, because it'll all be there next year.

Summer is going to be good.

Spooky ectoplasm head picture.

Night riding. Scary, but so much fun!

Vikki

Sunglasses and bare legs!

I've been a lazy cycling commuter for most of the winter, the odd half-hearted attempt, but the train is so inviting when it's pouring with rain. Oh, but today, what a day? A day for riding if there ever was one. Sunglasses and bare bits of leg, in February! 15 miles of seaside riding for me this morning, so much smiling, so many cheery hellos. Every light was green, every roundabout clear, car drivers were courteous, the wind behind me, you know the sort of thing, absolute perfection. The cycling was great, the rest of my day was shit, but there you go you take the rough with the smooth!

Vikki

Rocks, food and a bike shop.

The Lake District for a perfect day out with friends today. We rode and carried our bikes over some rocks, had some top quality food and browsed in a bike shop. Need I say more?

Vikki

All day just riding and laughing.

I rode with my friend Amy yesterday. We did a big offroad ride, I left my house after breakfast and needed my lights for the last 8 or so miles. It was one of those days where we laughed a lot. We laughed at the mud, the face stinging rain, the constant stopping to change clothes, my bizarre decision to use a wind ravaged portaloo on a hilltop rather than find a modesty-tree, the man who told us off for cheeky footpath use (we were suitably contrite to his face but we giggled afterwards). We laughed at cows blocking the trail, crazy dogs, near misses with tractors and finding a hole in the fence next to the section where we always have to lift our bikes over the gate. We didn't laugh when we stopped at our favourite pub (which had been specifically factored into the choice of route) to discover they had stopped serving food. There was no funny side to a lack of chips! A great day out and when I got home I rewarded myself with more pancakes than would normally be considered polite. We're planning another all day ride for next week but with pub opening hours to be researched more thoroughly ahead of time.

Vikki

mirth

found on an acf post titled sometimes i want to give up:

I find it useful to call upon the Giant Rabbit of Righteousness. He weighs 63 tonnes and if you call to him he'll happily land atop and flatten any number of cabs before bouncing off to right other wrongs.

For something so large and furry, he has a keen sense of justice.

greatly amusing, from this viewpoint at least :o)

j.

take more care.

Hmmmmmm.

I have been somewhat stressed of late. Simple things (like, er, eating - sorry Mum!) tend to take a back seat when I'm stressed. With the current mileage this means instant and dramatic weight loss (2kgs in a week? ffs) and - hey presto - a cold.

Actually, it's Girl Flu and I am dying.

Or not.

Whatever it is, it's kept me in bed and off the bike for two whole days whilst spring begins. I saw crocuses flowering in the sunshine on Saturday afternoon and reports from the hill say the trails are nearly dry.

Arse.

j.

Singlespeed psych.

Following on from my previous post about being so rubbish riding uphill and the strange paradox as to whether I'll be better without gears I'll be giving it a go offroad! I have a suitable frame that I've been using for short commute duties with slick 26" tyres. Yesterday was spent spannering, it's now fitted with nobbly tyres, a 32 tooth chainring at the front and a 16 tooth ring at the back, on a freewheel I hasten to add. (If you're looking for tales of fixed offroading then read Cellarrats blog). Took it for a test pedal yesterday through the puddles on the very flat disused railway line near my house just to check none of the bits dropped off. Need to psych myself up to trying it on a hill now!

Confessions of a lazy climber.

I'm rubbish at riding up hills, there I've said it, out in the open for all the world to know. I am your classic click, click, click, down granny ring, horrifically slow climber. I rode Llandegla at the weekend with girls from the shecycles forum and was requested to pedal faster going up a climb because quite frankly I was in the way. This inability to stomp up hills is why I bought a fixed gear bike, if anything will turn me into a pedalling demon thought I it's a bike where you can't not pedal. So, now for the second confession of this blog entry, I've not been out properly from my house on the fixie because everywhere is uphill, and I've been scared to try it. Until today.

Bullet bitten, off I set. Things I noticed on my ride, I'm better at riding uphill fixed than with gears, seriously, I just pedalled really steadily and sort of glided uphill, I even liked it! I am seriously considering that I might be better on a single speed for off road riding too (or is that just too insane). Fixed gear riding is hot, two layers of everything was not necessary. I do need to wear a belt with my Swrve capris, trying to pull your trousers up while riding is not a good strategy. People who drive Mercedes cars are not good at sharing the road. Very small dogs and old ladies are a hazard. And finally, track stands not only look quite cool, they will prove useful at traffic lights I must learn how to do them.

Vikki

puffered out

Damnit that was good. And very much a race of two halves. Not chronologically, but simultaneous opposing events, thoughts and feelings...

Arrive in Inverness (yay!) to discover bike not there (no!). Frantic phonecalls to three different ParcelFarce offices finally yield a bike not in Perth but on a lorry on its way to Inverness (yay!). Meanwhile Jac and the campervan are lost somewhere snowy (no!). Long wait in which we get to be excitedly annoying to everyone else at the airport before Jac turns up, we find the PF depot and the bike and drive to Strathpeffer (yay!).

Lots of long faces at Strathpeffer - event may be cancelled due to the wind blowing away the campsite, the timing system and marquees and the rain rendering the campsite a flooded and unusable mess during the day (no!). Find alternative parking arrangements for camper vans, meet up with TSPC and JRA, and sup on pot noodles and red wine and listen mostly to other people talking comfortable nonsense before a short but happy sleep (yay!).

Wake and discover race is on (yay!). Drive to race site and realise we will be towed onto the field by tractor (a very big and scary no! for Jac who is driving, an excited yay! for me and anyone else who likes watching tractors hooning around muddy fields). Set up, build bike, race time (yay!). Forget to eat breakfast, as usual (no!).

Girls have good first laps (yay!), despite returning to report a course covered liberally with "boiler plate ice" (new one on me too - imagine two inches of highly polished glass on every surface of the trail and you're there). By contrast my first lap is utter crap, I can't ride the tech stuff and am mincing around like, well, a girl, full of demons and loathing for slabby rocks that might bite me, and of course at the top of the first climb I slip on the ice (having cleaned the whole climb) and land kneecap-first on the only pointy rock visible above the ice, resulting in being unable to push on the pedals for a bit. When I peel back the shorts afterwards to inspect the damage I have to remove a bit of torn lycra from the neat puncture wound... substantial and resounding no.

Eat a bit, more laps, head down with Jac to wait for Emily, by this point it's dark but we wait and wait and then wait some more... Every voice in head is making quiet but insistent negative noises, overruled by hope which says it's a puncture, it's light failure, it's just a bit muddy, it's a puncture... Then Emily's bike comes down the hill accompanied by someone who is clearly not Emily. **** no! A few garbled attempts at communication with a marshall later and we find our team-mate in the first aid van (yay!) with the first aiders trying gamely to remove her stuck Specialized shoe ratchets. We can't free them either and the scissors come out, the shoes come off and eventually after some prodding and head-scratching we lose our girl to A&E (no!)

The race must go on, Jac hands over to me and I head out for a double. And finally it is FANTASTIC. Absobloodylutely amazing. The rocks click, the bike clicks, I manage a clear run through nearly all the technical sections on both laps and I have a real, rare, bike-and-girl-as-one moment that goes on and on and on and on. YAY.

Then I have to try and stifle the giggling because I remember about Emily and feel bad for having so much fun (no!). Turns out she's back from A&E, where it's been established that her knee is congenitally freakish but not seriously damaged, and is quite happy for me to gibber excitedly at her about how good the laps were (yay!).

It is dark and cold, the trails remain icy and treachorous and a double lap takes its toll on Jac, who returns and vanishes vanwards declaring that she's tired and going to bed and will only come out again for her last lap (no!). Due to the tow-in, our camp is scattered and the temporary loss of another team member requires time juggling which hurts my tired head immensely - so to make it simpler I decide that I'll just do Jac's missing laps for her, which means I'm out for a triple, which strangely enough doesn't bother me in the slightest (yay!). Everyone is tired and emotional and there is a hint of friction in the air, I just want to get out and ride because this is the bit that I hate about racing as a team, when the interactions between people get skewed because of external factors, when everybody's tired and scratchy...

Waiting for my turn to ride I pop to the timing tent and find Phil standing dead still just staring at his bike. After a quick poke about with a torch it transpires that he's somehow snapped the pin off the centre of his disc brake piston, the pads keep falling out and he's done four laps without knowing why he only had a front brake (no!). I send him out for another lap (if he's done four then he'll manage another without incident) and dash off to get my gear together for a lap and find a donor brake for Phil.

The race mechanic has no spares so it's back to the van to beg/borrow/steal - except the van is now full of sleeping bags and snoring as the TSPC gave up to the lure of beer and sleep some time ago (no!). I am about to start removing my own brake when I spy someone lurking round the back of the van - it's Dave, having a moment's peace in the moonlight and in his quiet, matter-of-fact way says yes, of course you can have the brake from my Rig, it's already had bits pilfered from it and I'll bring it round in a sec. Big, happy, friends-are-ace hugs and warm feelings (yay!).

So, back to see Bec go through on the first of her two laps, then wait for Phil. And wait... and wait... Eventually he arrives, looking grey and wobbly (no!), I sit him down in front of the heater and set about speed-fitting the donor brake whilst he shovels jelly babies down his neck and continues his conversation with Paddington Bear. Concentrating hard I do the job quickly and well and I realise that I'm proud of being able to do this, fix my mate's bike competently when he's in need (yay!). And I only get a couple of blood blisters from struggling to use the pilfered pair of tuff-cuts to get the zip ties off with cold fingers (no! and ouch!). Send him out with a working bike and a tired grin on his face, and then I'm out for my triple, which turns out not the be the panacea I'd hoped for because in all the rush to fix Phil's bike I forgot to feed myself so bonk horribly halfway round the second lap (no!).

Shovelling gels down my neck has no effect whatsoever, and I'm struggling to hold onto the bars, so between laps two and three I head back to the tent (where Phil is now asleep in front of the heater, tights gently smoking) and mainline custard, crisps, G&B and more gels, a sugar injection that gets me to the top of the first climb before the joy of the moonlight and the first hint of dawn takes over (yay!). I'm still riding well, the few marshalls on course are still cheery and vocal despite the fact that they must be absolutely frozen and the mountains are still looking gorgeous. On reflection, it's all okay really. Back to the campsite, hand over to Bec and then go back to the van to find a rested and much happier Jac (yay!) preparing for her last lap.

I have one more to do, it is the last but there are few of those 'last lap' feelings (no!), perhaps as result of the more-difficult-than-usual logistics, or not doing all the riding, just not much of the glow. Instead I concentrate on chasing the riders in front and riding well, I get clear runs at nearly all the tech sections, including one of the bridges that's scared me off the bike each lap to the amusement of the marshalls (confession: I am allergic to planks), clear the worst climbs too and catch, pass and definitively drop a rider from the team in front for good measure (yay!).

Back and done, I hand over to Jac who heads up the hill like a girl possessed, and wander off to get clean and warm. The weather is stunning, all blue skies and speeding clouds over the hill, and we're pleased to have survived what could have been a disastrous mess, relatively unscathed. Showers, pig rolls, prize giving (we get lovely second-place china cups that are just the right size for a good coffee, and Phil's mum is sweetly far more excited by the wee bit of paper proclaiming him first singlespeeder than by the gorgeous Boone ti cog that is his prize), and hanging around in the sun all follow (yay!). Goodbyes are said (no!) and the van is swiftly and unceremoniously towed off the quagmire by the same grinning tractor driver leaving us to retire to the town for supper and a well-earned sleep...(yay!).

Hanging around the bike shop next morning we concur that though northern Scotland is a long way to go for a race, Strathpuffer is one we'll return to. The vibe, the location and the brilliant course all combined to make it really something special, despite the frankly barmy conditions. The biggest yay! should of course go to the organisers who worked through the night to make the event work after the disasters of the week; sometimes all you can do is accomodate Mother Nature, work around her and hope that she offers up just a little cooperation. There is talk of no race next year; I for one hope it goes ahead because I would (ahem) quite like to solo, with a little less of the emotional rollercoaster to weather. And yes, I'll be buying some ice tyres...

j.

40 days and 40 nights.

We've had a lot of rain here. Conditions more suited to an ark than a bike didn't stop me and Amy from getting out there and riding this morning. A lot of washed out, rutted bits of track, a lot of mud, a lot of very big puddles. And, I'll admit I didn't know it was possible for my shoes to become so saturated (I could feel the water slooshing up towards my toes on the final down hill of the morning). But, it was fun!

Vikki
 

puffer prep

finishing off the last of the packing for strathpuffer. bike and large bulky items (down jacket, sleeping bag, pot noodles) should already be there. socks paired, buffs collected. lights and batteries begged borrowed and stole.



not quite sure what gatwick security will make of this lot but with talk of sheet ice on the course up there and planes falling out of the sky down here frankly it will be a small miracle if i just get to the airport without any emotional hiccups. sigh.

j.

another day, another dollar...

Funny how perspective alters perception. What was a long ride to work, now often seems like a quick, painless hop on a Monday morning after an epic weekend. (And at yet others is still the longest ride in the world.) Like popping to the corner shop for milk, 25 miles pass in the blink of an eye.

One person's much-vaunted 'New Year Ride' makes my seventh consecutive January day on the bike and would bring the mileage up to 300 for the week. Part timers.

Riding, riding, riding.

And in the meantime the rest of my life is crumbling at the seams. It's a juggling act in which I completely fail to keep any of the balls in the air and instead just hold tightly onto the easy one whilst the rest roll aimlessly around my feet.

Clean socks are a thing of the past and I have resorted to pairing up the odd ones. Anything that takes longer than overnight to dry stays in the washing basket whilst the same quick-dry, easy-access kit is on heavy rotation. Heaven forbid I should have to go out...

All the bikes are dirty. All the time. Not mud-dirty, not the stuff that falls on the kitchen floor and so must be removed mostly in good time and before they come into the house, but drive-dirty. That black, sticky, tenacious muck that takes a concerted effort to remove from the chain and sprockets and is easier to just, well, clean around...

Pleasure in food is a once-weekly festival where I cook a supper big enough that the leftovers do for the rest of the week, and bake bread and flapjacks to keep me going in between times, when I get home too late for supper and need something 'real' to satiate the curious hollow/full feeling of Rego. The punching and kneading of the dough being good and different thinking time, making up for the focus that riding's become.

And pleasure in riding is reserved for a moment sitting on top of the hill just looking, thinking, soaking up memories both present and past for the future; and for the glow of the last hill of a 130 mile day. Few are greater. Except maybe good, strong, hot sweet tea.



Meanwhile...

The work doesn't get done.

The planning remains loose.

And I have worn out a saddle through sheer mileage, not old age, for the first time in my life.

At some point in the very near future I am going to have to back off on the miles a bit (okay, a lot), both to focus on some speed and power (more singlespeed, yay), and to claw back some semblance of reality (more real world, boo). But before that, Cyclogs tells me that I'm up to 505 miles already this month, in my conservatively straight-lined, haphazard, Google-mapped mileage count.

That means that 1,000 for January is achievable.

Cover me, I'm going in...

j.

Weird girl on a bike in the rain.

Allegedly I'm working at home today! But, I needed to collect something I'd ordered from a local branch of Comet (electrical retailer for those that don't live in the UK and read this blog). 9 miles roundtrip, no car today so had to pedal. I managed to pick the only wet 45 minutes of the day so far to make the journey, but it didn't matter I'd dressed for the occasion, waterproof jacket, wool cap under my helmet, buff to keep my face warm, Lefty-Lucy knickers over wool socks, messenger bag to be sure to keep electrical goods dry for the return cycle. I felt I looked pretty good, maybe a bit bike messenger wannabe, but I didn't feel like a freak. Until, that is, I walked into Comet and the assistant curled his lip back into one of those "What the hell do you look like?" faces. I took a photo of myself outside the shop, got back on my bike and started pedaling my freaky, rain soaked, self home again as I did so I started thinking that it was the middle of the day and I wasn't stuck in a job I hate, I was getting exercise, fresh air and doing one of the things I love, who's the freak? 

Vikki

Shop-tastic

Today I went to buy a bike with Kate. It's always good to help someone else spend money on a bike, but this was special because by rights, after a truly horrible accident Kate shouldn't even have been walking into the shop unaided, let alone contemplating riding again. Still, as she admits, being pig headed can be an advantage- so here we were... We went to John's Bikes in Bath because I knew the guys wouldn't suck their teeth and shake their heads when we asked the inevitable girly questions (knowing your way around clothing performance is no indicator of expertise with a slack angle- or something), and well, it's a nice place to hang out while someone else tries bikes. So thank you Will for your patience and advice, Sean for the eye swivellingly strong coffee- and everyone else for being so damn lovely. The moment when Kate decided which one felt right (her first proper bike ride in almost two years), was both humbling and fantastic. Regular readers will know that Minx is prone to the odd tear at such moments- but you've gotta give me this one. I KNOW I should have taken a camera to capture the moment - but on reflection I don't think I have a lens wide enough to fit Kate's grin in...

Minx

Robins and resolutions.

Probably like a lot of people reading this one of my New Years resolutions was to ride more. Clearly, I've been a bit slow implementing this as today was only my 2nd ride of the year. 16 miles off road on local trails, probably not enough to justify the bacon and egg sandwich and cake I had on the cafe stop, so that'll be the healthy eating resolution also getting off to a shaky start. Another thing I want to do this year is take more photos, this spherical chap helped out on this one by posing for a snap. 

Vikki

Good intentions

The first step towards fulfilling one (of a constantly shifting three) new year's resolution came with the adapting of the singlespeed into a country shopper - so that trips to the farm shop for veg and way expensive beetroot crisps can always be made by bike. Of course a rear mounted basket sounded more sensible than the front-loading wicker version I'd pictured (think kittens), but I hadn't reckoned with the 'fixes in seconds' rack that was needed to support it. "When was the last time you put a rack on a bike?" Mr Minx enquired as I headed out clutching much hardware. I waved airily and muttered something about 1986 under my breath. I might even have said, "How hard can it be?" At one point it was looking like another twenty-odd years might be needed to attach this one at all the necessary anchor points (without resorting to my usual practice of just leaving off anything that doesn't quite fit) but it all came right in the end, and the inaugural journey was made. During which I became acutely aware of exactly why anyone might choose to ride a bike with a step-through frame. Forgive me please - I've always been a bit sniffy about them, but try swinging your leg over a fully laden rear basket in a manner that doesn't inflict grave injury and suddenly it all becomes clear. Still, it's an incentive to keep up the yoga. Picture to follow if it all stays together long enough to be photographed. That would be the bike, not me.

Minx

Last ride

Last pedal of 2007 a quick blast on my fixie. See you out riding in 2008. Vikki

Country Roads

Visiting family in the sticks no internet so blogging via mobile phone, ain't technology great? Bike plus empty country roads equals big fun!

Fixie fun.

Want to get a bit of confidence up on the fixie without the added pressure of traffic so took it along the canal tow path for a short pedal. I heart my new bike...... a lot!

Vikki

First time on the fixie!

The uber skinny tyres and ice meant I only was only brave enough for a constant pedal round the block!

Vikki

Click to buy!

T'internet it's a dangerous place. A bit of looking can easily lead to a bit of naughty clicking to buy! And then before you know where you are you're explaining away the presence of a giant cardboard box in your house. Even more explaining to be done when husbands see what's in the box!

Vikki

Towers and toffee.

40 miles of trail for me (50 miles for Amy) taking in several follies. A delightful phenomenon round here is a plethora of hilltop turrets, mostly built by slightly bonkers industrialists of the past. Today we took in Rivington Pike, Peel Tower, Turton Tower and as featured in todays photo the itty-bitty tower in the grounds of Turton Gardens. We also managed a pub stop for yummy sandwich. 40 miles is my longest ever off road ride and the last bit was somewhat hard going, I've had double portions of sticky toffee pudding for dinner to apologise to my abused body.

Vikki

Big Tuesday!

32.24 miles of trail riding with Amy. In summary, not necessarily in order and some features repeated; ice, sunshine, climb, descend, crash, reattach back wheel, give praise for Giro helmets, pedal up rutted trails, push bike, carry bike, jacket off, jacket on, pub stop, delicious sandwich, cold hands, remember extra gloves in bag, back brake trouble, transmission difficulty, mad dog, discover day rides become night rides quite quickly and curse lack of lights. 

Vikki

Rude not to.

My plans for the day all involved sitting in front of the computer. But, the sun came out and the wind dropped down from a howl to a whisper, so it just seemed rude not to ride. So I did a quick 10 miles on the road, you know, just to be polite. 

Vikki

Shopping.

Went shopping with Carolyn today, not ordinary Christmas shopping round the Trafford Centre mind you. No, we bundled bikes and kit into a car and headed to Coed Llandegla rode the red route and then hit the bike shop. I treated myself to a Dakine Nomad hydration backpack, I justify this purchase by explaining that now it's winter I don't have enough room in my current backpack for extra clothes and sandwiches. I didn't take any photos on the ride because frankly it was too wet and windy to stop and get the camera out, so you'll all (I assume we have a massive readership) have to make do with feasting your eyes on a pic of my new bag. God bless it and every sandwich that rides in it!

Vikki

Sooooo, tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

It's all been about off-road riding lately so thought a few road miles were in order today. Shopping, faff factor and the short days meant I only managed to squeeze in an hour of pedaling before darkness. Took me the entire hour to cover 10 miles, bizarrely I seemed always to be riding into gale force winds! This may not have been so torturous were in not for the fact that I seem also to have got a Spice Girls song stuck in my head at the moment. Damn their pesky reunion.

Vikki

Morning, 'noon and night.

I love Tuesdays. I get to ride morning, 'noon and night if I want to and today I did. Well, sort of. I rode with Amy this morning, 19 miles of trail, rode up a section I normally only ever ride down, was utter madness, some bits of trail are clearly unidirectional! And did two descents I've never done before, came off my bike on the trail that comes down off the front of Rivington Pike, but as Amy pointed out I had managed to time my crash perfectly and was on the only squishy bit of the hill so no damage done. I actually spent the afternoon eating choccie biscuits and snoozing and then rode again tonight. Only my third off-road night ride, only 10 miles, rain and no functioning back brake (Lancashire mud eats brake pads) made me feel the need to head for home earlier than I might have done. Was good fun though and husband of mine and Flipper the dog came out to take pictures of me riding the last bit towards home and a much needed bath.  

Vikki

Is this winter?

Let's keep our fingers crossed that the sunshine and warmth here today bodes well for the rest of the winter. As a result of the glorious weather there were absolutely tonnes of people out on the trails, careful route choice kept us away from the worst of the crowds, this did however, mean the last climb of the day had to be the one tired legs wouldn't normally choose. But, a harder climb at the end somehow made me feel perfectly justified in my chocolate cake choice at the post-ride cafe.

Vikki

The misty moutains (well......... hills)!

My Tuesday luck continues with me having the day off and also finding a friend available to ride with. No sunshine this week just a lot of mist to make for some reduced visibility riding. Lack of visibility not aided by the amount of mud spraying up into my face, and smiling in such situations also leads to gritty teeth, still my teeth didn't seem to be attracting as much grit as my brakes and drivetrain if the grinding noises were anything to go by. Great way to spend the morning!

Vikki

Shame

I wimped out of commuting by bike today because the intermittent drizzle and heavy rain looked too nasty. Then the sun came out to scorn me for my lack of fortitude. The shame stayed with me all day.

Vikki

Fi's Top 10 things At The Moment.

1. Molly Brown. My friend Kate's 9 year old daughter who I hung out with all weekend. 'Hope or Rhyddian for X-factor victory: Discuss'.
2. The Boy (will I get in trouble for putting him second?)
3. Icebreaker 200 bodyfit thermal top. I could not survive my cold university office, nor night rides, nor existing in general this time of year without it.
4. Slightly green bananas
5. Smartwool socks (especially the ones with snowflaks round the ankle)
6. GAP denim mini skirt
7. Tea. What kind? Builders of course.
8. Hashing in the rain
9. Porridge with apple bits in.
10. My new bike - arriving next week...

Fi

Delamere Forest

Delamere forest (Cheshire) yesterday with some of the Groovy Chicks and Rob our guide for the day. 18 miles of mud, wet leaves, slippy tree roots, eye level branches, sandy climbs, one mad dog, a short 4X course, two cafe stops, and a descent called "No Brainer." Great fun but hard work and I'm a little bit tired today.

Vikki

23:51 Thursday November 15th

Home, bed. Feet still chilled through. Shoulders still tense from the cold.

I rode from university to my friend Phil's for dinner tonight. It took me over an hour with a huge bag full of laptop and papers named things like "social class and the meanings of physical activity: a social constructionist's viewpoint" which are now dog eared and slightly damp. I got a twitch in my shoulder from the weight digging in to a nerve.

I also lost the feeling in both feet, one calf and all my fingers. My knees ached from the cold and my nose turned red. Even after a hot shower and 3 mugs of tea I sat with my ankles tucked underneath me to warm my feet. I failed. They are still cold.

Nicky offered me a lift home and for the first time in a long long time I accepted. I am tired and slow and cold and wanted my bed. I discarded by bike at the back door and reached for the fluffy bedsocks quicker than you could say 'assoss overshoes'.

Mmmmm.....

Bad Thing, Good Thing

Bad Thing: Despite speedy pedalling I missed the early train by a minute.
Good Thing: I didn't miss the next train.
Bad Thing: My bike fell over on the train.
Good Thing: I wore my new Swrve Knickers today and they were lush.
Bad Thing: I forgot my sunglasses.
Good Thing: At least the sun was out.
Good Thing: Made it to Uni on time.
Good Thing: Wasn't cold for the ride home.
Good Thing: My untried commuting lights turned out to be little gems.
Good Thing: I got a really cheery "hello" as a series roadie overtook me going uphill.
Good Thing: I've just about ridden enough miles to justify a slice of apple crumble.

Bike riding equals more good things than bad, that's why we do it!

Vikki

Mayhem

This is me at the end of Mountain Mayhem this year. I look a mess? I was...

For some totally unknown reason all I can think about today is Mountain Mayhem. I can't wait. Well, I can't wait to be fast enough to kick ass. I am doing long slow miles at the moment. Not even that long actually. Building my engine slowly with the awesome support of Rob Lee. I am eating good food and have a speedily developing six-pack. All very lovely. Haven't been on the mtb for ages though which is a bugger but will do in time, no doubt.

But Mayhem still eats away at the back of my mind. It was the most exhilarating feeling in the world finishing that race and my whole being is aching to do it again. The pain was indescribable but I will be better prepared next year. Each night as I layer on the thermals and strap lights to my head and handlebars I think of all those people sat behind Hollyoaks and feel pride that I am not just thinking it, I'm doing it.

Nothing worth doing was ever easy.

Fi
x

TFI Tuesday!

Tuesdays are rapidly becoming my favourite day of the week. For the second Tuesday running I've been lucky enough to have free time, a friend also not at work to ride with, nice weather and almost empty trails right on my doorstep. This Tuesdays ride was better than last Tuesdays, no punctures and a ride route that took in the cafe for the best slab of carrot cake ever! Absolute Autumnal perfection.

Vikki

uh oh.

just checked the weather forecast in preparation for the begining of the commuting week.



erkkk.

it has been a long time since i've had to cope with weather like this and i can't remember what i need to wear to stay warm under these conditions (did you notice it's also going to be raining? oh yeah). factor in the windchill of a cyclist travelling between 15 and 20mph and it gets a whole load colder. the pile of clothes by the bed currently consists of:

endura mt500 short
very old pace cycles roubaix tights
icebreaker ls wool base layer
howies ls wool base layer with the long zip-up neck
mint sauce race and flowers jersey (tis a well known fact that bright pink makes you feel warm)
gore softshell
two buffs (one for head, one for neck, eyes and nose in the gap between the two)
assos overshoes
gore softshell gloves

and, er, the hip flask with the sloe gin in it.

well, i figure if it works for 24's... ;o)

j.

Old friend, new rider.

One of my oldest and very best friends Meriel came up from London to visit for the weekend. I've had a few adventures with her in the past, we've hiked mountains, dived the seas and drunk more than one town dry, but until this weekend never ridden bike together. She's been a road rider for as long as I've known her but is a very new mountain biker. I'm hardly an old hand but it was down to me to lead the way and show off my local trails, a dirt paradise compared to what she has easy access to from the big city. The weather did its best to confirm that it is indeed grim up North but we're not the sort of girls who scare easily so we pedalled our way through the wind and ignored the rain that thought about falling. We climbed a few bumpy miles and whizzed back down an even bumpier few, some bits brought smiles and laughter and some frowns with handlebars gripped too tight with fear. Home to tea and snacks and the knowledge that the mountain biking bug had well and truly bitten my friend, new bikes and future rides discussed.

Vikki

Minx boyz

I've just been browsing, nostalgically, at my photos of the 2007 Trans Rockies. I found a few classic pics and thought I'd share. Hope you don't mind...Our first podium - hadn't quit mastered the whole 'hand in the air' thing at this point (but we got used to it!)
Gav Atkins, Meg Bichard and myself going for a bit of post-Rockies road action. Gav squeezed into that jersey and had us in hysterics!

Meg at the end of the final stage. We were chasing the girls in 2nd place and would have had a good chance at overtaking if Meg hadn't decided that 6 inches was enough room to squeeze between 2 guys. It wasn't and she took all of them down, covering herself in blood and coal dust in the process! 3rd by 15 seconds on the final day. What an end to the race!

Sigh...

clarification

At 3am this morning my mind resembled an abandoned birds nest. Not one of those lovely neat round ones with a warm fluff lining. No, more like a rook's nest that didn't quite pass the scrutiny of the Chief Rook and her scrutiny committee and was cast from the tree with disgust, to lie unnoticed in piles of autumn twigs and leaves, mistaken for more autumnal detritus.

But 60 miles of pure clean sunlight, gentle climbing, rolling descents and lots of breathing has knitted together my destructive thoughts and (although still under inspection from Chief Rook), my brain is certainly developing a warm fluff lining and a functional, circular shape.

OK maybe I overdid the birdsnest analogy, but you get the point. Dwelling and crying into cups of hot chocolate: BAD. Riding and thinking and smiling at sheep: GOOD.

Here endeth the lesson.

Fi

don’t think too hard about it, but:
everything that we do and see is through somebody else’s eyes
there is precious little to be found that is untarnished
the trails have all been ridden before
the views have all been seen.

rely on chance for miracles.



j.

all in the timing

Rides have been limited for the past few days. Frustrating as it is to be confined to the house when the indian summer (albiet a somewhat chilly one) we'd hoped for finally arrives, the excursions into the outside world have been brief, mildly energetic and beautiful. The leaf colour is stunning, we seem to have had more localised frost than most visitors and so the paths and lanes are lined with every shade of golden, from transparent lemon to waxy ginger, and in places deep red and luminous crimson too, immigrant species but welcome punctuation to the spectrum.

The peace and quiet of a drifting autumn has passed now, though. I nipped out for a quick half hour on the cross bike this evening - having spent a lovely but lazy day not doing a lot apart from talk and eat - and the challenge being to get back before the half-drunk mug of tea on the desk got cold. It was past dusk and raining when I opened the door, fine, jacket on, go anyway, don't be lazy. By the time I got to the Anchor and turned south to cross the flood plain, the wind was howling down from the hill and blowing the rain across the beam of light in shards. A mile of steering into the squall, right ear filling up with water, tights resembling shining black seal fleece, squinting hard to keep the lenses in my eyes and the spray out, more like sailing than riding, and then as suddenly as it came the rain ceased and left with the wind alone, whipping through the trees and sending sheets of leaf fall spinning to the ground. Black tarmac swathed in orange and umber, occasional tyre tracks, floods and puddles papered flat with colour.

It's dark now, and late, and in the morning the view out of the window will be less rainbow and more monotone, the wood a wet and shining black against a silver sky, the red brick houses diminished and small. With the wind and Rachmaninoff alternately gusting against the window from either side, I have a hat on and yet more tea beside me and the balance has tipped suddenly and without doubt towards winter. I can't say I am looking forward to it...

j.

Puncture-tastic

A free morning when the weather is good leaves a girl only one option, a bike ride! Plan was to meet a mate at 9a.m so left the house at 8.30, all wrapped up against the slight chill of the morning but feeling great, heading for the trails. But, less than 10 minutes of tarmac from home and I thought the front of the bike was feeling a bit swampy, stopped, poked tyre, flat! No worries my bag has tyre levers, pump, and a spare tube. Wheel off, quick mobile phone call to let friend know I might be a minute or two late, I set to sorting out my puncture. Tyre loosened, tube out, air pissing hole easily spotted, spare tube dug out of bag. I carefully inspected inside of tyre wall for offending pointy bits, nothing obvious. New tube stuffed into place, tyre refitted I start to pump. I can hear air, and not in a good tyre filling way, inflation not happening. Tyre off again, tube out. Two air pissing holes spotted this time! Puncture repair kit dragged out of bottom of bag, patch time. Tyre checked even more carefully, no spikey bits obvious, no spokes anywhere they shouldn't be. Patched tube now in place, tyre on, more pumping, this time success, a functioning wheel is refitted.

3 hours of lovely, incident free riding followed. Such a great day for being out in the Lancashire hills. Sunshine and smiles all round.

Vikki

Mellow fruitfulness

I had a miserable weekend getting my legs ripped off by a melange of over-keen weekend racers who have nothing better to do that prove they have more testosterone than me. They do. They win.

I chose to sweep up the remant thoughts of this anger and scrape them into the emotional rubbish bin along with the slightly furry skin off last night's smoked mackarel.

But I keep back one memory from the weekend which makes the girl in me smile coyly, tilt my head to one side and go 'ah'.

Picture this. 3 hours of mentally technical and hard riding, too ridiculous to be anything other than unnecessarily exhausting. Crawling back to the car on the final bridleway, sweat beginning to cool down and the sun beginning to run out of power. The boy and I slow down and stop, tip toes on the ground to steady ourselves, tired bikes and tired faces pointing towards the view.

In the valley below there were layers of smokey green hills, fog clinging to the bottoms of each dip, hiding the light polution and turning all sharp lines into soft sketches: The perfect soft ambient painting of a Somerset scene. Exmoor in the distance was blanketed in mist and the sun was that beautiful autumnal pinky-orange.

And he held my hand and what was left of my steely resolve melted completely.

Killer loop

Yesterday I rode with the Groovy Chicks. I was a bit nervous before setting off as the plan for the day was one of the MBR killer loops. I think the source of my anxiety was the term "killer" this not necessarily being a word one wants to consider when heading out onto the Yorkshire moors. As we set off riding from East Marton (bit west of Skipton) the unseasonably sunny and warm day lulled me into thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It was a ride with a lot of thick mud and long grassy climbs, the first 9 miles seemed more like 15 and I was glad of a sandwich stop. By 15 miles I was experiencing a deadness in the legs and feeling like I was going to puke, I wanted to know if there was a short cut down off the tops to the car, the killer loop was indeed killing me. Another sandwich stop, a big drink and a huge handful of jelly beans saw some energy restored to my broken spirit. A corking section of rocky downhill had me grinning again and even feeling like the first 15 miles had been worth it. The final 10 or so miles were quite fast, just nicely undulating, and there is something about knowing you're in the final push towards to the post ride cafe that keeps you going. By the time the bacon buttie, chocolate rice-crispie cake and 2 mugs of tea were gone all the bad bits of the 32 miles of very muddy Yorkshire were long forgotten and all I knew was that I'd had a great day out riding with friends.

Vikki

wow.

Having a bad day? Go to Cycling News and read the coverage of the 2007 Crocodile Trophy, then feel better.

It's a mountain bike stage race that covers some of the wildest, most inhospitable parts of northern Australia. To finish is an achievement that only the toughest riders attain - but this year, Marc Herremans, a paraplegic Ironman triathlete, has finished all 1400km on a handcycle alongside all the other able bodied riders, who formed a guard of honour at the finish to recognise his incredible determination.

Have a read.


jenn.

Fire, hallucination and dancing

When you're in something you're in it and you can't see it for what it is. Last night - with the clarity of retrospect and a good night's sleep - was essentially a group of primitive tribe-members following their tribal leaders into a wood to follow rule-bound ritual; including fires, hallucination (though excessive alcohol ingestion and adrenaline production) and hyperactivity.

To translate - Last night was annual the Bristol halloween ride. A group of 50 witches and devils (with the odd crow and ghost) rode around Ashton Court and Leigh Woods and came to a halt by a camp fire ("I don't don't know they got persmission for that" - sweet!) where we split into teams and between swigs of wine chased around a tricky singletrack loop in relay. When you look at it like that its seems almost normal but think about what it looks like for people not 'in it' - it is actually quite bizarre.

So I have absolute sympathy for people who raise one eyebrow when they see the scarred legs and muscled thighs which set me apart from 'normal' girls and who, when they discover my weekend shenanigans think I'm a bit, well, tribal. I am, I follow the mountainbiking tribe. I worship the leaders. I adhere to traditions and hold certain days, rules, events or artefacts as ritually sacred. I'm comfortable with that because my identity is entwined with and reliant on that way of life. Bikes are my social prop and riding my form of cultural capital which I cash in for friendship and respect within my group where this kind of capital has some currency.

We take it for granted, this sense of bike-oriented belonging, but it is special and we should be proud.

Fi

Blackpool shrubbery.

Since starting back at Uni I've been making a concerted effort to use the bike for part of my morning commute. Depending on how early I can scrape my head off the pillow I have 3 choices of train from my village and 3 ride distances at the other end. When I'm feeling extra awake it's the earliest train and 15 miles, when lazy it's the latest train and about 3 miles. Somehow my lovely Surly seems wasted on this lazy option so I've equipped my self with what I see as an urban stealth machine (all minimal and black). This had it's maiden commute this morning, and like all my biking it was a mixture of thrills and spills.

I wanted to ride the 3 miles hard and nippy, I zipped through traffic, I cheekily cut corners at the lights, I decided to whip over a pedestrian crossing and this is where my vision of being cool and sleek unravelled. I skidded to a bit of a halt by some railings and just couldn't unclip from my pedals, brand new and tightly sprung, they just weren't for releasing my cleats. I was wedged too close to the railings to change my mind about stopping, there was no where to pedal out off the situation, I knew I was going to go over. Faced with a wobble into the road or a flower bed I shifted my weight and let the foliage break my fall. I went as gracefully as possible but it was far from cool. I ripped one foot free which promptly allowed the pedals to spin round and smash me in the shin. I scraped myself out of the flower bed and got back on the bike. I arrived at Uni dirty and bleeding. I set to the pedals with my multi-tool, and rest assured the shrubbery of Blackpool went undamaged on my return journey.

Vikki

insult to injury

See that? That's a cobweb, spun between the hoods of my Ergos by some half-pint arachnid. Inevitable, that injuries are followed by insults that only serve to annoy you more when you are already not feeling at your best. Rest, ice, ibuprofen... grrrr.

jenn.

fuggered.

at this time of year i find it increasingly hard to get up in the mornings, to find the motivation to work, wash and eat, let alone to ride. wake up and the sun is shining (again) in a clear blue sky (again). seize the moment. work can wait. a couple of phone calls and the rendevous is made, we ride, talk, laugh, ride some more. there are mishaps, giggling, new trails, chocolate brownies, all the good things, and above all, so much hill-to-hill sunshine that we ride and ride and ride some more, an unintentional epic, just one more hill/trail/singletrack/tree over and over again. grovel home, steadily freezing as the post-4pm winter sun snatches away the warmth from the biting north wind. golden light and leaves, freshly ploughed fields, autumn is lovely but blimey is it cold...

later, stuffed to the gills with pie and potatoes, legs warm with effort and eyelids drooping, sit at the desk and file memories away. plot the route on gmap, it looks like a pile of spaghetti and the mileage tots up to a cool 45 miles.

blimey.

jenn.

Dead Leg

First day back training. Beautiful yellow-bright morning in Cwm Carn, South Wales. 2 hours of fun riding with boyfriend and housemate. Slippery roots conquered, tricky climbs beaten and teeth-rattling hard-tail descents enjoyed and embraced and loved.

One more? Go on...

Short cut up a climb and cut along the forest drive to the concrete climb and the descent. Chat, laugh, Dave spinning like a roadie monkey. Lovely, welcome feelings of fatigue not felt in weeks.

Rattle, spin, jump, outside pedal down, flowing, few close calls.

Nearly back at the car. I can see the town, taste the sandwiches, smell the hot tea. Better do that work this afternoon, or maybe get a DVD. Got lots of washing to sort out and better run the hoover over after our rugby party.

What is that rock doing coming towards my front wheel so fast? Ahhhhhhhhhhh, (I was thinking about sandwiches).

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Why am I upside down in a blackberry bush? Pain searing through my thigh like the worst ever big-brother-dead-leg. Front wheel buckled, can't pedal. Tears and hugs.

Love mountainbiking.

Swimmin'

So I just got back from my first swim in 10 months. I went a lane slower than I used to and just chilled with the Freds. It was fab.

Swimming - if it weren't for the running eyes, stinking skin and itchy hair afterwards - is great. You get a sort of all over body fatigue afterwards, like your muscles have been gently kneaded by a half-hearted osteopath. I might go again. I might, although I might go for a bike ride instead.

Winter

Oh Dusk til Dawn. I love it. Misty forests, bleary-eyed cyclists, hysterical, over-tired friends and supporters. It is lovely and cosy and warm in a cold, shivery, sweaty, painful sort of a way. For me it was my first 12 hour pair. Well I say 12 hour, we managed 6 before an early crash by Rob left him with no feeling in his right leg. We were forced to retire and shiver the rest of the night out in our tent. But until then I was riding ok - the best bit was riding with the 2 solo male leaders for half a lap, chatting a bit to them and asking them if they thought I was riding fast enough (I'm new to all this top-speed nonsense). They suggested I was but I passed anyway. Between you and me I regretted that in lap 3 when my legs were far from feeling fresh!

As Jenn says, D2D marks the end of the enduro season. Unlike many, I do not welcome this news. I am learning to train and rest with the waves of the seasons but find the thought of months of road riding ahead terrifying. Sunset at the top of the Quantocks on a Thursday night will never compare with neoprene-clad road miles for me. But I'm doing my first season of cross country this winter and can start running again, so I have things to look forward to.

But as for right now, I am having 2 weeks off completely - an act never before known to man (well, to Fi). The weird thing is I don't mind. I have such a clear, focused idea of what I want out of next year and I know that resting now will mean I can come back stronger. So pass the shortbread and pour the tea...

And weren't those jumping mice cute.