Going green

I cycled to work today. It's an 11 mile route, mostly down small country roads, with one set of traffic lights and one roundabout. The scenery is great, and the weather was perfect. Despite this, it still took a fair bit of willpower to get my gear together, leave a bit earlier than usual, and make the effort to pedal. I arrived a sweaty mess, because for some reason I had chosen to wear my lovely Assos long-legged windproof jobbies and arm warmers, which are designed for the winter. The girls in the office could hardly contain their excitement when I showed up in my sexy cycling kit, and Miss Churms, possibly the only female Baggy fan on the Island, had to dowse herself with cold water to cool her ardour. Not.
I don't know how many people actually can be bothered to get on a bike instead of the easy option of jumping in the car. I doubt there are that many. We all know it will help keep you fit, but it also saves the planet, doesn't it? But it's not easy. Most councils promote 'Green Transport' policies to encourage commuters to leave the car at home. The hospital is supposed to be into this, but as far as I can see the 'policy' consists of a small open air bike shed, and that's it. No showers, no locker room, no subsidised buses, nothing. In any case, it's really difficult to cycle to work every day, unless it's only a mile or so. There are all sorts of reasons why I can't always take the bike. Children need picking up from school or sports events, late or early starts, illness, fatigue, late nights, bad weather, laziness and so on. And by the way...No, I don't leave the bike outside in the shed!
The other thing is the risk of dying . Seriously. 99 out of 100 drivers treat cyclists with due respect and courtesy, but then you meet the one who treats you like an annoying piece of rubbish. Their tactics vary. The most annoying is when you are traversing a junction or roundabout in a normal manner, legally with appropriate priority. The car driver sees you and then just deliberately ignores you, almost as if you don't matter or are invisible. It's not that they haven't seen you..they have made clear eye contact and just decided to go anyway. Then you have the drivers who pass so close that their wing mirrors virtually brush against your arm. What about the drivers who are incapable of braking and slowing down behind you at narrow sections of road, in case it delays them by a couple of seconds? There is no doubt, cyclists are very vunerable, and hitting the road at 30 mph could cause serious injuries, or death if your head hits something hard. I definitely wouldn't cycle on city roads.
My poor little lad is sick again tonight, vomiting. I hope it's just a bug.
Riptide are gigging this weekend for the bikers, so we're brushing up on some good old rockin' numbers and learning a bit of cheese.
There aren't enough hours in my days.

Time to introduce more science to my cunning plan

I've been training now for 8 weeks, and there are 11 more to go before l'Etape.

I've been trying to progressively get longer and longer rides under my belt which culminated in a 100 mile ride last Sunday. It's really hard to cycle on your own around the Isle of Wight and clock up the ton, so I feel that I'm doing reasonably well to date. Of course, the event itself is 125 miles and it also involves 5 mountain climbs of between 4 and 12 miles. So, while I may be getting close to reaching the distance in terms of mileage, it's impossible to find Pyrennean-esque mountain climbs on which to train.

Climbing mountains means sustaining high power pedalling at a steady rate. The way to train for this is to find flattish routes of between 10 to 25 miles during which I need to basically go as fast as I can, without totally blowing up, at a steady speed. The other trick is to deliberately use a bigger gear than I would normally choose, to try and develop thunder thighs (as opposed to the current matchstick thighs). Ideally I should also borrow the wife's heart rate monitor (HRM) and read the manual. Once I have it set up and know how to use it, on these power sessions I should be trying to keep the heart rate at about 80 to 85% of my maximum. I don't want to get too obsessive and become Chris Boardman, but HRM training techniques are based on sound scientific principles and it would be churlish to ignore a device which may help me achieve my aim. Especially when we've already got one in the house (somewhere? under the bed?)

The other thing I've realised is the importance of good eating, and plenty of rest. Late night guitar sessions have got to stop. The last 6 days I have been feeling really tired. I think I underestimated how much the century took it out of me, and then playing footy on Tuesday was a bit too much. I ran my socks off on a big hard sloping pitch in Freshwater. Scored though.

So, next week I'm going to aim for one longish ride of between 50 to 70-ish miles and fit in two or maybe three hard speed sessions. I'll try and read the manual about the HRM, and see if its worth the hassle. I don't like the look of the strap which you have to wear around your chest. I was going to do the IOW Randonee next Sunday but I'm going to pass on that one. Riptide are gigging at the Over The Edge bike rally that night so it will be too much, plus we'll have to sound check in the afternoon and get the gear sorted. Check out the wacky website http://www.overtheedgerally.co.uk/ Stan the organiser is not your typical hairy bloke biker. Should be fun.

Does anyone else think the weather is strange?

This picture was taken this week on the beach at Brook...which is half a mile away from my house. I love the light at this time of year. There's a special clarity and the sun is not too high in the sky.

Obviously we're getting some weird weather. I used to spend a lot of time on the beach, either walking the dog, surfing, or either windsurfing or kiting. Now, I'm never there. I can't blame it on Blair or Gordon Brown. The dog is too old and knackered. The waves aren't big enough. It's just never windy anymore, at least not from the south west. I'm starting to believe that our climate is changing.

What I can blame on Brown are stealth taxes. Does anyone actually believe him when he quotes such low figures of inflation? As for taxing fuel, food, cheap air travel, bin collections and pay-as-you-drive schemes etc in the name of a 'green tax', can he can get away with it? Yes, probably. He has effectively introduced extra taxes whereby we all pay to park at our local hospitals. The NHS staff who work there have to pay to park at work. Yes, they do. But, does any intelligent soul actually believe that these additional taxes in England are going to make any difference to worldwide climate change? The USA are number one global polluters, and they won't sign up to the Kyoto agreement. Now we've got the Chinese economy coming on stream, soon to easily overtake everyone else put together. And I suspect India will follow in due course. And why shouldn't these countries enjoy the sort of economic boom and consumerism that we have enjoyed in the West for the last 50 years? Words such as oceans and urinating come to mind.

Let's get back to cycling.

It's been a strange week. I should be elated, content and confident. I did a 100 mile marathon last Sunday, which is not a bad effort with 10 more weeks to go to the big day. Why don't I feel superfit and confident? Well, I haven't found the time to get on the bike since the 100-miler. So, I've got a nervy anxious feeling that I should be doing more, and that I must get out on the bike as a matter of urgency or my muscles will start crumbling . My lungs will silt up. I remember this sensation from 20 years ago when I trained for the marathon. It's a self-generated pressure as you get yourself fitter, an irrational fear that the new found athleticism hangs by a fine thread. It's crazy. If you don't keep pushing on, ever harder, it's all going to fade away. Maybe it isn't irrational? I don't feel particularly fit. I'm sleeping more than ever. I've got a cold sore (as predicted). I am eating too much. And I know I won't get another big ride until next weekend...if I'm lucky. The May Bank Holiday is pandemonium on the Island with loads of things going on, including two big biker rallys. So, we've got hundreds of motorcycles zooming up and down the small country roads. And there will be a big influx of tourists. So, it won't be a good time to be cycling, not really. I don't like too much traffic when I'm on the bike. So many motorists try and squeeze past.

Oh well. perhaps I will just take it easy. The important thing is that my lad is recovering nicely after his operation. It's my daughter's birthday party today. Her mid-week skating competition in Bracknell was a success with a win in the artistic category. So, she's happy. If my family are happy, then so am I.

I'll just have to accept that there are some things over which I have no control. Including the weather.

Save our local hospitals.

I've spent most of the day in hospital, and very stressful it was too!. Nothing unusual in that, you might think, seeing as I'm a doctor. The big difference today was my role as a parent of a child having an operation rather than a professional, and my chance to experience my local NHS hospital as a customer rather than an employee.

The X-ray may give you a clue regarding the nature of a fairly trivial op, and I'm relieved to say all is well this evening. I'm not the slightest bit surprised to report that the whole experience from start to finish was excellent. A team of people, well trained, doing their jobs, and going the extra yard with kindness and compassion.

During my career I've worked in excess of 20 hospitals. I've always believed that the smaller hospitals, the District General Hospitals (DGH'S), are the best. Clearly our major cities need to have large tertiary referral centres with their research facilities, medical and nursing schools, and specialist units such as transplant, cardiovascular, neurosurgery etc.. But, local people need to have their local hospital. I have never understood the political drive to close small DGH's, and wish we could turn the clocks back 25 years when so many of the cottage hospitals and local unique clinics still existed. There is no doubt that our general hospital on the Ilse of Wight would have been closed or severely downgraded in the past 10 years if we didn't have The Solent separating us from Portsmouth and Southampton. I'm not going to get out my soapbox. I could rant forever, so I'll leave it at that.

So thanks to my colleagues at St Mary's. Robbie has had 2 bowls of ice cream and he's doing fine.

Questions and answers.

Word is getting around regarding my blog. This is good because without lots of interested readers, I'm not going to raise much money for Prostate Cancer. But perhaps it's not so good, because I'm turning the spotlight on myself. I feel more pressure is on my shoulders to succeed. I think I would prefer to just get on with my training quietly, slip away for three days in July, and do my best anonymously. I can't have it both ways. I want to raise as much money as possible, so I need the publicity.
Anyway, thanks again to everyone for their support and encouragement. Only illness or injury is going to stop me on July 16th. Or a mountain.
I'm getting lots of emails via the blog. One of the frustrating things about the blog software is that I cannot reply directly to the sender of the email because google doesn't let me. Therefore there are lots of unanswered questions.

1. The commonest query is 'how on earth do you cycle a 100 miles on the Isle of Wight? How many times do I go around?' Predictably, it is not just the matter of circumnavigating the Island. There are plenty of roads and routes which I can take depending on how complex I want to make it. I have to do some loops two or three times, or simply repeat certain sections. For example, from my gate I could simply ride down through Brook to the Military Road, turn left and cycle to Niton. Then, around the one-way system , past the pub and back. That's almost exactly 20 miles. Repeat times 5 and we have a 100.
2. 'When will I be doing the sponsored leg shave?' Errrr... not for the foreseeable future.
3. 'Why the reference to the current Mrs. C.? Am I planning to trade her in, or is she my third or fourth wife?' Sorry. She's the one and only. This is a semi-private joke initiated by top Northern Pro racer Jacko who originally coined the phrase when he made reference to his wife. It amused my tiny mind so I've childishly perpetuated the reference.
4. 'Have I tried a Tele?' This is a guitarist's question, and refers to a Fender Telecaster in comparison with a Stratocaster. The answer is , yes. For me, the Tele's are just a bit too twangy, not so warm, not as versatile and lack the body contouring. Having said that, my brother-in-law has a 60's Tele into which he shoehorned a humbucker, and it absolutely rocks like a Les Paul, and has the best neck I have ever played.
5.'Have I tried an ice bath after a ride?' No. I am too chicken. And, I find that hot baths really relieve muscular aches and pains. I have made reference to post-exercise ice bathing in an earlier blog because the top athletes are doing this more and more. The standard treatment for soft-tissue injuries is an ice pack, so it does seem a good idea to take a cold bath in order to minimise any inflammatory reaction in the muscles.
6. 'Have I tried adding an egg to my recovery drink?' Not yet. But I will. Presumably that's a raw egg, and we don't have a salmonella problem anymore in this country?
7.'Is this blog all bullsh1T and I'm really a very experienced cyclist/journalist or professional writer?' I'm flattered, but no, no and no!

Sorry to hear about the sad sudden death of Alan Ball. A great player, and a great man.

Tired and weary

This is a photo of Brading Down from the Ryde end looking towards Newport. I went up and down this hill 4 times during my ride 3 days ago. If I told you I am feeling a bit weary, I'm sure you will understand, and hopefully empathise. Sunday's 100 miler has taken it out of me. I've depleted my muscles and liver of their glycogen stores. The glycogen will go back quite quickly, and I've eaten a lot of chicken, rice, bread and vegetables to try and help the process. Plus, I'm turning into a pill popper. I'm taking Ibuprofen, multi-vitamins, cod liver oil capsules, glucosamine and Vitamin C. I should have all the bases covered there. There will also be a degree of trauma to the muscle mass which will take 4 or 5 days to repair. The body needs rest and it is natural to want more sleep. I expect all those London Marathon runners are feeling the same. There is also the risk that extreme physical effort causes an acute drop in your natural immunity, and this makes me susceptible to silly viruses. I suffer from cold sores anyway, and they are often induced by the sun. So an attack of herpes or snuffles needs to be avoided.
There are special sports drinks available to aid recovery. I believe they are a mixture of carbohydrate and whey protein. Here is the recipe for my special recovery snack. It's very simple to make.
One banana, one big teaspoon of syrup and a pint of milk. Whisk it up with a hand blender. That's it. Delicious.
Just to compound my fatigue, and probably damage my muscles even more, I've played a full 90 minutes of football this evening. Ryde Simian Saints against Colwell Bay. We drew 4-all, and I scored a headed goal. I had a pretty good game for an old codger. We also missed a penalty. My legs are stiffer than stiff things from a stiff town.
The remainder of this week is going to be about more rest, with no free time to cycle until Friday. My wife is taking my daughter to Bracknell tomorrow for two days of ice skating competitions, and so I'm in charge of my lad. He's having a minor operation on Thursday, so I will have my hands full, juggling work and childcare.
I've just watched Rooney score a cracker against AC Milan to win the game for Man U. Good luck to Liverpool tomorrow night against Chelsea. If anyone has got a spare ticket for Anfield, don't forget me.
I'm off to bed.
Thanks to all my sponsors.

100 miles.

100 miles.

Yes, a century. My first. I didn’t feel particularly good when I was setting off, and I felt absolutely terrible by the time I finished 6 and a half hours later.
I have become quite clever at route planning and I gave myself the option of putting in two extra loops which I calculated would take my mileage up to somewhere around 100.
My main problems today were dehydration, an aching bum and feeling nauseous. It was hot and humid.
I had been out all day on Saturday in the sun, on my feet, and I struggled to hydrate myself adequately. My pee was bright yellow, which isn't a good sign, is it? On the way home on Saturday evening I hid a bottle of water in a ditch along my route and this subsequently saved my bacon. It’s a good job that I didn’t have to give a wee sample to the anti-doping officer because it took me ages to get a diuresis going once I was home.
As for my arse-ache, I think I had inflated my tyres a little too hard. I really suffered. I’ve already moaned on numerous occasions about the crap bumpy Island roads, but I’m really glad that I chose the Specialized Roubaix rather than the Tarmac model. My Roubaix has a more relaxed frame geometry and has rubbery inserts in strategic points of the frame to specifically absorb shock and vibrations. I dread to think what a really stiff frame would feel like. I don’t know if my saddle is too extreme. I’m not experienced enough to make any subjective judgement. I’ve got some of that Assoss chamois cream and it certainly makes the skin tingle nicely around the perineum.
Anyway, I’m praying that the French roads are smooth.
I’m not sure about my shoes either. The cinchable main strap hurts. I struggle to eliminate play and when I tighten them, I get numb feet. I need to try a size smaller.
As for the ride itself, that was reasonably comfortable. I think I drank a little too much too quickly once I picked up my hidden water supply, and my stomach couldn’t cope with volume. The pyloric sphincter went into spasm and then the stomach churned without emptying, so I felt really sick. This ruined the last 90 minutes and stopped me stuffing my face when I got home. Actually my current wife made me cheese on toast out of pity and it was gratefully scoffed.
Then, a lovely hot bath after the disappointment of seeing Wolves lose to the Brummies.
Today has been a rest day and I’m going to play football again tomorrow evening.
Best wishes to Tom Lyons who dislocated his elbow on Sunday playing netball. It had to hurt. He’ll be back!
Thanks to all my sponsors.

Prepare to succeed?

I've been out all day since 9am at yet another football tournament for my son's Under-10 team. They reached the semi-final which was really good. I feel frazzled by the heat and haven't taken on enough fluid. Nor have I eaten very well today. I hope this doesn't handicap me tomorrow.

In the morning we have the London Marathon. Good luck to the 36000 people who are expected to start. Apparently around 500 of them won’t finish. That's a pretty good success rate...only about 1 in 70 dropouts. It would be different if they imposed a strict time limit but that would detract from the sense of this being a marathon 'for the people'. I'm sure that not one single runner will read this blog entry before the start, but if they did my advice to them would be to pace yourself and don't run too hard in the middle section of the race. Take onboard appropriate fluids and some nutrition. I hope their training has been sensible and thorough. My 60 year-old brother-in-law did it last year, 5 days after discovering that he had lymphoma. That's cancer of the lymph nodes/lymphatic system. What an achievement. A bit Lance-ish.

When I did my one and only marathon I set off too fast, and then had a fantastic feeling from about 13 to 20 miles when I fairly zipped along the Dock Road overtaking hundreds of people. I was silly, but exuberant. Then predictably at the 20-ish mile mark I hit the dreaded wall. Bonked. I was absolutely shot away and the last few miles were a nightmare. My speed dropped to something like 12 to 15 minute miles which meant an hour of agony for the final four or five paltry miles. I finished in 3 hours 36 mins, which is not too bad, but the pain and distress of the ending ruined my enjoyment and memory of the event.
I desperately want to ensure that the Etape is not only a success in terms of my completing the route within the time limit, but also a happy memorable day. I want to savour the ride, to be part of the peloton and to enjoy descending fast and safely. I want to chat to fellow cyclists from around the world, to engage with the spectators and to relish the Frenchness of the event. I want to enjoy the scenery along the way, and get some great photos from the top of the Cols. For sure, I’m going to be digging deep, it’s going to be very tough, and there are going to be some sections where I’ll be reaching my limits. I’ll persevere. The pressure is on, and now people are sponsoring me, I absolutely must finish.

So, at 6 am I’ll be creeping out the back door for a 90 mile session around the bumpy Island roads. I’m not looking forward to it. I'm tired, and I haven't felt well this week. No matter. I’ve made a fresh batch of homemade flapjacks so I’ve got some tasty nutritious snacks to savour. My drink bottles are prepared, and I’ve even hidden a big bottle of water in a ditch along the intended route for when I anticipate I’ll be running out of water. I've checked the bike over. My clothes are ready and I’ve loaded a good playlist and some podcasts on the Ipod.

What do those cheesy American coaches say? Fail to prepare..prepare to fail.

Leo Fender, I salute you. And Mr. Honda.

I have always had a love of beautifully designed machines, or indeed anything that fulfills a design brief. Modern sports motorcycles are one example of finely engineered and functional machines. I still think that my '03 Fireblade is a lovely piece of kit. It's not that it's exceptionally attractive as a whole, but I like to look at it from different angles and study the way the different components fit together. It has deceptive beauty, like the best-looking women. Am I allowed to say that?

It's the detail that matters. It can be tiny features such as the design of the bolts, or small flutes and creases in the metal fabrications. The wrap of the carbon on the rear can. The titanium rear hanger for the silencer. The shape of the tank at a certain angle.

In terms of functionality, it's a very fast bike, easy to ride, versatile, corners, handles, stops, and makes blokes (and the odd biker chick) stare at it when parked up in town. Therefore it fulfills all my needs.

I suppose you could also say that many of the so called 'classic' British bikes from the 70's such as the Triumph Bonneville are beautiful and I wouldn't argue. But they were slow, oily, unreliable and needed constant maintenance.

Most bikers would probably say that the Ducati 916 is easily the best looking bike ever made. I agree. But my problem with it is the electrical faults, the heavy clutch, the instability at slow speeds and the stupid side stand. So, in terms of fulfilling my design criteria it fails. And it cost too much. I'd still like to own one though.

My bicycle , a Specialized Roubaix S-Works with Shimano Dura Ace, Bontrager compact crank, stem and bars is also an example of a machine designed to fulfill a particular need. It works fantastically well. I don't think it's much to look at actually. The carbon frame construction represents an example of using modern materials to achieve improvements in weight saving, strength, flexibility and ease of mass production, compared to metal. Carbon framed bikes are very expensive at the moment, but they won't be in 5 years time. The bikes will be much better in 5 years time too.

Electric guitars are fascinating. Leo Fender is pretty much credited with designing and building the first examples in the early 1950's. He came up with the Stratocaster in 1954 and amazingly his original design has never been bettered. Never. For sure, lots of variations on the theme have come along, some good, many terrible. Gibson, Gretsch, Guild, PRS, Hamer, Rickenbacker, Ibanez, Yamaha and many more have thrown their hats into the ring. Actually the Gibson Les Paul is probably the second most iconic guitar design. Think Jimmy Page. Or Slash if you're a kid. I believe '59 Les Pauls go for £45K or more. I used to know a bloke who owned one in the seventies but he sold it to buy....wait for it....a Betamax video recorder. AAaaaarghhh. Honestly. Now let's not start to discuss VCR's or eight tracks.Or the Sinclair C8.

But in the end, an electric guitar is just a tool. A combination of wood, metal and plastic, and in the form of the Fender Strat you have a 50 year old design which achieved perfection. I suppose one can play any piece of guitar music ever written with a Strat. The original has prevailed. Even more incredible is that Fender designed it to be a mass production instrument, cheap and reproducible for jobbing musicians. Remember, dance bands were the order of the day, not vinyl, cassette ,CD or MP3. What serious electric guitar player does not own a Strat? One more thought. If you buy an electric guitar today, there is no reason why it shouldn't last forever, literally. Virtually no maintenance either. OK, you need to be a little careful with it. Don't leave it in the garden or garage, avoid too much sun and heat, don't prop it on the edge of the settee and change the strings every now and then. The frets need dressing every 5 years or so. Then you can pass it on to your son after you've made your millions. They are relatively cheap as well. Around £600 will get you the best possible USA Fender instrument. How much is a comparable trumpet or a violin? Or a drum kit?

So, before I get carried away, let's all raise a glass and drink to 'perfectly designed tools'.

Suffice to say today I rode my motorbike to work. I'm getting over a virus, so I'm not cycling, but will hopefully do a big ride on Sunday. I received a 'parcel' from King Jacko today of biking goodies. I need to show you my new cycling kit in the near future. I'm off for some guitar twanging. I'm learning some Tony Peluso (The Carpenter's) guitar solos. Guess which guitar I'll use?

I've got the Blahs this week

Years ago, we're talking the late 70's, I used to do a bit of road running. Jogging became a popular hobby with loads of apparently sane people taking to the streets and parks, wobbling along in their running kit, grimacing, and generally looking very uncomfortable. How many hips and knees have been destroyed? The popularity of the London Marathon developed with the backing of the BBC, and has helped promote the notion of people taking an interest in their health and fitness. Millions of pounds have been raised for charity. I wonder how many pairs of running shoes have been sold in the past 30 years? Nike have made their fortune from this running boom, and I guess people like Chris Brasher.I suppose it has all been a 'good thing'. Cycling in order to keep fit, and to generate the feel-good factor from those endorphins is just the same. The beauty of it for old codgers like me is that it is non-weight bearing, and much easier on the legs and joints. And easier on the heart and lungs. Make no mistake, running is more strenuous than cycling.

I used to run to keep fit for playing football, but it also gave me free time with an uncluttered mind, during which I used to think through problems and mentally revise for my exams. I had a book by a running guru called Jim Fixx, and I think it was he who coined the term, The Runners Blahs. He was the daddy of jogging. Died in his 50's of a heart attack.
Well, this week, I've definitely got The Cyclists' Blahs.
I just feel knackered. Do you ever wake up at the normal time, but instead of feeling refreshed and energised after a good kip, you feel totally wasted? Even after the usual life-giving mugs of tea I have felt listless this week. I suppose it's a reaction to the heavy training of the previous week, plus I've got a low grade viral infection. The important thing when you feel like this, is to listen to what your body is telling you, and go with the flow. Ease back the training, lots of sleep, don't overeat, and wait for your immune system to recover. So, I've played football this week (a mistake, we lost 7-5, I missed a sitter) and I've cycled 22 miles. I'm going to rest until Sunday.

All is not lost because my fundraising efforts are starting to pick up momentum. (Please click on the link on the left and give me a fiver. Go on Go on Go on.) I think I'll get in touch with the local press, and I need to put myself about a bit in the hospital to generate more awareness. The lads from Bard UK have sent a nice poster which I need to slightly modify and then I'll stick it on the wall in the clinic where the patients' with prostate problems are waiting. I don't want to ram it down peoples' throats, especially if they're ill, but you've got to be a little bit pushy with these sponsored events haven't you?

By the way, this photo from a few years ago shows the descent into Freshwater Bay. On the far side is High Down and the Tennyson Trail up to Tennyson's Monument. He used to walk up there, legend has it, composing his poems. You're not supposed to ride a bike up the trail, but in the winter it's OK on the mountain bike as there is noone else about. And yes, it's pretty steep. Can you left click on the photo and magnify it? If you look closely, can you see that the farmer has ploughed 'I Love You' into the field of corn? And Old Harry Rock is visible in the distant sea on the left. The monument is right on top of the hill. Fellow blogger Mark commented that I'm lucky to be able to ride in an area with such lovely scenery, and yes, he's right. That's why we moved here from Liverpool.
I hope they give Chelsea a good tonking in the European Cup.

Mugs and The Blind Matron. What a team!

Last night I toiled well into the wee hours setting up my justgiving page, and updating/improving my blog page.
This Etape thing is all consuming. I do enjoy blogging my experience, but when I'm leaving the house at 6am with the prospect of 5 or 6 hours on the bike ahead of me, it aint much fun. And the riding is hard. Hard on the mind, hard on the legs, and hard on the body.
So, in celebration of 'no pain, no gain' I thought I would remind you all of my wounds sustained when I fell off my bicycle 4 weeks ago. I'm glad to say that I'm virtually healed now, and can just about lie on my right side in bed again.

I played football last night, and got a dead leg. Despite that, I cycled to work and back today which is 22 miles. I took it easy, hoping to gently flush the lactate and other waste products out of my stiff and achey legs.

When I got home I checked my email and received news of the first donations to The Prostate Cancer Charity via this blog. Stand up and cheer for Mugs and The Blind Matron. They know who they are. Good eggs. Actually I have brought a lot of pleasure to The Blind Matron by allowing her to dress my wounded leg, ripping the dressings off, aspirating the gungy fluid and generally getting stuck into the blood and gore. She has done me proud and maybe I should take a picture of my wound to show you how good it looks now. Maybe not? And Mugs? An old mate from Liverpool. Good on the wing, when he wasn't arguing with the ref. Thanks again.

The truly great thing about the justgiving website is that the two donations are for £70 but they have nabbed almost another £20 from twattybollocks Gordon Brown in a tax refund. Anything that jabs Brown in the eye is good in my book.

Has anyone else noticed the incredible yellow blossom on the rapeseed this summer. It's very early isn't it. Fantastic. Photo needed.

Congratulations to my sister and her man, who have just announced their wedding date...the day before I'm supposed to be doing the Tour of the Cotswolds. No boozing for me then!

So, we're getting there. Maybe do 20 to 30 miles tomorrow evening at a gentle pace.

Nutrition or Stuffing Food in Your Face...Is this important?

Knackered today. Don't forget I did 88 miles yesterday, after a tough week. Plus, I developed a cough and sore throat within an hour or so of finishing. My family have all had the lurgy in the last 10 days, so now it's probably my turn. Worse, my son has got the vomiting virus in the last 24 hours, so lets hope that I don't succumb.

I've had a raging hunger for the last few days as I've been putting in the miles. I'm stuffing my face with food, trying to avoid sugary rubbish. Lots of cereals, pasta, milk, porridge, eggs, ham, tuna. And yet I went back to work today after a 10 day break and everyone thinks I'm looking skinny.

Nutrition is obviously as important as the actual training. My favourite food when I'm riding for over 3 hours are homemade flapjacks. I put honey and brown sugar in them, plus oats and butter. Ideally I need to find a substitute for the butter which is less fatty but tasty, AND will stick the oats together at room temperature. Some research needed. But, they go down well, are very chewable, and don't seem to upset my bowels. I've tried Tracker bars but they are hard to digest and a bit dry. I'm road-testing the SIS drinks, and apart from their 'sweetness' they seem to do the job. I hate the way my hands/gloves/handlebars get all sticky as the ride progresses.

I'm also trawling a lot of triathlon and endurance cycling sites to try and learn a bit more about supplements such as whey and creatine. Any advice out there?

Although I'm not pretending to be a total newby to fitness, my only endurance event to date was running the Mersey Marathon in 1983. My training regime was, let's call it haphazard.I never carbo loaded. I drank beer the night before the race. I used Dunlop Green Flash pumps. Cotton football shirt. 3 hours 35 mins. Bonked very badly.

So, what should I be eating to let me regenerate and recuperate quicker? Are there dietary or vitamin supplements that actually work? Is there any good research out there to support the claims of the health food gurus?

Right now the most important thing is a good nights sleep, so I'm off to bed.

Etape or Bust - Progress report

Here's my lovely carbon compact crank.

50/34. I hope I get strong enough to manage with a 34 chainring. I've got a 12-27 on the back.

Today I've eclipsed all expectations and done an 88 miler.

It’s 5 weeks down the line since I said ‘yes’ and embarked on this Etape journey.
It’s fairly easy to pay your money, get the bike and tell your family and friends what you’re doing. The stark reality of actually doing it, is something else. It is going to be very tough. 5 Cols in The Pyrenees, over 4000 metres of climbing, and the small matter of 125 miles. It is scary.

Let’s take stock again.

I’ve got the best possible equipment. A Specialized Roubaix S-Works bike. No excuses on the kit front. Plus I’ve got the shoes, shorts, jersey, gloves, arm and leg warmers, cycling computer, and all the other paraphernalia.

I’ve got support from Jacko and Steve Atkinson from Bard UK who invited me to participate, and a host of other people in webland. Fellow bloggers such as Mark and nmcgann have given great advice.The cycling community is a big one. Mentally, I have insight into the size of the task ahead, and have given myself just about enough time to get prepared.

The weather has improved, and I’ve got stuck into some regular riding. I haven’t injured myself too badly, despite a silly fall, and the tendons, joints and muscles are holding together. My plan is to aim for one long ride per week, and to gradually increase the distance in increments of 5 to 10 miles per week. In between the big one, I will mix it up with intervals, hill work, speed sessions, and commuting the 11 miles to work as often as possible. I’ve programmed two or three organised events along the way to measure my progress. Now I've got a few weeks of riding in my legs I'm going to target the climbing problem, and spend a few hours going up and down the biggest climbs on the Island.

I’ve kept a training log.
To date I’ve done a 88 miler, which happens to be today’s ride. My diary demonstrates clearly that I'm getting stronger and fitter. I'm climbing better. Mentally I'm becoming accustomed to spending many hours in the saddle.

Finally, I need to raise some money for charity.

Prostate Cancer is one of those silent killers that gets we men. It’s not very sexy. It isn’t something men talk about down the pub. Most blokes know virtually nothing about their prostate. Still, prostate cancer, isn’t that what killed Frank Zappa? It will never happen to us? In any case, only old men get it, don’t they? And what was it The Who sang…’hope I die before I get old’? How ironic.
Another problem are the lack of signs and symptoms of the disease. And you can’t examine your own prostate, can you? You can't see it. And even more terrifying than actually getting the prossy cancer, in order to examine the prostate, rumour has it the doctor puts his finger up your bumhole. And sometimes the doctor is a girl! Imagine a girl doctor seeing your anus? Gosh.
A doctor joke..the time to worry is when the male doctor is examining your prostate and puts two hands on your shoulders and says, ‘Now that’s doesn't feel too bad, does it?’

Billy Connolly summarised it nicely when he said one of the worst thing about reaching fifty was that his GP totally lost interest in the wellbeing of his testicles, and developed a perverse fascination with his aresehole. The GP insisted on performing a digital rectal examination (DRE). It felt like he’d inserted a telegraph pole. Yes, it is very funny when the Big Yin tells the story, but the underlying message is clear. Men think it going to hurt, and are embarrassed.

Is it any wonder men are reluctant to have their prostate examined? No. And in any case, DRE is not a specific or even a sensitive test for detecting early cancer. It is not an easy test to interpret.

But there are other things we should be thinking of. There is a protein called PSA which the prostate secretes. There is a reasonably good correlation between the level of PSA in the bloodstream and the presence of prostate cancer. OK, it’s not a perfect test, but men over 45 should be getting their PSA levels monitored by their GP. Male Health is not big on the political agenda and we men have missed out on the political healthcare lobbying roundabout to female cancers such as breast and cervix. There should be more public awareness of this cancer and there should be more research.

The Prostate Cancer Charity raises money in order to fight the disease. This organisation offers information, support, and guidance for patients, relatives and doctors. It supports and encourages research. These people lobby on our behalf, and will be one of your first ports of call should you be unfortunate and get this disease.

So, I need to organise my fundraising effort. Watch this space.

I Told You I Crashed The Cortina

What can I say? I look strangely satisfied but I'm putting on a brave face for the camera. Luckily nobody was hurt. A Cornish farmer wrote me a letter and told me I had killed a 500 year old stone wall.

Is There Life On Mars?

Today’s blog is dedicated to Life on Mars. Definitely one of my favourite songs and also one of the most enjoyable TV shows in recent years. Obviously the storyline was blithering rubbish, but the cars, the music and DCI Gene Hunt made it very watchable (as long as the Champions’ League Footy wasn’t on at the same time). The Mark 3 Ford Cortina GXL that Hunt drives took the biscuit. Please excuse me for coming over all Clarkson-esque but I used to have a Mark 3 GT and here is a photo of it. Glorious.

The GT was better than the GXL, fact. It cost me £200. What a totally fantastic wide-boy’s car? Look at that spoiler, and the four small headlights. The huge bonnet. So styling was clearly based on the car that Starsky and Hutch drove. I owned this monster during my rebel (make that totally broke) phase when all my doctor mates drove GTI’s, XR3i’s and MR2’s in vain attempts to pull nurses on the basis of their flash cars. Naff. You can’t buy style and I had it in the form of this car, n’est pas?
Unfortunately I killed the purple monster as she was affectionaly known by ramming a stone wall on a small Cornish road near Helston. Nothing to do with driving too fast on slippy roads. It was the girlfriend’s fault, but that’s a long story. She's the wife now.

The car's absolute best feature were the four little dials indicating temp, oil pressure etc. low down on the centre console near the gear lever, which were angled to the driver so that no one else could read them. Don’t ask me why, but male passengers always used to crane their necks to try and get a shifty glimpse of the dials. It used to kill me.


Back to the programme. I know a lot has been written about the twit Sam Tyler, but DCI Gene Hunt was the star. Tyler has been nominated for the Crapta’s or whatever they’re called. Why didn't he give that bird one? Travesty. What is your favourite Hunt quote? Here’s mine. When talking about a small-time crook he was trying to nick.. ‘he’s got his fingers in more pies than a leper in a sausage factory.’ Or, ‘detect me a fig-roll’ to the WPC Cartwright.

The music was another major factor in the success of the series. Whoever chose the songs is clearly an aficionado. With so many classic 70’s tunes, it painted a rather rosy picture of the period. There’s no doubt that the music jogged the old memory cells and we all know that nostalgia is a wonderful thing. What heady brew of chemicals swirls around our brains to evoke those incredibly strong emotions when we’re reminded of the past? My daughter caught me listening to Karen Carpenter (don’t let me start on her voice, I LOVE her) Rainy Days and Mondays this morning, just at the point where she sings ‘Talking to myself and feeling old….’ And I have to admit I was coming over all soppy thinking about my teens and my poor old mum. I may even have been a little moist eyed. I tried to pretend I had a fly in my eye but you can’t fool an eleven year old girl. She laughed at me. Strangely, she finds Blink 182’s album (or should that be CD) Take Off Your Pants and Jacket makes her feel sad because it reminds her of an interminable 10 hour car journey through France.

The first single I ever bought I can hear Jacko ask? All The Young Dudes by Mott the Hoople, written of course by Bowie as a ‘gift’ to Ian Hunter in an attempt to kick-start the Mott’s career. The B-side was an absolute cracker, One Of The Boys. Cost 49 new pence.
First LP? Ziggy Stardust by Bowie bought in Discotrax in Kenilworth for £2-17p.I’ve still got it, a little worn with not much treble response, but still very playable.
And Life On Mars by Bowie? Hunky Dory. It just kicks my memory cells so hard. Why is it that we can remember clear details from over 30 years ago, but only when prompted by hearing specific bits of music? I can remember walking over the railway bridge on my way to the swimming pool in Abbey Fields on a hot summer’s day, trying to work out the quirky lyrics in my head. It was probably 1973. And who played the piano bits on the track? Rick Wakeman I believe.

So, that brings me around to today’s bike ride. I virtually always cycle with my IPod shuffle, and load a playlist just before I set off. Today it was ‘70’s’, what else? Bowie, Mott, Carpenters, Zep, Purple, Free, Tull, Supertramp and so on. Perfect to take my mind off the pain. And it hurt.

I had childcare complications today which meant I could only do a short ride, so my planned route was a 20 mile circuit from my house with one nasty climb at either end. A few weeks ago, top Northern semi-Pro rider Jacko told me that I had to be aiming to do an average of 20 mph for a 20 miler, and so I decided to see if I could get near that sort of speed. Interval training always makes me a little nervous because you know it’s going to hurt. So I gave it the berries from the off, fantasising that this was a Tour time-trial with Ullrich and Armstrong starting 3 minutes ahead of me. My bum felt very tender on the saddle, a legacy from the 77 miler two days ago, but otherwise I felt quite good, and conditions were OK, warm and a moderate cross wind. My rear derailleur was making an annoying rattling noise but I didn’t have time to fiddle with it. Towards the end I could see from my computer that I might do it, so I really went nuts for the last half mile up the hill until the lactate started to make me feel sick. Final score… just failed. Averaged 19.8 mph for 20.01 miles. Not bad, but clearly, I should get better as the training progresses. Before I get too content, the 2004 Tour de France was won by Armstrong after 2107 miles at an average speed of 25.2 mph. That’s amazing.

If I'm not careful I could start to enjoy this cycling thing!

Today has been a day for rest and recuperation after my big ride yesterday.

The principle of training is that you don't gain anything when you're doing the exercise. It's during the recovery phase that the body responds, regenerating itself, only slightly better, hence you become fitter.

Simplistically, I suppose there are two things happening. The muscles, tendons and ligaments will be improving, getting stronger and more efficient at spinning those pedals. We magically develop 'muscle memory'. The cardiovascular system will also become more highly tuned. The ability of the blood to become oxygenated by the lungs and then deliver that oxygen to the muscles should slowly improve. The heart muscle will become stronger.

I feel like I've come a long way in 4 weeks, and hope that the improvement will continue in a linear fashion. That's unlikely. There is no room for complacency. My plan is to continue to fit in one long ride every week. I can already anticipate that finding time for rides that are going to progressively take 6, 7 or 8 hours-plus is going to be tricky. Getting up at the crack of dawn will become the norm. That won't be a problem. I've been into fishing since I was in my teens, and I've always enjoyed the early starts. Stealing a few hours before everybody else is up and about gives you a great feeling. There's a special quality to the light. The air is crisper. There are less cars about.

My daughter's skating early in the morning, so I'll have to try and get a couple of hours in around midday.

Bass fishing and 77 miles.

The Needles are chalk stacks located at the extreme western tip of the Isle of Wight. There is an underwater extension of the chalk extending for another half mile or so called The Bridge, over which the tide races forming dangerous waves. Despite being marked very clearly on marine charts, every year yachtsmen hit it, usually at low tide and snag themselves on one of the jagged peaks of rock. A few metres from where my boat is positioned when I took this photo lies the wreck of the Varvassi, a Greek steamer, who came to grief in 1947. She lies at an angle, with the rusting remains of her boilers sticking up dangerously just a few feet under the surface.

Living here, surrounded by water, it was only a matter of time before I acquired a boat and started to get out on the Solent and around the Needles into the English channel. My first was a hooligan's dream, a Seadoo jet boat with twin 85hp 2-stroke engines. It went like stink and handled brilliantly. We did a bit of wake boarding and generally zoomed around at 40mph plus jumping the wake of the Wightlink ferries, but it didn't really prove to be winner with the family. I spent a lot of time using it for fishing. Blood, scales and gore all over the luxurious seats wasn't really a goer so I sold her to a mate, and bought a proper fishing boat, an Orkney 20 foot Dayangler. I've gradually got more and more into the sea angling. There is a lot to learn, not only about fishing, but also about safety.

From about mid-April we can start to think about catching bass. The remains of the Varvassi are a major hazard, but also good for finding early season fish. Luckily I know exactly where she lies, and my boat has a shallow draft of only 18 inches. When the tide is slack I like to slowly drift directly over her spinning with light tackle. There are plenty down there, lurking in the depths. They also shoal at the base of the lighthouse, but it is very difficult to get near enough to cast for them. There are other hot spots along the Bridge, but I risk being lynched if I give away their exact location. There is a commercial boat out of Yarmouth Harbour who catches hundreds of bass using live sandeel for bait. If I get too near to his boat he gets a shotgun out and waves it at me. Nice friendly sort of chap. Bass have become an extremely expensive fish and chefs like Rick Stein have popularised them. I like to bring home maybe four or five. Eat a couple, give one or two to friends, and maybe swap one for a lamb chop or two from the local farmer. I love to eat freshly caught fish.

I cycled 77 miles today, 14 miles further than last week. I felt really good, strong and fit, and there was more in the tank. It was supposed to be hot and sunny, but I left the house at 10 minutes past 6 and it was , of course, freezing. In fact, I didn't see the sun until about 11 o'clock when I was nearly home. So, I'm resting tomorrow and I'll be going fishing.

Sun,squirrels,badgers,woodpeckers and bunnies.

An Azores high pressure system has developed in the last few days and is now bringing lovely warm and settled weather to England. All of a sudden we all feel happier and cycling becomes a whole lot easier. Warm muscles, sun on the back. It's no wonder that half of the country is either on permanent holiday in Florida or is emigrating to Spain or Australia.

This is easily the best time of the year. The evenings are drawing out, the light has a special quality, the temperature is perfect, and there is that tremendous optimistic feeling of better things to come. I've just walked the dog down the lane to Dunsbury Farm and managed to come across 2 red squirrels, a badger, a woodpecker, pheasants, rabbits, and the icing on the cake...a barn owl working the fields with its curious loping low flight pattern. There was even a strange Bill Oddie character lurking in the lane, standing still, looking at the tree tops. He was obviously from The Mainland because apart from the beard and funny camouflage clothes, the other clue was the carbon fibre walking pole in his left hand. Anyway, I had to ask him, 'Alright there Nipper, what's up that there tree what is so interesting, like?' And the answer...... he thought that he had seen a red squirrel, and of course, he's never seen a red one before. And nor had I until I moved to the Island. Now they are ten-a-penny. Which brings me to my tenuous link.... 40 mile rides are now hopefully becoming commonplace for me. I've adjusted my goalposts and whereas a month ago I would have a sense of achievement if I did a 3 hour ride, now it feels like a basic ordinary training session. And so it needs to be. I'm more than aware that there is a long long way to go between now and July. According to my very cunning training plan, I need to do a 68 miler this week. I'm on leave, so I'm going to do about 65 tomorrow and then hopefully about 70-75 on Saturday or Sunday. I'm planning to take in all of the Island's worst climbs, and I'm also going to go out at 7am in order to simulate the Etape as much as possible. I know for certain from 100's of early morning fishing trips that I don't ever feel like eating when I get up unusually early, and I definitely don't feel like exercising. That 1970's jogging boom which saw tons of people out at the crack of dawn in their Nike waffles was never my scene.

So, I've loaded the Ipod with a new playlist, the energy drinks are mixed and I'm actually looking forward to the ride.

Pushing those pedals

What beautiful Easter weather. This photo was taken from the cliffs above Compton Beach looking to High Down and the chalk cliffs on either side of Freshwater Bay.

My Easter weekend has mainly involved ferrying my son to his holiday football tournament. And, rescuing baby bunnies and mice from our kittens who are catching 4 or 5 a day and dumping them live in our lounge or kitchen. They then run around screeching and we have 10 minutes of pandemonium trying to catch them.

I have also aspirated another 30 ml of serous fluid from my injured hip. At least it wasn't blood-stained this time. I'm taking regular anti-inflammatories in an effort to hasten the healing. The skin wound has almost granulated over the top, apart from one small pit.

Today I joined a three-time-Etapist colleague from work for a 39-mile early morning ride. It was a cold start at 7-15 but for the first time I had the correct equipment to keep me warm and comfortable. What a difference my gilet and arm-warmers made. It was great to not be riding on my own and we clicked off the miles comfortably. I felt really content when I got home. 4 weeks ago I had never cycled this far in my life, and yet today it was a cruise. Obviously the training is starting to make a difference. I've become comfortable with the bike, I think my legs are much stronger and mentally, I'm acclimatising myself to long stretches in the saddle. Last week I did 129 miles at an average speed of 16.9 mph. Longest ride of 63 miles.

We made one silly mistake today. After reaching the summit of the high point of the Island we had a drink and banana stop, and stripped off a layer or two as we were sweltering after the climb. Obviously we then descended at 35 mph and froze our nuts off. I won't do that again.

I picked up a copy of Cycling Weekly this evening and am amused to read the Dr Hutch column where he discusses the subject of why do cyclists shave their legs. His conclusion.... fashion.

What have you given up for Lent?

This is a photo of one of my bottle cages. I weighed it and it comes in at 32g. Not bad for £6. Ugly but efficient.
I've just got back from a good hard ride. 22 miles at 18.4 mph, and that included three hard climbs. I'm pleased with that average speed, especially after yesterday's lack of sleep. The amazing thing is I felt awful the whole way around, and couldn't stop thinking about how slow and tired I felt. And I was cold, despite a sunny evening. This means that I've done 126 miles this week. How long does it take for the benefit of this week's efforts to translate into improvement on the bike? I would have thought about 10 to 14 days. It's certainly not an overnight phenomenon.

My daughter has just made a typical 11 year-old girl's entrance into the room proudly proclaiming that she has given up Sims 2 for Lent. Sims 2 is a computer game. When she says 'Lent' she actually means for 2 days. That's my kind of girl. I have given up picking my toe nails in bed.... forever.

A long Good Friday

Blogreader James commented that he 'wanted a little more single-coil action'
so here is a picture of the pickups from my '54 Strat.

Good Friday is one of those glorious traditional British public holidays that doctors either love or hate. If you're on-call it can be miserable. The human body is no respecter of religious calenders, so people are just as likely to fall ill on a bank holiday as on any other day. The trouble is that we still run our hospitals on old fashioned lines with small teams of on-call doctors who are responsible for the well being of large numbers of patients. All routine work stops in radiology, and the expensive equipment sits idle. This is not good when this becomes a four day break at Easter, and the on-call X-ray team can work their socks off. Anyway, I'm lucky this year, and I've tacked on some annual leave so I'm not back to work until a week on Monday.

No time to cycle yesterday. A 20 hour day began at 5am when I got up early to take my daughter across the Island to Ryde where she had an ice-skating lesson. Back home, then to Newport for an Easter Under 11's football tournament for my son's team, Cowes Panthers. Played 3 , lost 3 unfortunately, but he scored a nice goal. I suffered under the unseasonal hot sun and felt very washed out by teatime. Then, gear in the car, and we drove over to The Fountain in Sandown for another Riptide gig. Home, unload, cup of tea and toast before getting to bed at 1-ish.

Today, more football for the Panthers. Played 2 games with one win, and my son scored the winning goal in the final minute. What a great feeling, even if it's only a small victory.

I'm planning a shortish ride later today at pace to include a circuit up a particularly steep hill near Brighstone. I have a colleague at work who did the Etape last year up L'Alpe de Huez and his training consisted almost entirely of repeatedly riding up and down this hill ad nauseum. It's the first warm weather riding of the year so I can try out my new bits of kit from Bioracer. I have new gloves, short sleeved base layer and snazzy socks. I've realised I still need a summer jersey of some sort.

I might experiment with my wife's heart rate monitor and see where my heart rate is running during today's ride. I'm not overly enthusiastic to embrace HRM training techniques. Essentially for a one-off endurance race such as this I simply need to get on my bike as often as possible and acclimatise mind and body to reeling off those miles in a variety of conditions. I'm not aiming to become a club racer or to slowly improve my speed to compete in time trials. The psychology of endurance events has always interested me. In 1983 I was a final year medical student in Liverpool. I entered the inaugural Mersey Marathon and did a bit of half-hearted training around Southport where I was posted for my surgical attachment. I recall that my longest pre-race training run was two and a quarter hours. I simply couldn't cope with the boredom of these long runs. Obviously, on the day of the race I had to run for well over three hours and hadn't done enough training. I suffered badly for the last 5 miles. We had no energy drinks, no notion of carbo loading. I can't even remember any feeding stations. I wouldn't be surprised if we all went for a drink the night before the race. In the end I do recall that it was agony. After crossing the finishing line, I was so stiff I couldn't even lie down comfortably, and had to let myself topple over onto the ground like a fallen tree. But I had done the job in 3 and a half hours. Anyway, in subsequent years marathon running has become very popular and one is always seeing gaunt faced bedraggled runners loping along the roads looking very tired. I used to feel sorry for them. Now I think at least they can complete training sessions within 4 hours at the most. I've got to get my head around being on my bike for in excess of 8 or 9 hours. I know that's no big deal for seasoned cyclists, but inevitably they will have gradually built up the mental and physical resilience over many months, if not years of pedalling. Again, I'm reminded of the fact that I'm training on my own, on crap road surfaces. There is no doubt that noone will finish this event without a huge dose of determination, and I hope that includes me.

So, Happy Easter. No chocolate for we Etapists. Lets hope Wolves can turn over Sunderland today, and my son's team have a good day tomorrow.

Too much beer at The Fat Cat and more wound woes

Last night Riptide were gigging at The Fat Cat beer festival in Freshwater Bay, less than 3 miles from our house. It's great to do a truly local gig, because usually we're driving across the Island for at least 30 minutes. The gig was a little stressful because we were the second band of the night, and had the logistical problem of rapidly getting our gear on stage and setting up the equipment and PA. It's not easy, and there is a myriad of mics, leads etc which need setting up. We didn't really have time to soundcheck, but had to rely on the sound guys to mix us live from out front, and we had to hope and trust that they were doing a good job. They did.. in fact they were fantastic. Calm, efficient and no attitude. Thanks boys. Anyway, although we thought we played pretty average by our standards, everyone out front was complimentary and said all the nice things. It was nice to see a gang of junior docs from St Mary's Hospital making the trek out to the far west Wight. The gig was streamed live through the internet. Afterwards, we got to meet the high octane introvert Jay who runs the show, and also sampled rather too much of his fine ales. Hence, I had what Jeeves might describe as a 'morning head' as I set off for work on my bike at 7am. Cold again, but at last I had some overshoes which were perfect, and a lovely Bioracer gilet...thanks to my top mucker Jacko.The gilet is a wonder of modern technical fabric. It feels like plastic but is clearly very breathable. I'm still not happy with the Specialized shoes which are hurting my feet.Perhaps I've got an overuse tendinitis?
I decided the only way to shift my headache was to sweat it out and give myself a different sort of pain to worry about. So, I bombed to work, 11 miles, and then got down to business with my leg wound which is still not right. I scanned my wound area with ultrasound and, as expected, there was a large collection of fluid between the skin and the underlying bone. So, I shoved a nice big needle into the fluid and sucked it out...all 30 ml of it (that's a lot). Yes, it hurt.Sister O'Kell could hardly contain her excitement. This is the sort of gore that nurses live for. The fluid was bloodstained serous gunk, but not infected. My leg changed in shape in front of my eyes as the fluid was drawn off. Hopefully, it will heal up quickly now. I've still got an ulcer which is a bit messy at the point of impact and this is directly over the knobbly bit of hip bone underneath (that's the greater trochanter to you Biggles).
After work, I took a long route home across some of the Island's worst climbs, which eventually worked out as a 40 miler at an average of almost 17 mph.
I've got a 10 day break from work now, so hopefully I can keep progressing.

Rest today, Gig tonight at the Fat Cat

Don't be fooled by the sun. This photo taken at Freshwater Bay may look balmy and hot but it was perishingly cold.
I've scanned my leg wound today and there is a 15mm layer of fluid in the subcutaneous tissues. It's swollen and tender, so I'm going to aspirate the fluid tomorrow.
I've been tired all day, but my legs feel fine.
RIPTIDE are gigging tonight at The Fat Cat Beer Festival, Sandpipers Hotel, Freshy Bay. Hopefully we'll have a good gig, and I'll try and resist the lovely beer. I do love a proper pint. Can't stand lager and mass produced rubbish bitter.

There was a nice parcel of cycling goodies on the doormat when I got home from work, so big thanks to Jacko. The contents should keep me warmer and comfortable. I'll have to report further on my new bits of kit in a future blog.

63 hard miles

I took these photo at St Catherine's viewpoint today. The delicious irony of the warning on the left is that this is uphill of the corner on which I fell off my bike 12 days ago. I have never spotted it before, despite passing this way 100's of times.

Above right are the spectacular views looking west along the southern coast of the Island, towards the chalk cliffs and Needles in the far background.

I planned an early start and a long ride. Route planning on the Island is limited, so I chose a 30-ish mile circuit taking in some of the nastiest hills, and long sections along the windswept and badly surfaced Military Road. I then repeated the loop, believing that the mental toughness this develops will be good for me. Leaving the house it was freezing cold, and I had to immediately turn around and get warmer clothes, gloves and a windjacket. The northerly wind was wicked, gusty and relentless, and I really suffered. My feet went totally numb. Towards the end I was bonking, but was saved by a Mars bar and two cups of tea from the van at the viewpoint carpark. I didn't take enough energy drinks. I like Mark's idea of hiding bottles at strategic points along the route. That would have been easy today, so why didn't I do it?

I'm hoping that training on my own with noone to offer any wind protection at any time, plus the mental strain of being alone (with the demons in your head telling you to stop and go home) is going to stand me in good stead. I also like the idea of overcoming the cold and the wind.

Before the ride, I slightly moved my seat forward on the rails and raised it a smidgen, and I certainly didn't seem to get much back pain today. I did get a lot of gip from my shoes which are rubbing at the front where the tongue is a little long, and is being pressed onto my ankle by the strap. My feet are going numb underneath. Do other people get this problem with numb soles?

When I got home I was zomby-oid. I need some of that ReGo? stuff. My 'rego' technique was 8 weetabix (protein from the milk, complex carbo's , no salt, a little sugar) and gallons of tea. Then a very hot bath. Traditionally, a hot bath is the cure-all for tired limbs, but I see that many athletes (Paula Radcliffe for example) are now in the habit of climbing into a wheely-bin, half filled with icy water to immerse the legs. We all know that the initial first-aid treatment for musculoskeletal injuries is to apply ice in order to reduce the swelling and the release of tissue damaging agents. So the wheely bin idea sounds plausable, but very unpleasant. I'm not about to try a cold bath

So, I need to speak to Jacko and get some shoe warmers.
I also need to organise some sponsership because at the end of all this hard work I want to raise some money for a Prostate Cancer charity.

Shaving off some grams...every little one should help

This is a photo of my new saddle bag. It only weighs 80 grams. It's just big enough to carry a couple of inner tubes, tyre levers, a key, a £5 note and a mobile phone. The zip is waterproof and I like the streamlined wedgie shape. The other feature which I really like is the clever clip which attaches it to the underside of the saddle. It's easy to attach, and if you're going for a spin without it, you can quickly unclip it, and not leave any heavy unsightly plastic on the underside of the seat. It's made by Scott.

Obviously nobody wants to be dragging any extra weight up the Pyrenees in July so we all spend more to get less. I haven't weighed my bike yet, but I will soon. I also ride a very tasty motorbike, a 2003 Honda Fireblade. The manafacturers go to great lengths to reduce the weight of the machines, and every new model inevitably shaves off a fair few more kg. So, my RR3 Blade weighs 168kg and the 954cc engine delivers 137bhp. Ultimately, it's the power to weight ratio which matters in the sportsbike market, and of course we cyclists are in the same game. I'm expecting to slowly lose weight over the next three months as I get fitter and train for endurance. I also starting to think about what I eat (and drink).

Seeing as I'm on the subject of endurance, fellow blogger and blog reader Mark has gently pointed out to me that I'm a long way behind in the miles-on-the-bike ladder and at this rate I'm just not going to make it in July. There's nothing quite like a short sharp attack of stark terror to bring on the indigestion and ruin a comfy Sunday evening after too much spaghetti carbonara, whilst nursing my post-footy deadleg. Mark is right. The 5 Etape climbs are going to be hellish and I've got to really pick it up in the next 6 weeks or so if I'm to have any chance of completing this ride. It's the final two.... the Port de Balès and the Col de Peyresourde that really give me the willies. I don't think I've been complacent to date, but thanks to Mark's cleverly worded Cloughie-esque pep talk, I feel I'm suffused with a new feeling of determination.

Getting back to power to weight ratios, from what I know of cycling most of the top climbers are small and lean, without too much upper body muscle. None of us wants to be dragging our bellies up those hills and along 130 miles. (Having said that, one smart Alec at work has pointed out that it's only a ride of about 65 miles because I'll be rolling downhill for half the distance). That's a nice way of thinking.

So, I did 17 miles yesterday to loosen up the muscles, and this week heading into the Easter weekend, I'm going to get up to at least 80. By the way, when I ride, I don't stop for tea and biccies, snacks etc.. Is that what other people do? Or should I schedule some 15 minute recuperation breaks. Maybe I'll experiment.