Knee pain this morning. Internet search suggests ITB syndrome. I suspect I had too much float on the cleats, letting me pedal too hard with the my toes pointing inwards. Nurofen and tubigrip applied.
I'm afraid that might be it for this one :(
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Wednesday Afternoon Action
So by 14:30 I'd set up the kids' Christmas Wii, eaten pasta, dealt with post-video-game trauma and sallied forth. At the first crossroads, my 118psi tyres had thrown my front light onto the road. Truth be told, it was mismatched with its holder. We have loads of those things. It would have been fine, but the first car past ran over it so I had to go home to find another one.
All this time the strava was running, so don't take my average speed as representative, mmmkay? I got out around 3, and headed for the coast. I visited Jesmond Dene Banqueting Hall:
Tynemouth Priory:
Seaton Delaval Hall:
I then proceeded to Gosforth Great Park. That's a new development of plush houses on green belt land. A cul-de-sac, plonked right where the road to Stannington and the airport used to be. Yes, all this were fields when I were a lad.
By the time I got to Throckley it was pitch dark with driving rain.
I'd bought batteries and borrowed a screwdriver just before leaving the coast and the recommended Panasonics lasted all of 2hrs. So oncoming traffic beeped me, while cars behind gave me a wide and safe berth thanks to a great strobing back light plus my reflective rapha softshell mudflap *nudge*.
The best bit was the route down to Wylam. Snaking downhill. Fast. I couldn't see a thing. Massive puddles. Just phenomenal. I must say after lots of short trips by MTB my Raleigh feels like flying. What a thrill. It's patently not a winter bike and it's never even got damp before while I've had it, but this is the sort of use I feel it craves. She craves. Now I'm just being silly.
The excitement wore off on the hill up to Prudhoe. I hit the wall. "I've hit the wall!", I shouted, but nobody heard me. I made it up to the rhythm of Manu Katche's drums on Bowie's 'China Girl'. That's right, slow. I'll give you a man who wants to rule the world...There's a tricky note to hit. Anyway, just how does a sacred crown stumble into town? All this and more I had plenty of time to ponder.
The rest of the ride was a trial. I made it to Corbridge only to run into my first love plus her husband who'd just failed to hit me when overtaking on the approach to the village. They looked as if they were being accosted by a wild-eyed, half-crazed loon in a helmet. And they were.
This was to be a meeting of friends from, ooh, 25 years ago. From Norway, Stocksfield, London, Singapore and Sydney they came. My wife didn't come for another half an hour, leaving me standing by my unlockable bike in the freezing rain, hopping from foot to foot while Strava couldn't find enough signal to record my magnum opus.
My darling had brought me a change of clothes and the requested Bowie CD. But she hadn't brought shoes. So after a quick change in the car I squelched off to the pub. Looking dapper, but shivering uncontrollably.
What a day. What a night. 55.4 miles and it's not enough to catch up. Tomorrow I head North. Wish me luck.
She says, Shhhhhhhhhhhh...
All this time the strava was running, so don't take my average speed as representative, mmmkay? I got out around 3, and headed for the coast. I visited Jesmond Dene Banqueting Hall:
Tynemouth Priory:
Seaton Delaval Hall:
I then proceeded to Gosforth Great Park. That's a new development of plush houses on green belt land. A cul-de-sac, plonked right where the road to Stannington and the airport used to be. Yes, all this were fields when I were a lad.
By the time I got to Throckley it was pitch dark with driving rain.
I'd bought batteries and borrowed a screwdriver just before leaving the coast and the recommended Panasonics lasted all of 2hrs. So oncoming traffic beeped me, while cars behind gave me a wide and safe berth thanks to a great strobing back light plus my reflective rapha softshell mudflap *nudge*.
The best bit was the route down to Wylam. Snaking downhill. Fast. I couldn't see a thing. Massive puddles. Just phenomenal. I must say after lots of short trips by MTB my Raleigh feels like flying. What a thrill. It's patently not a winter bike and it's never even got damp before while I've had it, but this is the sort of use I feel it craves. She craves. Now I'm just being silly.
The excitement wore off on the hill up to Prudhoe. I hit the wall. "I've hit the wall!", I shouted, but nobody heard me. I made it up to the rhythm of Manu Katche's drums on Bowie's 'China Girl'. That's right, slow. I'll give you a man who wants to rule the world...There's a tricky note to hit. Anyway, just how does a sacred crown stumble into town? All this and more I had plenty of time to ponder.
The rest of the ride was a trial. I made it to Corbridge only to run into my first love plus her husband who'd just failed to hit me when overtaking on the approach to the village. They looked as if they were being accosted by a wild-eyed, half-crazed loon in a helmet. And they were.
This was to be a meeting of friends from, ooh, 25 years ago. From Norway, Stocksfield, London, Singapore and Sydney they came. My wife didn't come for another half an hour, leaving me standing by my unlockable bike in the freezing rain, hopping from foot to foot while Strava couldn't find enough signal to record my magnum opus.
My darling had brought me a change of clothes and the requested Bowie CD. But she hadn't brought shoes. So after a quick change in the car I squelched off to the pub. Looking dapper, but shivering uncontrollably.
What a day. What a night. 55.4 miles and it's not enough to catch up. Tomorrow I head North. Wish me luck.
She says, Shhhhhhhhhhhh...
Monday, 24 December 2012
A flying start
I forgot that I'd left my can-actually-let-it-out-of-my-sight mountain bike at my Brother's house last week.
The '85 Peugeot PH501 has a punctured tubular, and No Way am I ever schlepping to work on my best ride. So I did 10 miles on the bus.
Now starting to feel a mild sense of unease. I won't even win the best loser's apron and broom, since some wag in Cornwall (flooded) will fit flotation bags and paddle-steamer tyre flaps to their Colnago and do a quick 498km. He or she will also make it funny.
Roll on Christmas!
The '85 Peugeot PH501 has a punctured tubular, and No Way am I ever schlepping to work on my best ride. So I did 10 miles on the bus.
Now starting to feel a mild sense of unease. I won't even win the best loser's apron and broom, since some wag in Cornwall (flooded) will fit flotation bags and paddle-steamer tyre flaps to their Colnago and do a quick 498km. He or she will also make it funny.
Roll on Christmas!
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Actual Prep.
Very little actual prep. I've shied away from training because I want every ounce of effort to count. Plus I've been really busy. Busy taking up smoking again and eating too much late at night.
I did buy a spare phone battery with a view to just keeping going like that guy from Singapore who did all this in one day last year. What a guy.
I gave the tyres a pinch to check they still hold air. I'm hoping that loose-fitting Campagnolo Century Record headset doesn't let go on me and I end up having to steer with my knees.
I've a vague plan to ride up to my parents' house near Berwick upon Tweed, pick up my BIL - who is super-fit and rides too fast for too long - and we'll proceed together towards Edinburgh. Maybe via Melrose. The A68 equals total win in a car, after all.
I did buy a spare phone battery with a view to just keeping going like that guy from Singapore who did all this in one day last year. What a guy.
I gave the tyres a pinch to check they still hold air. I'm hoping that loose-fitting Campagnolo Century Record headset doesn't let go on me and I end up having to steer with my knees.
I've a vague plan to ride up to my parents' house near Berwick upon Tweed, pick up my BIL - who is super-fit and rides too fast for too long - and we'll proceed together towards Edinburgh. Maybe via Melrose. The A68 equals total win in a car, after all.
Prep.
I've been going on about this folly to anyone who'll listen ever since I heard you could get something from Rapha without paying for it.
I know myself well enough by now to realise that what I've been doing is making it really difficult and embarrassing to not bother or to knock it on the head after a quick spin to the corner shop.
It's not that I don't love riding bikes - I really do, as fast as I can - it's just that I rarely seem to manage going out for the sake of it. My longest ride has been around 60 miles. I've achieved that twice, both on the same route from the Borders to Newcastle; once when I was 16 and again last year.
Now I'm aiming for 310 miles in 8 days. That's 40 or so miles per day...Thing is, I have to be at work tomorrow (10 mile round trip), and what with three young kids and a wife to entertain, Christmas day spent at the home (rather too close for discomfort) of my dear MIL, drinks with old friends on Boxing night and some wedding to attend in Berkshire or somewhere later in the week, 40 miles a day is not going to work.
No, I want to get this done. Get the big miles out of the way early-on. I want to find myself on the bike early-doors, then get back to partying, fun & games with my favourite people.
I know myself well enough by now to realise that what I've been doing is making it really difficult and embarrassing to not bother or to knock it on the head after a quick spin to the corner shop.
It's not that I don't love riding bikes - I really do, as fast as I can - it's just that I rarely seem to manage going out for the sake of it. My longest ride has been around 60 miles. I've achieved that twice, both on the same route from the Borders to Newcastle; once when I was 16 and again last year.
Now I'm aiming for 310 miles in 8 days. That's 40 or so miles per day...Thing is, I have to be at work tomorrow (10 mile round trip), and what with three young kids and a wife to entertain, Christmas day spent at the home (rather too close for discomfort) of my dear MIL, drinks with old friends on Boxing night and some wedding to attend in Berkshire or somewhere later in the week, 40 miles a day is not going to work.
No, I want to get this done. Get the big miles out of the way early-on. I want to find myself on the bike early-doors, then get back to partying, fun & games with my favourite people.
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