Author Archives: Jay Trotman

Let the wind blow through me

That would be cool wouldn’t it?  Some sort of two way phase modulator thingy (yes, I’ve been reading science fiction).  When the wind is being annoying, you’d flick a switch, align all your molecules, and the wind would just blow through you.  And if there was any chance, however unlikely it seems to be these days, that the wind was actually going to be in your favour, or if for some bizarre reason you fancied a session slogging into it, you’d flip the switch back again, and let the wind do its thing.

Because recently there has been far too much wind.  I’ve found myself wishing for the ability to tack.  Actually, doing a search for the definition of tacking to enlighten the uninitiated, I see there’s a Deep Space Nine episode entitled “Tacking into the Wind“.  Which seems appropriate given the science fiction theme.  Anyway, back to tacking, which sadly I can’t do on a bike.  Neither can I hoist a sail when the wind is behind me.  In fact all I can do when it all gets too much is batten down the hatches and head for port. ( I think I may have overworked my nautical metaphor – shame on me 😉 ).

So far I’ve managed two paragraphs on the wind, sailing, and science fiction, without even mentioning today’s ride.  Which, as you will have gathered, was a little windier than I would have liked, as I would have liked it not to be windy at all.  Especially not when the wind is from the NE, a direction not noted for it’s balmy overtones…

I didn’t have a plan today.  I was thinking a couple of hours on the flat, in tapering fashion.  But for some reason the little voice in my head had other ideas, which it sprung on me as we went along.  It started by suggesting that going up Shipham Hill would be a good idea, as then I would have done a hill and could relax for the rest of the ride.  Good idea, no?  So I did, in 16:25, my second best time this year.  Get in! 😀

From there I made it up as I went along – see here for details – with the flat bits being incidental rather than intentional.  I’m particularly impressed by the fact that I had no idea I was going to go up Brent Knoll until I got there.  Well why would you, when there’s a perfectly good road round it?  I seem to be quite good at springing hills on myself.  At least that way I don’t have time to dread them first, and they seem to go quite well that way.  OK, so it wasn’t the hilliest ride ever, but it was a darn sight hillier than planned 🙂  (Hillier is a word that is looking sillier and sillier each time I write it).

Cycling time: 2:20:22
Distance: 34.78 miles
Avs: 14.5 mph
ODO: 7473 miles

So the hills went well.  Both up and down, which is nice.  My knee was strapped up and ok.  My shoulders/neck/back were neither, but then I haven’t taken any painkillers for a couple of days precisely to see how those bits are feeling.  Painful apparently.  Pink pills here I come.  And on Sunday’s Endura Lionheart I think I need to make a point of stopping and stretching regularly (sorry GB).  There are three feed stops so that should be about right, and should break up the 96 miles nicely.  Now all I need is sun and a tail wind, “…such stuff as dreams are made on…”.

Stone cold sober

Today’s entry is brought to you by the number 7 and the letter G.  There were 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 (8, 9, 10, 11 12..) members of the ACG who came out to play today.  In the interests of accuracy, there were 5 paid up members and 2 guests.  2 of “them” – aka mtb’ers.  OK, there’s no them and us really, but I thought I’d add a little unnecessary dramatic tension to the mix.  As it turns out, both the guests were called Chris.  Not Dave (which is our usual default name).  Which is good for remembering names, but bad for differentiating in blogland.  However since the first Chris, who has been out with us before, has a carefully calculated calorific and carbohydrate based reason for eating a fig roll every 15/20 minutes he shall henceforth be known as Figgy.  Now if I ate fig rolls like that, I would bear more than a passing resemblance to a figgy pudding…however he’s a whippet.  Sometimes there’s just no justice in this world…

GB has apparently not managed to get a lot of riding in this week, and was in coiled spring mode today.  Plus he was on the shiny bike whilst the other one has gone in for repairs.  Yes, I know it’s not about the bike, but…surely with a steed like that you feel the urge to live up to what it can do? As well as co-ordinating all your clothes to it of course 😉

Anyway, his proposed route was gratuitously hilly and thus, if you’re me, a tad scarey, but as I’m making myself do hills these days I didn’t complain, though I was worried about it, due to the pain factor this week.   However it would appear that I’ve done such a good job of complaining about hills in the past that these days everyone thinks I hate them.  (That’ll larn me).  And offers me opportunities to avoid them while the greater group tackle them.  I know, I know, it’s perverse of me, but I find that irritating.  But maybe that’s good as it makes me more determined to prove them wrong and to get up the hills by hook or by crook?  I like to think I’m getting better at them.  Of course it would help if all those around me weren’t getting better at the same time…but there you go.  I’m supposed to be trying not to compare myself with everyone else, do the whole PMA thing, but sometimes it’s hard…  It’s not that I hate hills.  It’s that I hate not being as good as everyone else up them.  There, does that make sense?

Back to the ride.  What does the “G” stand for?  It stands for Group.  And when you’re in the Group it is Great, and Good and sometimes Glorious.  But then you hit a Gradient, and it is Ghastly and Grinding and the Gap Grows and you are Grumpy.

G also stands for Gorge, which was the first climb of the day.  I was quite pleased with how it went as I didn’t have to get out of the saddle at the steep bit, which feels like progress.   I even went back down for a bit to pick up MD who’d had mechanical issues.  The peloton waited at the top, which was nice, but I was soon left behind again.  Rather than Grumble too much (though the temptation was Great) I tried to focus on having a Thoughtful ride instead.  I paid attention to how I was pedalling.  I tried to keep my arms a bit looser, less rigid, to absorb more of the road noise.  I also made a point of changing position from time to time.  All of this is aimed to help the shoulder and knee issues, though I do intend to have a set-up check with Andrew at some point as well, and I think it helped.

We went through Priddy, and down the Wells Road, which was kinda fun.  GB did try and challenge me to going down without braking, but let’s face it, that wasn’t going to happen now was it?  Still, I did my best, and enjoyed the descent as best I could.  I even had time to have a chat with another cyclist from Bristol on the way down as he overtook me.  Yes – everyone is faster than me *grin*.

Once in Wells we went out up a Horrington.  I say we, I mean me, as the group had vanished in a cloud of smoke, and MD had dropped off behind me somewhere.  However once on my own, and with no reference point to compare myself unfavourably with, I settled into a rhythm of my own and pootled my way fairly happily up to where they were waiting, so on balance this was a good thing.  Once MD had joined us it turns out that we were practically at our destination – Hartley’s Café, a new one to us.  Which turned out to be unexpectedly lovely 🙂  Very friendly, with very good coffee, served in double americano form – my drug of choice!  I can definitely see us ending up back there again.  It looks like the food was good too, though there’s no way you’re going to catch me eating waffles, bacon, banana and maple syrup, but each to their own…or Figgy’s own in this case.  Again – no justice…

We had the usual “which way are we going home” debate, and I still refused to bail on the hills.  They’re good for me, right?  And why should I always be the killjoy?  It would appear that I’ve had such low expectations of my ability for so long, which I have clearly broadcast, that everyone else now agrees with me.  Hm.  (Again – that’ll larn me).  So after some interesting back road meanderings to get down to Chewton Mendip and then along past Litton, we went up a Harptree.  Which is a long long long climb.  Again, head down, every girl for herself, and see you at the top.  Once again the group reunited, this time outside the Castle of Comfort, where I did indeed take comfort – in the knowledge that they hadn’t had to wait too long for me.  MD rejoined us for the final time, and we headed for home.

For the last stretch I managed to pretty much keep up with the pack.  Which was Gratifying.  And when flying along the top at speed, also Grand.  We went along towards Burrington and then round via Charterhouse, where the downhill after Tynings Farm was as lovely as ever, and down from Shipham, where it was even better.  From there, buoyed up by endorphins, it was easy to put my foot down and push down the bypass to home.  Ok, I was the first back in the Square, but let’s face it, that just means nobody else was racing :D.

Cycling time: 2:43:53
Distance: 40.15 miles
Avs: 14.6 mph
ODO: 7439 miles

So, an interesting ride, with Grouchy overtones.  I did pretty well, and I’m not knackered now, even after a bath, about which I am Glad.   And we’re going to have Gammon for tea.  Just as well, as I appear to have forgotten to have lunch…

Cry me a river

This morning I resorted to coffee.  Well, the thought of going for a ride with GW will do that to a girl.  Anything that might help…but that was all I had.  That and porridge.  Fuel and rocket fuel 😉

I had to meet GW at her place which is about 20 minutes away these days.  Depending on the weather this can be a lovely hurtle down the A38, or a slog.  Guess which it was today?  Well, if I mention the SW 20 mph gusty wind would that give you a clue?

So I slogged my way down to the new pad, and after a brief tour and faff, we were on our way to Clevedon.  As was inevitable, the wind turned out to have a whole heap more W in it that it should have had and it managed to be against us for an large proportion of the time.  I hate wind.  It’s just so sapping…  So loud.  It’s a constant fight – especially with strong cross winds – to keep your bike where you want it to be on the road.  Just drains the life right out of you…

We went up the A38, around the Webbington, over to Congresbury, managed to get lost around Yatton/Claverham as usual, and ended up going up the main road to the bottom of Brockley Coombe to get to Clevedon by which time I was not a happy bunny.  Both shoulders hurt, the wind was annoying, GW was constantly 50ft ahead (probably as well since that way she couldn’t hear me whingeing), I’d had enough, and just wanted to get to where we were going.

It took us 32 miles and over 2 hours to get to Clevedon…which last time I checked was a lot nearer than that.  We sat inside No 5 the Beach on the seafront, and drank good coffee, which perked me up a bit and delayed the inevitable for a while…  BTW, they have very lovely toilets – one of the criteria in our search for the best local café 😉

We came back as close to as the crow flies as possible.  We managed to get the wind behind us occasionally but mostly it stuck to stealthy attacks from the side again.  Restful…not!  I must have been doing something right since GW spent most of the way home sitting behind me though.  After an hour of that my knee started twingeing but luckily we were nearly home.  The downhill from Winscombe was a joyous thing…but probably even more wonderful for GW who got to keep going down…as I swung a left down the bypass, grabbed a tail wind, and flew home 🙂

Cycling time: 3:06:49
Distance: 47.08 miles
Avs: 15.0 mph
ODO: 7398 miles

Man that was hard work!  But when the wind wasn’t killing me, my legs actually felt pretty strong, and the uphills weren’t bothering me particularly either.  Which is all good 🙂

Mad March Hare

0500 hours.  “What’s the “O” stand for? Oh my God it’s early“.  And it was.  Very early.  Very dark.  But if I let the alarm go off any longer it was going to wake the whole household and nobody would thank me for that so I dragged myself out of bed, into the bathroom, and got started on getting on with getting on.  Having been, as ever, painfully organised, all my kit awaited me downstairs so I duly dressed up in my many layers, packed up the bag, sorted a picnic breakfast, filled a flask with coffee, and was sorted and ready when GB collected me at 6.00am.

I have a habit of being irritatingly perky and cheerful and chatty first thing in the morning before sportives.  It’s a nerves thing, plus adrenalin, and the whole if I don’t I’ll fall asleep again thing.  Probably very irritating if you’re not a morning person.  GB is not a morning person.  To be fair, I’m not much better after events – a combo of relief, endorphins, and not wanting to fall instantly asleep again.  I’m thinking he may well start insisting we arrive at events separately…*grin*.

We arrived on schedule, parked his car in the cowshed, and got sorted.  I had trouble getting my helmet on, and whilst pulling it on felt my right shoulder muscle thing go.  Great.  Instant pain and inability to look over my right shoulder – something which is usually quite essential when cycling.  Oddly enough the same thing happened last year, albeit the other shoulder.  I popped a pink pill, and hoped for the best…  Not the best of starts however, but hey, at least this year I didn’t have earache too!

After minimal queueing to register, and the requisite amount of faffing with kit, toilets, bikes, etc…we got on our way a bit after 8.00am, with GB’s friend Bunny.  We were running a sweepstake as to how long Bunny would stick with us…  I’ve forgotten why he’s called Bunny.  I’ve seen him “bunny hop” over a pothole.  Maybe that’s it.  (I know what would happen if I tried that…).  Maybe it’s because he’s the eternal rabbit – the cyclist in front of you that you try to chase down and fail dismally…  Who knows?  Either way, we were three.  And we stayed that way, even if sometimes in a rather strung out way, for most of the day.  I did kinda fall off the back on a regular basis and the guys were kind enough to wait for me from time to time.  I was happy to sit back and watch them half-wheel each other…

Apparently according to Bunny, who cycled with us at an event last year and therefore presumably has a basis for comparison, I have a smaller behind than last year.  Of course that implies that my behind was immense last year but I think I’ll take the high road and accept the compliment which it kind of is.  In case you were wondering he said the same about GB’s posterior. Well I guess Bunny has to think about something when he’s kicking his heels on the rare occasions when he’s brining up the rear.  (Rear…see…see what I did there? 😉 ).

I can’t remember much about the route.  It’s all very pretty and scenic in a not very distinctive way.  What do I remember?  Realising that it really was rather cold and that thicker socks might have been a good idea, and that Buffs are still wonderful.  Discovering on the first decent downhill that I’d forgotten to flip the front brake back down last time I took the front wheel on and off.  Interesting…  Lousy road surfaces for the first 20 miles or so.  Pretty houses, churches, the other half clearly living well…  Grit in my eyes – t’ain’t good to lose binocular vision when cycling in traffic…  We did the course anti-clockwise so most of the bends were left one, but the right ones went well which implies that my half-replaced headset has made a difference.  My new bottles seem to let in more air with fluid than they should so I had a massive stitch/trapped wind combo which was painful and took a good 3/4 hr to sort itself out.  Which luckily it did before the very big hill.

I don’t care who you are or what you say – it was a very big hill.  Dover’s Hill I think.  And it went on for quite a long way.  I am reliably informed it as 15% at the steepest, and it was fairly constant all the way up.  But I didn’t walk, and plenty did, which is always nice.  One day I’m going to do Alpine hills, and they’re not as steep as that, which is good to know.  OK, so they go on a lot lot longer but still…

Once at the top, at the feedstation, glimmers of sunshine started to show through, and the temperature went up a couple of degrees over the rest of the ride.  Which was a bit weird route-wise as most of it I’d done last year in reverse – it’s amazing how much you remember.  And considering the amount of that kind of useless stuff that is clearly lurking in my brain it’s no wonder I can’t always remember what I had for breakfast… The descent after the hill was FanTabulous.  Really good.  No t-junction at the end.  Wide road, good surface, no sharp bends or cars…  Such F U N 🙂

Of course after the hill it felt like you were on your way to the end, whilst forgetting that that end was still quite a while away, so it dragged a bit.  My knee went after 3 1/2 hours.  My shoulder was still hurting.  The drugs weren’t working.   The stitch was still lurking.  And my cycle computer was playing up so I couldn’t really judge how far I had left to go.  My goal for what was supposed to be 68 miles was about 4.30 and I had been feeling like I was kind of on track for that.  But without the figures at my fingertips I felt a bit lost.

Company made the time go faster throughout.  We chatted.  The boys played sprint finishes.  We compared figures from similarly non-functioning gadgets. Courtesy of being the one to give people nicknames, it would appear that GB has no nickname.  (He has no hill either).  He is the man with no name.  Or maybe the man behind the mask.  I’m very tempted to call him Zorro.  Considering that Zorro  is one “who defends the people of the land against tyrannical officials and other villains” this would be quite in fitting with the occasional rant that has been known to issue forth…  Either that or he is the “Man with No Name“.  Which would, by logical procession, make him Clint.  Hm.

Anyway, in on of my more abandoned patches, near what was possibly the end, I reached a junction where the sign had moved and there was no-one around and I had no idea where to go…  A man with a Garmin turned up and I followed him in what was allegedly the right direction, (it was), and discovered OMG (Our Man with a Garmin called Charlie) at the side of the road with a broken chain.  There was no fixing it, and nothing for it but for me to cycle to the end, 3 miles or so on, and get Bunny, who’d already finished, to pick him up.  Yes, Zorro notched up his first DNF 🙁  A disappointing end to a fairly enjoyable ride.

Cycling time: 4:43:32 (not including stops)
Distance: c 73 miles
Avs: 15.4 mph
ODO: 7351 miles

The organisation for the event was great – great signs (all bar that moved one), good parking, very friendly folk.  The only downside was that the queue for the long awaited (and free) post-ride bacon rolls was long and winding, and was much the same even after we’d cleaned up and packed up, so we gave up and headed for home via the services for sustenance (him) and decent coffee (me).  It was, though by then sunny, still too cold for hanging around.  Ah well, it’s only a bacon roll, right?  And I was a good girl and drank my recovery stuff, so it’s not like I was really hungry anyway

It was the longest ride of the season so far.  I know it’s only 23 miles longer than the 50 we did a while back, which is only a matter of an hour and a half or so, so it shouldn’t make a big difference.  However as I’ve said before, and due to my habit of repeating myself will no doubt say again, a lot of cycling is mental (or psychological if you want to be fussy, but actually by some people’s standards we’re mental for just doing such things…) and it does make a difference.  So it’s only reasonable to be a bit hyped up after and then a lot tired later.  And I was tired enough to have to get an early night – I just couldn’t do awake anymore.  I’m feeling better today.  Well….both shoulders now hurt but the knee doesn’t.  Swings and roundabouts…at least today is my rest day, and I’m off to see my physio tomorrow.

First ride of the season – done! And done fairly well  🙂

So on to the reader’s poll.  What’s it to be?  Zorro, Clint, or OMG?

(You can see a photo of GB and I on the route if you’re interested…)

UPDATE: my official time is 4:57.  There were 492 riders.  Results are here.  Looks like 134 didn’t start, and a 20 or so with no time.    Fastest was 3.32, Slowest 7:11.  Which makes me like 165 out of 333.  About par for the course.  Maybe even slightly higher up the rankings than usual 🙂

Through the barricades

GB is still on holiday.  I still need to ride.  2 + 2 = 4.  Or 1 + 1 = 2 I guess.  So we rode.  In order to try and beat the very cold NE wind, we decided to repeat Monday’s route but in reverse.  Thus we started by going up Shipham Hill, which took about 17:00 if you knock off a bit for faffing around in the Square etc.  Well, it was Very cold.  And I wasn’t pushing it as it’s supposed to be a tapering week.  The first 1/2 hour of any ride is fairly hideous, and it’s not helped by going up hill, but at least I was nearly warm by the time I got to the top.

We took the nasty little steep bit towards Charterhouse, which I still don’t like, and found the wind for real.  Oddly enough on the top of the Mendips is quite exposed…who’d a thought it?  My descent down Burrington Coombe went quite well but if I was cold to start with I was freezing by the time I got to the bottom!  It really was bitterly cold…  So coffee at the now open Walled Garden, and a warm scone, went down a treat.  Having said that, it was £5 for coffee and a scone, whether or not you have cream and jam (which I didn’t) and that’s just a rip off.  Especially when at Brean Down it’s £2.35.  £3 for a scone?  You can buy an entire cream tea for that in some places! So lovely as it is there, I don’t think I’ll be going there often…  Plus it wasn’t very warm inside.  Did I mention I don’t like the cold?  I was born in the wrong country – I so should have been Mediterranean…

From there we headed for home, retracing Monday’s route, which was going all very well, with the sun coming up, and the temperature rising…until Winscombe where I hit a pothole and punctured the back wheel.  GB was ahead, but came back to help which is just as well as neither of my inner tubes worked, and by the time it came to putting the third inner tube in I’d pretty much lost the will to live.  Besides which he’s much better at it than I am, though if I’d been on my own I’m sure I’d have managed.  Well actually I wouldn’t have as the third inner tube was his, so on my own, I’d have been walking home!  Actually come to think of it I could have called my breakdown insurance but knowing my luck they don’t cover you for tyre problems.  (Yep, just checked, thought so).  So it would indeed have been Shanks’ Pony.

After all that palaver, although it was sunny and warmer by then, I just wanted to go home, even if that did involve going up Winscombe Hill.  It did, so I did, which went ok, and just left me to fly downhill home.  And left GB outside his front door which must make a nice change for him.

Not a ride that went according to plan.  Again.  The only good bit was the hills really.  Both up and down.  Other than that it was slogging against the wind.  Again.  Ah well…that would explain the average speed then!  Plenty of good conversation though, on those occasions when we could actually hear each other speak, and who knew how many minefields there were out there?

Cycling time: 1:53:27
Distance: 24.93 miles
Avs: 13.1 mph
ODO: 7278 miles

Now, where did I put my spare inner tubes?

Rock of Ages

Today was Monday.  Which is normally my day off exercising.  My rest day, if you will.  However GB is on holiday, and I do like cycling in company and I can always rest another day, right?  Ok, so I won’t, but that’s not the point.  Was there a point?  There might have been.  I appear to have misplaced it.

Anyway we were only planning to go to Glastonbury for coffee and convivial trivial conversation, so that practically counts as rest.  For us.  I can appreciate that cycling to Glastonbury and back may not count as rest for normal folk, but I have heard that normal is over-rated. 😛

However as ever, plans are made to be broken.  The very chilly wind appeared to be coming from somewhere North-ish, and as returning into a headwind didn’t appeal, we decided to head for the Walled Garden instead.  Straight there and back, right?

Well, first off we decided to wiggle our way there via the Webbington, and round to Winscombe that way.  Which added a hill, even if not the biggest hill going.  Still more hill than originally suggested though I’ll have you know.  From there it was Sandford, Churchill, and back lane meanderings to get to the coffee stop.  There’s a junction in Wrington where you go up Chapel Lane to the junction of Roper’s Lane and Bullhouse Lane.  Which makes GB sing “Going to the Chapel” (chapels have that affect on him) and me wonder if a Mr Roper kept bulls there were housed up there.    I do love strange road names. 🙂

The Walled Garden was, as ever,  just up the road but, shock horror, it turned out to be closed.  Definitely not a day for things going according to plan.  Was it too early?  Is Monday a bad day?  Enlightenment eluded us, and the door remained resolutely closed in our faces.  (Having checked, it would appear that it being Monday would appear to be the problem.  Monday is often a problem, in so many ways…).   Much deliberation followed, before we decided to check out Wrinton and Langford for such things, and failing that, the Burrington Inn at the bottom of Burrington Coombe.  Which, it being one of those days, is inevitably where we ended up.

Funny place.  It feels a bit like a cross between a cafeteria and a pub, with a rather funereal air.  And a tendency to make you feel as if you should be whispering.  Mind you, the rest of the clientele did have one foot in the grave, so maybe that explains it…  Ah well.  The coffee was passable, the chocolate cake less so, or so I’m led to believe.  It also wasn’t warm.  The Inn that is, not the coffee or the cake which were both, at least on the temperature front, exactly as they should be.  Anyway, interesting as this discussion of thermodynamics is, the point is that whilst the unimpressive interior ambient temperature has the advantage of making outside not that much colder, it does mean you’re proper cold when you head out into the already pretty chilly again.  It is clear I meant the interior of the Inn right?  Not of myself or my comestibles?  😉

So what’s the best way to warm up?  (Please cast your mind back to our heros’ current location when answering this question).  Yep.  Go up hill.  Or in fact up Coombe.  And that, O Best Beloved, is just what we did.

Now, I hesitate to say this, for fear of being quoted back at myself at some point (it’s very weird when that happens!).  But…ah well, in for a penny in for a pound…I actually enjoyed it.  It was scenic, the road was not only not as busy as usual, it was also dry, and I may have plodded up it with the odd gear to spare.  Apart from the last stretch at the end which is the steepest bit of course.  It didn’t feel like massively hard work.  Just work.  GB sat on my wheel all the way up, either because I was actually doing ok, or because he didn’t want me to feel like I wasn’t by hurtling off into the distance.  Regardless of his motivation in this scene, I felt really quite pleased with how I did, which bodes well.

(I like things to bode.  It’s a good word.  I also think things ought to “oom”, which would be to loom ominously.  Apparently I’m not allowed to invent words though.  But how else do you describe what heavy black approaching clouds do?  Honestly, sometimes life just isn’t fair.  But then life isn’t fair.  If it was it would be spelled “F-A-I-R” not “L-I-F-E”, and it isn’t, so it isn’t. 😉  And I don’t know if it’s “spelled” or “spelt” so I thought I’d use both to cover all the bases.  However that’s an Americanism so maybe I should be covering every eventuality instead?  Last week I used that one on eldest, for whom life is frequently not fair, and it went down a storm…  Well I enjoyed it anyway *grin*.)

From the top of the Coombe we went via Charterhouse and Tynings Farm.  Now is that “Tine”ings.  or “Tin”ings?  Answers on the back of a…actually, come to think of it, you could just leave a comment…radical concept I know.  The descent from there down to the Lillypool Cafe was a blast.  Not only that, the cafe was closed, thus showing what a wise choice we’d made by not heading for there instead of Burrington.  We’re very clever…

That just left the last steep bit up to the top of Shipham Hill to do, which is sometimes a struggle but apparently isn’t when you’re debating capital punishment, and it was then just gloriously all the way down…  Well, it should have been, but about 3/4 of the way down we hit traffic which was very inconsiderately using our road, meaning we had to curtail our downhill antics.  Yah boo sucks! 🙁

Cycling time: 2:03:52
Distance: 28.9 miles
Avs: 14.0 mph
ODO: 7253 miles

I feel very positive about the ride.  We did hills by accident, and they went surprisingly well.  Maybe that’s the way to do them?  Only I think I can probably only catch myself by surprise once.  It’s a bit like not being able to tickle yourself.  I’d probably see myself coming and tell myself to stick to the flat! *grin*

PS: if you’re still reading this, give yourself a pat on the back, I doff my cap to your perseverance and tolerance 😉  As the court jester said, “Pardon me for, on bended knees, I must confess I seek to please”…

Join with us

I was supposed to ride yesterday, it being the only opportunity for me to do so this week what with the inconvenience of half term.  However it was grey, drizzly, and miserable.  And to be honest, I just wasn’t feeling it.  If I’m not feeling it, t’aint no point doing it.  Besides which I knew I was out today, I’m probably out Monday, and it’s not like I was doing nothing – I hit the gym and climbed hills there instead.  I’ve been doing a lot of gym hill-climbing lately, I wonder if it will make any difference in the long run?

Which brings us today, and another attempt by the ACG to make it to Brean Down, even if setting that as our destination did seem to be tempting fate a little.  Four of us met in the Square at 9.30am, IH, SD, and a friend of SDs who, in the absence of surname, shall henceforth be merely and enigmatically known as C.  Not as cool as M or Q but still with a certain je ne sais quoi about it, no?

We took the direct route to Brean Down.  Up past the Webbington, watching as the mountain goats took to the hills leaving me and IH pondering the fact that, as GB would have it, allegedly hills don’t get easier, they just get faster.  Comparatively speaking presumably.  To be fair, neither the Webbington nor Bleadon Hill felt as bad as they have been known to, even if describing them as “good” would be a step too far.

It was an uneventful if rather windy ride out to Brean Down.  Very noisy wind too.  Luckily it turned out that the café, now run by day-glo orange clad NT staff, was open.  They were very friendly but not totally on the ball as my black coffee was white, and my scone fruitless.  However they sorted that, and £2.35 seemed like a good deal to me.  Even the coffee was passable, and you know how particular I am about my coffee 🙂

We sat in the café and put the world to rights for a bit, as you do.  Apparently according to C people down this end of the world know how to pick their Mayors.  Although it would appear that boredom is not a sufficient reason for taking over the world.  Well, it can’t be a feeling of civic duty and giving back to the community, that sounds way too worthy… C suggested that, since the suggested route down the main Mark road can be tad boring, I should take over Mark…he’s a funny man 😉

We came back a new and interesting way through Burnham/Highbridge and out to Mark.  It still amazes me when I end up on a road I’m not familiar with as I’d swear I’ve pretty much covered them all locally.  Apparently not.  We rejoined familiar territory, and the “mother in law” road to Mark (it goes on and on and on) is much less boring with a tail wind for sure.  We wiggled back through the Allertons and back down the usual route to home.  No point racing for the finish as I managed to keep on C’s tail for a while but after that…well, I know when I’m beaten.

It was fairly flat and fairly fast.  Both SD and C are quite fast enough thank you, especially in SD’s case as he hadn’t been out in a while and was definitely in coiled spring mode…  IH had been complaining about being out of shape but showed no sign of it. so chapeau to him.  4 of us started out, and 4 of us finished, and nobody fell off – almost unprecedented! *grin*

Cycling time: 2:22:42
Distance: 37.25 miles
Avs: 15.6 mph
ODO: 7223 miles

Now as you know, I’m not a mountain goat.  However apparently some of you out there actively enjoy going up hill.  Well for those of you to whom that applies (no accounting for taste *grin*) you might like to check out this year’s Black Rat Challenge.  I can’t vouch for it personally as I’ve not done it, and I can’t do it this year as I’m doing the Wheel Heroes that day (May 22nd), but maybe next year?  Well, the 100km anyway…  The guys who run it are very friendly, as well as being cyclists themselves, and that counts for a lot in my book 🙂

The Times They Are a-Changin’

Life generally does not go according to plan, and today was no exception.   The plan was to do 50 miles with SH and GB whilst my sainted hubby and eldest took youngest to trampolining squad training in Bath, thus giving me a 5 hour leave pass…

…however she was up at 5am with earache…which means we’ve all pretty much been up since then, and bouncing was out of the question.   So my (still) sainted hubby was therefore due to be home alone with one sick child, one bored child, and a world of DIY to do.   I’d say there’s no rest for the wicked but that would contradict the saintly bit *grin*.

Not that all the above stopped me riding – do be serious! – but…when it came to the coffee stop and we were debating routes home, straight home to rescue hubby seemed like a good, and diplomatic, idea.   Let’s be honest, it never does any harm to bank a few brownie points either…

This is not to say that this turned out to be an easy ride though.   Oh no.   Definitely not.   Not when SH is route planner.   Mind you, I’m not objecting as I need the training.  These days when you suggest hills I’m less likely to groan and try and get out of doing them, I’ll just get on with doing them.  PMA.   I can do hills.   I just have to do them my way not yours.   Something I read somewhere this week – which of course I can’t find now – said something about how it helps to have little mantras you say to yourself to help you focus.   Well if I just focus on my pedalling being “strong and smooth” it seems to help – as well as keeping me focused on pushing evenly on both feet and not doing my knee in.  I must have done a better job of strapping it up today since, with all those hills, there’s no way it wouldn’t have been hurting otherwise, and it wasn’t.

So where did we go?  Up the Gorge of course.   I don’t know if GB had a word with SH but after the steepest bit was done, the two of them headed off up the road at their pace, leaving me to mine, which is great.   SH does have a tendency to keep me company and we all know how I feel about that…leave me to dribble in peace! 😉  Actually the Gorge was fine.  Like all the hills today, it was a little bit easier than last time I went up it.  SH swears they only had to wait 15 seconds for me at the top…which if it’s true mean they must really have been pootling and putting the world to rights as they went! As we crested the top of the hill a strange yellow globe made an appearance in the sky, and we ignored it in case drawing attention to it frightened it away.  However it was nice to see it, even if just briefly, as it added a nice triumphal touch to my ascent 🙂

The best bit of the ride for me came not long after, on the descent down Burrington Coombe, which was only my 2nd time down it.   Last time by the time I got to the bottom I was not a happy bunny, having bottled it half way down and generally not done myself proud.   I did way better today, possibly due to familiarity, and helped by the much drier road.   I even got a bit of a buzz going on.  Mind you, I wasn’t half glad of my winter jacket by the time I reached the bottom though – talk about wind chill factor!

From there it was across to Wrington and up Wrington Hill.   The nasty way.  Which is long and steep and a slog but I just plodded up it.  Slow and steady.  I was pleasantly surprised with how it went really, and even the descent down Ebbor Gorge wasn’t too bad.  I remember having suffered big time going up there in the past, and I think there may even have been some stopping to “enjoy the view”…   Maybe there’s something to be said for all this sobriety and training?   Surely not… 😉

That just left a nice fairly flat and fast run across to coffee at Kingston Seymour.  Good coffee, and very friendly staff, but no carrot cake or scones.   Outrageous!  So I had two coffees instead, and everyone donated their biscuits to my cause whilst they ate cake.  Which worked well 🙂

It was distinctly chilly when we set off again so we had to push it a bit to warm up.   Mostly I got the clothing right again today though – only a little bit too warm on the ups and a little bit too cold on the downs so, on average, just right.   We came straight back through Yatton, Churchill, Sandford and – because GB hates to retrace his route, and also because he’s always the one to come to Axbridge to start and finish – we went back up Winscombe Hill to drop him off on the way home.  Yep, had to finish with a hill.  Apparently.  Still, it did make for a lovely long downhill run to home, so maybe it was worth it.  Ok, it was definitely worth it. 😀

Cycling time: 2:28:25
Distance: 36.38 miles
Avs: 14.6 mph
ODO: 7186 miles

I think that’s a pretty respectable speed given all the hills.  And I feel like it went well, like I’ve achieved something, if only that it seemed to demonstrate that I’m making progress.  I know I was outclassed by the company I was keeping, but I did my best to do my share when I could, and I really enjoyed the ride.  I remember GB, at the end of last season and all his epic events, promising me that this time this year, after a slothful off season, he’d be back to being my peer.  Something appear to have gone hideously wrong…  As for SH, well, when isn’t he a whippet?!  But since neither of ’em rub my face in it, it’s all good 🙂

It’s only two weeks to the season opener that is the Mad March Hare.  Am I ready?  We’ll see…

Be my, be my baby.

The sun is shining, and I’ve come back from the gym. Being all sweaty and icky already I figured it was a good time to clean the bike, oil the chain etc. Well, as good a time as any anyway.

So I washed it, sprayed it, lavished it with some care and attention, gave it some TLC and, oh, my poor baby. It’s definitely not my “new” bike any more, it’s more of a battle scarred veteran. There are dings and scratches galore. I’ve touched some up in the past, and will probably touch up a few more later, but I’m afraid that is but camouflage. Only black camouflage at that, as I haven’t got the right blue paint to touch up those bits so they remain unpatched. All testament to the fact that I haven’t stayed on my bike as much as I should have done! And also probably that it’s been in and out of various cars as it journeys to events and to mechanics. It’s a well travelled bike in all respects, of that there is no doubt.

My baby and I have done 7150 miles on the road together and I guess we both bear the scars… Onwards and upwards my faithful steed, the road goes ever on and on 🙂

Sisters are doing it for themselves

Well, actually, this sister is doing it for herself.  All attempts to ride with someone else this week, or to find someone to ride with today, have gone awry so there was nowt for it but to go out by myself.

See, on Tuesday it was wet and windy (again!).  GW bailed and so therfore did I – a warm and dry gym being infinitely more attractive than enduring 2 hours of that on my lonesome.  Yesterday was cold and windy and I was very tired and just not feeling it.  As hubby pointed out, there’s not point going out if I’m not going to enjoy it so I didn’t.  I had a duvet day, got myself some sleep, and went to the gym in the evening instead.  So it’s not like I haven’t exercised, I just haven’t been on the bike.

Today cycling was really the only option.  Partially because the sun was shining and there wasn’t too much wind, but also because all my gym gear is in the washing machine and has yet to make it as far as the radiators.  Not exercising is not an option so bike it was!

At 10.00am or thereabouts I headed out.  Fancy a game of dot to dot?  Alright then.  Axbridge – Cheddar – Nyland – Wedmore – Mudgeley – Burtle – Mark – Loxton – Christon – Winscombe – Winscombe Hill – Axbridge.  There.  That be my route.  As you can see, there were a couple of hills, but it was mostly flat.  I wanted to enjoy my ride.  Sometimes, after a few rides like those recently and with weather like it has been, I feel like I get a bit disconnected from my bike, and I needed to reconnect and to remember why I enjoy it.  So I listened to my mp3, enjoyed the sunshine, admired the scenery, whilst still managing to fly along at a reasonable rate.

Sadly my knee was twingeing a bit today, which is irritating because it’s been great (although strapped up) lately and I was starting to think maybe it was worth a go not strapped up.  I’m guessing I didn’t do a great job with it today, which tends to suggest that not strapping at all is not yet a good idea…  Still, I think it’s improving slowly. Patience…

Due to a DIY related pinching injury I’ve (hopefully temporarily) lost feeling in the pad of my middle finger on my left hand, which made for some weird sensations when braking.  Plus that brake REALLY needs adjusting as you have to squeeze so far down at the moment that it’s practically useless.  Still, I’m supposed to be braking less, right?  I can’t say I was focusing too much on that today but generally I think the ride went ok from a cornering/downhill perspective too.

Cycling time: 2:04:30
Distance: 31.69 miles
Avs: 15.2 mph
ODO: 7150 miles

I don’t know if I’m getting better at hills – they still feel like bl**dy hard work – but I think maybe my recovery/forgetting speed has gotten faster.  Once I’m at the top, the hill is behind me, and it’s on with the ride.  Though I think Winscombe Hill, though hard, was not as hard as it was last time I did it.

Anyway there I was, cycling along by myself, when it occurred to me that rather unusually I will be doing most of my events this year in company. I’ll be with GB for the Mad March Hare, with GB and SH for the Lionheart, with GB for the Cotswold, BW for the Wheel Heroes, GB and KB for the Dragon, and GB, SH, and another for the Dartmoor. That only leaves the Longest Day for me on my own. How very peculiar. Of course it remains to be seen whether or not we’ll be riding together or merely arriving and departing the venue at the same time…*grin*.