Although I've been having a bash at racing for a few years now, I've never actually done a proper cross country race...until today that is.
Today was round 5 of the Scottish Cross Country Series in Perth, which is local (ish) so after some peer pressure from Katie, I decided to give it a bash.
I learned some important stuff....
1. Print out the map and don't try to wing it from memory and using the larger scale AA road map. Taking almost 2 hours to get to a race which is only an hour away isn't good race prep!
2. Don't ever ride to registration with a water bottle carrier slung over the right hand side of your bars. When you turn, the bottle carrier will shimmy along your bars, trap your brake lever, lock on the front brake and cause you to go over the bars in an instant, in front of all the other folks faffing and getting ready by their cars. It's not great to start a race with a bloody elbow and covered in dust from the fire road!
3. Singlespeeds don't always work on very hilly courses when you're racing with whippets. Yes, I can make time up on the descents, but there's only so much time you can get away with losing on the climbs because they're just that wee bit too steep to ride.
4. Trying to race after 2 weeks of gastroenteritis and not eating isn't a good idea...I don't need to tell you that your body needs a wee bit of food in there to be able to function properly.
5. Yes, recovery drinks are good, but ever better are Perthshire Burgers! Eat them after a race and they will help you feel better!
So, not my best ever race, but for my first XC race, it was a good learning experience. It was an Edinburgh podium in the slightly older than the whippets category and there's a new piece of silverware (well, slate-ware really) on the shelf.
I'm not sure if I'm an XC convert, but the SXC champs are at the start of September at Drumlanrig which is one of my favourite places to ride, so I might give it a bash again soon.
Jac
x
Sunday, 31 July 2011
Back in the saddle
Vikki's post about taking the scenic route home reminded me of what I first liked about cycling : being able to travel under my own steam to new places, to explore the countryside and ooh and aah at cute villages. So when the boyf announced he had a race today in deepest darkest Kent, I decided I would ride down to spectate and cheer. New countryside, new villages in glorious sunshine - the perfect antidote to my recent motivational slump.
Kent was beautiful, filled with orchards bursting with apples, fields of strawberries which wafted their mouth-watering aroma across the road. Oast houses, villages of half-timbered and wooden houses. I loved it.
Whilst I loved the scenery and loved the sunshine, I did not love the headwind. And I most certainly did not love my Garmin which decided to only alert me to some of the turns that were required. And when I accidentally went on the wrong route, it then spent 10 mins re-calculating the route whilst I either pedalled in a random direction or whilst I tapped my heels impatiently by the side of the road. Most frustrating.
And to add insult to injury, the combination of start faffage + wind + garmin wait + detours meant that I finally arrived at the race only to see the race marshalls packing up. Fail! Fortunately I still had enough brownie points in the account to get a lift home...
Kent was beautiful, filled with orchards bursting with apples, fields of strawberries which wafted their mouth-watering aroma across the road. Oast houses, villages of half-timbered and wooden houses. I loved it.
Whilst I loved the scenery and loved the sunshine, I did not love the headwind. And I most certainly did not love my Garmin which decided to only alert me to some of the turns that were required. And when I accidentally went on the wrong route, it then spent 10 mins re-calculating the route whilst I either pedalled in a random direction or whilst I tapped my heels impatiently by the side of the road. Most frustrating.
And to add insult to injury, the combination of start faffage + wind + garmin wait + detours meant that I finally arrived at the race only to see the race marshalls packing up. Fail! Fortunately I still had enough brownie points in the account to get a lift home...
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Motivational Slump
After six months of being utterly focused on training towards the Marmotte, I'm feeling demotivated and struggling to get properly back into training. I feel bored with cycling. I'm also bored of rain. Bored of squelchy shoes. Bored of grey skies. Bored of laps of Richmond Park. Bored bored bored.
Clearly I need a new challenge. However I have used up all my holiday chips so it'll have to be a London-based cycling challenge and all suggestions would be very welcome. There are a few Surrey / Kent Hills sportives in the forthcoming months but that all feels like simply a continuation of my Marmotte training, riding up the same old hills in the same old rain. I don't fancy racing as I have the reaction-times of a tired slug and fear that I would connect with tarmac rather too often. Maybe time trials? The boyf dismissed them, saying they're dull and start at O'Dark O'Clock, but I feel sure this cannot be a universal truth. I know I need a target and I suspect I need training buddies. There's only so much masochism a girl can do.
While I work out what I'm training towards, I still need do to some sport, so that I can eat cake and still fit into my jeans, of course. So some swimming, perhaps, and some spinning classes. And let's hope that inspiration strikes.
Sunday, 10 July 2011
Learning : heat & hills
I've learnt : How to manage heat.
I live in England where summer is a notional period in the diary rather than an actual indicator of hot weather, so learning to manage the proper heat of summer that you get elsewhere is kinda tricky. Some friends suggest doing all your training rides whilst wearing far too many layers. Another turbo trains in front of his fan oven. I, however, am a fan of less masochistic methods: wicking clothes and cunning hair solutions.
I have a huge amount of thick hair and find that a pony tail just sits in a hot clump on the neck, making you feel hotter by the minute. Instead, the Heidi look solves this problem. Wind goes down the back of your helmet and creates a wonderful draught of chilly breeze down your neck and back. If additional cooling is required, a quick dip of the head in the nearest horse trough and you've got a moving coolbox on your head. Genius.
I need to learn : How to descend.
I have always been crap at descending, but with my recent fall still fresh in my memory, I am now at whatever the polar opposite of warp speed is. I descend like a Granny with a cup of tea in her hand. And whilst in theory this doesn't really matter, (cycling not being my day job and all) I was pretty hacked off in the Marmotte to get overtaken by at least 50 people on each descent that I'd laboured past on the ascent. So cruel to lose those places just by being a scaredy cat. The boyf tells me that girls are often crap at it. So does anyone know of a course with hints & tips to teach us girls how to do this going fast down hill thing? Chalk lines on road showing lines to take and stuff?
I live in England where summer is a notional period in the diary rather than an actual indicator of hot weather, so learning to manage the proper heat of summer that you get elsewhere is kinda tricky. Some friends suggest doing all your training rides whilst wearing far too many layers. Another turbo trains in front of his fan oven. I, however, am a fan of less masochistic methods: wicking clothes and cunning hair solutions.I have a huge amount of thick hair and find that a pony tail just sits in a hot clump on the neck, making you feel hotter by the minute. Instead, the Heidi look solves this problem. Wind goes down the back of your helmet and creates a wonderful draught of chilly breeze down your neck and back. If additional cooling is required, a quick dip of the head in the nearest horse trough and you've got a moving coolbox on your head. Genius.
I need to learn : How to descend.
I have always been crap at descending, but with my recent fall still fresh in my memory, I am now at whatever the polar opposite of warp speed is. I descend like a Granny with a cup of tea in her hand. And whilst in theory this doesn't really matter, (cycling not being my day job and all) I was pretty hacked off in the Marmotte to get overtaken by at least 50 people on each descent that I'd laboured past on the ascent. So cruel to lose those places just by being a scaredy cat. The boyf tells me that girls are often crap at it. So does anyone know of a course with hints & tips to teach us girls how to do this going fast down hill thing? Chalk lines on road showing lines to take and stuff?
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Last weekend was the Black Mountains 3 Day race and it was a fabulous weekend. We were lucky with the weather and spent 2 long days riding gorgeous natural trails in the Brecon Beacons, plus a cheeky time trial on the Friday night. It was a great first-time event and I really hope they run it again. It was also good to be back pushing hard and feeling strong and able to give it some beans without being scared I was going to end up in bed with fatigue afterwards.
A massive thank you must go to the organisers. I hope they run it again...
Fi
Monday, 4 July 2011
Marmotte Madness
As the big day approached I started to get more and more apprehensive about the task ahead of me. Tears were shed. Kit was organised. Re-organised. And then organised again.
The night before I woke up every half an hour and panicked some more, which helped a lot, as I'm sure you can imagine. But then, at last, 5am was there and we got up and on with the day. The pre-race organisation was a little, umn, Gallic, (ie no instructions and entirely up to you to ask people / work it out) but I found myself in the right pen and next to a lovely English woman to whom I could chatter to take my mind off the wait and the freezing cold (6oC in race kit isn't really the most fun thing).
And then finally our pen of 5000 - 9000 start numbers set off with a chorus of clicking cleats and swear words as various people proved, not for the last time that day, that they don't know how to ride in a straight line or at an even speed. The sun was up, the mountains were glorious and various lovely lovely people were lining the road at this unfriendly hour to cheer us off.
The first few hours were pretty stressful given the volume of cyclists, with people swerving, stopping, speeding up, shoulder barging and generally behaving like drunk people at a disco, but I stuck with a few French Velo club guys and tried to keep safe and keep ticking off the miles.
The feed stations were complete bedlam (see pic below of the queue at the first Col for the feed station) and unless you brought specially sharpened elbows you'd have no luck. I gave up and stuck to rural fountains and the food I'd brought with me.
As the Marmotte is a very long, hilly, sportive (174km with 5000m of climb), it was always going to take me A Very Long Time, so to take my mind off it all I resorted to my usual sportive games :
At the top I ate my last remaining energy bar that was pre tested and thought that as no mad efforts would be required on the descent, my stomach might settle down. I underestimated both the stubbornness of my stomach and the windy nature (both twisty and gusty) of the road. So at the bottom of Alpe D'Huez I was still feeling decidedly queasy. And yet I took the bizarre decision to have another of the stomach-churning gels (the logic was that calories = good, I think) before setting off. The 21 virages seemed to last for an eternity, with shouty rock music urging me on as I sobbed and churned the gears. I was utterly miserable and I don't think I looked at the view once! But I got there. And my official time is 9h45*. Getting round in under 10 hours with no tears was my target and I managed 50% of that, so I'm pretty chuffed.
The boyf (who'd finished 4 hours earlier) met me at the end with coke and crisps and a bouquet of victory flowers and despite being rather shocked by the sobbing and the lack of speaking (I am normally the chattiest person in any given situation) for "the longest time" he gently nurtured me back to good humour and laughter and even got me talking about ideas for my next challenge! It's amazing how quickly you forget pain...
*Official time excludes the descent of the Glandon. In theory to make people descend in a rational, safe, fashion, as the time it takes doesn't count. It didn't quite work like that in reality. Anyway, total Garmin time was 10h30.
The night before I woke up every half an hour and panicked some more, which helped a lot, as I'm sure you can imagine. But then, at last, 5am was there and we got up and on with the day. The pre-race organisation was a little, umn, Gallic, (ie no instructions and entirely up to you to ask people / work it out) but I found myself in the right pen and next to a lovely English woman to whom I could chatter to take my mind off the wait and the freezing cold (6oC in race kit isn't really the most fun thing).
And then finally our pen of 5000 - 9000 start numbers set off with a chorus of clicking cleats and swear words as various people proved, not for the last time that day, that they don't know how to ride in a straight line or at an even speed. The sun was up, the mountains were glorious and various lovely lovely people were lining the road at this unfriendly hour to cheer us off.The first few hours were pretty stressful given the volume of cyclists, with people swerving, stopping, speeding up, shoulder barging and generally behaving like drunk people at a disco, but I stuck with a few French Velo club guys and tried to keep safe and keep ticking off the miles.
The feed stations were complete bedlam (see pic below of the queue at the first Col for the feed station) and unless you brought specially sharpened elbows you'd have no luck. I gave up and stuck to rural fountains and the food I'd brought with me.
As the Marmotte is a very long, hilly, sportive (174km with 5000m of climb), it was always going to take me A Very Long Time, so to take my mind off it all I resorted to my usual sportive games :- Guess the nationality (by the kit, the bike, the size of the rider and their tan)
If the kit's pre 1984 and looks like an explosion in a kid's crayon box, they're French.
If they've got a Eddy Merckx bike AND a tan, they're Belgian. If pale, they're English.
If they're very tall and have a tan, they're Dutch. If v tall and no tan, they're Norwegian.
If wearing Rapha, they're English and so on.
Every time I got it right I got a point, if I got it wrong, deduct a point. The aim is to get to the top of the hill in plus numbers. - Bike Bingo
spot a hybrid, a MTB, a hand-made bike, an old-school racer and someone with a pannier - Mental arithmatic
eg ok so there's 17km to the summit. Divide by 8, multiply by 5, that's about 11 and a bit miles so at 6mph that's going to take me 2 hours etc etc
At the top I ate my last remaining energy bar that was pre tested and thought that as no mad efforts would be required on the descent, my stomach might settle down. I underestimated both the stubbornness of my stomach and the windy nature (both twisty and gusty) of the road. So at the bottom of Alpe D'Huez I was still feeling decidedly queasy. And yet I took the bizarre decision to have another of the stomach-churning gels (the logic was that calories = good, I think) before setting off. The 21 virages seemed to last for an eternity, with shouty rock music urging me on as I sobbed and churned the gears. I was utterly miserable and I don't think I looked at the view once! But I got there. And my official time is 9h45*. Getting round in under 10 hours with no tears was my target and I managed 50% of that, so I'm pretty chuffed.
The boyf (who'd finished 4 hours earlier) met me at the end with coke and crisps and a bouquet of victory flowers and despite being rather shocked by the sobbing and the lack of speaking (I am normally the chattiest person in any given situation) for "the longest time" he gently nurtured me back to good humour and laughter and even got me talking about ideas for my next challenge! It's amazing how quickly you forget pain...*Official time excludes the descent of the Glandon. In theory to make people descend in a rational, safe, fashion, as the time it takes doesn't count. It didn't quite work like that in reality. Anyway, total Garmin time was 10h30.
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Bad Karma
I think I've been suffering from some bad bike karma after selling the Jooly.
Firstly, the Spot's been getting mysterious flats...fine when I'm riding, but each time I take her out of the hut, hey presto, there's another flat.
Then, at Puffer Lite last weekend, just after I'd got over my usual dark thoughts, my brakes packed in, on a nice, fast little descent! (Quite sketchy but maybe secretly a little bit exhilarating!) And ended up having to pull out of the race because they couldn't be fixed.
So either it's some sort of bad voodoo from the Jooly for selling her, or the Spot's pining for the Jooly and giving me a hard time.
Bikes, eh!
Fingers crossed it doesn't last!
Jac
x
Firstly, the Spot's been getting mysterious flats...fine when I'm riding, but each time I take her out of the hut, hey presto, there's another flat.
Then, at Puffer Lite last weekend, just after I'd got over my usual dark thoughts, my brakes packed in, on a nice, fast little descent! (Quite sketchy but maybe secretly a little bit exhilarating!) And ended up having to pull out of the race because they couldn't be fixed.
So either it's some sort of bad voodoo from the Jooly for selling her, or the Spot's pining for the Jooly and giving me a hard time.
Bikes, eh!
Fingers crossed it doesn't last!
Jac
x
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Farewell Old Friend
It's been a long time coming (almost 2 years in fact), but I was finally persuaded to sell my Jooly Superlight at the weekend and I feel like I felt when I was 14 and got dumped by some boy from school.
After much arm twisting and badgering, I was persuaded that it was time to try to sell the Jooly with a view to replacing it with something newer and shinier, so I finally started asking around to see if anyone would be interested in giving her a good home.
As soon as I'd asked, I wished I hadn't, but it was to late.
Money changed hands on Friday and she went off to her new home with a fresh sprig of lavender tucked into the bars for good luck.
So she's gone. I know her new owner will have lots of fun with her, but she's going to be a hard act to follow. So rather than rush into anything new, I'm going to spend the rest of the summer with the singlespeed trying to generate some more fun memories on bikes starting with Puffer Lite this weekend (you can create quite a few memories in 12 hours!).
Jac
x
After much arm twisting and badgering, I was persuaded that it was time to try to sell the Jooly with a view to replacing it with something newer and shinier, so I finally started asking around to see if anyone would be interested in giving her a good home.
As soon as I'd asked, I wished I hadn't, but it was to late.
Money changed hands on Friday and she went off to her new home with a fresh sprig of lavender tucked into the bars for good luck.
So she's gone. I know her new owner will have lots of fun with her, but she's going to be a hard act to follow. So rather than rush into anything new, I'm going to spend the rest of the summer with the singlespeed trying to generate some more fun memories on bikes starting with Puffer Lite this weekend (you can create quite a few memories in 12 hours!).
Jac
x
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Close Encounter
OUCH. I have road rash, whiplash and a bashed helmet.
On my last long ride yesterday I came a cropper in the rain, with an unexpected car move (did he indicate and I just not see it? torrential rain certainly didn't help) and my high speed avoidance resulting in an abrupt close encounter with tarmac.
Obviously I am very glad that actually the above injuries are all that I do have. And the bike is fine too. So I shouldn't complain. But a sore neck and lots of ouchy bits of me is not what I was hoping for at this point in my marmotte preparation. Any MTB hardy souls who get these injuries on a regular basis have my utmost admiration. And do please send your handy hints for a speedy recovery.
PS no photos as it's bits of me that I'd really rather not share with the internet that are the best-shredded...
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Tour de Mont Blanc May 2011 by Fi
Pain au chocolate in Chamonix, France; pizza and icecream in Cormayeur, Italy and muesli in Champex-Lac, Switzerland. A delicious 4 days of riding on the Tour de Mont Blanc. Gorgeous scenery, tough climbs and teeth-gritting descents. Perfect mind-laundry. Read more soon in the new regular feature on www.cyclistno1.co.uk - The Epic Ride. We're inviting readers to submit their own epic rides, adventures and stories about their two wheeled trips.
You got a story to tell?
Thursday, 9 June 2011
So for the last six months I've been mostly on my bike. Or stretching. Or yawning and complaining about how tired I am. You see I've been training for the Marmotte, which is a fairly chunky challenge even for a decent cyclist - and for a slightly chubby recreational cyclist who'd only once done 100 miles and never climbed anything more than 2500m in a day, it's a serious, daunting, OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I SIGNED UP FOR? kind of challenge.So what is the Marmotte (other than a cute Alpine animal?) It's a sportive of 190km (118 miles) with 5000m of climbing.
Say it really quickly and it doesn't sound so bad does it? Hmmmm. Well I'm scared. Really scared. Whilst I'm a lot fitter than I was (smug moment at the doctor when she said I had a very low pulse), and have managed to lose some of the lard, I'm still slow. And so it's going to take me a LONG time. Probably ten hours or so. So if anyone has any good musical suggestions, do please send them my way. Even though I'm a huge fan of Dolly, I suspect even she might wane on the third repeat.
Livvy
Monday, 23 May 2011
30 second update
I've been very quiet on this blog since I got back from racing the Patagonian Expedition Race in February. Well that's because a combination of the arduousness of that race (a word?), going out there with a virus and training very hard for it for a very long time, has left me with chronic fatigue syndrome. Rest is good, people. Rest up and rest well!
It has 3 months of grim days when I couldn't lift my head, good days when I thought it was all in my head and mediocre days when I would get overtaken by the old granny on her shopper on the way to work.
Then gradually things started to change. I have been eating well thanks to my nutritionist Jamie Richards, exercising well thanks to yoga, my new-found obsession, given up racing (other than for tea and cake) and don't train any more. Ever. I ride a bit, run a bit, kayak a bit and do a lot of yoga.
And now I feel good. I managed a 5 hour adventure race on Angelsey with my boyfriend on Saturday (www.openadventure.com) and my first Ocean Kayak Race yesterday in our beautiful double sea kayak. And on Thursdsday I'm off to mountain bike around Mont Blanc. 40k a day. A proper holiday. None of this flogging-yourself-til-it-hurts business. Those days are over.
I celebrate the return of my health. Every day that I can pedal, can smile, can put energy and vigour into my life is a good day. Long may it last.
Fi
It has 3 months of grim days when I couldn't lift my head, good days when I thought it was all in my head and mediocre days when I would get overtaken by the old granny on her shopper on the way to work.
Then gradually things started to change. I have been eating well thanks to my nutritionist Jamie Richards, exercising well thanks to yoga, my new-found obsession, given up racing (other than for tea and cake) and don't train any more. Ever. I ride a bit, run a bit, kayak a bit and do a lot of yoga.
And now I feel good. I managed a 5 hour adventure race on Angelsey with my boyfriend on Saturday (www.openadventure.com) and my first Ocean Kayak Race yesterday in our beautiful double sea kayak. And on Thursdsday I'm off to mountain bike around Mont Blanc. 40k a day. A proper holiday. None of this flogging-yourself-til-it-hurts business. Those days are over.
I celebrate the return of my health. Every day that I can pedal, can smile, can put energy and vigour into my life is a good day. Long may it last.
Fi
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Jumps and Drops (Scary Skills Day)
Friday saw 7 girls turn up at Gisburn Forest for the scary skills day, sorry, Jumps and Drops day, with Ed from Great Rock.
I was a bag of nerves on Thursday night - how gnarr will the day be? What if I'm the most chicken? What if everyone else is really good? Would I be able to commit or would my hands involuntarily grab my brakes like they usually do? It wasn't helped by Ed's e-mail telling us all that if we want to do the 4 foot drop on the DH course, we should bring a full face helmet. Eek! 4 foot drops are way beyond anything I've even considered trying to ride, so this was going to be way beyond me.
By the time I arrived on Friday morning, I'd convinced myself that I'd be happy just to listen, take it all in and watch. I'd just never be able to do any of it, but I could still learn stuff. So I was more than a little bit relieved to hear the other girls say they were nervous too.
After some nervous laughter, we set off to learn scary stuff.
We started off with manuals (controlled wheelies for those of us who don't do techy speak). I think it's fair to say that none of us were particularly stylish or controlled when we started, but after some practice, Ed had us all doing manuals.
Maybe I can do this then, I thought.
Then we moved on to rear end lifts (endo's without pulling the breaks) which proved to be a bit more of a challenge, but again, Ed managed to have us all doing it in no time at all.
Next, we had to try to combine the manual and the rear end lift to do a bunny hop. I've only ever managed bunny hops by yanking the bike up with my pedals before, so this was a bit of a revelation for me.
After stopping for lunch to dry off a bit and warm up (the weather had been pretty grim all morning), we set off to put together all the skills we'd learned in the morning and try manualling and jumping off drops. I'm always being told to lift my front wheel when I'm dropping off stuff, but never been able to do it, so I didn't have much confidence that, after just a few hours, I'd be able to "get air" off a drop like the boys do when we go riding.
We started will a drop I'd usually roll off, so it didn't seem too scary and after just a few attempts, we were all managing to manual off the lip of the drop and some of us were even managing to jump off the drop. This was a massive step forward for me and I already felt that I had achieved loads (no more being told to lift my front wheel!).
Next, Ed persuaded some of us move on to the next drop. This one was a lot bigger. I'm sure it wasn't quite as big as it looked, but it looked like it was about 3 foot tall, built from stone with a concrete slab on the top.
Jenn, Cat, Ros and I spent several minutes walking round the drop, looking at it from the top, then from the bottom, then further back up the trail, then back to the top of the drop, but all we were doing was making ourselves more nervous. So, Jenn decided just to go for it. Unfortunately, because it was quite a short run up, she didn't manage to get quite enough speed, tried to stop at the top, and somehow managed to roll off the drop.
Then it was Cat's turn. She managed to get speed up, got off the drop really nicely, but then when she landed, her forks compressed and it all went a bit wrong. By the time I rushed over to the top of the drop, she was lying in a heap on the trail looking pretty beat up. Luckily, she got off relatively lightly with a grazed and bruised chin and a bashed shoulder.
After that, Ros and I decided that the drop wasn't for us, so we suggested to Ed that we move on to something else.
Ed's choice of taking us to the quarry didn't seem like an easier option to me! Then, when he pointed to a big rocky drop, I really though he was kidding, but he was serious!
I could swear the drop was about as tall as me (although I'm sure it wasn't really) and it was narrow with a really short run out, so I really couldn't see how it could be possible for me to ride this.
As I stood at the top I couldn't figure out how I could possibly ride down it, but Ed was confident we could all do it, so I decided to at least try riding up to it to see what it was like. Jenn and I took our bikes further up the quarry and took a few deep breaths. Jenn decided to go first and rode it like a pro!
Then I rode at it, all the time, the little voice in my head was screaming "Don't touch the brakes! Hold on to the bars like your life depends on it! COMMIT!", whilst I kept muttering under my breath "Come on! You can do this!". Then I rode off the drop and found myself riding away from the bottom, in one piece!
I made it!
Just a few hours earlier, I wouldn't even have considered riding to the top of something like that to have a look, but I'd just managed to ride the biggest drop in the world (well, it seemed that way to me).
Just to prove to myself that I really had done it, I went back to have another try and again, found myself riding away from the bottom in one piece. If I could do a backflip, I think I would have!
So, maybe I hadn't managed to ride that first big drop, but I did manage to ride something I would never have dreamed of riding before and that's a huge step forward in my book!
I'm not sure I'm a gnarr rider yet, but if nothing else, I've found a new way of looking at trails and have a bit more confidence. I'm already thinking about my local trails and how I can ride them differently, better and maybe smoother. I can't wait to go out for my next ride and play!
Can we go out for a ride now?
Jac
x
Monday, 16 May 2011
saturdays are for riding
Just a quick reminder that this coming Saturday (21st May), we're hosting a ride from Hebden Bridge.
If we end up with a very large group of ladies then we'll possibly split into an easy and harder ride but nobody will be left behind. We have all sorts of trails here - not all straight up - and the only requirements are a working mountain bike, helmet/gloves, a spare tube and food/drink to keep yourself going. And yes, there will be cake.
Coffee Cali, Hebden Bridge. 10.30am to ride at 11am.
(Blazing Saddles are just around the corner if you need to shop but as there are likely to be a fair few of us, a larger meeting point was needed - the fact that it's a coffee shop is purely coincidental, ahem...)
Fingers crossed for less of this...
And plenty of this...!
j.
If we end up with a very large group of ladies then we'll possibly split into an easy and harder ride but nobody will be left behind. We have all sorts of trails here - not all straight up - and the only requirements are a working mountain bike, helmet/gloves, a spare tube and food/drink to keep yourself going. And yes, there will be cake.
Coffee Cali, Hebden Bridge. 10.30am to ride at 11am.
(Blazing Saddles are just around the corner if you need to shop but as there are likely to be a fair few of us, a larger meeting point was needed - the fact that it's a coffee shop is purely coincidental, ahem...)
Fingers crossed for less of this...
And plenty of this...!
j.
Monday, 9 May 2011
24 Solo (and more short stories)
This weekend was the European and UK 24 and 12 hour solo champs. It was the same venue as last year, Newcastleton, Scotland (just down the road for me), but with some upgrades to facilities and slight changes to the course. The weather conditions, though, couldn't have been more different from last year - blazing sunshine and dry dusty trails last year v biblical rain and wet muddy trails this year. So it was quite a different race from last year.
I had entered the 24 almost as soon as the entries opened, but then did nothing about it. No training, no real thought to how I was going to do it, I just put it to the back of my mind until a month ago I realised it was almost time and I was not ready by a long shot!
So, as you can imagine, it didn't really go quite as I hoped, and the biblical rain and horrible mud, didn't really help my cause.
From my very first lap I was battling with my usual dark thoughts of throwing in the towel, but because my towel was already covered in mud and soaking wet, that wasn't an option (our tent had a huge puddle in it when I woke up on Saturday morning and a bunch of my things were lying in the puddle, including my towel and some of my riding kit!).
For the first few laps, the course was really busy because of the combination of 12 and 24 hour riders, but as time went on, it got quieter - the bad weather was taking it's toll on riders and bikes and several riders decided to call it quits early. My lap times weren't great, but I was managing to keep consistent times and was starting to enjoy the trails, but then I had a bit of a mishap....one of the fun, if a bit sketchy, muddy descents had got a bit muddier since my last lap, so I decided to try a different line...bad idea. Wobble, don't touch the brakes, oh, avoid that tree, thump. Bike flew over the top of me and I was in a very muddy heap on the ground with my bike on top of me. Luckily a marshal was at the top of the hill and came rushing down to get my bike off me and off the trail. I stood up and checked the bike, which was fine, but I realised that I had ripped a huge hole in the bum of my shorts and an equally huge hole in my bum cheek! I didn't really want to lose a lap, so I decided just to finish the lap with my bum hanging out the back of my shorts. Not very lady-like I know, but it was dark by this time and not many people on the course, so I figured nobody would notice (and if they did, they'd be in an equally bad state, so probably wouldn't pay too much attention).
Then the rains came, and I mean proper rain. So after my next lap, I know I shouldn't have, but I decided to take refuge in my tent until the rain eased off a bit. The next thing I knew, the sun was up... I'd managed to doze off and sleep for several hours and I was more than a little bit cross with myself!
So, having missed the dawn lap, my favourite, and now being several laps down on where I should have been, I went back out on to the, now almost deserted, course. I managed to ride a few more laps, but by the finish, I was quite a few laps down on where I'd hoped to be (as well as being another pair of shorts down!).
Despite all of that, it was another great event and the support and encouragement from my shared pit crew, other riders and other support crews managed to keep a smile on my face even when I really should have been crying.
Now that I'm home, clean, dry, rested and the sun's out, I'm taking stock of the weekend.
1. The massive black bruise on my right bum cheek has reminded me that I must remember to take arnica to events.
2. I must take a waterproof with me if I think there's even a remote chance that it'll rain (so that I can't use being soaked through as an excuse for stopping for a bit).
3. I need to find the time to train. My next big event is a month from now, so just enough time...maybe, if I really, really try.
Jac
x
P.S. I'll try to find some pics of the epic muddiness and pop them up.
I had entered the 24 almost as soon as the entries opened, but then did nothing about it. No training, no real thought to how I was going to do it, I just put it to the back of my mind until a month ago I realised it was almost time and I was not ready by a long shot!
So, as you can imagine, it didn't really go quite as I hoped, and the biblical rain and horrible mud, didn't really help my cause.
From my very first lap I was battling with my usual dark thoughts of throwing in the towel, but because my towel was already covered in mud and soaking wet, that wasn't an option (our tent had a huge puddle in it when I woke up on Saturday morning and a bunch of my things were lying in the puddle, including my towel and some of my riding kit!).
For the first few laps, the course was really busy because of the combination of 12 and 24 hour riders, but as time went on, it got quieter - the bad weather was taking it's toll on riders and bikes and several riders decided to call it quits early. My lap times weren't great, but I was managing to keep consistent times and was starting to enjoy the trails, but then I had a bit of a mishap....one of the fun, if a bit sketchy, muddy descents had got a bit muddier since my last lap, so I decided to try a different line...bad idea. Wobble, don't touch the brakes, oh, avoid that tree, thump. Bike flew over the top of me and I was in a very muddy heap on the ground with my bike on top of me. Luckily a marshal was at the top of the hill and came rushing down to get my bike off me and off the trail. I stood up and checked the bike, which was fine, but I realised that I had ripped a huge hole in the bum of my shorts and an equally huge hole in my bum cheek! I didn't really want to lose a lap, so I decided just to finish the lap with my bum hanging out the back of my shorts. Not very lady-like I know, but it was dark by this time and not many people on the course, so I figured nobody would notice (and if they did, they'd be in an equally bad state, so probably wouldn't pay too much attention).
Then the rains came, and I mean proper rain. So after my next lap, I know I shouldn't have, but I decided to take refuge in my tent until the rain eased off a bit. The next thing I knew, the sun was up... I'd managed to doze off and sleep for several hours and I was more than a little bit cross with myself!
So, having missed the dawn lap, my favourite, and now being several laps down on where I should have been, I went back out on to the, now almost deserted, course. I managed to ride a few more laps, but by the finish, I was quite a few laps down on where I'd hoped to be (as well as being another pair of shorts down!).
Despite all of that, it was another great event and the support and encouragement from my shared pit crew, other riders and other support crews managed to keep a smile on my face even when I really should have been crying.
Now that I'm home, clean, dry, rested and the sun's out, I'm taking stock of the weekend.
1. The massive black bruise on my right bum cheek has reminded me that I must remember to take arnica to events.
2. I must take a waterproof with me if I think there's even a remote chance that it'll rain (so that I can't use being soaked through as an excuse for stopping for a bit).
3. I need to find the time to train. My next big event is a month from now, so just enough time...maybe, if I really, really try.
Jac
x
P.S. I'll try to find some pics of the epic muddiness and pop them up.
Thursday, 14 April 2011
Short Stories
How do you know when it's finally time to say goodbye to your favourite old shorts?
Is it when the stitching frays a bit along the seems? No. They're still hanging together. It'll be fine.
Is it when the chamois starts to get a bit lumpy? Nah. It's just molded to the shape of your bottom. It's not chaffing, so it's still fine.
Is it when you notice a slightly thinning patch on your inner thigh where your thigh rubs against the saddle? Oh no. That's just aero-dynamics...less resistance at your inner thigh.
Is it when you make a speedy dismount, desperately trying not to go pelting into the stream, but manage to catch that slightly thinning patch on your saddle, wobble and tumble a bit and hear that unmistakable sound of ripping lycra? Yes. It's probably time now.
Jac
x
Is it when the stitching frays a bit along the seems? No. They're still hanging together. It'll be fine.
Is it when the chamois starts to get a bit lumpy? Nah. It's just molded to the shape of your bottom. It's not chaffing, so it's still fine.
Is it when you notice a slightly thinning patch on your inner thigh where your thigh rubs against the saddle? Oh no. That's just aero-dynamics...less resistance at your inner thigh.
Is it when you make a speedy dismount, desperately trying not to go pelting into the stream, but manage to catch that slightly thinning patch on your saddle, wobble and tumble a bit and hear that unmistakable sound of ripping lycra? Yes. It's probably time now.
Jac
x
Saturday, 9 April 2011
It might just be spring
Today was officially a lovely spring day!I've not been able to get out riding all week, so this morning's blue skies and tweety birds were all it took for me to decide to ride out to visit my Dad rather than drive....well, that and a quick pedal change (we seem to be down a pair of pedals at the moment, so there's a rotation system going on), some indecision about whether or not to be brave enough not to wear winter kit, opting for a compromise of roubaix 3/4's, base layer, jersey, arm warmers and gillet rather than winter jacket and then I was off.
20 minutes later, my foot came out the pedal suddenly...or at least I thought it came out of my pedal. When I looked down, I saw that the pedal was attached to my foot, but not to the crank. Ahem...maybe I didn't put it on quite tightly enough, but luckily nobody saw me go a bit pink with embarrassment and I quickly put it right and got back on my way.
Within another 20 minutes, I was by the seaside and breathing in salty, seaweedy air and heading down the coast under big blue skies. Although it's only April, the beaches were crammed with people (admittedly they were all huddling near the carparks behind wind breaks and wearing lots of clothes, but they were at the seaside).
The coast road's always pretty windy, so my plan was to ride out along the flat, but windy, coast road and return by the less windy but quite lumpy inland road. I was relieved to turn off the busy coast road out of the wind and start heading cross country on peaceful little roads.I managed to spot lots of pheasants, lambs, cabbage fields (which smell quite strong), a hare and a dinosaur. I really did spot a dinosaur...
I stopped off at my Dad's for some lunch and cake (and a bit of oohing and ahing at the fact that I rode over the big hill from the coast road) before heading off for the return leg. By this time it had actually started to get a little bit warm but I wasn't quite brave enough to take my arm warmers off. I think I had a bit of a glow going on though.I decided to go for a bit of a randomeer and took a left onto a very small road which was deserted but turned out to have some brand new tarmac on it, so I felt very spoiled....traffic free road and not a single pot hole to be seen. The road was so quiet, it felt like I'd stepped back in time and the road signs only made the feeling stronger....when do you last remember seeing a sign telling you were 1 and 5/8 miles from a town?
Although having the roads to myself was bliss, my randomeering did add a few extra miles onto my ride, as I discovered when I realised my gas tank was empty and I hadn't brought any food with me and there was still 10 miles left to go. Luckily there was milkshake and Portuguese potatoes waiting when I got home.
Fingers crossed tomorrow's just as lovely as today and I might even be brave enough to wear shorts rather than roubaix 3/4....maybe. I'll definitely take some food though.
Jac
x
Monday, 28 March 2011
tick tock tick tock
the clocks have gone forward and it's all downhill from here. don't waste it are the words of the week.
there's enough light in the evenings to ride after work and enough warmth to do it in short sleeves. the knees are out and already a state but the trails are as buff as they ever get; every day from now 'til october will end with a race to the top of the hill. chasing the sun, chasing the dust, chasing the summer.
go!
j.
there's enough light in the evenings to ride after work and enough warmth to do it in short sleeves. the knees are out and already a state but the trails are as buff as they ever get; every day from now 'til october will end with a race to the top of the hill. chasing the sun, chasing the dust, chasing the summer.
go!
j.
Monday, 21 March 2011
Patagonia
Fi writes:
I've been back from Chilean Patagonia for a month. Sorry about the delay. I feel like in the past 48 hours the post race fog has lifted.
UPDATE:
What did I do: The Wenger Patagonia Expedition Adventure Race
Where is it: Chilean Patagonia
What is it: 10 day expedition adventure race, including mountain biking, trekking, kayaking and navigation
Who did I race with: Team Adidas Terrex, former World Adventure Racing Champions
How did it go? Well. We won!
I'm in the process of writing an article about the experience and finding it rather draining. It was 8 of the hardest days of my life, yet the most exhilarating. The report will follow, I promise. In the mean time, share our finish line moment:
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