I’ll be posting a photo, asap.
Out there
Saturday morning. 6am. Ouch. Dry mouth. Pain behind my eyes. Groggy. Whisky night. A monthly gathering of mates, which starts as a relatively reserved catch up, with food and sampling some of Scotland’s finest single malts. Inevitably it descends into bad jokes, wild plans and “just one more dram”. Brilliant.
I get up. Empty out the cold, damp grinds from the Moka pot and refill with fresh. Listen to the click, click, roar of the gas hob lighting. Carrying enough espresso to wake a heavy-sleeper from a coma, I sit down in the armchair. Look at the new bike, directly opposite me. Look at the smoothness of the satin finish on the carbon. Immaculate. It will never be this clean again. I imagine myself riding. Stretched out, big-ringing along wide bridleways. Powering up climbs, hands on bar-ends (bar-ends! I’ve not had those since the 90s!).
The pre-ride faffing process is longer than normal. It looks very cold out. Most of my bike kit ends up on the bed. Much of it is left there, to be put away when I get home. That Helly Hansen that is so old it has horizontal stripes on the sleeves (none of that “modern” diagonal business) is left. As is the thick softshell that is perfect for sub-zero road rides, but always too warm on the mountain bike. Decisions made, I leave the front door. The car will stay outside the house today. I’m aware that it is very cold. The retained warmth inside my jacket and cap doesn’t take long to begin to fade. I swing a leg over the bike and pedal down the road. I stop after 10metres. Move the seatpost up by a few mm. And set off. The sun is still low in the sky, but is bright. There isn’t a cloud to be seen.
10 minutes later I’m in Leeds city centre. Shit. I’ve left my ipod at home. The ever present company on solo rides. I could go back, but today, I’ll be absolutely by myself. Another 10 minutes later and I have a coffee in my hand and am walking towards the train along a quiet platform.
The journey is broken up by chatting to a guy who is off to Rochdale to collect a van. He’s travelled up from Ipswich this morning. And then two young lads with stunt-scooter things. We compared notes. How much? Is it any good? Can you do wheelies? How long are you going to be out for? How far can you ride? How many bikes have you got? Can I have a go?
We disembark at Hebden Bridge and I pedal up and out, towards Peckett Well. Turning pedals feels great. Warmth creeps through my body, despite cold air filling my lungs. I notice a glossy finish to the stone walls. Literally as though someone had varnished everywhere… ice.
The first descent proves interesting. That’s interesting as in sheet ice and slippery as hell. Slip. Bruised forearm.
I climb Midgehole Rd. Ice. Slip. No crash, but all of a sudden I’m pointing back down the hill. How did that happen? Walk.
I get to Widdop reservoir. Inch thick ice across the top of the dam. The reservoir itself is frozen. I’m using the studs at the front of my SPDs as crampon front-points. Kick, step. Kick, step. Things only get worse as I start to climb out on the Pennine Bridleway. It’s a good job this new bike is light.
None of this matters. I’m in my own world. Absorbing the environment. No thought in my actions, just moving forward. The sky has changed. No longer is it blue. It has the milky nature of an artist’s jam-jar.
Push, push. Straddle bike. Ride. Slip, wiggle snake hips, stay upright. I’m absolutely aware of every miniscule change in gradient across the trail. I drift to the lowest point as tyres slide down, like a bowling ball dropping into the gully at the side of the lane. Slip, wiggle snake hips, stay upright. SLAM. Bruised hip. Up. Slip, wiggle snake hips, stay upright. SLAM. Bruised palm.
Discretion is the better part of valor, I think is the saying. Time to head home. More slipping, more tumbles. Then a road descent to chill me to my core. The waiting room at Hebden Bridge station warms me, and I share tales with a group of pensioners who were equally enthused by their epic day out on the icy hills. “We slid down the steps on our bottoms!”
I do like being out there.
Dirty Harry
The last time I wrote about a new bike, I’d pretty much settled on the Canyon. It looked like the best all-round option for my limited budget. Sorted. Sadly, I’d have to wait until March to get it though. Patience is a virtue.
Then, Planet X went and threw a spanner in the works. The Dirty Harry. 29er, carbon, good looking. Available… er, now. More expensive, but not necessarily “too expensive”. Hmm. Back to pondering.
Last weekend was Hit the North. As I’ve previously mentioned, it wasn’t a success race-wise, but it was interesting for other reasons. Dave Haygarth has recently become sponsored by On-One/Planet X, and he offered me the chance of a spin on Harry. Brant was also there, wrestling with a giant inflatable man (as you do), and cheering on the racers.
So, a ten minute blast, and a chat with Brant later, I’d somehow ended up agreeing to a good deal on a XT-specced full build… which would be ready mid-week. Gulp.
Come Thursday, I arrived at the Planet X showroom in Rotherham (well worth a trip as it happens), and left with a shiny new bike. It is stealthy, light, and just looks right. Happy boy.
Apologies for the ropey photo. It was snapped in the showroom, shortly before I spilled coffee everywhere…
Quitter
1 and a half laps in. I was settling into a nice pace. A swooping trail through the woods, and a welcome piece of free space in front of my wheel, lured me in. Hands tucked in the drops, willing myself not to brake. Eyes locked on to the tiny bank on the left hand side of the trail that I would be pushing my front wheel into. It would guide me around the gentle bend and help me carry momentum through. I was flying.
Eyes raised to focus on my next desired destination, further down the trail, I knew where the bike was going. Whoosh. Slam. Slide. Silence. A swear word muttered under my breath as I carefully picked myself up. Somehow I’d misjudged my trajectory. Hard, skinny cyclocross tyres had skipped and slid. Rather than using the berm as a tram track to gently guide my bike through, I ended up hitting it at a less sympathetic angle.
Other racers were already passing me as I gave the bike a once over. Twisted STI was easy enough to correct, as was the dropped chain. Aching wrist was definitely just an annoyance rather than a sign of a more serious injury. More racers passed. More swear words muttered. I looked down. My right shoe was loose. In fact, it was basically open. The buckle had ripped off.
An unexpected emotion came over me. Relief. I didn’t need to keep going anymore. I didn’t need to fight my way back to where I was. I didn’t need to keep going. I quit. I turned my bike round and started pushing it the relatively short distance to the start/finish. Already another emotion was beginning to creep in. Anger. Anger at myself. Angry for crashing. Angry for taking a risk. Angry for quitting. Angry for taking the easy option. Angry for daring to think that I was a “racer”. I stood, by the finish line, watching the masses carrying on. Faces of pain, smiles, death-stares, concentration. Racers.
“What happened?”
“Well, I….”
I was temporarily distracted as the race ended. Friends crossed the line, exhausted. Some happy, some less so, all had earned their emotions. They’d given all they could. They’d not quit. I love post race chatter. Excited comparisons of experiences, interspersed with declarations of tiredness. I joined in, but I wasn’t really part of it.
The drive home was a long and dark one. Demons skipped around the far reaches of my brain, plucking at threads of thought as if they were badly tuned violin strings, leaving my brain ringing. Self-doubt, self-loathing, self-pity. It was all about me. It wasn’t “one of those things”, it was a direct result of me not being good enough. Not fit enough, not skilled enough, not tough enough.
Time provides perspective. I shouldn’t have crashed. I could maybe have carried on, although the rest of my race would have been very compromised. I was doing ok prior to crashing. I maybe wasn’t quite as far up the field as I would have liked, but, realistically I was doing fairly well. I’m now looking for another race to take out my frustration on. And I’ll be doing it on a new race bike. But that’s another blog post.
First race of 2012
I’ll be Hitting the North tomorrow.
2 hours on the cyclocross bike with 300 or so other racers… I’m looking forward to it. My preparation hasn’t been ideal, and my eyes are on more distant prizes, but it’ll be a good stretch of the legs and the first gauge of my general fitness. It will also be a great opportunity to meet up with a few friends. Not a bad way to spend a cold February day!
Step by Step – inspiration from Chris Akrigg
Step by step from chris akrigg on Vimeo.
Me vs Me
Nice blog on the Howies website
Me versus darker mornings
Me versus my duvet
Me versus damp running shorts (forgot to put the dryer on)
Me versus the front door
Me versus the slanting rain
Me versus those mulchy leaves (the jogger’s nemesis)
Me versus cowpats
Me versus that man on a bike
Me versus the ruts in the farm track
Me versus the barbed wire fence
Me versus the hill back into the village
Me versus my PB
Me versus all of you
And I’m home
By Dan Germain
Soul riding
Sometimes, it isn’t the length of the ride. Sometimes, it isn’t the weather. Sometimes, it isn’t the speed. Sometimes, it isn’t the technical challenge. Sometimes, it isn’t the view.
Sometimes, it is riding with the right person. Sometimes, it is talking. Sometimes, it is sharing a view. Sometimes, it is sharing a pint. Sometimes, it is riding, quietly, comfortable in each other’s company.
Sometimes you experience a perfect ride. Thanks Si.
Done
Run done.
If I felt the tears beginning to fill my eyes, I ran faster.
If thoughts wandered to those subjects over which I had no control I chose the nearest gradient to run up.
My lungs rasped. My eyes stung as sweat washed away the tears.
Gym done.
I met Dave. Talked.
We got to the gym. We didn’t really talk too much after then.
Squats with tired legs. Screaming lactic. Good.
Exhaustion. Good.
Done.
Home. Food eaten. Quiet house.
I guess I can’t run away from the thoughts all the time.
Maintaining focus
A crap work week ahead. “Other stuff” louding my thoughts. Steep walls to climb, with a tired mind. To be honest, I want to retreat into full hibernation mode. Sleep all day and night, and let things drift over me. Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up. Maybe everything will just sort itself out.
I can’t do that, it’ll be the death of me (metaphorically, and to an extent, literally. My darkest thoughts happen when I let myself hide).
I want to get the bus home. Lock the door and stay on known ground. Even if that known ground isn’t very good for me.
I’ve got my running kit with me at work. It’s the first step towards breaking the cycle. Run home. Meet Dave and go to the gym. Kick the living shit out of the demons that are gnawing away at my self-belief, my strength, my life. Get home and feel proactive. Feel like a normal person, despite an abnormal need to exercise. Feel able to stand tall and face another day.
Alpine Dreaming
Yesterday, I rode in the Lake District. It rained. It was windy. It was ace. Thanks to the inclement conditions, Andy, Sam and I chose Whinlatter Forest as our destination. A fun trail centre, with rocky trails that stand up to the rain better than most. It was an incredibly fun day, but we finished the ride soaked to the bone, with cold hands and feet. The pool of brown water on the kitchen floor where I left my shoes to dry out is a almost a permanent feature this winter.
Nick is getting married later in 2012. For his stag do, we are driving down to the Alps. Les Arcs. I’m day dreaming about dusty trails while I wait for yet another washing machine cycle to rinse the mud out of my clothes.
Thinking about bikes
I do quite a lot of that. Not just about riding bikes, but about the physical object. The bike.
Its form. Its function. Its intended purpose. Each individual component. The entire package. Aesthetic. Practical. Finding a balance.
So, there is a space in my collection. I need to fill it soon. It’s all very well entering all these endurance races, but I don’t have a bike that is particularly suitable for the chosen task. My current mountain bikes are focussed on fun, playful riding, rather than covering miles as quickly and as efficiently as I can. I’ve had big days out on both, but pop them in a race situation and they will always be compromised.
So. What to do? I’ve got a pretty limited budget. I simply don’t have £4000+ to throw at a top of the range bike. If I did, I’m not sure I could justify it at the moment. I have probably a quarter of that budget. Luckily there are a few great value options out there at the moment. But, first of all, what makes a perfect endurance race bike? Well, in my mind there are a few criteria that I’ve set:
- relatively light weight
- reliable
- comfortable
In reality this means:
- suspension. Probably just on the front though, given my budget
- 29 inch wheels. Better rolling, marginally more comfortable?
The Options
Pros:
- I like On-Ones. My 456 has been superb, and my go-to bike for the last two years.
- It is available now
- I can even go and pick it up from the Rotherham store
Cons:
- I need to pay an extra £100 to get suspension forks
- It is SRAM geared. I prefer Shimano.
Pros:
- Shimano gearing
- Suspension fork included in the price
- Formula brakes
- Possibly better looking?
Cons:
- I need to wait until March before they are available
On balance, I think the Canyon will be worth waiting for. Either way…. thinking about bikes is always fun. Thinking about a new bike is exciting.
Glentress Seven
The Glentress Seven was one of my favourite races last year. Seven hours of riding round an excellent course, in frankly appalling weather produced the ideal combination of fun, suffering and socialising. The choice of singlespeed wasn’t optimal, but added to the challenge. The onset of mild hypothermia towards the end made things a little spicy as well.
Anyway… the race is back for 2012, and I’ve dropped in my entry already. Reckon I’ll ride geared this year, and see what happens.
Singlespeed UK Champs
They are going to be a little bit cheeky this year…
Sometimes life gets in the way
Well…
I nearly did all the riding I wanted to do over Christmas/New Year. I had lots of fun, and met up with some good friends and went into the New Year feeling fit and relaxed.
First race for 2012 was due to be Todcross on 2 January. Filthy, muddy, cold cyclocross for an hour. Brilliant. I’d been looking forward to it since the start of the ‘cross season, and was looking forward to meeting up with old and new friends.
***An aside***
I’ve recently started seeing a lovely girl and things are going well. Most importantly, while she doesn’t particularly “get” my love of cycling, or exercise in general, she understands how important it is to me.
***Back to the story***
Unfortunately, lovely girl woke up doubled in pain on the morning of the race. I did my best to look after her, while sorting lycra and spares for later. The pain wasn’t getting any better, and it seemed likely an emergency doctors visit was on the cards. Hmm. Decision time, and an easy one to make in the end (despite much protestation from the patient “I’m fine. OWWWWWW, urrrrrrgh”). This was more than a normal stomach ache. A few hours later, an acute kidney infection was diagnosed, antibiotics prescribed and any nagging doubts about making the right decision were put to bed.
So, that was that. I didn’t do Todcross. I’m a bit gutted, but there are always other races. I’m still in relatively good shape, and it isn’t long until Hit the North.
Patisserie Cyclisme is nearly one!
Holidays
Aaaannnnndddd…. relax. After a fairly mental few weeks, interspersed with colds, man flu, crappy work and generally not feeling that great, I’ve been enjoying some time to myself, with my family and with friends.
Christmas holidays have meant lots of good quality running and riding so far.
Christmas Eve: – cheeky 50 miles on the road bike before heading home to Halifax
Christmas Day: – 15k run in the early morning and some fun on downhill bikes for a couple of hours later
Boxing Day: – a lovely rest day
December 27th: – “Hot Toddy”. 5.8 mile road race, starting and finishing in Todmorden. My 4th time racing, and got a best time, of 33.59, which earned me 25th place. Not too bad for someone who usually only does races that last another 7hrs or so… Also my first road running race for 18 months or so?
December 28th: – A really nice social ride with Greg around Cannock. Not slow, not fast, time to chat, but some good quality riding in there too.
December 29th: – resting
December 30th: – I might actually end up at Cannock again..
December 31st: – Quick bit of CX practice. Nowt too strenuous, just re-tuning my dismounts/remounts
January 2nd: – TODCROSS!!!
Running from the Grues | Greg May Blog
A great blog post from Greg May
The Red Pill Ride – A load of cobblers
December 3rd saw Dave and me make the familiar drive a few junctions west, along the M62. A beautiful, cool, blue sky day in Leeds rapidly clouded over as Dave kept his foot to the floor in his van (some poor time management skills conspiring against our ability to make Paul’s 10am start time). Windscreen wipers switched from flip-flop……flip-flop to flip-flop, flip-flop, flip-flop and I questions the intelligence in wearing just a relatively thin soft shell (which I’ll review soon) and no waterproof.
The weather, bouts of illness and other commitments meant that it was a select bunch who braved the typical Yorkshire weather. A very select bunch. Four of us to be precise. Route leader Paul, Alan “Crossjunkie” Dorrington, Dave and I set of at a nice pace back down the valley road towards Mytholmroyd. After spinning our legs out on the main road, Paul led us off and straight up the steep sided valley wall to our right. These are roads and lanes that I know relatively well in places, and it was interesting seeing them linked together in new ways. There were also plenty of surprises. Most of them taking the form of very steep, cobbled climbs. They would be tricky in the dry, but with slick tyres, a 39-23 lowest gear and a layer of greasy slime many were unrideable. It was still good sport seeing who could make it the furthest up the slope, and better sport trying to walk up slick stones in carbon soled road shoes.
The route (above) crossed back over the Calder Valley at Sowerby Bridge, and climbed up yet more (thankfully less steep) cobbles, eventually spitting us out under Wainhouse Tower. We cruised through Manor Heath and past my parent’s house, taking advantage of momentarily brighter weather. Temptation to stop for a brew was strong, but we climbed back out of town, up the steep (yes, it’s a running theme round these parts) sided Beacon Hill. At this stage Alan had to bow out to guarantee getting home in time for family duties later that afternoon. We remaining three navigated across main roads, via back streets, rarely used lanes and post-industrial landscapes. We even got treated to a blast of bright autumn sunshine while we re-grouped in Luddenden. It was at this point that we took an executive decision, however. The cold and wet was causing Dave’s Renard’s to flair up, and Paul and I didn’t have a huge desire to stay out a great deal longer. The original route (above) was to take us up yet more steep cobbles and over the moor, into the prevailing westerly wind and finally descend into Hebden Bridge. We chose to drop back down to the shelter of the valley, and blast on back, quick-sharp. Sometimes, I rue these kind of decisions. We weren’t tired, we could have happily done the distance. I don’t like leaving things un-done. However, this time, we were counting our blessings as the heavens opened, and followed through with the threat of en epic downpour, as we tucked our heads down and pushed home.
And so it was. Paul hopped on the train back to York. Dave and I threw bikes in the van and put the heaters on full on the drive back to Leeds.
The ride wasn’t long. It wasn’t fast. But, it combined the natural beauty of the south-Pennine landscape with the cobbles, mills and stone walls of a previous era brilliantly.
A big thank you to Paul for organising, and doing a fair bit of time on the front. As he says in his blog, I can see 2012 being the year for twitter rides. What better than to be shown round an area by someone who knows it intimately? And I do like putting a face to people’s 140word personas.
Back online
And faster internet speeds. Prepare for a flurry of blog updates.
projectenduranceracer 