Peace & Quiet

I did something I've never done before this morning. I woke up around 4am and was restless, my head spinning with a thousand thoughts. Suddenly the episode of Top Gear I watched yesterday popped into my head - Jeremy Clarkson had done a piece about how no-one just goes for a drive any more, so early in the morning he got up and hit the open road in a Mercedes.

Inspired by this I got out of bed and hit the open road on my ever so faithful Surly Cross-Check. It's been a long time since we rode together, too long. But no matter how long I leave her in the shed gathering dust, I can always rely on her for perfect gear changes and steady, reliable handling. So off we went into the damp, dull morning to do what was at one time a regular route, but is now almost forgotten.

There's a certain peacefulness at that time of the morning that I love but rarely get to experience, even missing out on it at 24 hour races this year. Yes I was at Twentyfour12 for a few days, but had to leave just after the race started on Saturday afternoon. It's around 2am at those events that the atmosphere shifts from an adrenaline pumped competition to a mellow camaraderie, every rider just trying to make it safely through the night into the dawn. For many it's also a unique experience, how many of your friends can you say you've sat drinking beer and eating bacon sandwiches with at 4am? How many of your friends have you seen sleep? It's not something that occurs in every day life and is actually a very personal and trusting moment.

Rolling almost effortless through the now familiar lanes, Surly was leading the way and my mind wandered back to the peacefulness of working night shifts at The London Studios. In a 22 story building bustling with thousands of people during the day it was rarely quiet - except during the early hours of the morning. I'd walk down the corridor to the restaurant on the 2nd floor that looked out over the South Bank of the River Thames; St. Paul's Cathedral and Blackfriars Bridge in the distance. For those of you that have ever watched the local London News it'll be a familiar view. London would be shrouded in serenity. I could stand for hours at that window in an oneiric state, looking out onto the world watching nothing go by. Once or twice I ventured down onto the stillness of the South Bank and just stood and watched and listened - I felt like I had the city to myself, I loved it. Too often I hear people say how much they hate London, when what they actually mean is they hate the people in London. Quiet and empty like that, London is simply breathtaking.

An hour later I was home, calm and peaceful. Last week was a strange week, but it seems so far away already. I think I might like bikes again...

Majorca!

This time last week I was sitting in the sunshine next to the harbour in Port de Pollenca with a cold beer in my hand. I'd just finished the final ride on my 5 day cycling holiday/training camp to Majorca - a 25mile out and back from the hotel to the lighthouse on the north eastern tip of the island. It turned out to be one of the toughest rides of the week; an undulating coastal road on a rough surface complete with a pitch black tunnel carved out of the rock that sent your eyes funny and has made more than one person lose their balance!


Rewind back to arrival day on Tuesday and I'd picked up my hire bike from one of the many bike shops that have sprung up over the island in the last decade. I'd gone for one of the T-Mobile Giant aluminium road bikes. The rest of the day was spent drinking in the hotel bar.

Wednesday was a wet start - not entirely what I was expecting. I'd been promised warm sunshine and perfect riding conditions, leaving the bitterly cold British winter behind to get some decent mileage in. We'd been told by the bike shop guys that usually the weather was better inland so we should take that option if the weather was bad. Half an hour later it had stopped raining but was still chilly and didn't brighten up all day.

Paul is familiar with the island so was playing guide to our merry band of 7 - Ickle Paul, Big Dave, Big Kev, Ickle Kev, Gaynor, Sally and me. My job for the week was just to hang onto the back of everyone else for as long as possible - I had mixed results but was pleased overall with my performance considering the distinct lack of bike riding I've done this year. I even managed some bursts of speed on the hills (I never knew Majorca was quite so hilly!) and a wee bit of time-trialling shenanigans.

So, four good days of riding and actually feeling like I've done beneficial riding. Evenings were spent stuffing our faces at the hotel buffet trying desperately to replenish some of the thousands of extra calories I was burning every day by riding at ridiculous speeds into headwinds with people far fitter than I. All in all a most enjoyable holiday and a superb way to get fit.


Day 1: 6 hours, 90 miles, 5000kcal
Day 2: 3h11m, 43 miles, 2400kcal, max hr 180bpm.
Day 3: 4h45m, 80 miles, 4000kcal, max hr 180bpm.
Day 4: 2 hours, 25 miles, 1400kcal.

Total for the week: 16 hours, 240 miles. (And my friends say my idea of a holiday is different to theirs - can't possibly imagine how...) More photos available on my flickr gallery as per usual.

A Pendulum Week

Things have either gone my way or they haven't this week. Monday couldn't have been better, everything fell into place with the perfect ease expected from life. Having a working bathroom makes life a hundred times easier - a day at work, back home on the turbo trainer for half an hour, jumped in the shower, cooked a hearty homemade meal whilst supping a glass of fruity red and settled down to answer a few emails and watch a bit of television. Life is good.

My perfectly effortless world was brought crashing down as quickly as I was Tuesday morning - yards from my front door I slid on a patch of black ice. One minute I was happily rolling down the hill towards the station on my folding bike, the next I was lying on the cold, hard road looking up into the foggy darkness somewhat unsure of what had just happened. I'd ripped a large hole in the left knee of my trousers and the right elbow of my coat. I returned to my house, changed my clothes, cleaned up the blood trickling down my leg, patched up the missing chunk out of my knee and set off once more - making it to the train station just in time to see my train leaving the platform. The next train was 15 minutes late. As was I.

The day improved but when I arrived home I still felt nauseous so relaxed and had an early night instead of going for a ride. Wednesday was long and boring and by the time I left work I was thoroughly fed up again. When I got home and opened my post I had a fine for not paying my congestion charge last week, £60. Thursday was also long and boring but spirits were slightly improved and the day went without incident. Things were looking up again.

On Friday I regained my cycling mojo - this had disappeared sometime just before Christmas. I had an excellent morning ride on my usual road loop; everything just seemed to click and I was happyily spinning along for a couple of hours, enjoying every freezing moment. Then my train was delayed, again (I'm going to have to stop writing about that as you can almost take it as a given these days) and work was chaos from the minute I started to the minute I finished. I didn't even have time to eat dinner! It was a relief to finally get home knowing I had the morning to myself.

I intended to pop out for another ride this morning, but I woke up with the tell tale signs of the beginnings of a cold due to being worn down, so instead I made a nice breakfast, some fresh coffee and planned a new route for my next ride. I was late for work (you know why...)

Riding Keeps Me Sane

A friend of mine mentioned the other day how bored he gets doing the same routes over and over again and because of this he was losing the enthusiasm to ride. At the time, I agreed with him. It can be rather dull doing the same routes, especially road riding by yourself. I often try to vary the routes that I do or take a map out with me and try a new lane or track, just to see where it goes and to keep things interesting.

But sometimes, doing the same old route can be very therapeutic; you can just drift off into your own little world without having to think about which way you're going. It's a good time to think about things without any distractions and for me, it's a good opportunity to get rid of some of the pent up stress I'm feeling at the moment.

This week I only did one ride, but I certainly needed it. It's been a rubbish week and I've been going crazy. There's a lot of moaning, stress and in-fighting going on at work and it's not a very nice place to be. Starting the ride I was angry, annoyed and fed up - why are some people just so damn right nasty?! I kept running through various confrontations in my head with an 'I'll show them!' attitude; planning my revenge.

At some point though, it all disappeared. I was riding my regular 25 mile road loop and noticed there was a filming location down one of the lanes. Then I started to look for that trail head I'd found in the Summer, that was a fun little track. Next came the oh so perfect little coppice which would be brilliant for either kids racing or a really fast night cyclo-cross race! A track on the right with the dodgy root that can catch you out if you're not careful. On down the hill past Ivinghoe Beacon and my legs were still spinning without effort, the cold wind blowing through the vents in my helmet. Up the steep hill, legs feeling good, heart pounding, breathing heavier than usual (unfit, I'm not surprised but it's good to expend some extra energy and effort).

By now I was more interested in the scenery and spotting new trails in the woodland. I slowed down to fully appreciate the crisp morning as I passed a herd of deer grazing by the college and watched the squirrels darting around in the leaves. I smiled. Angst? Stress? Moi?! Who gives a damn about some of those fools I work with, what are they in the grand scheme of things? Nothing. As long as I can get out on my bike and do the thing that I enjoy the most, I can cope with the rest. No matter how infrequent or short a ride, just getting to ride now and again and everything else just drifts away.

I went to work without a care in the world and a spring in my step and let all of the problems pass me by. Maybe if everybody rode bikes, the world would be a better, happier place?

"30 in 30" Days of Rain

This looks like it could possibly be the wettest 30 in 30 ever, it seems determined to rain every day. But so far it hasn't put me off (which has surprised even me), and I have been riding - despite a few setbacks.

Thursday, Day 2 and the rain was hammering down. Undeterred, I donned my trusty rain jacket and overshoes and set off. The flooding was so bad in the lane that I couldn't see the perfectly sized divot in the middle of the road and seconds later my rear tyre was flat with a pinch puncture. I swapped the tube but my motivation had gone. I stood on the road side trying to decide whether to carry on - my planned route was an out and back that would take me up to 12 miles away from home, and now having no spare tube and a rather soft rear tyre that would be prone to more pinching. I reminded myself why I had embarked on another 30 in 30 and jumped back on my bike to explore some lanes closer to home, just in case. So, 1h22m and 17 road miles completed.

Day 3 - a simple hour on the turbo trainer. Boring, but necessary due to work commitments. I had a rather lovely pint of Bombardier at the Mulberry Bush at a leaving do for some work colleagues. So far so good on the alcohol front then.

Day 4 - more rain! (If this carries on, I'm selling the bikes and building a flamin' ark!) Yet again the weather was testing my resolve with heavy showers throughout the day. Still, I've just put the original forks back on the Surly 1x1 and it's been years since I rode a rigid mountain bike so it gave me the little kick I needed to get out there and explore for a bit - 1hr10m and 10 miles in the rain and mud. It'll do.

Totals so far - 5h17m, 42 road miles, 10 miles off-road.

The New Regime

Things never go as planned do they? Originally I'd planned to kick off another "30 in 30" at the start of September using the momentum from my holiday - adding in a healthy eating plan, some weight loss and cutting back on my alcohol intake.

Obviously, the start to this was delayed due to various DIY set backs with my house again: the boiler still isn't working (that's 5 weeks without hot water); I've changed the upstairs plan and can't find lights so the electrician has been postponed; my hoover has broken and to top it all off now a fuse has blown in the fuse board so I don't have any downstairs lighting (just as the nights are drawing in). Owning a house really sucks sometimes.

So there was no time for riding on Monday and Tuesday but finally yesterday I managed to squeeze in my first ride and start my Autumn "30 in 30". And boy oh boy, is it Autumn! The first 10 minutes of the ride were met with strong winds and a heavy shower. It's very unusual for me to actually start a ride in the rain, I normally wait until it stops. So this shows a new found tenacity and enthusiasm for riding that I haven't had for some time. (It's also a good start to what could be a very wet and miserable winter.)

So, Day 1 - 1hr45m, 25 miles.
I think I might also start keeping a mileage and hours ridden log, just for a bit of motivation...

Fair Weather Cyclist?

The elements were against me today. The non-Summer was determined to get the better of me.

After quite a long lie in (I'd forgotten just how tiring being back at work and doing double shifts actually was) I had brunch whilst watching yesterday's Tour de France highlights. It spurred me on to ride my bike - a pleasant spin on the Surly Cross-Check around the usual loop was in order. Or so I thought.

I put my cycling shorts and jersey on, filled a water bottle, got my bike out of the shed, pumped up the tyres and went back upstairs to get my helmet and shoes. No sooner had I shut the front door than it started to pour with rain, and I mean really hammer down; sheets of sideways rain drops were blown viciously across the green in front of my house. I bought my bike inside and went back upstairs to wait it out, it would only be a shower after all.

Five minutes later and the rain was battering against the window. I took my helmet and shoes off and sat down. I wasn't going to be beaten and I'd put the time to good use by popping to the Post Office, wearing head to toe waterproofs!

It had stopped raining as I walked back from the Post Office, the 'Summer shower' was over. it was time to go for a ride.

Back upstairs and put on 3/4 length tights and a long sleeve top, grabbed a light weight showerproof coat, turned on my GPS, put my headphones in and fastened my helmet. I turned my back to the window to walk down the stairs and heard the familiar sound of rain hammering on the window. It was 3.30pm and I thought I would wait until 4pm. If it stopped any time before then I would go for a ride, if it was still raining at 4pm I would give up and do something productive.

4pm - the trees were bending sideways, the raindrops were bouncing six inches back up off the ground and the thunder rumbled down the valley. I put the kettle on and gave in, my motivation had gone. I tidied the huge pile of junk in the dining room instead (so THAT'S where pedals went!)

By 5.30pm I was proud of my new tidy dining room and it hadn't rained for half an hour or so - aha! I shall squeeze in a sneaky hour! Maybe the clouds heard me but I didn't even finish planning the proposed route in my head before it started bucketing down again. When the Gods are so blatantly against you like this it's best just to cut your losses and save your energy and enthusiasm for another, drier, day. If ever we get one of those...

Kellogg’s Tour of Ireland – Final Stage Kilkenny to Dublin

130miles, 10000ft of ascent! 9h14 ride time
Avg speed 14mph; Max speed 44mph
Avg heart rate 133bpm; Max heart rate 167bpm
Calories burned 6600

Monday and the final day started with a short walk back to the college in the morning sun. It was promising to be a lovely day. My legs were slightly sore this morning after yesterday’s epic and my aim was just to get through the day, no matter how long it took. The route would take us up and over the Wicklow Mountains south of Dublin with the hilliest profile so far.


The first hill came after just 4 miles and though we had been asked to stay as a group until we left town, there was little point trying to hang on to any big groups as the field would split the minute we started climbing. We started and I was definitely going through a rough patch for the first 20 miles or so as we climbed up onto the moorland. Luckily I was alongside my trusty riding companion Julia again, we’d spent most of the Tour riding together now so it seemed only fitting that we would do the final stage together.

It was a school day again and after the quietness of Sunday’s country lanes and deserted villages the cheers of the school children lined up along the playground fences was a welcome sound. Paul was slightly up ahead with Mark and Dave, two of the Irish guys we’d also spent much of the past few days with and we formed a small group of familiar faces to get to the first feed station at 50 miles. Each dragging climb was followed by a long, fast descent but it still took three and a half hours; this was shaping up to be the longest day of the whole event.

Stocked up again with energy drink, gels and bars we headed out to start the real climbing! Mark and Dave were local and knew the area well, we had four very big climbs ahead including Wicklow Gap and Hollywood. Slow and steady would be the order of the day in the baking sun. The first climb was 1100ft over a few miles with an equally long descent back down in to the valley followed by another similar climb. Our group was spread out, each taking the climb at their own pace, but we’d soon come together on the flat. Thankfully my legs had come back now and I was feeling pretty good.

It didn’t bother me that we still had a long way to go with lots of hills and it was going to take a few more hours, this is what I did each day now. It’s funny how your perception changes so quickly. Only three days ago I was daunted by the idea of riding 115 miles and being out on the bike for six or seven hours; now it was normal – get up, have breakfast, ride bike, eat dinner, go to bed. That was it, that was my life.

One by one we ticked off the big climbs, with the last one marked by a feed station at the top of Wicklow Gap. I put a windproof gillet on for the final descent as it was apparently a bit of a monster. On the way down we gathered more riders to form into a larger group along with the Dulwich Paragon guys to get us the last 40 miles to the finish. The scenery was stunning. We were riding around some lakes and the water glistened in the bright sunshine – what a perfect final day.

We were riding at a fairly steady pace, though this was all relative now. Previously my steady pace was about 12mph, it now seemed to be somewhere around 18mph. There was still lots of chatting and laughing and the two-up through and off had become second nature, considering I’d never done it before last week. Just as the Dulwich guys decided to up the pace slightly I turned around to see Paul, Dave and Mark had dropped off the back of the group of 10 or so. As I’d been riding at the front for a while I wasn’t sure what had happened and somebody mentioned there’d been a mechanical problem of some sort. I assumed this was them and that they would soon join back on.

After a few miles there was still no sign so I pulled over to wait for them, Julia kindly waited with me. It had been such an incredible challenge that I wanted to cross the line with IP, and if there had been a problem it was going to be easier to ride in with five of us rather than leaving just the three of them. If there’s one thing I have learnt during this trip, it’s the difference riding with a group can make to your overall speed. A while later the three of them came around the corner and we started off so they could join onto the back of us. Mark was really suffering and we were handing him all the energy gels and drink that we had left. He was shocked when Paul had waited for him, he was even more surprised that Julia and I had waited for them to help them home. I don’t leave anyone behind when I go mountain biking and I’m not going to do it on the road either.

We still had 20 to 25 miles to go. These are Irish miles remember and it had become clear over the days that distances could vary: 1km could be anything between 500m and 3km; 50miles would be somewhere between 45 and 60! So after 105miles, knowing the stage should be 125 miles, plus the fact we had a detour of 8km (but nobody knew whether this was 8km more or 8km less) we had anywhere between 15 and 30 miles left.

It was a pleasant evening and the four of us took our short turns on the front, all the time keeping an eye on Mark at the back. At 5pm I hoped there wasn’t much further to go, this was the longest day, but also a fantastic day. One last short climb (just what I didn’t need!) and the 20km sign. Finally! A little bit further on was the 10km sign – I told you we were using Irish miles. And then we saw the finish at the Westmanstown Leisure Complex. But today there wasn’t a sprint, it wasn’t every man for himself in a final bid for glory. Instead there was a real sense of achievement, the completion of a tough challenge that each of the five of us had played an essential part in. One last glance made sure Mark was with us. Dave and Julia had gone slightly ahead on the last climb, but as we turned into the car park they were standing by the timing mat, waiting for us so we could all cross the finish line together.

Compulsory hugs and handshakes took place just beyond the finishing arch. There was an overwhelming feeling of relief and satisfaction from everyone milling around packing their bikes away and it wasn’t long before more new found friends who had already finished came over to have a chat. Then it was time to collect our medals and watch the Presentations whilst having a roast dinner – not presentations for first place or fastest riders or any of that rubbish, just thank you’s to everyone involved and a few special momentos given to people for their help. I had a couple of pints of Guinness to celebrate, swapped email addresses with some people, thanked the organisers for putting on a first class event and headed off to my hotel in Dublin to meet up for drinks with an old friend – but that’s another story…

Kellogg's Tour of Ireland - Stage 3 Galway to Kilkenny

134 miles, 8000ft of ascent, 8h18 ride time
Avg speed 16mph; Max speed 33mph
Avg heart rate 138bpm; Max heart rate 175 bpm
Calories burned 7000

What a day! I’m exhausted! Things started off really well when I managed to get down to breakfast on time and get a decent meal; I knew that was going to be important today. Then it was back to the NUIG Campus. To try and keep the finish times a bit more condensed they were setting off the slower groups first today. Don’t ask me how, but this meant I found myself at the very front of the fast group and set off first, leading the peloton through the streets of Galway. I was so excited I had butterflies, but it also meant my legs turned to jelly. Fortunately my new found friend Mark Harding was on the front with me and told me just to take it steady and relax, they would come past if they wanted to. It was an awesome sight, I managed a quick glance back as we went around one roundabout and saw the 100 strong group snaking behind us! We sat behind the Lead Car for a full 6 miles before some idiot came and moaned at us to get out of the way – it’s not a race ya know.

Having started at such a steady pace meant by the time riders did start to overtake us and pick up the pace (only very slightly I may add, we weren’t slacking at the front) I was nicely warmed up and even managed to stay in the middle of the pack for the first 25 miles. Again, to be riding this quickly in the peloton for such a long time was exhilarating and a fantastic experience; it really does make such a difference to the effort needed to maintain a fast pace and somehow feels like ‘proper’ riding.

Sadly it wasn’t to last and my new found legs couldn’t quite get me over the first small hill at the same speed and I dropped slightly off the back. I maintained the gap but couldn’t quite get back on. I passed a rider who had stopped and when he came up behind me shouted for me to jump on his wheel, he’d get me back to the group. He flew past and I barely managed to hold his wheel but we did close the gap – just as we got to the bottom of the next climb.

I decided I would just let the peloton go. This was far too long a stage to keep being left behind on the hills and then putting massive effort in to chase down the peloton, I actually wanted to finish this stage! So I cruised along for a few miles by myself as we started the climbs up and over the moorland. A familiar voice shouted from behind; it was Julia, one of the people from the group yesterday.

We rode the next 20 or so miles nice and steady, riding alongside each other chatting. At around 50 miles I.P caught us up and we stayed together until the hot food station at 58 miles. Our intention was to try and find a group to ride with, this would make the remaining miles go a lot quicker and easier. We set off with six Dulwich Paragon riders but they soon split when the road climbed up out of town and into the hills.

Then came the worst part, the incredible steep climb out of Silvermines up to the second feed station, 1000ft climb in around two miles! The gradient was too much for my 39:27 gear and I had to stop three times to catch my breath, heart pounding and legs screaming. I had a long break at the feed and lots of food. The descent was no better – steep, slippery, covered in pine needles and gravel with sharp hairpins. Then another hill! I got off and walked this one, I had nothing left in my legs and we still had 60 miles left to go. It took almost two hours for me to recover.

Julia, Ickle Paul and I just kept spinning along, counting down the miles. “100 up” said Julia. I hoped there would be another feed station somewhere but nobody had mentioned one. Luckily at 102 miles there was, I was so grateful. The prospect of having at least another two hours, if not more, of monotonous pedal spinning along undulating straight roads was soul destroying. A lone rider came down the road and joined us at the feed stop. Now we were four, it might at least be a bit quicker.

I'll have to continue this one later. I was too knackered last night and now I have to go rider another 125 miles over the Wicklow Mountains! Safe to say I finished yesterday, it was really, really hard, I was exhausted. But at least I did finish, many didn't and apparently the broom wagon had to go back numerous times to pick up riders. Eek...

Kellogg's Tour of Ireland - Stage 2 Cavan to Galway

120.5miles, 4133ft of ascent - 6h33m ride time
Avg speed 18.4mph; Max speed 37.1mph
Avg heart rate 138bpm; Max heart rate 170bpm
Calorites burned 6500

Another early start and after breakfast at the hotel the coaches picked us up at 7am to take us to the bikes at Cavan town leisure centre. The food truck arrived and everyone stocked up on the plentiful supply of Kellogg’s nutrigrain bars, Rice Krispie Squares, Hi-5 energy gels and drink and of course, bananas.

At 8.20am the peloton rolled out of town again and soon picked up the pace. Today had been described as an undulating stage with no real hills. I had planned to get into the middle of the pack and try not to do much work today. I’m not used to such long and sustained effort when riding and didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. Within a few miles there was already a split starting to form between a huge and fast rolling main peloton, containing over 100 riders, and the rest of us. I found myself on the front of another big group, desperately trying to chase them down. There were three of us doing all the work and after a few miles making little progress one of them decided we should stop trying and form our own little group of around seven riders. There were sighs of relief. Maintaining the 23mph pace was starting to take its toll and we all knew we couldn’t keep it up for much longer.

They weren’t wrong when they said the course was undulating and the seven of us soon found a happy rhythm spinning along the roller-coaster like roads. I’ve never seen so many long, straight roads. We would ride for mile after mile, each taking our turn on the front of the group, only to turn at a junction onto another long, straight, undulating road! We picked up a few stragglers from the front bunch along the way – some were so tired they just went straight out the back of our group.

Just past the big road crossing on the N4 and it was my time for my 15 minutes of fame. One of the media cars pulled up alongside us and seeing as we had four women in the group riding at the front (there seems to only be about 15 of us in total) they chose a particularly short, sharp climb to have a chat to me on camera. I think I made sense through the heaving breathing, but I’ll have to see if it turns up on the event DVD or not.

At 53 miles we reached the first feed station in under 3 hours. The first group of the main peloton were just about to leave, making us the second group to arrive – so we weren’t exactly taking it easy. I was glad of the soup and roll and took on as much fluid as possible. The problem I have riding at that intensity is I forget to eat and drink. I knew this would be a problem later on on such a long stage. We didn’t stop long and our merry band was joined by a few more riders who had decided the peloton was just too much for them. We decided we were the ‘poursuivants’ group (a la Tour de France) and set off again.

More long, drawn out, undulating roads and a hard working group of 10 riders chatting and laughing whilst clocking up the miles – I haven’t done much road riding but I don’t think things can get much better than this. Each rider seemed to go through a rough patch at some point but was allowed to sit at the back for a while to get their legs back. Those who were feeling good worked on the front and swung off whenever they felt like it. Nobody was left behind and we even slowed up to wait if a rider had stopped for some reason – pretty good for a random group of riders who didn’t even know each other.

There was one big hill for the day and it came at 75 miles, nothing compared to yesterday though and we were quickly over the other side. The usual warning shouts of “gravel”, “hole”, “dog” (don’t ask me why there are quite so many bike chasing dogs in Ireland but most of them seem to have death wishes), “left”, “cows”. Cows?! There was a screech of brakes and skidding tyres – three cows had escaped from their field and were standing in the middle of the road. The farmers were trying to herd them back in but we spooked them and one decided to try and Frosby Flop a 5ft high stone wall – no small feat for a fully grown cow! We moved aside and ushered the other two into the field.

Being an unofficial and small group we had very little in the way of motorcycle marshalling but the Garda were stationed at most of the main junctions. As we approached the final feed station at 90 miles the rough riding surface was making it tough and I was flagging somewhat, starting to drop off the back. One of the guys dropped back for me and I sat on his wheel until we reached it. I shoved handfuls of Nutrigrain bar into my mouth, topped off with energy gels. This must have worked; along with the fact that we only had 35 miles to go and it wasn’t even 2pm, we’d been blasting along without realizing it.

Finally signs for Galway and a motorbike marshall escorted us into the busy town centre full of Saturday afternoon shoppers. He did a fantastic job of stopping traffic on the busy roundabouts and the Garda controlled traffic on all the junctions. Thank God they did because we were now steaming along like a freight train and nothing was going to stop us. Again, this was a very unique experience for me and the special treatment added to that feeling of being a pro rider that the event creates.

It was every man for himself around the final few winding streets and into the university campus to pass under the Kellogg’s arch. Dave won the sprint, with me 50 or so yards behind. The rest followed in quick succession. Our little group had ridden together for most of the 120 miles and enjoyed every minute of it. A group photo was in order and the official photographer obliged, followed by another interview with the cameraman. The official time is probably closer to 7 hours, but I had a ride time of 6h30. The peloton that included Jamie Burrows, former Lance Armstrong team mate; the ParkPre professional sportive team and a young Irish pro rider, not forgetting Ickle Paul Davis, arrived a full hour before us but we were still the second group in and there were smiles, handshakes and pats on the back all round.

A shower on the university campus, plenty of tasty food in the union bar and then coaches over to the Days Hotel for an early night and some well deserved rest ready for tomorrow – the longest day of the Tour and the day the hills start. I’ve prepared myself for a good 10 hours in the saddle, anything less will be a bonus.

Kellogg's Tour of Ireland - Stage 1 Lisburn to Cavan

116miles, 8544ft ascent - 7h16mins
Avg speed 16.3mph; Max speed 65mph!!
Avg heart rate 146bpm; Max heart rate 184bpm
Calories burned 6500

So after last nights food, registration, bike setup, introductions, riders briefing and general praise of sponsors at the Lisburn Leisureplex by the organisers Joe and Marc Barr plus various representatives, it was off to the Premier Inn in Belfast for a well deserved nights sleep before the first stage.

A buffet breakfast at the hotel and then everyone was bussed back to the Leisureplex to leave bike bags and drop off kit bags before trundling down to the official start line. It started to rain. As I approached the large red inflatable Kelloggs arch there were plenty of supporters lining the streets and there was a real sense of occasion. The organiser's speech had said that we would be treated like professional riders - with all the logistics, food, accomodation and mechanics taken care of. All we had to do was turn up and ride and as the 230 something riders lined up it felt like a proper peloton; A peloton which is actually bigger than that of the Tour de France.

We would be accompanied along the way by numerous motorbike marshalls and some of the route would be accompanied by the police. Riding through the middle of Lisburn all the traffic was stopped, red lights ignored and the peloton filled the road. Now this is bike riding.

The flattish start meant large groups stayed together and moved along quite quickly. The adrenaline was pumping and it was a whole new experience for me. We started to climb up into the mountains and there was a long line of riders stretching into the distance. It had stopped raining but was still misty and grey - perfect conditions as far as I was concerned.

At the top of the reservoir just 5 of us were together with me and Ickle Paul Davis doing most of the work on the front, maintaining a respectable 18mph in fairly windy conditions. The first feed station couldn't come soon enough as this was the longest I had ever spent continuously in the saddle. Having marshalls stop traffic at all the junctions meant we didn't have to worry about stopping, something very rare in everyday cycling. After 3 hours and 50 miles we finally pulled into the feed station to stock up on Kellogg's nutri grain, rice krispie bars and Hi-5 energy drink. No sooner had we arrived than group 2 were leaving. We decided to try and sit on the back of group 2 to make things easier. I never really realised how much easier it was to ride in a group, but as I cruised along in the middle of the 50 strong group, doing a steady 22mph with my heart rate barely reaching 140bpm, the benefits became apparent.

Again, the climbing quickly split the huge group and I found myself stuck at the back, climbing in single file through heavy traffic. As soon as the road opened up I tried to get our straggling group of 20 or so back together and then chase down the quicker group of 20 in front. Riding from the back the others soon jumped on and realised what I was trying to do. The going was tough sitting at the front and we still weren't closing the gap. Suddenly my bottle cage came loose and fell left, jamming itself between the frame and the crank arm! I came to an abrupt halt but fortunatley didn't cause an accident. The group powered on and I was left by myself with 50 miles to go. This was going to be a long, long day.

A few more flattish miles and then a very steep climb. Thankfully I.P was waiting at the top for me and we rode the rest of the day together. We had no chance of catching the group in front and I took it fairly easy for a while. My legs were heavy from chasing down the group and I needed some time to recover. The miles passed slowly now on undulating roads. We picked up another guy who kept getting cramp and towed him to the hot feed station at 90 miles. By now it was raining again.

Just as we arrived, group 2 was leaving. We let them go and waited for group 3. This would be much easier than riding the final miles by ourselves as we'd all been working hard on the front of various groups all day. Hot soup and rolls were a welcome snack and then we were on our way in a group of 20 or so, rolling at a steady pace. Again the roads were straightish and undulating and hiding in the pack was a welcome relief.

I was glad to see the road sign for Cavan. Except for 24 hour solo races, this was the longest ride I have done in about 10 years - and doing over 100 miles in 24 hours is a lot different to doing it in 24 hours!

Each member of this group took turns on the front and we reached Cavan about 5pm. I had a narrow escape at 30mph avoiding a water bottle that fell from a bike just in front, the back wheel fish tailed and I came to an almost complete stop, but soon caught the group on the final run in.

Ah finally, the finish line. At last! Then it was a short ride to the leisure centre to pick up our gear, shower and head off on the coaches for food. If only it was that simple.

My kit bag was one of the last to be loaded on the van in the morning and they'd decided there was no room so put it in another van. Sadly, this van hadn't arrived at the finish and nobody could contact the driver who was somewhere out on the route. I was soaked to the bone and freezing with nothing to change into. They didn't even know when my bag would arrive. I.P was in the same position. I wasn't happy.

Now having worked on many events for organisers throughout the years I understand more than most that problems and mistakes happen, it's life. The mark of an organiser is how they deal with those things and I have to say that these guys are first rate! Three of us were soon in one of the swanky BMW event vehicles being chauffeured straight to the luxury Cavan Crystal hotel for a hot shower; they even bought us dinner at the hotel restaurant rather than having to make another trip to the offical food venue. As they said, it's all about the rider.

My bag turned up and I went for dinner. Then an early night, ready for the 3, longer stages still left. I have a feeling this is going to be a long weekend...

You can read all about the event and see the route on the official Kellogg's Tour of Ireland Cycle Challenge web page.

Back to Earth with a Bump

All good things must come to an end; it was inevitable that after my great week playing about on bikes, that it would end. In fact it came to an abrupt halt.

I read somewhere not so long ago that Noel Edmonds believes the universe is constantly trying to give us exactly what we want, but we either ignore the signs, don't listen or fight against it. I've always be someone who goes with the flow and happily cruises along through life taking whatever it throws at me and not really worrying too much about anything else. This may be one of the reasons why I enjoy life so much - I have no inclination to fight against the universe and it obviously appreciates this and leaves me alone. Most of the time...

Now and again however it gives me a little reminder that it's still there, watching, waiting for me to start a rebellion. There was a small skirmish on Sunday but my pathetic attempt at a power shift was rapidly overthrown. I should have known. All the signs were there, I just didn't see them.

It was the Forest of Dean Classic sportive and I'd decided to drive over to Monmouth at 6am as a last gasp attempt to get fit for the Tour of Ireland. (I know, I know, it's far too late to gain any fitness but at least I'd give my legs a spin and I had to feel like I was doing something.) Anyway, 6am, the sun was shining. Pah, what do the weathermen know - rain my foot! I picked up my kit bag and as I loaded into the car I felt a sharp pain shoot across my lower back. Ow! Sitting in the car was uncomfortable to say the least. But I persevered.

Somewhere near Oxford it started to rain. I turned on the windscreen wipers and they started smearing an inch wide strip right in my eye line. After a few miles I had to stop to clean the wiperblade and as I leant over to pull it up I felt another sharp pain in my back. This was going to make it a very long and painful day. I looked back up the road and thought about going home. But no, I persevered.

On the A40 approaching Birdlip there was a huge black cloud somewhere over Gloucester and three, large, consecutive lightning strikes! Now if that isn't a sign from a higher power to turn around now or face certain doom, then I don't know what is. But still, I persevered.

I finally arrived at Monmouth and set off on the 85 mile route. Just minutes into the first of the fourteen climbs my heart rate was unusually high and after riding out of the saddle for a few minutes around one of the hairpins my shoulders went dead; a sensation I usually only encounter at the end of a long ride on a steep climb. Being a finely tuned athlete (ahem!) I knew there was something very wrong, and persevered...

Just a couple of miles later my recurring knee problem started. For some reason I thought I'd be able to ride it off the way I had done on the last couple of rides. After 15 miles it wasn't easing. After 20 miles I was dropping into the lowest gear on any incline so I could spin up rather than having to put pressure on my knee. At 25 miles I was wondering which was the shortest way back to the car. At 30 miles I was standing in a torrential downpour, removing my number and getting directions home. I quit. I was beaten. But the worst was yet to come...

I started the drive home and soon got tired. I couldn't seem to keep my eyes open. I was feeling slightly unwell by this point and even though I clocked up 46 miles on the bike, hadn't felt like eating anything. Traffic was slow and it was taking longer than usual. I pulled over to take a snooze, jumped out of the car and promptly threw up. Another deluge started as I was standing by the car.

So there I was, standing on the side of the A40 in torrential rain, throwing up, with a bad back, a sore knee, a headache and the first signs of flu. The universe had reasserted its authority without any room for doubt about who's boss and it's not a theory I will be testing again in the near future. From now on just stay quiet, watch, listen, and the universe will take care of the rest. Trust me!

New Steed

Well actually it's not mine, I'm borrowing it for a while to get used to it before I take it to the Tour of Ireland at the start of May. So I have to say a great big thank you to my friend Paul Gibbons from Ludlow who has ever so kindly let me borrow it, especially as it's new. Brand new. I mean, never been ridden, picked up straight out of the shop and brought to me, new. I am the first person to ever ride it and I have to say it's a whole hunk of carbon goodness - Time EdgeFirst carbon frame and forks with Ultegra kit, Easton bars, stem and wheels; saddle (riders own.) I've got a swanky USE carbon bottle cage to go on it as well, just as a nice finishing touch.

Paul 'Gibbo' Gibbons
Photo: Joolze Dymond

It's the first time I've ever ridden a proper road bike any kind of distance, and the first time I've used proper road shoes and pedals (those things only work from one side! I can't remember the last time I picked up an injury from cycling but since last Thursday I've had numerous crotch-on-saddle incidents from sliding off the wrong side of the pedals and I've fallen down the stairs because road shoes are all smooth and slidey underneath. Typical!)

I have renewed vigour to ride as well, I did a lovely 100km last Thursday, followed by 25 miles Friday and another 40 miles today. It's partly due to the bike - which goes like stink by the way - and partly due to the fact that since prematurely ending the 30 in 30 after 20 days, I now actually want to ride my bike. It's kind of a habit now. The day doesn't feel right without going for a ride or at least doing some sort of exercise. I suppose that's a good thing considering what I've got coming up in the next five weeks, I need all the training I can get!

Zippededoodah!

Having such a busy week ahead really kicked me into gear. I got everything done that I needed to on Thursday and Friday - taxis booked, paperwork sorted, final bits of shopping done, I've got all the essentials I need now; I can't imagine the next time I'll walk into a chemist and ask "do these diarrhoea tablets come in larger packs?" I usually end up leaving this stuff to the last minute and it's a mad panic at the end, but I'm actually ahead of the game now. As my secondary school tutor once said (Mr Pickles, not the other idiot), "if you want something done, ask a busy person." Never a truer word said.

Then to the weekend. I couldn't possibly have asked for three such perfect days! An early start saturday morning in glorious sunshine with clear blue skies saw Tony, Jim, Me and Newbie Dale set off on yet another section of Offa's Dyke. This time it was the 15 mile stretch between Hay-on-Wye and Kington (aka Tony's house, and the 15 miles was actually the estimation straight to Tony's door, rather than a town down the road...)

Jim had packed his spare sense of humour but we didn't need it this time. He steered clear of the Coins of Doom (chocolate coins) which he blamed for his bad mood swing last time, and stocked up on Tangfastics instead. We decided to ply Newbie with Coins of Doom instead and restrict the antedote, to see if they had the same affect. They didn't. It's just Jim. Newbie got his comeupence on the last stretch over the moor. It was fairly boggy in places and Tony and I were slightly ahead of the other two and walked around a large section of bog. Jim and Newbie approached and started to walk round as well, after a few feet I shouted to Dale "It's alright there." Actually having no idea whether it was or not, but just curious to see if he'd fall for it? Thinking that because I'd only met him that day and therefore wouldn't possibly be so cheeky to lie to him about it, he stepped ankle deep into the bog. He just doesn't know me at all...
Another superb 6.5hours of walking and the weather was just silly for this time of year. Can't wait for the next one!

Straight on up north Saturday night and another frosty, crisp, stunning morning on Sunday. The cold didn't help my poor, tight hamstrings and I hoped they'd loosen up after a few miles. Hours later they did loosen up, and then died. Maybe a 100km road ride wasn't a great idea after a long day walking. By the time I'd come to this conclusion though it was too late and I was already at the furthest point. No way out now.

Many, many, many miles later (50 ish) and my GPS was saying only 20km to the end of the route. Hurray! It was getting dark, I was very hungry, out of water, my legs were like lead and it was getting cold, but I can manage that. Sadly, I'd done a 'Tony' - it was 20km to where the end of the route meets up with part of the first section, the hotel was further away...

Oh dear. Another sense of humour failure, from my riding partner. It probably wasn't the right time to tell them that the batteries on my GPS were dying. Must ride faster. And even though the setting sun did signify impending doom (hypothermia, dangerous roads with no lights, increased possibility of getting lost), it was really pretty! See, there's always a silver lining!

A beautiful forest walk today and then home to prepare for the next leg of my journey. If the rest of February is as amazing as the last few days, I'm in for a real treat!

Afternoon Ride

Another good couple of hours out on the bike today. It was lovely and sunny and bright, which lulled me into a false sense of warmth and I forgot my Endura overshoes - my feet were freezing for most of the ride. A harsh mistake to make.

I intended to be out for 3 hours, seeing as it was such a lovely day, but I'd misjudged the route and only lasted 2h30m. It is quite gratifying just to be able to jump on the bike with nothing more than a few spares and a water bottle and be able to ride round and round for miles on end. It's taken quite a few years to get to this stage, but I know the area well enough now.

There was a vicious head wind the whole ride. It was an effort to stay upright. The problem with Buckinghamshire is that once you get over Ivinghoe Beacon and the Chilterns it just goes flat. Really flat! Which means the wind whistles across the plains for miles - hitting me straight in the face and making it rather hard going. Then it did that really clever thing of changing direction the minute I turned homeward. Don't you just hate it when that happens.

Back home in the warm and a nice cup of tea and slice of Lyles Golden Syrup cake end the ride perfectly.

It's NOT the 2nd of October!

It's not, really it isn't, and I'll tell you why - because over the last few weeks my motivation to ride bikes has been lacking to say the least. So I'd decided that I was going to take things easy in September, just take a step back from riding, racing and decorating and get back in the saddle in October.
Well, I'm not very good at keeping track of time - I find that happens working shifts. I rarely know what day it is and weekends don't mean a thing, it's either a work day or a day off, nothing else registers - so on Monday I was convinced it was still September and that riding would start Tuesday. Sadly, Monday evening I was informed that it actually was October already and therefore I'd missed the boat. Damn!
Still, determined that my vigour for riding bikes would return at the start of the new month, I declared Monday null and void, and Tuesday as the 1st of October.
And so today I went out for my first ride in, well, I can't remember how long it's been, that's how long it's been! I dusted down my Surly cross-check, a trusty steed that has so far been neglected this year; She didn't hold it against me however and we were soon cruising along the Hertfordshire lanes like best friends again, Old Faithful never missing a gear change.
The weather then took a turn for the worse but I didn't care. I was wearing my new Endura Air Defence jacket, that may well become the Old Faithful of my wardrobe this winter - we got a lot of miles to do together guys!