I sometimes think that all cyclists secretly want to be couriers. It was my dream job before I started (it still is), and I've lost track of the number of people who've come up to me in the street to confide that it's always been their ambition too and ask how they get into it. (Two of them have since turned up on the circuit, for which I blame myself.) But there's much more to it than just riding your bike around all day - here's ten things you won't know about couriering until you try it:

1. You will become boringly obsessed with the weather forecast.

2. Law firm receptions have the best sweets.

3. You will soon be on first name terms with most of the bike shop staff in town.

4. Many companies require you to deliver to their loading bay, which is often several streets away from the main reception. The receptionist will not tell you this until you have locked your bike up, taken the package out of your bag, and queued for 10 minutes to talk to them.

5. A good waterproof can make your day; bad gloves will ruin it.

6. Black cab drivers are the enemy, but will also chat you up, on occasion.

7. You will become an expert on which cafes let you use their toilets, and which pubs will refill your water bottle.

8. Your social life will wither and die, because you're always asleep by 9pm.

9. Tourists will frequently ask you for directions to a street five minutes' walk away, and then hail a cab anyway.

10. You will never get rid of the smell.

My Dream Job

Meet cycle courier Emily, our latest Minx blogger. Not only does she have my dream job she rather unhelpfully confirmed that it is in fact every bit as fun and romantic as you'd imagine. A bit less so on cold, wet days mind you... 

I have spared everyone the classic riding past Bar Italia shot she sent me, as I don't want to be responsible for the stampede of girls leaving homes, partners and otherwise warm, dry jobs to sign up. Instead you get Emily looking way cool and working her corporate look to the max. Does anyone say 'to the max' anymore? Thought not. Sigh.

Minx

Lakeland riding

Some rides are just so lovely I almost have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. 

Vikki

Durango

There is the small matter of persuading my beloved that Durango, Colorado in September is the holiday of his dreams, and the matter of saving the airfare but I have just done my entry for SSWC. I am hoping this will focus my mind and legs on some singlespeed riding, I have managed one ride so far this year. This is not to say I have turned into a total couch potato, I've taken up fell running which seems to be keeping me off the bike. I will at least have the legs for the uphill pushing that seems to go with my attempts to ride singlespeed! 

Vikki

New Minx alert!

Say hello to Sarah Jane. As you'll gather she likes to ride downhill fast - winning the 661 mini downhill and placing second in the NPD 4X and Dragon Downhill series last year. Sarah Jane is joining us to randomly blog through the year, hopefully giving a different and quite grrrrr perspective from our usual assorted mix of trails, commuting, occasional 'cross races, singlespeeding the length of the USA as fast as possible (well, Jenn only for that one), and riding for the fun of it jottings. Yes, yes.... I know it's ALL riding for the fun of it, but you know what I mean....

Also joining us will cycle courier Emily- as soon as I can make her take a picture of herself anyway.

So more later...

Minx

Singlespeeds in the snow

3 girls, 3 bikes, no gears, in the snow in the Peak District today. Top day! Need I say more?






Vikki


Climb
originally uploaded by jumbly

I've had a bit of a duff year to be honest and I'm not that sorry to see the back of it, but what a fantastic last day it turned out to be. A singlespeed ride with Trio that had us above the freezing fog in sunshiney, blue skies. We took our time, pootling along, stopping to admire the view, plenty of giggling as we skidded about on ice patches. Cake and hot drinks in the cafe at the end. A day that really reminded me why I like to ride a bike, just what I needed.

I don't really do New Years resolutions, being of the sort of disposition to instantly break them, but I have agreed to take part in a 2009 Century a Month Challenge that Trio has got a few riders roped into, hopefully will help keep reminding me why I like to ride. 

Vikki

Slack?

Or just busy...

Mull. A thoroughly enjoyable muddle of friends, fun, laughter, beauty, cakes, cocoa, bikes, trains, boats, skies, mud, pain, racing, beer and potato based foodstuffs, all in complete and exhausting excess...

...including the mileage. Fine, so the bulk of the travel was done by train but still - 1340 miles is a long way to travel for two hours of riding. Or 90 minutes of riding and 30 minutes gentle jogging with a broken bike on your shoulder. Must do more stuff at home next year. And also go to these nice places not for racing. And maybe ride to Mull :-)

Christmas. Often hard work, this year no exception. Keeping myself sane with plenty of quiet road rides. If I'd been able to bring myself to ride a road bike when I was growing up here I think life might have panned out somewhat differently. The mountain biking is a dull, clay-slathered bogfest for ten months of the year but the roads are as good as anything I've ridden anywhere.

And what good is Christmas without cats to tear the tree to shreds? Sadly not mine but I will get to see them often. Ahhh.

Next: packing boxes, moving house, doing some work, putting down roots, shaking off colds, buying new helmets to replace the ones I keep smashing. Hmmm.

j.

brrr

off to mull for a weekend of cross racing debauchery. could go either way...



don't see that christmasy one very often :o)

j.

top ten winter survival tips

one - rice pudding. hot homemade with jam for supper, cold from the tin for hasty pre-ride breakfast, as a chaser to lunchtime's cheese on toast. yum.

two - bright rear lights. more than one. flashing is good but flashing and static is better.

three - fit mudguards. the washing machine (and the rider behind) will love you for it.

four - winter boots a size too big, thin wool socks and chemical toe warmers. icy feet begone.

five - ipod. good music makes the tedium that much more bearable. plus having something in your ears stops them aching with cold. mind the cars.

six - did i say fit mudguards?

seven - wool. not because it's snuggly and warm (which it is), or because it's super comfy (which it also is), but because it will save you having to run said washing machine every day for four months.

eight - pockets full of food, no matter how short the ride. sometimes you will need to bribe yourself to go more than a mile from the front door and at these times only chocolate will do.

nine - really. fit mudguards.

ten - if all else fails, run. who can resist an excuse to buy new shoes?



er, me.

j.

grit.

november nearly over (late night posting!). not sorry to see the back of it, full as usual as it has been with it.

chewing grit as autumn colour morphs into flat white and all the bad times swing by just to say hello again. cleaning grit out of the bikes, the bath, the house and the clothes in an endless cycle of laundry, hoovering and scrubbing. picking grit out of my eyes at the end of every day. drowning out the soul-crushing sound of the bikes eroding into piles of gently squeaking scrap with it.

am i the only person on the planet who can't wait for january?

j.

guilty pleasures

i just realised that this week has been bookended by two 'guilty pleasures' rides. monday morning and friday afternoon.
both involved driving to get there.
both short and sweet.
both in stolen time when i should have been working.
both complete with a dose of gleeful smugness because the trails were deserted.

if you look closely at that poor beleaguered 69er you will see that it is also patiently bearing the mud of not only these two rides but a handful of others as well. only the rotors, the heel-rubs and the inside face of the chain are shining. the rest is a uniform coating of filth.

guilt.

j.

time off in lieu

sunday, stanmer cross. this race and i are developing a history. it is traditional that i start it feeling like hell because it's on or around my birthday and that makes me feel old. this year it was a couple of days early but i still felt like hell thanks to a day of riding north downs badly in good company on saturday (which always makes it worse) and then a rare migraine thanks to skipping too many lunches lately. wobbles and squiffy vision not the best preparation for hooning hard for an hour.

still, sun out, bike cleaned, breakfast forced, jersey on and many friends gathered to play and spectate. not a bad way to spend a sunday. nearly missed the start thanks to an apathetic bimble of a warm-up, begin at the back and "go!" we're rolling, elbows out, legs up, fast fast fast.

1 x twenty minutes: wheel watching, trying not to get in anybody's way, trying to pass as many people as possible, "you can vomit in my shoes if you like".
2 x twenty minutes: pass in a jiffy, beer hand ups, loving the trails, bacon aeroplane noises, someone tells me off for giggling as i undertake them "it's not funny" "no, it's hilarious!".
3 x twenty minutes: clock watching, counting down, ding-dong-avon-calling, are we nearly there yet, private battles, sprint for the line, dead dead dead.

happy legs, beer buzz, chatting, laughing and once the results appear shortly before the rain a sneaking suspicion is confirmed that i managed, somehow and despite all expectation, to be first lady home. day made, princess. pie, mash, peas, gravy from pokeno pies who treated us well and didn't grumble about the muddy boots, home to a warm bed and a cup of tea.



monday, tuesday, a brace of rides with good friends adding layers to the feel-good smiles. north downs, cheeky monday off, trails to ourselves, exploring, restoring, bakewell tart and tea, peaslake robin, golden trees through the mist, pin eyelids & drive home to the welcome warmth of the post-bath nap.

south downs, old-school tuesday night ride, filthy trails, minor mishaps, 'a while' sitting in the woods passing bottles and flasks and baking around, socks and nettle beer, final grins on donuts, new lines, reconvening, the same familiar ridiculous singlespeed drag race down lewes road to end, can't remember the last time i finished a 'fun' ride with this hacking racer's cough.



balance regained.

j.

Where's my Mojo? :(

I've been really unmotivated to ride for the last few weeks. I think it's got a lot to do with having spent a week in Italy with Rivierabike on top class, full-on mountain trails, then coming home and doing my first ever solo 24 race at the No Fuss Events, Relentless 24 at Fort William. The quality, technicality and downhilleriness of the riding in Italy has made all my local rides seem flat and lacklustre. At the race, I disappointed myself by not coping well with the psychology of 24 hour riding. I then came down with the flu and since recovering, have been feeling flat and wimping out on riding in the increasingly dank and dark evenings. What a wuss!!! *kicks self in shins*

I'm about to try and get Jojo's Mojo back by committing to ride with other people in the next few days and just get the legs turning again. It's that bit harder to wimp out if you've arranged to ride with a mate. There's a bit of a pressing need to get my head sorted and get back on form again as through the delirium of my influenza, I happened to be online at 12.00 noon on the 5th of November and managed to secure a solo spot in the Strathpuffer.... Wonder what climatic challenge it will throw at us this year? The inaugral year was ice cold with a short stretch of mud; 2007 was soaking wet, ice cold with miles of pad-eating-slurry and Jan 08 was sheet ice on the course and hurricane force wind that flattened the campsite. Surely we're due a dry warm one in January 09?....

Jojo x

(Inspiring Italy pic on 'Cop Killer' taken by Leon Topps)

good times

Anyone else permit themselves a small smile of excitement after listening to the news this morning? :o)

Last night under this roof before packing life up again and heading east for a couple of weeks. Great day today riding bikes in the woods, a touch of sunshine and a few new friends, a spot of mizzle, buffed trails, a few too many uphill "one more times", larches spilling golden needles all over the buffed trails. Topped off with a fine cuppa and and stalking the chiller aisles in search of pies to fuel the companionably silent drive home. Now rehydrating with Brakspear Triple. Okay, the off season is over...

Life is good.

j.

Yay Susan!

Congratulations to Susan who finished the NYC Marathon in 4h 41m! We are SO proud of you!

On another note, I managed to find the information just hours after the race ended from the incredible database on the official website. You can put in any athletes name and get a little chart showing their race and split times at key checkpoints. Did I mention there were 38,000 runners? Oh- and if you want to be really scared, put winner Paula Radcliffe's name into the tracker and see her average mile pace....

Minx

random acts of kindness

Thank you to Martin who sent through a guide to Scottish country dancing this week (he also sent some Sport Beans but they didn't make it into the picture because I ate them for breakfast of course....) Now I did a lot of country dancing as a child so I'm slightly concerned that he somehow divined that I would love it, and know that I would abandon the ever present and over flowing to-do list in favour of practicing the Strathspey Travel Step.

Also, one of those 'how lovely are some people?' moments..... I had an email from a customer this morning telling me not to credit some money she was owed but to add it to Susan's running fund. I am incredibly touched by this- so thank you Shona. 

Right, I'm off to scour the schedules to see if I can find NY Marathon coverage so that I can spend tomorrow afternoon on the sofa drinking hot chocolate and trying to catch a glimpse of that Greenwood girl.

Minx  

ordinary world

I don't think blogger publishes its posts with time stamps so, to clarify, it's 02.06 on, er, Wednesday, and I am w i d e awake thanks to inadvertently discovering that chocolate brownies are a palatable caffeine vehicle when late night work is called for. And I've just done a fair bunch of work thanks to that. Oops.

Rummaging around now whilst waiting for the washing machine to finish and the sun to come up. Could be here a while.



Spent overdue and lovely time with old friends today. Sarah, Dan and Hope are not bike people (I'm working on Hope, at six months old she shows potential but is not quite big enough for a Rothan yet) but still wanted to hear all about America adventures. They totally get the cake thing, they get adventures too because they've had plenty of their own and have plans for more, they just don't get the bike bit - but that doesn't diminish it an ounce for them.

It's good to be reminded that what we play at can be relevant in the real world, too. It's easy to become too introspective pedalling around on your own all the time, when it feels like all you ever get to do is listen to bike people talking about bikes in an insular little world, and often not even riding them, just talking a good ride...

Sometimes it's good to talk about socks and crawling and shepherds pie and forget about wheels. Here's to a few more ordinary days.

j.

stfu*

I love racing at Thetford, it is my most favourite of racing places and Dusk til Dawn the one event I look forward to over any other. Partly this stems from the fact that it's the last hurrah of the season, but also the fact that the atmosphere never falls short of brilliant thanks to skilled and attentive organisers and the way that they use their trails, which is rarely short of sublime. The weather forecast was none too promising but that's what we have waterproof shorts for, isn't it...

So, after a practise lap and lots of hellos, fifteen minutes standing on the start line in strong winds and sideways rain, we embarked on an amusing start loop behind a pace quad, holding position at the front of the pack with pointy elbows and a little give and take. Three fast laps of a swoopy, entertaining, singletracky course, swapping third and fourth with Fi, wind and rain less of a problem than they could have been thanks to the trees, some particularly unpleasant sucky mud but plenty of friends around to banter with, all ready to do battle with the night. It was shaping up so well...

And then when the normal lap four demons popped up (god i'm tired, this really hurts, have i got a puncture, i feel sick, is that a blister on my hand, i can't ride that, WHY?), there was nothing to answer them with. Completing The Thing, which sucked up my life and my energy for two years, battling that monster and sending it packing has turned me inside out in many ways and completely changed the way I feel about certain things. Apparently including racing.

There is an emptiness where the reserves of stubborness and determination used to be. It's not an unpleasant one, but it is unsettling, and as equally endless a bottomless pit as they were an unclimbable hill. The usual doubts and fears went clanging straight to the bottom of it with nothing to intercept them on the way.

And so when I got to the end of the lap I stopped, and sat down, and my wise and lovely pit crew Adam tried coaxing me out with new bottles and food and batteries for a few minutes whilst I tried to make sense of weird emotions, until he quietly reminded me that I really don't have anything to prove anymore. And, as usual, he was right.

I passed the rest of the night enjoying the rare and novel experience of wandering round a race site in the middle of the action, chatting and sharing quiet moments and coffee with friends old and new between laps, using the pointy stick of encouragement on pet soloists Phil, Gareth, Nigel (finishing his first ever 12 hour in fine fashion) and Fi (who took a frighteningly steely podium place as well as two large bacon sandwiches, both of which made us proud), practising my heckling on a very muddy One Speed Revolution who were thankfully going too fast to hear and generally lounging around watching the mud turn a different shade of grey. All to the familiar soundtrack of soggy grass and scorched disc rotors. Lovely.

After four laps at a fair old clip I still feel satisfyingly battered today and there's just as much wet, gritty kit mouldering in kit bags as there would have been had I rode the full twelve hours. There isn't a shred of regret, just the calmness that I still can't fathom and the reminder that sometimes it's harder to make the right decision that it is to carry on regardless of it.

And of course a strong intent to spend the next few months doing fun things on a bike that don't require the demon-beating mechanisms to be pressed into action, in the hope of coaxing them back out of retirement before I get fat and slow... ;o)

j.

* "soften the f*** up". er, thanks, jo.

a rallying cry

Minx first met Susan Greenwood when she called out of the blue because she'd won a the Netjetters travel writing competition for The Guardian. The prize was funding for a proposed trip across the States by bike, which she'd blog as she went along. The only problem was, as she usually rode her bike in cast-off blokes jeans (oh and yes, had never actually ridden further than her London commute...) she didn't know what to wear. Giggling over euphemisms for preventing 'bottom' soreness is a quick way to bond and she's been a true and lovely Minx Girl ever since.

Abandoning her bike for a while, Susan is running the New York marathon next month, and could do with some support. I've spent ages trying to paraphrase this, but instead I'm just going to post her email to me...

"On November 2nd I will be running the New York Marathon because well, what is life without a challenge and because a few months ago my dad died from an atrociously under-funded and overlooked disease called Motor Neurone Disease (yes, Stephen Hawking.) There are no words for how much I miss him but there is an institute being built in Sheffield which from next year will be dedicated to the study of the condition and hopefully a treatment. It is to this end I am sacrificing my knees.I know we all have causes close to our hearts and I know some of you have had your fair share of heartbreaks. I’m not expecting you to donate anything except that I am. I will call in any favour, buy any beers and pay in to the favour bank for years to come if it means you will sponsor me whatever you can afford. Quite simply, I’m begging! This link is to my dad’s obituary because it helps me to know that as many people as possible know that once upon a time an amazing man called John Greenwood existed, the next is to an article I wrote in The Times about the disease and institute and the final link is to the John Greenwood Trust donations page hosted by the Charities Aid Foundation. Like I said, I know there may be other causes which are dearer to you but this means the world to me and I really could use your support (this also comes in the form of emails, texts and post-event Grolsch.) My dad was the bravest person I have ever met and I just want to make him proud one more time."

So yes, as Susan says- we all have our own causes. But she is a friend, and that makes hers a little bit ours too. And if everyone that reads this nips over to donate even the cost of today's skinny latte then Susan's cause will be several thousand quid better off.

Minx