Etape or Bust

One tiny hill to go!

2007-07-22T19:52:00.000+01:00

I'm lying on my back at the top of the Bales, and I can't tell you how relieved I felt. Despite facing one more Category 1 climb to reach the finish, I now knew that barring disaster I was going to finish L'Etape.

The weather seemed to be deteriorating on the top of the Col, and it was windy. I was relieved to be able to rehydrate and ate a fair few chunks of banana and fruity sweets. I was feeling shivery again , so I put on my lightweight jacket before swinging a tired leg over the crossbar for the final time ( I hoped).

The road leading away from the summit has been freshly laid for this year's Tour, and it was a perfect smooth surface. What wasn't so great was the lack of any sort of barrier or perimeter at the edge of the road which made the descent a bit hairy. An 'off' here could mean ... err death ! So, despite the fatigue I made sure I concentrated hard.. Luckily, the beautiful new road made it all a lot safer and I felt like an old pro as I swept through the corners as fast as I dared. Unfortunately, I sounded like a prat because my jacket was flapping ridiculously and the noise was horrific.

Talking of old pros, Greg Lemond was wearing the No'1 bib, and my mate Steve overtook him going up the Bales. He said, 'Hi' and Greg grunted something about, 'Can't do this anymore'. He put quite a few minutes over him and didn't expect to see him again. Steve was halfway down the descent when who should come past him at incredible speed?

Anyway, I had one final climb, the Col de Peyresourde, a 7 to 8 mile climb at 8% gradient. It started in a small town with a big wide road, and just seemed to go up in a constant unpleasant manner. I suspect this would be a reasonably pleasant ascent if it was the first Col of the day, but by now I had been on the road for over 8 hours. It was still very hot and windless.
There ain't much more to say about it except it was another hour and a half of teeth-gritting pedal grinding hellish effort. Everyone was suffering up here but we all knew there would be no quitting. It's one of the Tour's most popular climbs and you can tell why as you wobble your way up it.... beautiful scenery stretches away on your right hand side. I guess it took about an hour and a quarter to get near the top where the road took a right hand sweep. High above I could hear the crowds cheering and hollering, and I could see 4 great big switchback corners. I enjoyed every one of them and felt some energy flowing back into my legs. I tried to accelerate and started to savour the moment. I can't describe the feeling of triumph as I rolled over the top... it was pure joy. All that lay before me now was a short descent before Loudenvielle.

All the agony of the previous hours was forgotten. I started thinking about having a beer, a pot of tea, beans on toast, lying down etc. Annoyingly, there was a short but sharp final climb to negotiate before the final straight. One poor chap was sitting by the road vomiting violently.

And finally, I entered the wide funneled area leading to the finish line. Hundreds of spectators lined the barriers waiting for their loved ones, cheering and clapping. I have to admit, I did the ultimate daft thing. I sat up in the saddle, I pulled up my zip, and then held my arms out in the famous Tour-winner's pose. I'm glad to say I didn't fall off, and I got a huge cheer.

9 hours 58 minutes of ride time. 32 minutes was spent stopped for food, fluids and rest.
My position in the race accounting for the time spent to cross the line at the beginning of the day was 2147 th.
I believe about 8000 started (but I believe numbers were down as the severity of the route put off many people).
2600 people failed to finish.

And that was it.
A great way to spend a day.
It was tough.

Part 2

2007-07-21T09:08:00.000+01:00

My previous post left me a little past the halfway mark on the top of the Col de Mente.

I'm pretty sure the vast majority of Etapists had done their homework , and knew we now faced the true test of the day... the hors categorie (ie. the worst sort !) climb Port de Bales. This is about 12 to 13 miles of ascent at a gradient of a little over 6%. 6% ain't much... a piffle.. but unfortunately for the complacent, the French quote averages. We had quite a few miles of flattish riding in a valley following a river into a surprisingly strong headwind before we started to ascend. Like Tom Boonen, I let everyone around me do all the work and made sure I was fully hydrated and refuelled.
One of the great features of the day was the roadside support from local people. This included small impromptu bands, lots of cheering, 'the girl in the red bikini', unfeasibly old people, the inevitable stray dog causing havoc, and the traditional painted slogans on the blacktop.It was really great to hear the cries of 'allez' and 'courage'. In many small villages, people had rigged up hosepipes to cool us down, or were offering to pour water over our heads. I had accepted a good dowsing from someone, but unfortunately most of the water ran into the padding of my synthetic chamois and formed a big soggy mess between my backside and the saddle. Now I know why babies cry when they have soaked their nappies because I immediately started to chafe. It was really giving me grief and I cursed my inexperience for letting this happen. I was also burning in the sun. What sunblock I had applied had evaporated by now and my upper arms were visibly red. Oh well... nothing I could do about it now.

The beginning of the Bales was gentle and I was feeling strong. Another factor of the day which made you feel like a real pro was the constant stream of support and paramedic motorcycles zipping along, overtaking on our left. There was a sudden flurry of activity and as I came around a corner I found out why. A large tree had literally just toppled over across the road and we were having to duck under the trunk. Bizarre. Anyway, the road began to narrow and deteriorate in quality, and after 7 or 8 easy climbing kms the gradient ramped up steeply...... from here on the point I was trying to make about the average gradient becomes relevant. This second half of Bales almost certainly will be remembered as most Etapists' time of suffering. The heat was by now at its worse, and we all hugged the edge of the road searching for tiny nuggets of shade which might have given us a few nanoseconds of heat relief. Hard to believe in retrospect but it's true! This section was very narrow and the road surface had recently been repaired by Bodgit and Scarper because huge sections of tar were melting really badly. The bike seemed to bog down as the friction coefficient peaked. Why waste money on top tyres with low rolling resistance if you have to ride through sticky soup like this? It all added to the misery as we all slowed to our minimum, bottom gear, grinding, weaving and groaning. Regular signs indicated the distance to the top but only increased the torture when a quick bit of maths made it obvious that I had at least another 90 minutes of this hell before I would reach the top. The temptation to join the ever increasing numbers of people getting off for a rest or a lie down was palpable, but I decided that to stop may be terminal and I just tried to keep making small circles with my feet. I also set small targets... the next corner, the next signpost, the next man in tears, the next person receiving medical attention.... that sort of thing.
A steady stream of walkers were clunking up the right hand side of the road in their cleats. One guy lost it and chucked his carbon machine against the rocky side of the road, yelling, 'I can't even walk up the f**^er , let alone pedal'. This actually spurred me on.

I expected my heart rate to be at my known max in the high 160's but for some strange reason I was way down in the low 150's. I can only guess that this was a sign of the virus load in my body that would be giving me the runs 24 hours later. I also experienced a couple of disconcerting sudden shivery sensations that seemed to zip through my body and down my arms making my hairs tremble. I wondered if this heralded the onset of the hunger bonk, so sucked down another caffeine-gel as soon as possible. I was parched too, so stopped in a tiny patch of shade for a 5 minute lie-down and took the chance to drink a good half bidon of water/electrolyte.
Eventually, the trees cleared and the mountain top opened out to more switchback corners and great scenery. I could sense the top of the Col, and sure enough, the sound of cheering and more delightful amateur music started to drift down from the ridges ahead. I dared to succeed. I stopped and looked back down the valley at the slow snake of riders who were still on their way up. A youngish woman passed me on her bike and drew huge cheers of roadside support...' incroyable, une fille!' they were yelling. She grinned as she passed, clearly enjoying herself. I took a couple of photos. Near the top it was much cooler, overcast, and windy. I watched a huge bird of prey soaring on the thermals and made a mental note of the moment. You can't buy this sort of stuff, you know.
There was slight relief from the gradient, and eventually after two hours or so of special suffering I pushed over the top of the Bales. Bliss. I now felt assured of success barring a crash or mechanicals, and it felt good. A moment to relish.

I had a small lie down. Jacko did the same apparently and found himself in someone's own personal toilet area. Nice. I don't think he cared at this point, and nor would you.

More in my next post.

Get ready to ride L'Etape.

2007-07-19T16:36:00.001+01:00

It’s Thursday afternoon as I sit here typing. My bowels are still in their own special world of turmoil. I’ve just stepped off the scales and I’ve lost 11lbs since Saturday afternoon. Not surprising really, considering I’ve eaten almost zilch since spending 10 hours in the saddle.

Let’s go back to the big day on Monday.

I was up at 4-15am local time, feeling tired but adrenalized. We had to dress in our cycling kit, pack all our stuff, and then load the bags onto the coach in order for them to be taken to the other end in Loudenvielle. Then a quick breakfast, trying to eat as much as possible, and forcing fluids down to bursting point. What I really needed was a big bowl of porridge and 4 mugs of tea, but it wasn’t to be. We boarded the coach for a quick transfer to a gymnasium where the bikes had been stored overnight in a small town near Foix. Everyone was rushing to grab their bike and other stuff in order to get to their designated starting point as quickly as possible. There was a big queue for the khazi, but it had to be done despite a feeling of panic as the clock ticked by towards the start time. We then faced a 6 mile ride to Foix where we entered our start pen and joined the other 7500 riders nervously waiting for the off at 7 am local time (that’s 6am in England and ‘No’ we hadn’t adjusted within 2 days). One guy crashed when he braked and his bars twisted because he hadn't tightened the clamp properly when he had re-assembled the bike off the plane. He went over the front and seriously knackered his knee. He couldn't continue, and his Etape finished before it had started.

There was plenty of nervous banter and bravado as we all anticipated the day ahead. The weather was perfect, cool but clear. We could hear Phil Liggett over the PA system, and then the klaxon sounded for the off. The hotshots and Greg Lemond were at the front, and I imagine they all sprinted away while we stood still. It took 16 minutes to roll gently over the start line, and my friends Steve and Simon (top Northern semi-pro in the photo above) set a fast pace as we steadily overtook hundreds within the first few miles.

I drafted like a sneaky thing following the big blokes, conserving energy until we reached the first proper climb of the day, Col de Port after about 16 miles. This is a Category 2, so I settled into a decent pace and watched my heart rate, keeping it well down as I ascended reasonably comfortably. There were occasional trains of very fast riders overtaking on the left and you had to have your wits about you at all times in order to avoid collisions. Halfway up the 7 mile climb I let my friends pull away and decided I would proceed at my own pace, but I was a bit disappointed and a little perturbed that I couldn't keep up with them. No matter… all my training has been done on my own.

The woodland cleared towards the top and the gradient seemed to ease as we approached the Col with fabulous views over my left shoulder. I was pretty warm by now and it was obvious we were in for a hot one.

Over the top and then it was time to see how fast I dared to go. This is the first time I have had the chance to descend on closed roads, knowing that a 2CV or a French farmer won’t be coming up the road around the corner. The art is to choose your line to hit the apex in a controlled manner having finished any braking well uphill, weight low, watch the road like a hawk and trust in your tyres, forks and brakes! It was a buzz. Exhilarating and scary as I hit almost 50 mph trying to take it easy. Some of the bends were very tight and the road surface was far from perfect, so total concentration was needed if you weren’t to join the growing number of casualties. Because we were so near the start, it was still very crowded and there were loads of kamikaze dudes swooping down from behind cutting me up and swerving into my line. I saw some bad accidents. One guy unconscious, medics in attendance. One girl sobbing holding her shoulder in the middle of a multi-bike pile-up. Two guys remonstrating with bloodied knees. Sadly, one of our group, Chad, was taken out by an Aussie and fell, collecting a good dose of road rash. By the time he had mended his bike/puncture etc and been sorted by the medics he had lost 45 minutes. As a consequence, he was mopped up by the broom wagon and forced to quit on the 3rd Col. He was gutted. That's his dodgy shoulder in the picture above.

The road then meandered quite comfortably with a long run through a valley for about 25 miles. There were a couple of nice villages with people enjoying a coffee and croissant on the pavement as we whirred past.I can hardly remember anything else, except I made sure that I drafted and conserved energy. The first refreshment stop arrived at 45 miles and I stopped for fruit and water.

At this point I didn’t feel like the real Etape had got going knowing that 4 major climbs lay ahead. Climb 2, Col du Portet d’Aspet was also a Cat 2 and it was fairly comfortable. The descent was the opposite, very steep and scary, and we passed the monument to Casartelli who died in a crash here in 1995. Huge stone barriers line the edge of the road to pulverise anyone unlucky enough to slide into them. Again, I witnessed plenty of trauma as people overcooked it. It’s so sad that some peoples’ Etape experience ends in pain and even hospitalisation for the sake of a little more care and caution.

Almost straight away with no respite we started the Category 1 Col de Mente. It was a bugger. Very steep, very hot and this section heralded the start of the day’s suffering. I was grinding in my lowest gear for an hour, although I couldn't get my heart rate above a meagre 150. After your classic switchbacks in the intense sun we seemed to enter a long straight bit towards the summit. By now , people were walking, sitting and resting by the road. I heard 3 of 4 tyres literally explode. I was so pleased to get up and took 15 minutes for food and water and a lie down.

I now faced the real test of the day, the horrific ascent called Port de Bales followed by the Col de Peyresoude.

There would be real suffering. Grown men cried.

Part 2 tomorrow.

Poorly sick but happy

2007-07-18T18:47:00.000+01:00

I should have gone back to work this morning, but I'm still ill. It would have been a day of triumph, swaggering around the hospital with a smile on my face, shaking hands, lots of hugging and kissing small babies. The potential for storytelling would have been enormous, and I would have basked in the glory of it all. There would be no need for any exaggeration.

Instead, I've spent nearly the whole day in bed with irregular but frequent visits to the bathroom for you-know-what.
I've tried to eat a small bowl of grapenuts but thirty minutes afterwards pebbledashing became fashionable again on the south coast.

In all other respects I feel fine. My legs are virtually 'normal'. No aches or pains there. I've got sore botty cheeks because I was chafing for the last 70 miles or so after my chamois seat became soaking wet. I'm a little sunburnt.

I'll tell the full story when I'm feeling better, but thanks to everyone for their congratulations and support.

Can I implore you all to try and watch the Tour coverage on TV next Monday when the pros tackle our route. I hope some of them suffer like we did, and not make it look too easy!

10 hours of suffering.

2007-07-17T21:53:00.001+01:00

Well.. I did it. Just under 10 hours of suffering.
It was horrific at times. The Bales was pure agony. I saw men crying, collapsing, puking and throwing their bikes against the rocks. The tarmac was melting. Many dropped out.

I didn't really 'go' very well, and I had a strangely slow heart rate. I had 3 shivering episodes which made me think that I was about to bonk. After today I think it was the first signs of a bug.
This morning at 5am I was vomiting by the side of the peage, and unfortunately I've been ill all day, with a fever and shall we say... 'stomach upset'.
I'm too weak to blog properly and I need to dash again.

Hopefully I'll be better tomorrow.

The Big Day!!!!

2007-07-16T17:13:00.000+01:00

The current Mrs C here!
I have spent all day wondering how things were going for Pete, nervously anticipating a call or text. It came at 4.50 p.m as a text.
I've done it. 10 hours.
More news - he's fine but has suffered. One of his team mates suffered more so, having taken a fall and had to give up. Very sad after all the training. Hope he's ok.
I've just had a brief phone chat ....4th climb was absolute hell and the 5th climb - er that was hell too....... it was hot, hot, hot, melting tarmac and gravel sticking on his tyres.... no wind except in the valleys where it was against them.... Some of the descending was wild (not by him I hope!) - lots of crashes and people being carted off in ambulances. He was absolutely on his beam end (???)... but now he feels ok.
I'll let him fill you in properly on his return.
For now, many thanks to everyone who has supported him and donated sponsorship money.
Mrs C.

You don't get any fitter by thinking about it..

2007-07-12T14:31:00.000+01:00

I've got to the stage where I'm so looking forward to L'Etape... I probably think about it about every thirty seconds (by 'it' I mean L'Etape; not the other thing we men are thinking about).

As promised, I've had a trawl through my training diary to compile some statistics.
Here we are:

Total weeks: 18 (I haven't counted this week)
Total miles: 2020
Longest ride: 105 miles
Average miles per week: 112
Average time per week: 6:30
Total hours: 118

I hope I've done enough, but to be honest, I couldn't have done any more without ruining my life! I have said all along that the biggest challenge would be juggling family, job, football, other hobbies etc with the need to get out on the bike and pedal. Also, very important, is the need for rest and recuperation in between the sessions on the bike, and the fact that at 47 years old, I need more of the latter than the youngsters in their 30's. Warning to the tyros... as you get older the heart and lungs are fine, and the mental toughness is still there. The problem is the muscles, tendons and ligaments don't quite match up, and it's easy to injure yourself. I have never claimed to be a lard arse at the outset... I suspect I was far fitter than most blokes my age, but it has been a bit tight to get it together in 18 weeks. I am lucky to have retained my fitness into my forties and have a reasonable tall and lean physique for endurance events such as L'Etape. Also, I've managed to avoid any bad colds or other viruses. I hope I have used my time wisely , and applied a bit of science and 'trained smart.'

I'm lucky to be able to afford to buy a top-of-the-range carbon bike, and to get excellent advice and support from Top Northern semi-pro Jacko (he of the shaven legs). Lightweight equipment undoubtedly makes my task easier.

What (if any) have been the highlights? It's nice to know I have become accustomed to long hard sessions in the saddle, having developed the necessary stamina and mental strength. I relished the 100-mile Hampshire Hilly sportive. This was my first real event, and gave me my first exposure to semi-competitive riding and riding in a group (dare I say peloton?). It awakened my competitive instinct, and I loved every mile. I did a good time which gave my confidence a massive boost. I like feeling fit, and hope it helps my football next season.
I also really enjoyed my 4 day sojourn to the south of France to ride with my friend Chris in The Cevennes. Heat, mountains, pain and suffering... a perfect holiday.
I've learned so much about my bike, about the sport of cycling, and I've realised what a massive hobby this is. The cycling world is a big friendly community, and to quote my injured friend Stoney...'cycling is the new golf '.
I've also acquired a lot of knowledge regarding modern training techniques, nutrition and other aspects of sports physiology. Thanks to JBST.

It hasn't all been fun. The weather has been pretty grim at times and I've done a fair bit of riding on wet and windy days. I also had an episode of nagging mardy bum ache which was....well , a pain . I also initiated myself into the brethren of cyclists when I fell off at 30mph and acquired a nasty case of road rash. In retrospect I was lucky not to break anything. Many of the early starts have been grim and required massive willpower. The disruption to normal family life has been wearing and I need to thank my wife and children for putting up with me for the last 4 months.
I was gutted to snap my chain during the Tour of the Cotswolds. Up to that moment I was flying, having started near the back and then overtaking at least couple of hundred people. I had then joined a fast strong group of riders and I felt confident that I could ride with them to the end and so hopefully post a really good time. I felt at my peak that day, but it all went pear-shaped when the old chain gave up. At least I learned something that day about carrying tools for any emergency and the need to replace your chain regularly.

I hope I'll find time to post tomorrow and maybe Saturday. If not, let me offer huge thanks to everyone who has wished me luck and offered support. You are too numerous to count or mention, but can I say 'hello and thanks' to The Shanklin Webbs who have sponsored me AND taken the trouble to send me a card.

Anyway, I'll be 'on the rivets' next Monday, and I'll finish barring illness, falls, catastrophic breakdown or Acts of God (including BA losing my bike in-transit).
Bring it on.

Helmet hair

2007-07-10T16:54:00.000+01:00

I went back to work yesterday after a week's annual leave, and spent the whole day glancing at my watch and thinking about how far around the course would I be at the same time next week. I also constantly have been asked 'when is it?' At least people are interested.

Things must be getting pretty serious because for the third night in a row I have dreamed about L'Etape. Last night I was in the leading bunch when a couple of hotshots accelerated past me. I waited for my group to respond, but they didn't, so I jumped out on my own and chased them up to road. Obviously I caught them, and then beat them up a long climb. Then it all went to pieces, because I got stranded at the apex, and everybody else disappeared down a road which I didn't know existed. So I had a disturbed and frustrated feeling of wasted effort. Perhaps that explains why I felt really tired when I woke despite a reasonably early bed time last night. I'm not feeling particularly energetic but I'm putting that down to patheticness/neurosis/nerves.As long as I have not got the Close family virus then I'm going to be OK.

Top Northern Pro Jacko has organised for me and the 4 other superstars from The Bard Prostate Cancer Charity team to wear some special kit for the big day. It's loverly; top quality Bioracer apparel. I went for a test ride today over my 20 mile course and did a good time, although I didn't break my record. I'm blaming that on a strong headwind all the way home, plus I was baulked by two coach loads of tourists blocking my run down the fastest bit of the course. Annoying. Anyway, I got the missus to take a photo of me with my sweaty helmet hair sporting the new outfit. It's quality and must be worth at least 30 minutes time saved. My spies in the far north have also predicted hot dry weather next Monday in Foix... it's good to know all the training in the cold rain will amount to nothing. Actually, I have been going out in the last month deliberately wearing far too much clothing in order that I at least attempt to acclimatise to the sensation of being too hot! A bit nutty I suppose, but how many of you are familiar with that awful airless stuffy feeling when you're exercising in hot weather? It's horrible and you feel as if you're suffocating. It sounds as if we'll fly from 15 degree England to 35 degree France and then get on the bike and pedal for 9 hours after 24 hours adjustment! All part of the fun.

The Tour is on Eurosport with brilliant live coverage every day. It's fantastic to watch and the commentators are superb. Sean Kelly is so funny, and has mastered the art of non-stop babbling without drawing breath. He and David Harmon are now able to convey so much more information and insider knowledge to we viewers, making it much more exciting and watchable. Yesterday's stage in Belgium was marred by a horrific crash which blocked the road. These guys are so brave and tough. The Belgiums got a one-two finish, which is a bit more than we Brits can claim after our prologue and first stage on home soil. I wonder how bad Wiggins and Cavendish feel after such disappointment on the first two days. I suppose the important thing is how they deal with the failures in their careers, just as much as the successes. Look at the way Robbie McCewan handled the shock of crashing on Sunday, gritting his teeth, ignoring the pain and somehow getting himself to the front and winning by a few yards. A lesson in life? Boys I'm deep. Today's finish was also fantastic. That fella Cancellara is the one to beat on his Cervelo.

So, with just a few more days to go, there aint much more to do in terms of training. I'm getting all my bits and pieces together. I need to go shopping and buy some malt loaf, Nutrigrain bars and a few other nick-nacks. Passport. Currency. Camera.

I promise to have a careful look through my excel spreadsheet training diary and compile some data. I was listening to a podcast from the JBST boys at the weekend and they were interviewing a very experienced guy who has done 5 or 6 Etapes. He was recommending at least 8-10 hours per week from January in order to get prepared.
I have done nowhere near that much! Not even close.

I also need to post a running total regarding the money which I have raised for the Prostate Cancer Charity. I hope I've made the thousand mark. If there is anyone out there prevaricating.... you want to sponsor me but you can't quite be bothered.. all I can say is go on, go on, go on go on, go on...

Finally, my 12-year old daughter has started her own blog. http://chickensrockmyworld-soyouthinkyoucan.blogspot.com/

I don't believe it

2007-07-08T11:19:00.000+01:00

What a weekend of sport.
The papers are full of analysis of the mens' Wimbledon final, and there are at least two articles about Bjorn Borg. When I was a lad he was The Man. He ruled the game. Clearly he had the game for grass, but his main asset was his incredible temperament. The cliche which will be repeated ad nauseum will be 'ice cool' but it sums him up perfectly. No matter what was happening on the court, he registered no emotion and, more importantly, his game never wavered. He is a legend. When he was finally beaten by McCenroe, he shocked the world by announcing his sudden unexpected retirement from the game. He has subsequently declared that he was never enjoying himself when he was playing tennis. How very odd. I would have thought he was having a ball out there thrashing everyone. I would love to be doing that. A one-on-one combative and gladiatorial game, played out in front of the eyes of the world. I hope he his a contented man. Glory and respect last forever.

Lewis Hamilton looks as if he has the mental side of things pretty much sewn up. Despite everything going off around him, he just gets on with his job. You can't help but think old Monty would have been one of the all time great golfers if he had been able to control the psychological side of things.
I suppose none of us really know if we've got it upstairs until the chips are down. When I was doing the Hampshire Hilly 100 I spent a lot of time riding with a guy who is also doing the Etape. He was telling me about his first attempt the previous year, and how he blew up on the first climb. He described how he was psyched out by the sheer magnitude of the mountain. He finished eventually, but the Etape experience for him was a bad one and he took no good memories from the day.

I can't stress how much I want my Etape to be a day of good memories and experiences. Obviously the number one priority is to finish. Then I want to have enjoyed the atmosphere, the crowd, the climbs, the descents, the scenery... the whole lot of it. I'm not trying to get a medal. I also want to avoid too much dehydration with the accompanying headache and wasted feeling.

For those of us with access to Eurosport TV, the Tour de France has been amazing so far. Basically, we've got live coverage of the entire prologue and first stage. Wouldn't it be funny if they covered L'Etape du Tour? I'll have to make certain that I record the programme on the day when the pros do the stage from Foix to Loudenvielle so that I can relive the event through the eyes of the TV cameras.

I'm planning to do another gentle ride today, and then will do a full-on 20 mile 'time-trial' on Tuesday to see if I can beat my record time. Then Wednesday and Thursday will be leisurely recuperative rides just to wind down and keep my legs going. I don't want to stop completely because it doesn't suit my physiology. I'll make certain that my legs are not stressed too much so that any muscle damage will be repaired by the weekend.

I've just checked my travel itinerary and I've realised that my flight next Saturday is not early morning, but late evening. This is good and bad. It means I avoid a ridiculous early start in order to set off, but I'm going to arrive in my hotel around midnight on the Saturday. On the Sunday, I'll have to reconstruct the bike after the journey, and then report to race control to check-in and claim my race number and transponder. I'm anticipating sleep deprivation, rushing and anxiety. It's going to be worse for Jacko and Atkinson, cos they've got to drive our vehicles to Loudenvielle and then get on the coach in order to return to the Foix. That will be a 5 hour round journey. It's all part of the Etape experience.

Tour de Wight

2007-07-07T13:43:00.001+01:00

I've done a gentle recuperative 20 miles this morning, keeping my heart rate down and cruising like a dude from Big Sur. The idea was simply to stretch out the legs and keep it relaxed. Tomorrow I'm aiming to do a 20 mile 'time trial'.

With about a week to go, it's hard to believe that this project which has taken up so much of my time is finally coming to fruition.
I think it's time to have another QandA session.

Q. Are you going to finish?
A. Of course... barring illness, mechanical breakdown or other serious unforeseen problems. If there is some sort of catastrophic failure, then I'll return in August during my summer hols and I'll re-ride the course within the allotted time to prove to myself that I can do it.

Q. Will you carry on cycling after the Etape?
A. Yes, but not nearly to the same extent. I've got my mountain bike in the garage, and I have missed getting out on the trails through the woods in the last few months. I've enjoyed the speed and rhythm of road riding. I won't be doing any more sportives this season. I definitely won't be getting up at 5am to get out for 6 hours of riding on cold wet, windy mornings. Almost straight away I'll be getting back into the footy training for next season. There is no doubt that the cycling is excellent for cardiovascular fitness, leg strength and weight control, but I need to get back into the football. Cycling has been time consuming and there are a few of my other interests which have taken a back seat in the last 4 months, such as kitesurfing, fishing and my guitar.

Q. How have you found time to fit in all the riding
A. You make time.

Q. When is it?
A. Monday July 16th. It's a 7am start (that's 6am English time).

Q. How long will it take.. do I think?
A. I'm not sure, but I'll guess 9 hours.

Q. Does that saddle hurt? Have I had any problems in the (snigger) manhood region (snigger), any complaints from the current Mrs C (snigger)?
A. It is pretty clear that the population know virtually nothing about cycling, but the single fact that has entered general consciousness is that racing cyclists are susceptible to traumatising the pudenal nerves on those hard saddles with resulting problems of impotence. Have I suffered on the saddle? Yes, I've had my fair share of sore bum. Have I had any problems in the you-know-what dept? What do you think?

Q. What do you think of while you're riding?
A. The inference is that a 5 hour bike ride is boring, and you'd be pretty much correct. Having said that , it's about 4 zillion times more interesting than walking. I virtually always wear in ear headphone plugs and use my iPod, so I'm either listening to music, podcasts or the radio. My tiny mind is also ticking over regarding all manner of subjects.... footy, kites, fishing, cars, agas, wife, children, filth etc.

Q. Who takes all those photos on the blog and what sort of camera do they use?
A. Me, and 90% of the photos are from my mobile phone camera.

Q. Is the current Mrs C going to be there with you? Are the children going too?
A. No and No. This will be a whirlwind trip. Logistically it's a nightmare. Imagine 8500 people needing to stay near Foix on Sunday night, and then that volume of cyclists riding 125 miles over 5 mountains to another small Pyrenean town. The roads in-between will be closed. Then we all need to stay near Loudenvielle on Monday night. We fly home at 7am Tuesday.

Q. Are you doing it on your own or with others?
A. There will be a mini peloton of 5. We're going to try and stick together for as long as possible. I was invited to take part in the Etape by Steve Atkinson and Simon Jackson who work for a company that make medical equipment called Bard. They are both keen amateur racers. There are two other guys in our group who are, I think, radiographers.

Q. How much money have you raised?
My target was £1000. I'm almost there. If you add on the reclaimed tax then I definitely have cracked the grand.

Q. What will you do if you need the toilet during the event?
A. Errr... well, what I won't do is mess my pants.... if that's what you want to know.

That's all for now. The 2007 Tour de France prologue from London is about to start on UK Eurosport so I've got to go.

It aint over 'till it's over

2007-07-06T22:13:00.000+01:00

The Etape is getting so close, I am starting to get that end-of-term feeling.
Clearly, last minute revision never helped anyone pass their exams .. did it? But that doesn't mean that I'm lazing around watching Wimbledon for the last 10 days. I feel there are definitely some more mitochondria and capillaries to be recruited between now and the 16th. I want to do a few more hard rides and then taper down next week.

So on Thursday I got up early and was out on the road at 7am. It was very windy, cold and there was rain threatening. I really didn't relish the prospect of a 3 hour session. However, like so many times before, once I got going I started to enjoy myself. The plan was to take in as many tough hills as I could find and keep my heart rate up around the 80-85% mark. I also wanted to avoid using my lowest gears and keep my mardy bum firmly planted in the saddle. I'm trying to get myself a little bit stronger. On the flatter sections, I made sure I had a few hard sprints. I made sure I took in the Zig Zag road. Does anyone recognize the location of the photograph? My last 10 miles were directly into the horrendous wind but I got my head down and just tried to think of a nice pot of tea. I like my tea. I'd hardly got back in the house before the skies turned black and we had another afternoon of torrential rain. I had a nice self-satisfied glow. I think it's them there endorphins.

I'm feeling reasonably happy with the way things are shaping up. I've got the bike sorted the way I like it. I've formulated my drinking and feeding strategy. I've been told by Jacko that my race-day go faster suit is ready, and I've got all the other bits and pieces together. I've got to work out the detail of getting to Gatwick in time to check-in for my flight next Saturday... this could be tricky bearing in mind that I'll have to get a ridiculously early ferry. Most important of all, it looks as if I've avoided catching the wife's cold.

I'm going to take a look at my training diary in the next few days and see just how much (or little) time and distance I have actually done.

Finally, I'm pretty confident that I'm going to hit the £1000 mark for The Prostate Cancer Charity. I hope so.

Wind, rain, fumes.

2007-07-04T19:20:00.001+01:00

A glorious summer's day for we kitesurfers. A tad windy I suppose, and some nasty squalls blowing through. I'm not complaining.

I've had a day of rest from the cycling. My legs are not surprisingly slightly achey after yesterday, but I'll be up early in the morning for another hard ride. I'm feeling healthy which is the most important thing.

I've said before that there are multiple variable factors which I need to manage in order to complete this ride. One unavoidable thing is going to be the need to get up very early on the Saturday morning when I fly out to Toulouse and then again on the big day. The race starts at 7 am local time. Remember, in France they are an hour behind so effectively we can call it 6am for my body clock. I believe my hotel is about 40 km from Foix, so I suppose I will be crawling out of my bed at something like 3 am. Given that I'll probably sleep like a condemned man, I'm going to be bleary eyed. Oh well..... all those years of sleep deprivation practice whilst doing junior doc on-call may have been worth it after all. I'm going to simulate the race day by getting up early and going for some pre-breakfast rides in the next week. I don't really mind getting up early, but I definitely don't feel like exercise first thing in the morning.

A brief update on the troublesome aga. Despite getting it burning nice and hot again after overhauling the burner mechanism last weekend, the house was smelling very fumy. I decided to get it sorted properly so have got a professional in. He was aghast at what he found. The flue is illegal, blocked, and very dangerous. And that's just for starters. I can see a very big bill looming in the near future.

In the spirit of Graeme Obree...

2007-07-03T22:19:00.000+01:00

I've just been reading about Graeme Obree. We actually share the same birthday.... September 11th, although I am 6 years older than he. He is famous for breaking the one hour record on a virtually home made bike. He also developed his own unique riding position and famously used the bearings from his washing machine when he realised that the spin cycle occurred at 1200 revs per minute.
He was an amateur cyclist who decided that he was going to break the record. Note... he didn't think he would try and break the record, or have a go at it. No; he would break it , full stop. In his delightfully simplistic manner, he decided he would train harder than anyone else, endure more pain, put in more hours on the track etc. He also took a totally original sideways look at bike design and came up with an idiosyncratic machine which he called Old Faithfull. It was later banned by the controlling bicycle authorities in an amazing sour-grapes ruling..
Ultimately, he hired a track for the record attempt, but failed in his attempt by about an inch. No matter. He had paid his money for 24 hours worth, so he came back 23 hours later and had another go. He did it on the second attempt.

Anyway, the point is I think, the power of his mind, the sheer determination to succeed. Inspirational. There is no doubt that the Cols which await me in The Pyrenees are going to be very tough, but I am trying to drum up Obree-style levels of self-belief in order to get me up and over. The mind contributes 50% of my strength.

Today, on his 40th birthday, fellow blogger Mark had a crack at riding up L'Alpe d'Huez in less than 60 minutes. He set that abitary one hour target as a benchmark. He has been documenting his training on his blog for weeks and I have gained a lot of advice, knowledge and a sense of comradeship from him. He has just missed out by a small Obreesque margin. www.markliversedge.blogspot.com Wouldn't it be amazing if he had another go tomorrow morning and did it on his second attempt? It's a big ask though, especially because he's probably drunk a few scoops of beer/wine/champagne. He's doing the Etape as well, so I guess I'll be following him around on the 16th.

I'm very relieved to report that I have had a good ride today.
At 7-30 this morning I got the nippers on the school bus during torrential rain. The missus is in her sick bed. Because I'm on leave I was then able to luxuriate on the settee with my feet up, reading the paper from cover to cover, and enjoy a nice pot of Rosy. By 10-ish, the skies cleared, and soon we had a nice sunny but windy day. Despite a very strong temptation to go kiting, I got out on the bike and did a full-on 50 mile session. I deliberately did all the horrible Island hills... 3 times up Strawberry from the Brighstone side, Cowlease twice, and virtually did 3 circuits of the Ventnor hills. I felt strong... what a relief. After my recent lethargy, I needed the affirmation of my fitness for my mental well-being. I also got my second-ever puncture, so I had a chance to practice my changing-the-inner-tube skills. A McClaren pit-stop it was not. It was actually pathetic, so I'm going to be honing my skills in a few dry runs tomorrow.

After my ride, I had poached salmon, salad and yoghurt. What a healthy devil I am.

Stub out them fags

2007-07-02T19:41:00.001+01:00

Strewth... I've just seen Serena Williams on the box. If she's got herself back into condition then I'd hate to see her when she's a bit lardy. It's sad because she was fantastic when she first arrived on the scene, and I feel she has wasted her potential. Is that fair? I know she has won plenty of big titles, but she should be totally dominant. Such power and speed. I'm a sad man cos I wanted the pretty one to win.

I've also had the misfortune to see Gordon Brown making a statement in response to the terrorist threat. Oh dear. The spin doctors are going to struggle with him. A more un-natural rabbit-in-the-headlights performance I have never seen. You could actually see his beady baboon eyes scanning the autocue like a robot. He is supposed to be a bit brainy, but he's the man who sold all the gold at rock-bottom prices, presided over the pension fund debacle, and has driven up house prices by forcing money out of stocks and shares and into property. I'll give you a simple analogy. Just because the cleaner is good at sweeping up you don't promote him/her to be the next sales manager.

My little girl got home at 11 pm last night clutching a brace of medals plus two bruised knees and blisters from her new boots. She was ill this morning, as is the current Mrs C. I don't need to stress how much do I not want to catch her cold!

I have not been for a ride today. I wanted to be sure I didn't feel tired after yesterday's effort. It's early to bed tonight and then I'll do a hard hilly session tomorrow. The forecast is poor, but I've got no option but to get out there whatever the weather.

I bet I'm in a comfortable majority who welcome the ban on smoking in public places. It certainly will make gigging a better experience. The morning after, our equipment reeks of cigarettes. It is disgusting. Those of us of a certain age will remember Roy Castle, an incredible allround entertainer who died from lung cancer most likely as a result of the effects of passive smoking. He was on the record breakers... what a great programme that was!

Can it really be July already?

2007-07-01T20:35:00.000+01:00

I was browsing through the sports section this morning and came across an article about Serena Williams commenting on how she has regained her form and enthusiasm. Apparently she has lost weight (not difficult) and done a lot of fitness work. Well bully for her. I have no problem with the girl...she would definitely beat me on the old tennis court... but why should we feel any sense of wonderment and awe that she can find time to keep herself in trim. After all, these girls earn ten grand if they go out in the first round. Surely she can keep her hands out of the biscuit tin for a few more years, and give that grunting blonde automaton a good trouncing. While we're on the subject of girls who may have eaten too many meat pies in their day..... did you catch the resurgent Spicey Girls? Munting or what.

Predictably there was some good stuff about cycling in the paper too. The amazing Obree got a mention, so did Wiggins, but best of all there was a long piece about Greg LeMond. He has been involved in the Floyd Landis doping hearing in the States, testifying against him. Sensationally it transpires that LeMond had admitted to Landis during a private phone call that he had been abused by a family friend when he was a teenager. Landis evidently leaked the tale to his manager who then tried to blackmail Lemond in an attempt to stop him appearing in court. LeMond has kept this story bottled up for all these years but the grubby blackmail episode has prompted him to spill the beans, get counselled or whatever it is the Americans do nowadays and basically offload the feelings of guilt etc. Very strange.
Didn't LeMond win the Tour by 8 seconds from Fignon in 1989? I'd rather hear the story of how that happened.. I mean ..8 seconds. I bet the French were pissed about that.

2 weeks today it'll be the eve of the thing, so I'll be having a nosh-up and drunken singsong in some crowded French bar near Foix. I expect top Northern semipros Jacko and Atkinson will be unable to hold their drink. Still, there's no point in taking the Etape too seriously is there?
Jacko has been windsurfing today at Rhosneigr. I would have loved to have joined him, but I had to look after son No.1 today. We've had more rain.

My daughter and her skating buddies have been up at 5am for the last few days preparing for today's competition in Bracknell. I've said it before , but the dedication and commitment of these youngsters is amazing. Mind you, the parents are equally amazing, because they do all the ferrying about, and hence I've hardly seen the wife for a couple of days. Apparently she's ill.

Last night we were out at a local shindig. The second-best-band-on-the Island, The Accelerators, were playing at a party and they were pretty damn good. Peter Downing will be amazed to learn that they played his favourite song by The Only Ones. It is terrific what a Vodafone advert can do for a band's career.

I've got my cycling back on song today. Clearly with two weeks to go, I need to go easy, but you can't underestimate the positive psychological benefit of getting out on the saddle and doing a few miles. I'm consumed by the desire to keep fit and healthy for these last few days. There's plenty of research that suggests heavy training lowers ones immunity for a few hours after each session. I'm a pill junkie at the moment, and am adding echinacea into the equation. Why not? I've got nothing to lose and even the world's most anti-homeopathic sceptical doctor can try quack medicine once in his life. Furthermore, my missus has got a stinking cold so I am exiled to the spare bedroom. It would be a total disaster to pick up a heavy cold at this stage, especially as I've been as fit as a fit thing since March with barely a snuffle. The other factor is good sleep and early nights, and that's exactly what I haven't had this weekend.

The aga is up to temperature , but there's an oily smell in the house so I'm worried about the flu. If anyone else out there has got problems with the diesel bug, get in touch. I know how to clean the burner mechanism!

I hope my daughter has had a good day in Bracknell. It's nearly 10 pm and she's not back yet. Serena Williams take note.

Everybody loves a good wedding

2007-06-30T16:57:00.000+01:00

Congratulations to my sister, Helen and her new husband Chris. They put on quite a do for us all, and in the words of my son...'we had one of the funnest days of our lives'.
Somehow they manged to generate a 12 hour window of perfect sunny weather. We left the Island in monsoon conditions, but by the time we reached this hotel by the Thames at Shillingford, the sun was shining and the sky was (mostly) blue. Thankfully we didn't have to sit through a ridiculous hell-and-brimstone service, so in no time at all the legal duties were finished and we boarded a river boat and cruised down the river to a restaurant called the Beetle and Wedge.Not bad scran.
The highlight of the day for me was the steamed syrup sponge and custard. It was my Etape-carbo-loading duty to eat two portions of this most delicious and perfect creation. Now I don't praise other people's cooking too easily and I am something of an expert in the field of syrup sponge.This was exceptional, but the gal was a bit stingy with the custard. Thankfully they didn't try and serve it with cream... a serious crime.

Today it has tipped it down with rain again, so there was no chance to get out on the bike. Instead I spent a large part of the day making tea while my mate was on his knees in the kitchen with his head in my aga. When we moved here we inherited an oil-fired aga which has worked perfectly until about twelve months ago. Since then we have been plagued by problems with the quality of our oil supply which seems to clog the burner resulting in low temperatures and an erratic flame, which eventually goes out. Apparently there is a thing called 'diesel bug' whereby an algae lives in the oil and produces a gritty debris which blocks the burner mechanism. This bug is only a problem if you have a plastic tank, instead of the old-fashioned metal ones. It's something to do with the condensation and lack of algal-bloom inhibitors in the feeding tanks. Anyway, our aga has been completely out for 48 hours and I was unable to get a professional to help. So, I did what I always do in these circumstances, and phoned my mate John. He is an honorary saint, and has the ability to mend anything. Round he comes wearing his shiny silver armour suit and promptly dismantled the complex burner mechanism bit by bit until we discovered this small copper tube which has a thin slit cut into it through which the oil is supposed to flow. Obviously the slit was blocked until we cleaned it. Hey presto, the oil flows again, and the house is slowly warming up again.

Tomorrow is the British Etape. I have to admit I wish I was taking part. I'm feeling fit again. Not only will it be a great occasion, but I could do with the ride. I've have backed off completely this week in an attempt to ensure that I don't overdo it, and keep myself healthy. Hence I haven't swung the leg over since last Tuesday. This feels like an eternity. It's ridiculous. I have read that research has proven that athletes can desist from training for 3 weeks without any negative effects on their levels of fitness. I don't want to test this theory. I bet all keen cyclists are familiar with the feelings of frustration when circumstances combine to prevent you getting in the riding which you think you should be doing. I think I've just got to be sensible at the moment and remind myself of all the hard work which I have done in the last 3 months.
Hopefully I'll get a 50 miler in tomorrow. I'll keep the pace/heart rate down and see how I feel on Monday. The big day is approaching fast.

Here's to the new Mr and Mrs Harris.

Sleeping my way back to fitness

2007-06-29T05:56:00.000+01:00

I've woken up early today, and actually feel refreshed after last night's sleep. Phew.
I've felt really rubbish for the last few days. A week ago I did a record time for my 20 mile route to Niton and back, but it left me feeling heavy-legged. Then I did a moderately-paced 60 miles earlier this week and have felt tired and lethargic ever since. I'm not sleeping well, and have a sore throat. I'm pretty sure I've been overtraining, so I've done nothing since, and have been getting to bed as early as I can.

It's quite interesting the way I'm able to write that 'I did 60 miles earlier this week ' almost as if it's nothing. It's an indication of how far I've come since I entered the Etape in march. We were having some brickwork repaired by a friend at the time, and I remember coming back from a 40 mile ride one day and virtually collapsing on the garden bench. My mate asked me how far had I been, and he was amazed when I proudly replied,'40 miles'. It seemed like such a massive distance! I can also remember hobbling about like Ken Dodd's granddad, and having to lie on the settee for an hour before dragging myself upstairs for a soak in a hot bath. Clearly, I now consider a 40-miler to be little more than a gentle warm-up, or at least, a distance that I can ride at pretty much full chatter in little more than two hours. It really is amazing how the body can be adapted for a purpose, and let's hope my body remembers all the hard work.

I've always said one of the main challenges facing me has been to get all the necessary riding done at the same time as being a proper Dad, doing my job, and also not becoming totally obsessed with the bike. I hope I've succeeded. BUT.. I have become a bit of bike nutter. I have been seen weighing my bottle cages and inner tubes. I read about bikes all the time, and study data and other information on bike manafacturers websites. Despite having a top quality carbon-fibre Specialized machine, I am still hankering after getting something else, something better, more exotic. It's ridiculous! in the guitarist circles, we have a name for this behaviour. GAS... which stands for guitar-acquisition-syndrome. It can be a seriously bank-balance-damaging disease. I am reminded by a small voice with a heavy Scottish accent that 'one can only ride one bike at a time'.

The weather is terrible... very windy and heavy rain.
Predictably, I'm going to a wedding. My little sister is finally going to make it all legal. She's marrying an Arsenal fan. Interestingly, after the service in a hotel, we're all getting on a boat and will then drift or more likely motor down some river to a pub or restaurant, where we're going to have a nosh up.It all sounds a bit strange to me. Given the weather, I will be taking my wakeboard and wetsuit. It will be nice to see my family together, apart from my poor old Mum who has dementia. She would have loved to have been there today, but it is too much hassle and stress to get her there. Sad.

My 10 year-old lad was summonsed into his teacher's office this week. Her demeanour suggested he was about to get a serious ticking off. 'Do you know there's a mouse in your schoolbag?' She opened his bag and there was a wee furry creature. 'No miss,' he replied, ' I didn't know it was there, and it's not a mouse. It's a pygmy shrew!' Evidently, our cats have released the little varmint in the kitchen and it had taken up refuge in the dark smelly receptacle that serves as his kitbag.

Finally, best wishes to our Pat, who is retiring today. She's a full-on Scouser. We've nailed down all moveable office furniture, the carpets, curtains etc. IT'S A JOKE! Calm down. I wish her well.

Carpe diem.

2007-06-27T20:55:00.000+01:00

With less than 3 weeks to go before the big day, I had hoped that I would be bursting with vim and vigour. It's not quite happening like that at the moment. I think I'm suffering from overtraining, and need more rest and recuperation. It's frustrating, because I would like to be putting in a hard 7 days of hard hilly at the moment. But no. I need to heed the warning signs from my body. Good food, more rest, and gentle recovery rides only. It's not good for the psychological side of things either, because the self-doubt demons are burrowing into my brain.

One of the hardest factors during this Etape project has been the time constraints which face an old dad, who is trying to juggle wife, children, job, hobbies, etc plus a little bit of bike riding on the side. Luckily, I'm on leave next week, and I'm going to hopefully take it very easy. I'm desperate to get some bass fishing in.

The ghastly weather isn't helping. I know I need to be prepared to ride through any conditions, but we all prefer some hot sun on our backs. There is no doubt that a bit of good old fashioned British sun has a medicinal uplifting effect, even if we're all going to die of skin cancer.

Some of the patients I've been scanning at work have really been depressing this last week. Let me tell you all, count your blessings, make the most of your good health and live for the day. None of us know what's around the corner. Unless you've entered the Etape, in which case you know you face 9 hours or so of pain and suffering perched on a tiny hard saddle.

That's it. I need an early night.

Rock 'n' Roll takes its toll.

2007-06-24T21:28:00.000+01:00

It's tipped down with rain today, non-stop. I've been resting.

Last night we gigged at The Anchor in Cowes. It was a great night.
The pub was steaming after the Round The Island Race (which was won by Ellen Macarthur). When we rolled up at 8 o'clock we could hardly get through the door and it took forever to lug the gear from the car through the throng trying not to get tetchy when people continually got in our way. Then we had to set up in very cramped conditions with people eating their evening meals on tables right up to the foot of the stage. It can be pretty stressful setting up the PA with limited time and no real chance to test the sound levels and optimise the settings. There were probably 30 people who had come specifically to see us,joining the yachty set and the local Cowes mafia. Once the diners had finished, the tables and chairs were whisked away and we could get going.First song, a very ropey Are You Going To Go My Way.
The first set was somewhat iffy, but after the break we really played well and got into a groove. The trick is to play a varied set which appeals to everyone, and yet try and build the tempo and excitement towards the end. We had a good old singsong with 500 miles and Chelsea Dagger, and got them all dancing (and laughing ) with I Don't Feel Like Dancing. Then we unleashed the beast... Breaking The Law, Ace of Spades, Enter Sandman, I love Rock'n'Roll to end. It was almost midnight but the place was still heaving and after 5 minutes of chanting for a second encore we left them with I Believe In A Thing Called Love.
Thanks to everyone who came, danced, cheered and yelled.
Thanks to the bloke who ripped his shirt off during Ace of Spades and threw it at the bass player!
Thanks to Clare and Laura for asking us to play 500 miles.

The downside to gigs like these comes when everyone is making their way home. We have to strip all the gear down and load the car up. Then home, 30 mins away, before unloading again the amps, cabinets, guitars, stands and other cases of mics, leads etc. It's all heavy and unwieldy, and needs to be stowed away inside the porch. The babysitter needs to be taken home too. Then we wind down with a pot of tea and toast before getting off the bed at 2am. Sleep comes easily.
Needless to say, we're knackered the day after. Is it worth it? Yes, for sure, especially after a gig like last night. But not if we've had a lacklustre night.

So, I've done very little riding this past week. I'm not worried. I needed a good rest. I'll be packing in some intense speed and hill sessions and a couple of fast long rides in the next 3 weeks. I'm feeling reasonably confident. I just need to keep it going, keep healthy and raise a bit more money.

Getting faster...

2007-06-23T15:12:00.000+01:00

This is a picture of Pic Saint Loup near Montpellier, which Chris used as a warm up ride during my recent visit. Since then Chris has started a really interesting blog describing some of the problems which he has encountered personally and professionally since moving from England to Montpellier.It's a heart-on-the-sleeve sort of thing and therefore very interesting. www.otgeuro.blogspot.com
This past week has all been about shaking off the fatigue, but last night the current Mrs C returned from her sojourn to the jolly middle-class ladies tennis camp on The North Island, and gave me the chance for an evening 20 mile time-trial.
I've been doing the same route from Brook to Niton since I started training in March. I really gave it the full berries last night despite a gusty wind, a squall of hailstones and some disturbingly localised lightening. Hence the last 5 miles were on wet roads which didn't feel very secure but I finished like a demon with my lungs protruding from my nostrils in a new Island record ... I finally cracked the 20 mph average. Top Northern semi-pro rider Jacko said he would buy me a set of go-faster stripes when I cracked that particular figure. I used my newish Polar HRM and can report an average of 144 bpm and a max of 164 during this ride. I think I'm a bit of a slow beater with a resting rate of 42. I've never seen my max above 166 to date.

Annoyingly, I suffered with the low back ache again, and the same problem emerged during my Cotswolds ride last weekend. I suspect the pain is proportional to the amount of effort I'm making, and hence only emerges when I'm trying to ride faster than 'average'. Bike-shop mogul Adrian almost wet himself at the site of my reversed stem this week, and labelled my bike a 'chopper'. Boy, he's a witty dude. He's pissed that I haven't bought anything from his shop for about 5 years. But, I agree with him, so the stem has been reversed. He also thinks I should have a longer stem, longer than 100mm, because he thinks my bike geometry is a bit cramped for my physique. He could well be right, but unless I buy a new stem and try it I'm not going to know am I? How many of us can afford to buy stuff just to try it?
I'm also very conscious of the proximity of L'Etape, and the inadvisability of trying out modifications at this late stage.

I mentioned that I witnessed a nasty 'off' during the Cotswolds' ride when a bunch of us were descending at 35mph down a narrow country lane. A dog ran across our path between farm buildings and the poor bloke in front slid off after testing his brakes to their limit. He left a lovely black tyre mark. I thought he had fractured his femur by the way he was holding his thigh, and he turned a sickly shade of white. After 5 minutes or so he started to perk up and asked, 'How's my bike?' , so at that point we knew he wasn't too bad. Then his mate took a long look at the rubber streak on the road and chipped in with, 'You're not the only one who has left a skid mark after that'. Funny. I felt very vunerable after seeing someone fall at that sort of speed, and when we got going again after calling an ambulance, we took it easy for at least a mile. It's best not to think about falling off.

I can confirm that the rider who fell was OK with no serious damage apart from the obvious road-rash. You know I've been there (see my blog on April 18th).

Tonight we're gigging at The Anchor in Cowes. This is usually a great gig, and it should be buzzing after the annual Round the Island Race which took place today, starting and finishing in Cowes. That's a boat race, by the way, not bikes or cars.

Good luck to all those riders who are doing the Dragon Ride tomorrow. I'd be there too if it wasn't for tonight's gig. No matter, I'm planning a fast 40 miler tomorrow, weather permitting.

Bring back Andy Roberts and Viv Richards, and then we’ll see how good our team isn’t!

2007-06-21T20:38:00.000+01:00

I feel a little churlish in not being, shall we say, ecstatic regarding England’s 3-0 whitewash of the West Indies’ cricket team. I know our boys can do no more than beat whoever turns out in front of them, but who really cares when the opposition looked so… lame? Remember, just a few months ago the Aussies slammed us 5-0.

I’m old enough to remember the golden era when there were no weak teams in world cricket, and a test series victory over anyone was quite an achievement. (OK, allow me to use my rose-tinted viewing devices). For a time, the Windies were top of the tree. Grumpy old Clive Lloyd at the helm with those funny NHS specs, Kallicharan, Kanhai and the legend that is Viv Richards would score the runs. The attack was all about pace. Despite getting a few batterings from Roberts, Holding, Garner and Croft, it was always a committed exciting game of cricket. If we beat that lot, we could be proud.
It’s sad to see how far the West Indies have fallen. Will they be back?
It wasn’t until Botham, Brearley and Bob willis came on song that we could stand up to them. I’m glad old Beefy has been honoured. There haven’t been too many Pakistani protests about his knighthood. You do wonder which muppet decided to give a gong to Rushdie? If ever there was a decision designed to inflame the situation in Pakistan/Iraq/Afghanistan/Iran etc then this was it. Well done to that idiot. Don’t get me started.

I’m still a bit disgruntled about my broken chain during the Circuit of the Cotswolds on Sunday. I was going really well, in a nice group, at a decent pace. Apart from that, it was great. The weather held up, the scenery was fabulous, and the roads and route suitably testing. Cleeve Hill was a 1in 4 climb out the back of a housing estate. Lots of grunting and groaning up that particular climb. By the way, how many people carry a chain-splitting device?

Everyone except me turned up early for the start (I had a 90 min-plus drive after the 6 am ferry) and then had to join a long queue before we were allowed off at 2 minute intervals. There was lots of chitchat about the usual bike equipment stuff, and I could hear a group discussing the Etape. One of them was doing it, and an opinion was voiced that it was too difficult this year and had put some off from entering. This may be so. With my inexperience, I feel like I’m entering a large void. I am doing everything I can to prepare myself, but until I get to Foix, it is all educated guesswork. The Rapha website preview is really good. I’ve had quite a few private emails from blogreaders offering advice, and I’m grateful to everyone who has taken the time to write. I have not underestimated the challenge. Don’t worry… I’m going to be drinking plenty.

I have to admit that the fact that people are saying this year’s route is super-tough makes me feel more motivated. It’s analogous to the cricket. If the route or opposition was ‘easy’ I guess most of the participants would not get a sense of achievement and satisfaction at the end of it. Maybe, our cricket team feel like they’ve done the job, but haven’t really proven themselves? I’m not being conceited to admit that the Circuit of the Cotswolds felt quite comfortable. So it should … if I think what I’ve got to get up,down and along in less than 4 weeks.

One feature of this week… I am dog-tired. No wonder. Last week was well over 250 miles of tough riding and only 2 hours of sleep on Saturday. Furthermore, the current Mrs C has gone away to The North Island for tennis camp, so I am in full time dad mode. I’ve struggled to juggle jobs, and 3 hours of driving to and fro ferrying daughter No.1 yesterday was no fun. Then there’s the washing, tidying, sandwiches, emptying dishwashers, finding clothes, money, towels, bus passes and so on which is incessant. I’m humbled by the amount of unseen chores that my wife obviously does all the time. Being a one-parent carer is almost as difficult as the Etape…… no…make that much more difficult than the Etape. The Etape only lasts for one day.

I made the local paper this week in an attempt to generate some more sponsorship. The IOW County Press is read by virtually everyone on the Island. I immediately got an email from a guy down the road who is doing the British Etape on 1st July. I’ll give him a ring tonight, but I guess we’ve left it almost too late to hook up together before his ride as he’ll be tapering now.

So, I’ve done one recovery ride this week and got to grips with my new HRM. My bike has a new chain and has had a general once over by Adrian, well known local bike-shop owner and king of the sarcastic put-down. He hates my bike.

With less than 4 weeks to kick-off I’m unsure of how to train. I’m thinking out loud here. Do I pack in another couple of long rides? My max so far is 104 miles or 6.5 hours. My weekends are fully booked with ’stuff’, gigs, weddings, on-call. I think I’m going to really push the 20 mile speed run, some intervals on the local steep hills, and a bit of weigh training. Diet wise… it’s quality all the way. If I can lose a few pounds that would be nice. The trouble is I am permanently starving hungry.

Hopefully I'll see some of you in The Anchor on Saturday night for a Riptide gig.

Reflection time

2007-06-19T13:24:00.001+01:00

I gained a lot from my few days in France, and in the last few days have taken the opportunity to evaluate exactly what I have learned.

First .. there is no place for equipment failure. In the last week I've had a few annoying problems including a broken chain, broken sensor mounting for my computer, a new HRM which I had very little idea how to operate so it beeped every two minutes for over 6 hours, a flapping chin strap on my helmet and underinflated tyres. No excuses.

Next, forewarned is forearmed.... or to put it another way...... it's easier to find a needle in a haystack if you know you're looking for a needle. I prefer to know the size of the challenge ahead of me and grinding around endless hairpin bends without knowing how far to go didn't suit my psyche. I know some may argue the converse, but so be it. Plus, natural competitiveness drives me on when I can see someone ahead.

Third, it's more difficult on your own. I have been told that the atmosphere and roadside support and encouragement on the day is tremendous, and I have no doubt that this will help us all. Jacko and Atkinson are going to talk me round, aren't you?

Finally, the heat coupled with the risk of dehydration are major problems which could scupper everything despite all the training and effort over the last 3 months. It could be 40 degrees on the day. We've all seen the data regarding drop off in performance when you let yourself become dry. I really struggled to keep cool and couldn't shake off feelings of extreme thirstyness. Jacko spoke to me on this subject last week and I think he's made the correct call. The answer may be to use electrolyte drinks to keep hydrated, and rely on energy gels and powerbars/fruit/ham butties etc for calories. There are 4 weeks to test my theory, so I'm going to do some experiments on the road. Also, none of us want to carry two kilos of water up these big climbs and your stomach shuts down when your gasping for breath. So, some careful planning is needed to anticipate where the feeding stations are, and how they relate to the cols.

The fourth col is Port de Bales. Quotation from Cofidis pro Stephane Auge who lives in Pau, 'The Bales is very, very hard, long and steep. There will be suffering here.' Nice. 'Tour stages don't come much harder than this.'

Mark L has kindly pointed out to me that La Luzette was nowhere near 16 %. I was reporting back from local rider Phillipe. It just shows what a novice I am, and underlines how valuable my recce trip has been. I have no doubt that I was in a dark place going up that hill. Google maps is brilliant and I've been trying to find the routes which I followed last week.

Oh.. one more thing... The flight, early starts, disturbance to the diet and sleep pattern are also going to contribute towards our problems.

Apart from all that lot, it should be a doddle.

Back to the top

2007-06-18T20:31:00.001+01:00

Let me finish the tale of my visit to The South of France.

I've done a shed load of training on the Island in the last 12 weeks and I've improved my level of fitness to the extent that I have completed a 100 mile race in less than 6 hours. Not too bad.
The big problem is that when I do the Etape in 4 weeks time, the challenge that lies ahead is not only the distance of 125 miles, but it's the 5 severe Pyrenees mountain climbs in temperatures which are likely to be in the high 30's. So I needed to test myself on some proper high altitude French roads.

We were in the Cevennes region. My mate Chris had taken some advice from members of his local Velo Club and decided to lead me up Col de la Luzette. We had descended from Mount Aigoual for a brake melting 26 miles before heading out the back of a small village called (I believe) Pont L'Hereux to begin our climb back home.
The road ramped up quickly and pretty soon the only sound was the chirruping crickets and the heavy panting of two sweaty blokes trying to keep those pedals spinning. It was tough in the midday sun, and after 40 minutes with no respite Chris reached his breaking point. In his defence, I must point out:

Chris is a 90-odd kilo muscle machine... a sprinter rather than a climber
He rides a bike that weighs more than himself
He's not a cycling nutter... doesn't use proper cleats or shoes, doesn't pump his tyres up, doesn't weigh his inner tubes etc
He's been out of action with a knee injury for 3 months or so until a couple of weeks ago
Since learning that I was coming to stay, he's ridden himself to pieces without any respite, including an ascent of Mont Ventoux 3 days before my arrival
He's a diabetic. Now I'm stating that not to suggest that he would use it as an excuse in any way, but it is a complicating factor given the energy expenditure coupled with impending dehydration.

Chris is no fool, and no amount of cajoling and motivational crap was going to help him keep going up this particular route. We had reached a tiny hamlet and could hear a car coming. After a brief discussion, we split. We both had feelings of anxiety that we might be making a silly mistake, and the risk of diabetic hypo was certainly on the agenda. The fact that I didn't know where I was, where I had been, or even really know where I was going slightly concerned me too. I only speak un peu de francais.
I continued up the hill ultimately aiming to reach a town called L'Esperou, while Chris hitched a lift from the passing car (the first we had seen for an hour) back down the road. We both had our phones and a couple of bottles of water.
I immediately felt pretty isolated on my own, and tried to clear any thoughts of quitting or negativity as the road continued to wind up towards the tree-covered peak above. My technique is pretty basic...pedal and don't stop.
There's not a lot else to say except the road climbed at between 8 to 14 % for an hour or two until a series of ridiculous hairpin corners signalled a mile of 16%. I could see what I thought was the summit over to my right, but my progress had slowed to as little as 4mph.
The problem (apart from the severe incline) was dehydration and the heat. The remains of my High5 drink couldn't slake my thirst and the temp was peaking in the mid-afternoon sun with no shade. At this slow pace, the sweat doesn't evaporate, and I could feel my heart pounding through my sternum and the back of my eyeballs were throbbing in unison. My mouth and throat had dried up miles back, and every breath seared all the way down my trachea.
The mental fight and desire to give up were compounded by not knowing how far I had to go. I was praying to see the end around each bend, only to be confronted by yet another stretch of road extending to the next corner.

It's amazing what goes through your head when you're suffering on a bike, but I had a series of thoughts along the following themes.
1. Equipment paranoia. My gears aren't low enough, my saddle hurts, my shoes are too big, the cleats are in the wrong place, my wheels are creaking, my tyres are too soft, the stem is too high, there's a stone in my shoe, my brakes must be binding and so on....
2. Body paranoia. I'm going to collapse with an heart attack/stroke/dehydration, no one will find me for days, my legs are too thin, I'm a fat get, there's sweat in my eyes, I'm burning, my throat is sore, my bum is killing me, I can't feel my extremities, my teeth are rattling, double vision etc

Eventually, I realised I was nearing the summit as the scenery had changed a little with the appearance of pine trees and the gradient had relaxed. Don't ask how far or how long it had taken because I have no accurate idea. I had missed all the opportunities for some spectacular photos. I had drained my water an hour back and just when I was starting to worry about serious dehydration, a car approached. I flagged it down and a little grey-haired old lady gave me some water and wished me well. Bliss. I had a series of false peaks to tackle and another 3 or 4 miles before I started to descend through a wooded section, avant finally rolling into my intended target namely L'Esperou.

Chris, God bless him, was grinding his way up to the same spot by another route which, although not as steep, was a lot longer. Ironically, the sky rapidly clouded over and the temperature dropped dramatically just as we were completing our rides.

We slept well that night!

Me and Barry Sheene... The Circuit of the Cotswolds

2007-06-17T21:01:00.000+01:00

I was tired last night, but now I'm absolutely pooped. What do you think of this recumbent bicycle (above) ?

Barry Sheene crashed at Daytona in 1975 when his chain snapped and locked up his rear wheel at 170mph.
Today I was about a quarter into the 102 mile Circuit of the Cotswolds (CC) when I stood up on the pedals to give it a bit of welly up a short incline and my chain broke. I nearly lost my manhood on the crossbar. (Amazingly .. I have been told by two reputable sources that the lifecycle of a chain is 3 months or 1400 miles, so my bike is booked in at the local bike shop this coming Tuesday for a service and a new chain before the Etape).

Anyway, I was gutted. I trudged back to the first drinks station which I had passed about a mile back. Psychologically, I was resigned to finish there and then, but there was a bloke having a pee pause who saw the damage and asked if I wanted to borrow his chain-link tool and see if I could mend it. I did. It was a bit graunchy, but it did the job.

About 25 miles further on, I was in a group of about 12 riders descending really fast down a sweeping country road. We were approaching some farm buildings when a dog ran across the road. This poor chap in front hit his brakes and scrubbed off a bit of speed before he went down really hard. It looked terrible. We stopped and called the ambulance. Not nice.

Furthermore, my computer sensor wasn't working so I had no speedo, and no measurement of my actual time spent pedalling, as opposed to total time.

On I went.. and finished in 6 hours 30 minutes. Not bad given my problems. I felt strong at the end, which is just as well because on The Etape, I will still have two very bad mountains to climb after 100 miles.

I'm glad to say I met the chap who fell off at the end and he was OK.

Thanks to Christian who helped me keep my speed up today.

I'm off to bed. I promise to tell the rest of the story of my French climb later this week.

I think I saw Elvis

2007-06-16T21:18:00.000+01:00

I left my last blog at the start of our climb out of Pont d'Herault.
I'm home now on The Island, but I'm too tired to write properly.
I've had a great trip to the South of France, and owe a massive thank you to Chris and Sophie who put me up.
Tomorrow I've got another early start to drive to Witney near Oxford for the Circuit of the Cotswolds. This is a 100 mile sportive with plenty of steep hills to test myself on. I'm not sure that it's a good idea because I'm very tired, have a cold sore and a sore throat. I had 90 minutes sleep last night!
No excuses! I'll be resting next week, I hope.

What goes down must come up.

2007-06-15T08:45:00.000+01:00

Bonjour mes amis.

I'm in a slightly damp but sunny Montpellier today, Friday, after 3 days of mountain life. Huge thanks to my friends Chris and Sophie who have been fantastic hosts.

What a trip! The plan was to get some experience of the heat, the Cols, the climbs and the sheer suffering which I am likely to experience during the Etape on July 16th. I have had the lot.

I arrived on Tuesday, and by way of a warm-up Chris took me for a 40 mile ride out of Montpellier to a nearby landmark called Pic St. Loup. Chris is the opposite build to me. He is around 90kg and built like Tarzan(by comparison I'm 75kg and built like Jane). A sprinter rather than a climber, you could say by way of understatement. He's also recovering from a damaged medial collateral knee ligament, so has not done a huge amount of cycling in the last few weeks. Having said that, he only cycled up Mont Ventoux last Saturday with his local velo club so he can't be that unfit, can he?
The early part of the ride was reasonably flat, but like all power merchants, Chris set a fast pace and dragged me along in his wake.We soon left the crazy French cars behind and started ascending for about 7 miles before cresting the climb and stopping for some photos.The heat was oppressive, about the mid-thirties, and it's amazing how much fluid one needs to drink. More of that later.We met quite a few other cyclists on our ride, and on the way back came across the local gendarmes and firemen at the site of an accident. One of the superfit old boys from Chris' club had hit a car and been carted off to hospital apparently. He was concussed, but is OK.

So, back to Montpellier, at a steady 25mph. A perfect 'warm-up' ride.
Like all beautiful multi-lingual French babes, Sophie came fully equipped with her own chalet up in the mountains, so after dinner and a bottle of champagne Chris and I loaded up the car with our cycling stuff and headed off to the Cevennes region, about 90 minutes away. This is an area of National Park, centered around Mount Aigoual. It's not monstrously high, we're not talking glaciers here, but don't scoff. It's plenty high enough. yes indeedy.

After the exertions of the day, the flight, the early start etc. this wasn't the most pleasant or relaxing drives to undertake late at night. The road began to climb and climb forever. I was fighting the fatigue and struggling to keep us on the road as we negotiated endless ridiculously steep switchback bends in the pitch black. I was very relieved when we made it to Camprieu around midnight to a beautiful chalet nestling amongst the trees. Suffice to say, I slept like a log, looking forward to an epic days riding.

Wednesday dawned hot and sunny, and unfortunately we were too tired for an early start. This wasn't ideal because we would inevitably be out in the worst heat of the day. We strolled into the village for coffee and croissants, and Chris was able to consult the local shop-owner/cyclist regarding suitable routes for our intended day of riding. I was very mindful of the drive-up the mountain the night before which had been simply endless climbing. I tried not to think about it, because the views of the surrounding mountain peaks and plunging valleys were beginning to psyche me out. Were we really going to ride up those?

The day began with about 5 miles of reasonably comfortable climbing, bearing in mind that the longest climb that I've ever done before this week is about 1 mile. Then we descended for an incredible 26 miles! Now, obviously there is a technique involved in negotiating long descents with their inevitable corners and bends, and now was the time to perfect it.
Lessons to remember. Break early, choose your line, use your weight to help countersteer and try to look through the turn. Avoid loose gravel, lizards, fallen rocks and les crazy francais voitures. We tried not to kill ourselves, tried not to melt the brake blocks, and tried not to exceed 45mph. As exhilarating as this high-speed run was, I was only too aware that there was only one way back, and what goes down must go back up. You know that feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach? Furthermore, every time it flattened off a little, Chris pedalled like a demon to keep our speed up, so it wasn't even as if we were conserving energy. He's a monster.

So, after 90 minutes or so we reached a village called Pont de Herault (I think) and we stopped for a quick break. Chris is diabetic, so we had to keep an eye on his blood sugar. He manages himself incredibly well, but you can imagine that extreme cycling, heat and dehydration can play havoc with your glucose metabolism. Plus ingesting energy drinks and powerbars with their complex carbohydrates. We visited the boulangerie for a very tasty apple turnover, refilled our water bottles by the church, before readying ourselves for the climb.

I have to admit, I felt like the condemned man enjoying his final meal, faced with the knowledge that I had just been descending on my bike for almost an hour. Chris also admitted that he was a little worried. He was unsure of our intended route, and had never been up this way before.

La Luzette lay between us and home. Fear of the unknown? You bet. And the heat. Did I mention the heat? So far you're thinking a 20-odd mile descent must have been a lot of fun? We haven't got to the suffering bit yet. There will be a lot of that in the next installment.

More tomorrow.

Who remembers the 70's? Who can remember the weekend?

2007-06-11T20:59:00.000+01:00

I'll probably be cycling up a French mountain by the time you read this. No..it's not the Etape yet. I'm zipping off to Montpellier where I'm staying with my mate Chris. He'll be tying a rope from the back of his saddle to my front fork and dragging me up some proper hills in the Cevennes National Park.

The IOW Rock festival is over for another year, and I suspect many people are still feeling a bit under the weather. The old saying is that if you can remember the sixties then you probably weren't there. I reckon Keef can't remember the 60's, the 70's or the 80's. I was a big Stones fan in the 70's. Black and Blue was my favourite album, released around '76, just before I got into punk rock.

I was on the Redjet today skimming through the paper when an article caught my eye about one of the most naff icons of the 70's. No, not Oxford bags, tank tops or Subbutteo, but The Goblin Teasmaid. For those of you who don't know, this is a glorified kettle attached to an alarm clock. You fill it with water, milk and tea before you retire of a night, set the alarm, and then you are woken in the morning by a freshly brewed pot of tea. Well, that's the theory. Now for a confession. I know a doctor who used to have one when he was a student. Let's call him Nigel cos that's his name. I borrowed his Teasmaid one day just to see how good (or bad ) it was.... and I can assure you it was rubbish. I was woken not by a nice cuppa, but by a gurgling noise as the water was boiling. When it all came to fruition , the tea was the wrong side of lukewarm and tasted ... worse than the tea on the Wightlink ferries. That bad.

Anyway, prepare yourself, because these devices are making a comeback and will be in a shop near you very soon. I've just had an evil thought. My sister is getting married in two weeks, and I need to buy her a wedding present. Oh yes, that will be funny.

I'm up early in the morning to catch my plane from Bournemouth Airport. I think it's fantastic the way small regional airports have been developed. Maybe someone will expand Sandown or Bembridge? Maybe not.

Bike in a box time.

2007-06-10T22:13:00.000+01:00

I've really enjoyed my cycling this past week. Why? I suppose the fabulous weather for one. Then there are the new wheels and tyres which are still giving me a buzz. I've also ridden down some Island roads that I haven't been down before, and even took a trip on the floating bridge. Most of all, I've deliberately backed off and not over-exerted myself. I've therefore done 140 fairly gentle miles this week, and so hopefully I'll be strong for my trip to the south of France. I can't remember where I read it..... but some famous cyclist was interviewed after winning a big Tour and claimed that, 'I won it in bed', implying that it was the rest and sleep that maximised his fitness and form. (Well I think that's what he alluded to). Nothing wrong with catching a few zzzzzzzzz's when you can.

On Tuesday, I'm flying from Bournemouth to Marseilles, then driving to Montpellier where I'll hook up with Chris. He's emailed me today after cycling up Mont Ventoux via Bedouin ie the hard route. I don't think we're going to do that next week but he knows plenty of other very long and steep Cols to test my climbing.

I've packed my bike in its airport bag. I reinforced it by cadging a cardboard box from a bike shop and slotting that inside the canvas. The wheels are in there too, but the pedals and seat/seatpost are going in my carry-on in order to save weight. Ryanair only let you check in 15kg, after which they charge excess. Sneaky.

So, there's 4 weeks to go. I'm going to do the Circuit of the Cotswolds on Sunday, so next week is a very important 7 days of training. Proper mountains, heat, altitude and a 100 mile race. Perfect.

I'm not going to take my laptop away with me, but I'll see if I can post via Chris' computer.

I need to raise a bit more money for The Prostate Cancer Charity. Frank Zappa died from this disease.. what an amazing musician.

New boots and panties

2007-06-08T21:14:00.001+01:00

Ian Dury died from prostate cancer and I want to remind blogreaders that you may sponsor me if you so desire. All the money goes to The Prostate Cancer Charity. Now he would have been a great live act for the IOW Festival.
The poppies are out in the fields (Who recorded that?). Can you see that huge mountain in the background? That's the climb up Blackgang Chine to viewpoint lookout.
And talking of new boots... can you spot the red tyres on my bike? I had to do it. The Contis which came with my Ksyriums seemed to be fine, but how would I know if they are better than Michelins unless I bought some and gave them a whirl.The bike looks a tad tarty now, a bit Cheeky Girlish, instead of a bit Elle.
So, that's exactly what I've done. Mich Pro 2's. Just been for a ride on the new tyres and they definitely feel faster. Ok, it could all be in my mind, but I don't care. They're on for good. Local bike shop guru Adrian reckons Veloflex Paves are even better, and he could be right. But, I can't keep swapping about. Anyone would think I'm a rich doctor.

Any readers out there got any sound advice about packing your bike ready for flying? Ten top tips sort of thing. I've borrowed a soft padded bike bag from Etape veteran cardiologist Dallas Price (great name).. veteran in terms of experience, not age. I think Ryanair are going to sting me for excess baggage charges. After all, they've got to generate some profit somehow after selling me a return ticket for 2 new pence. I have 15 kg to play with! Oh well. I'll be putting tons of stuff in my carry-on bag. Once I bought a bass amplifier head in Chicago and shoe-horned it into a bag and took that on the flight back home in the cabin. I practically had to do a clean and jerk to lift it into the overhead locker, and I was petrified that it might come bursting out and kill someone if we hit turbulence. It took forever to get through security as well.

It was a real Mary Celeste job at work today. Only the sick and needy. I went down town at lunchtime and it was heaving with revellers.

This evening I did 20 miles and used the HRM to keep my rate low so that I didn't over reach myself. The result. A really enjoyable ride, and remarkably fast time/average speed. I'm so much fitter and faster compared to when I started.

Tomorrow I'll be up at 5-30am to take Sarah skating, and I'll go for a ride while she's on the ice. Again, I'm going to take it slow, and on an empty stomach.

Festival fever grips small Island somewhere off the south coast of England

2007-06-07T18:32:00.000+01:00

The IOW Festival is almost here and the Island is gripped by a strange fever. Normally staid and very square middle-aged people seem to metamorphose temporarily into rock-chicks and Diamond-Dave Dads. Like delicate moths or nymphs, this strange sub-species can be seen dancing with a total lack of self-consciousness for 3 glorious evenings before reverting back to type as quickly as you can say 'I hope Mick and Keef have remembered that they're supposed to be headlining on Sunday night'. No doubt the promoter has organised the 37 telephone lines backstage for da boys, the snooker room and the exclusive warm-up area where no ordinary mortals may tread. It's only rock 'n' roll. You do wonder where the estimated 30,000 Island Festivalgoers are on the other 51 weekends of the year when they never turn out to watch any number of talented local bands play at local pubs and clubs. Whinge.

Today's Festival or should I say Rock Extravagansa bare no resemblance to those of the late 60's/early 70's. The onus is on the promoter to pack 'em in, keep them safe, sell as much beer and food as possible, and put on a few acts to keep everyone happy. It's a business like any other. I want to know if the footy pitches are going to be alright for the start of the season in August? I expect not. The Cosmic Lawnmower better pull his finger out.

Already the camp sites are chocka, and droves of scruffy kids (they can't possibly be 18, can they?) are ferrying cases of beer from Morrisons and Sainsburys to the campsite like a chain of human ants. Sickness and annual leave rates become stratospheric on Friday and Monday, and the disruption to the roads on the vital Ryde-Wootton-Newpost axis makes going about ones normal business a waste of time. I can't get to the Private Hossy on Friday which means I miss my favourite and important carbo-loading 'meal of the week'.
The wide-boys, touts and pushers can already be spotted near Medina with their London and sarf-coast accents, and that tough but shifty-eyed look and demeanour. Not that the locals aren't immune to making a bob or two. Some folk living along Fairlee Road have stockpiled beer, spirits and water in their garage and are already selling it off from their front drives at a healthy profit. Compensation for 3 days of disruption some say.

Google on wight festival to see the line-up.
I see Echo and the Bunnymen are on Friday, a band I saw about 10 times in Eric's Club, Liverpool when I used to live there getting on for 30 years ago. Amazing. The last two years, by the time I'd finished work, got across the Island, parked, walked and queued to get in , I had missed the very bands that I was really keen to see. I missed Supergrass two years ago. Boys, was I pissed.
Saturday Mick Jones' new band Carbon/Silicon are playing. Hmmmm. Could be interesting.

Anyway, I'll be either cycling or fishing this weekend.
The legs have been a little tired after an 80-miler earlier this week so come the weekend I'm planning a couple of speed sessions and a fat-burner. Nothing too drastic. Obviously, I'm looking ahead to next week's sojourn in the South of France, as I don't want to arrive at the foot of Mont Ventoux with no whooomph in the old muscles.
A week on Sunday I have entered the Tour of the Cotswolds. A 104 miles, I think, with a bit of climbing. I'm not sure as I write whether I'll actually do it........ it depends on how I feel when I get back from France on Saturday. I'm not going to risk getting overtired at this stage of the campaign, so I'll be playing it by ear.

Thanks to JackH and Mark L for their nice and supportive responses. I wasn't fishing for compliments, and now I feel a bit like those annoying swotty girls who used to claim that 'I've done no work at all, absolutely none, zilch' before walking off with top marks in the final exams. Yeah, right.

I see my brother is getting himself fit with the purchase of a tasty Raleigh something for £20. I've told you about my ex-Marine anaesthetist colleague who did last years Etape up Alpe d'Huez on a £280 Raleigh bike? He didn't even have proper pedals, and was doing it in old denim cut-offs until two weeks before the event when his family took pity on him and bought him a pair of proper cycling shorts. Makes you think, doesn't it.

By the way, nice photo above by Chicky Babe taken at The Artigiano gig last summer. Lots of people have said nice things about my piccies. What camera do I have, they ask?
Nearly all the photos on my blog have been taken with my Sony Ericsson phone-camera K800i.

Consolidation

2007-06-05T13:55:00.000+01:00

I'm very aware that L'Etape is just 6 weeks away. It's very difficult not to have a feeling of impending doom, rather like I used to feel all those years ago when important exams were approaching. There is a sense of low-grade anxiety, that it's all getting too late to effect any useful increase in ones fitness. It's getting too late to put in much long-distance groundwork, too late too build up any muscle, too late to grow some more myocardium or new juicy capilliaries. Plus, after what I felt was a really good performance in the HH100, I'm seriously worried that I've peaked too early. Can I reproduce that speed and endurance? It's hard not to succumb to the 'pressure' and just metaphorically ensconce oneself in the fug of a smokey bar every afternoon and drink a few pints of beer, roll home drunk, and sleep it off. Having said that, I had a few good mates who used this revision technique successfully for many years. Eh, Bains ? Flynn? Beech? Gallagher?

Of course , I haven't got where I am today by letting all the threads slip from my grasp in the final straight... Oh, there'll be no Devon Lochs here.

I actually have a sense of bringing it all together in these last few weeks. Consolidation sums up the process perfectly. (It also means something other than gas in your alveoli....usually pus/pneumonia, but don't worry about that).

So, on the equipment front, two or three important changes.

Obviously, I've mentioned the new (secondhand) wheels. Mavic Ksyrium ES's. I love them. Black and silver rims, black spokes except for one red one. The rear hub is reddy/orange. The front one has a carbon sleeve.

It went like this. At the HH100, the guy next to me turned up with a virtually brand new Roubaix S-Works just like mine apart from the wheels. I have to admit to a tinge of envy when I saw his Ksyriums because they looked absolutely trick (mine was equipped with Rovals) ... the colour scheme matched the frame so well. Who cares what they go like.....they looked fantastic. I asked him if they were any good and his reply was, 'I don't know, I haven't had the bike long enough to form an opinion.' At least he was honest.

On the previous Thursday, I had gone for a nice ride with a couple of guys who I have met through work, one of whom is an ex-pro cyclist. He was on an S-Works Tarmac. Obviously, he knows just a little more about bikes than I. I asked him if he thought I could improve my bike without spending a gazillion pounds, and he recommended changing the wheels. 'Wheels and tyres', actually. He rides for a team called F P Mailing and the team boss was selling a pair of nearly new Ksyriums ES's. Perhaps he could get them for me? Obviously, when I saw matey's wheels in the carpark, I wanted them. Nay, I had to have them. He also suggested using Michelin Pro2 tyres.

Anyway, a bit of emailing ensued, and then last week postie delivered my Mavics. They came equipped with a 12-23 Dura-Ace block and Continental GP4000 tyres. The latter seem to go really well, so I'll stick with 'em unless Jacko or Stoney tell me otherwise.

Do they make a difference I hear you ask. Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back? Definitely. They spin up better, they are stiffer, they track better through the corners. They just feel lighter, and more lively. Perhaps it's all in the mind? I don't think so. Obviously I will test them in a time-trial over my benchmark 20 mile route. And best of all, they are lookers.

I've made one other important change... I've reversed the stem so that it points up instead of down. It is a Bontrager XXX Lite 120mm with a 12degree angle. What an improvement! The effect is startling.... the bars are about two inches higher. I don't think it looks particularly good, but I've got a 47-year old back. Remember, L'Etape is not a sprint. I've been plagued with niggly low back pain for the last 3 months, especially after a couple of hours on the bike. The problem seems to be the SI (sacro-iliac) joints rather than the discs of the lower lumbar spine. Today I've done an 80-miler with virtually no pain. Cracked that one. By the way, one of you blog readers (I think nmcgann) suggested I try this mod many weeks ago, and so thanks to you...you know who you are.

There are quite a few other factors in my consolidation process, but I'll leave those until later. Suffice to say the most important thing.. my lack of experience of climbing proper mountains.. has also been addressed. I'm off to Montpellier next Tuesday for a 4 day jaunt with an old mate.

Does anyone else get the farty bottoms when they drink these recovery drinks?

It's a serious problem because I feel bloated and it interrupts my sleep. I guess the bowel is temporarily paralysed during the exercise , and then flooding it with a pint of complex carbs and protein is all a bit too much?

I wanted them.

2007-06-03T21:34:00.001+01:00

No riding at all this weekend.

For starters I've been on-call, and secondly, I've felt tired and sore-throaty. I decided to rest again today and listen to the messages my body is sending to me. I hope I'm not coming down with the virus that has been around the X-Ray dept. last week. A couple of patients that I've been involved with this weekend have been very seriously ill, so it puts it all in perspective. I hate being woken in the night, who doesn't, but it's not so bad when some poor chap is in real need of my expertise. Hope that doesn't sound too dramatic. Had a nice pub lunch with some old friends.

With 6 weeks to go, I'm planning my training carefully in advance so that I peak perfectly on the 16th ... well , that's the idea. I always wonder how neurotic the pro athletes must become when the Olympics or Worlds are approaching?

This week I'm aiming to do two longish rides at fast pace, with some fat-burning and intervals in between. I'm going to flog up and down the local steep hill which is about 15 % and really get used to suffering. I'm not going to go mad though, and I'm going to get some early nights.

Next weekend, the Island goes totally beserk because it is The IOW Rock Festival. The Stones are headlining on the Sunday, and there are loads of other decent bands (so I am told). Unfortunately, the experience of last year has put me off totally. Too many drunk and aggressive people, many unpleasantly stoned, too difficult to see or hear the bands properly, too many disappointing 'artists'. Lou Reed was absolutely diabolical.
I sound very bitter and twisted, but when you've seen bands like The Clash, The Jam, The Ramones, Dexys, The Pistols, The Specials, The Undertones etc. in tiny clubs where you could practically spit on them, it forever seems a little bit flat to stand in a field half a mile away from the stage. The bar is 20 minutes away for a pint of lager, and that's about a fiver... Oh why don't I stop whining and just admit I wish I had a ticket?

So, I'll be on the bike next weekend, and then on the Tuesday the 12th I'm whizzing to Montpellier to be dragged up some major mountains by my old buddy, Chris 'one knee' Middleton.

Intelligence

2007-06-02T13:23:00.000+01:00

I've learned an awful lot about cycling in the last 3 months. Don't get me wrong...I'm still only on the first rung of the ladder, but perhaps I should be keeping a little black book in which I can record 'learning points'.

For instance, when you ride a bike on a summer's evening at speed down country lanes, unless you wear sunglasses you'll be catching flies in your eyes within a few minutes. I've known this for 30 years or more and yet I am stupid and still go out without my glasses and soon have big black flies stuck on my eyeballs. It's horrible. It hurts, you have to squint at the road ahead, and your nose starts to stream from the irritation. It won't be long before you catch another little blighter in your good eye, and then you're really in trouble.
When I did the HH100 I was riding in a group for the first time, close to the rear wheels of the other riders. Thankfully, I had my Oakleys on. It was amazing how often my lens were hit by bits of grit and other debris.

When you ride a mountain bike off-road, the knobbly tyres pick up loads of crud which sticks on them until you get to the next rapid descent. Then the centrifugal force flings the crap all over the place.... including your Mark 1 eyeballs.

So... I should always wear my sunnies. Obsessive perfectionists probably have special glasses with interchangeable lenses for different light conditions.

Another scary thing are the number of bees which land on you as you cycle along. Usually it's in the groin area, which is not conducive to a relaxed state of mind. What should you do about them? Flick them away, or wait patiently until they fly off? I'm a flicker, so I guess it won't be long before I get stung. When I was a nipper, my first ever sting was from a wasp or bee which flew up the leg of my shorts.
A couple of years ago I was painting the eaves, 20 feet up a ladder, when a wasp flew out from under the roof tiles, crashed straight into me and stung me on the eyelid. Ouch.
Nasty buzzing bugs also get lodged in the gaps of your helmet and remain trapped by the air pressure. It gives me the willies because you can never be sure what's stuck up there and I'm definitely not going to stop and take a peek.

Back to learning stuff...... or perhaps I may tell you about my 12 year-old and the lesson I'm trying to teach her. She wants another mobile.. about £100. She lost the first, or it was stolen. I've pointed out to her that if she hadn't frittered away her money on iTunes rubbish by McFly, plastic jewellery, Playstation games etc, then she would already be half the way to saving up the 100, and then I might be prepared to lend her the rest. So, she's outside washing my car.That's £2 for starters. Money doesn't grow on trees. How many times did my dad say that to me?

I was woken at 3am last night by the hospital, so I'm tired today. A brain scan. I'm not planning to train until tomorrow when I'll be doing 3 hours or so up and down as many hills as I can find. I've reversed the stem so that my handlebars are 3 or 4 inches higher than they were before. I don't think it looks good, but I'm going to give it a try and see how it feels. Remember, L'Etape is mainly about climbing, not speed and slip-streaming, so the higher position shouldn't slow me down. It might take pressure off my back, shoulders and bum. We'll have to wait and see.

That's another thing for the little black book. There are endless variations and adjustments in the fit and geometry of the bike, and experimentation is the only way to find out what's best for you.

Fat burning can be fun

2007-06-01T23:24:00.000+01:00

For two consecutive mornings, I've dragged myself out of my lovely warm bed well before the Terry Wogan Hour.
Creep down the stairs, on with the gear, a half pint of water (yeeeeuch) and then out of the door for an hours ride on an empty stomach. At the beginning, it's cold, I'm sleepy and hungry, and I'm wondering why I have inflicted this torture upon myself. I dream of bacon and egg. But after a couple of miles I start to warm up, the power gradually flows back into the legs, and the bike starts to fizz along the black top. It can be almost mesmeric to spin those pedals at a constant and comfortable cadence, with the procession of the chain and gears, and the wheels spinning underneath. The bike seems to float along the road and the music on the iPod sounds fantastic. I enjoy the ride, and it feels good to know I'm stealing precious time that would otherwise have been wasted in bed.

Did I mention the wheels?

The roads are virtually deserted at 6am, but when you do meet a car down a small country lane, you can see the startled look on the driver's face as he is shocked back into the land of the living by the sight of me on my bike. 'What is that barking nutter doing out on his bike at this time in the morning?' Lipolysis. Fat burning of course.

I'm home within the hour, for a pot of tea and porridge with syrup. The dog and cats need feeding, Sarah wants her toast, and then it's a quick shower and shave before I'm off to work.

This weekend I'm on-call so I will have little opportunity for riding. I need a couple of rest days, so I'm not too worried.

Maybe I'll play with my wheels.

Big wheels keep on turning.

2007-05-31T21:19:00.001+01:00

There's nothing better than getting up really early on a summer's morning. No, really, it's true. This picture shows sun up on the Solent behind Sconce buoy.

This morning, I did an hour on the bike starting at 5-30am on an empty stomach. I didn't enjoy it.... the gnawing crampy feeling in my belly was unpleasant, and my legs felt as weak as Mr Bean's. It was cold too and had been raining overnight, so the roads were dirty and slippery. No matter... Exercising after an overnight fast is a well known training technique where the idea is to teach the body to burn fat instead of glycogen, which is an important requirement for endurance cycling. I'm going to do it again tomorrow morning. So, if I'm a bit grouchy at work, you'll know why.

I can't believe that June is here already. To think that The Stones will be on the Island in a couple of weeks is fantastic. Let's hope the weather is good. Not that I'll be there.

Is it Big Brother time again?

Tomorrow I'll have to tell you about my new wheels.

Time waits for no man

2007-05-30T19:45:00.001+01:00

Mick said it years ago, and he was absolutely right. Was that on Goats Head Soup?

When I started out on this venture, I realised that my schedule would be hectic, and that I would be struggling to integrate the various elements that knit my life together with the intense training. I wish I was a professional athlete.

I'm still waiting for the phone call from the Chief Executive..... 'Hi Pete. I've been reading your blog. It's fantastic and so are you. What a tremendous good cause, and what brilliant positive advertising for the hospital. I've had a chat with the Chairman and The Execs. and we all agree that your success in this project is essential and will benefit us all. We've decided to give you paid leave until July 17th so that you can train as much as you want, and won't be compromised by lack of time. And here's a donation of £1000 from my slush fund towards Prostate Cancer.'

Dream on.

I am now acutely aware that with less than 6 weeks to go to the big day, what I do in the next 4 weeks is going to make the difference between a triumphant successful ride or a gruelling emotional slogfest.(Think pain, tears, bowel upset, depression..that sort of thing).

As you know I amazed myself and did pretty well in the Hampshire HH two Sundays ago. My official time has been posted on the organisers' website http://www.sportivecycling.org.uk/hhh2007provtimes2.pdf as 5 hours 41 minutes and that is well within gold medal standard for my age. So obviously I'm pretty chuffed about that and it has given me a big boost of confidence. Well, it did for a few days, and now the feeling has evaporated and I'm feeling nervous again. Perhaps I have peaked too early? Or the perfect conditions made it easy. And I'm reminded that after the 100 mile mark in July, I will still have two huge climbs ahead of me before the finish. And I feel as if I've done almost nothing since then and what fitness I had is ebbing away with the rainwater.

My biggest fear are the mountain climbs, the weather and the altitude. I've rationalised my insecurities and it boils down to this. I can't leave my house and practice riding up huge high mountains. If I was training for a marathon run, I would by now have mapped out a 26 mile route, and could simply go out and try it. And again. And once more, until success was assured. Then I would be ready. My problem is simply that there are no Pyreneean mountains in the UK, and so I can't go and try them. I can't test myself on the real thing. And until two days ago, I had thought that I wouldn't be able to take a trip to France for a recce.

So, imagine my luck....I get an email from my old mate, all-round talented action-man Chris who lives in Montpellier. Montpellier is near lots of mountains. Guess what Chris' new hobby is? Guess who's flying down to the south of France to stay with Chris for 4 days in the second week of June. It has been really tricky finding a gap in my diary, and Ryanair have come up trumps. More luck. The flights cost 1p each way. (OK..taxes etc cost about £500)

I'm really looking forward to that.

Last Bank Holiday weekend was a washout. I spent a few hours crossing the Solent and trundling up and down the M3/A34/M40 to visit the family. This brought an added and different stress to my table. No riding for three days was bad enough, but here was also the debilitating sleep deprivation (I'm a terrible sleeper in any bed other than my own), the patchy irregular eating, and lack of many, many mugs of tea. I've also developed a nasty low back pain, possibly from the foreign bed or the car journey.

Finally, some blog housework.

Thanks to Jacko and The Cosmic Lawnmower for their recent postings.

Thanks for the anonymous donation of £100 to The Prostate Cancer Charity. That's generous.

Good luck to Hannah who has soon to face her own small endurance event.

Commiserations to West Brom. Hard luck. Can't say I'm particularly sorry though.

Tomorow morning I'm going to fit a ride in early, before work at about 6am . The idea is to do a low-intensity ride for a maximum of an hour on an empty stomach. Apparently, this helps to teach the body to use intra-muscular fat stores for energy. We'll see about that.

I Predict A Riot

2007-05-27T22:39:00.000+01:00

This photo depicts the victorious Thorns School football team from Kenilworth, who have just won the U11 mid-Warwickshire knock-out Cup Final.We beat the mighty St Patricks from Leamington Spa 2-1 after extra time. We won because of our fantastic manager.. Mr Barrett.

It rained constantly during the match, and it rained constantly today.

I'm in this photo looking very uncool. If any of my teammates are reading this blog, recognise themselves, and subsequently get in touch with me then I will...... I will.... be surprised.

The Kaiser Chiefs are Leeds Utd fans, and obviously you all know from where their name originates, so I won't bore everyone with the story. Suffice to say that virtually the entire country loves to hate Leeds, and has done so ever since the Revie era. Perhaps the most ignominious event of the club's history is not their recent declaration of insolvency and relegation to Division 3 (in old money), but the sacking of the great Brian Clough after 44 days at the helm.

My poor misguided brother lent me a book about Cloughie's tenure at Leeds, assuring me that it was probably the greatest sport's related tome ever written. I can't even remember the name of it, but it doesn't matter because it was poor. I almost gave up half way through.

I disagree about a fair bit of stuff with my bro, which means we have a normal healthy relationship, and this is particularly true when it comes to discussing football.

Therefore, by the power of the blog invested in me I am wishing the best of luck to Derby County who deserve to be promoted tomorrow.

Alan Hansen famously said, 'You can't win anything with kids'. He was wrong. But let's invoke the spirit of Hansen tomorrow and hope the old men of West Brom run out of luck and legs and lose by 3 or 4 clear goals. It will be good to see Derby in the top flight again, and we're back to the Clough connection. Who remembers The Baseball Ground?

Did someone say pain is temporary?

2007-05-26T19:35:00.000+01:00

A few blogs ago I took you on an 80 mile ride. Today we're going for a fast 20 mile run.. a high intensity session.
Yesterday I wittered on about sports drinks and nutrition and generally made it all sound a bit surreal. The point is , I still have to get on the bike and pedal. Furthermore, despite feeling reasonably pleased with my progress to date, I still have to keep pushing, keep on progressing. I don't think I'm anywhere near strong enough for L'Etape yet.

So, the mainstay of my riding in the next 6 weeks are going to be what I would describe as high intensity sessions. Fairly short distances at near maximum sustained effort. The body needs to adapt to the stress of a raised heart rate, raised lactate levels and pain. It hurts, it's not enjoyable, and I don't really look forward to the ride. But my reasoning is that climbing 5 dirty great big French mountains in 35 degrees of heat over 125 miles is not going to be easy or enjoyable and is going to hurt too!

Let's get ready to ride. 22 miles at 80% maximum effort. It is not going to be nice.
First off, I have to plan ahead.
What is Mrs C and the children doing today? The weather? What time shall I go out?
I need to be careful what I eat and drink for about 2 hours beforehand or I'll more than likely be seeing it again, or at the very least I'll get tummy cramps and/or the squits. I make certain that I'm well hydrated.
The iPod needs to be loaded with something suitable. Today, I went for Weezer, Strokes, ELO, Arctic Monkeys, Led Zep, Beatles, SRV, Robert Cray and Rancid. Obviously it's set to 'shuffle'.
Then get the gear together... water bottle, phone, key, saddle bag, bike computer, headphones. I check the bike over, and pump up the tyres to pressure. 120 psi.
Clothing... depends on the temperature. It's still warm and humid with some nasty black clouds to the north, but the rain should hold off until tomorrow. I put on a thin short sleeve base-layer, bib shorts and my short sleeved zipper top. Thin socks and the shoes.

I'm ready.

At this point I should do a gentle warm up and then some stretching before I give it the berries , but I just can't be bothered. Sorry.

Computer on. Leave the gate and head to Hulverstone. I'm cold, especially my arms. If I was warm at this point it would mean that I was over-dressed.
It always feels as if the brakes are binding when you set off. Depressing. Past The Sun Inn and smell the greasy cooking odour and try not to imagine supping a cool pint of Badger. The first short drag out of the village is steep, but I burn it hard out of the seat, then I settle down to get a nice steady cadence at about 22 mph. I immediately clock the headwind, so I tuck in to try and make myself small. We fly past Mottistone Manor on a nice S-bend then keep the pressure on before taking a left up Strawberry Lane. A very nasty climb is ahead of us. The road is narrow singletrack with high hedges and a blind corner. It is frequented by local people who think they know the road so they drive too fast or visitors/non-locals who don't know the road so they drive too fast. I haven't got time to worry about cars as the road drops down after the bend, over a load of sandy mud which is spewing out of a badger set. The front wheel skips nervously at 35 mph.
The road ramps up quickly. I'm on the big ring and out of the seat really pumping hard maintaining the momentum. I'm hurting big time, drop a gear, and keep pushing. Half way up. Pain is just pain. I change to the small ring as I hit the really steep bit and just tough it out. A bit further, almost there... and a landrover comes around the corner. Wobble past him, top it out gasping, and hang a right to descend into Brighstone. What goes up must come down, and I pedal hard to reach 40 mph. The road is a bit hairy, but I am consciously practicing my descending technique, so I negotiate the corners a little too fast for comfort. Exciting. I haven't got time to feel breathless and I'm scooting through a deserted Upper Lane at 28 mph. Out the far end and join the main road towards Shorwell near The Countryman.
I push on, hard, hurting. The hedgerows speed by until we take a right at The Crown and start climbing out of the village. I can't afford to slow down, so I'm bobbing up and down keeping the big ring going. Past Bucks Farm at the crest of the hill and really stretch out the legs towards the T-junction. A right takes me towards Chale, and immediately the head wind doubles in strength. A few big drops of heavy rain fall on my bare arms.

I'm hitting a bad patch now, and I start to think about quitting.. or at least slowing down. Perhaps I should be taking it easy today? After all, I had a beer last night and was very late to bed. And I've trained hard this week. And I did the big 100 last Sunday. And no one will blame me or mind if I slacken off and take it easy until I'm home. No one will even know.

Pain is temporary. Quitting is forever. So I push a little harder.

Chale Green comes and goes and the road gradually rises as we head towards The Wight Mouse. The wind is really bugging me now, and I'm feeling bad. Just bad. I know the climb up Blackgang is approaching, and I wish it wasn't. But, anything worth achieving in this life is inevitably going to require commitment and a whole lot of hard yacca... so I tell myself how grrrrrrreat I feel.

Turn left, and start to climb the big hill. I keep up to 15 mph, around the first corner, then push to the Blackgang roundabout. Push pushing on, and grind around the knee-down corner. Almost there, past Viewpoint car park with the tourists and bikers enjoying the view, a cup of tea or an ice cream. I top her off, then really kick down the run into Niton, hitting 38 mph. Into the village, around the one-way system, right at the Spar, past the White Lion. Kick again.

HALF WAY. It's amazing what a boost you get when you know you're on the way home. Obviously I've got to start climbing back up the hill that I've just sped down, but it's head over the bars, bum planted on the saddle, and just keep the cadence going. No time to relax. My quads are burning as Viewpoint arrives again, then we start a really long descent. I'm returning on The Military Road this time, and now I've got some wind assistance. Oh bliss. It feels as if it's downhill as far as Whale Chine, and we're really motoring at about 28 mph. Lots of car traffic.

I tuck down again onto the bars and give it the treatment as I approach Atherfield. There's a long gentle climb towards the Dinosaur Museum and I can see another cyclist in the distance ahead. This spurs me on ... I'm going to catch him if I can. The road plateaus out and soon I can see all the way to Brighstone a mile and a half ahead. I'm gaining on my friend, and I just grit the teeth and give it a maximum effort for 5 minutes, not looking ahead, until my lungs are bursting and the spittle is flying. Past the Brighstone garage and its old National sign, the road is horribly bumpy. Matey is just ahead, so one final effort and I'm on his wheel. I turn the Pod off, cream past him, nod hello, and ask him if he wants to ride my wheel? Yes, of course he does, so I push on really hard past The Pearl Centre knowing he's getting a nice tow and I'm doing all the work. No matter. This is about pushing myself to the max..

The final couple of miles hurt badly, but a cup of tea is 5 minutes away. Just keep pushing, ignore the unpleasant sensation called agony and turn right at Brook Green into the village. It's uphill for the final half mile, but I just give it a full-on effort until my rubber band nearly snaps. I wobble into my drive, and climb off the bike. I slump over the crossbar gently heaving, sucking in great lung fulls of air. The sense of relief at finishing is wonderful.

22 miles in one hour 5 minutes is an average speed of 19.7 mph. Disappointed not to crack the 20 mark, but that was a good hard ride.

Pint of milk, a banana and a pot of tea.

......It's not how you start...

2007-05-25T16:19:00.000+01:00

.....it's how you finish.

Of course.

The Spring Bank Holiday weekend signals the start of summer in my mind. Unfortunately, I believe the weather forecast is not that good, but I'm not too bothered because we're heading up the A34 to a family get- together in Coventry. I used to work at Walsgrave Hospital over 20 years ago when I was a junior doctor. I'm glad I don't have to work in excess of 80 hours every week anymore, plus the extra pressure of constantly striving to pass postgrad exams. But I was in my mid 20's back then, and would have been at the peak of my physical powers. I could cope better with the stress of my job and the constant sleep deprivation, and had greater power of recovery. I would love to be able to magically turn the clock back and feel how fit and strong I used to be. Who knows?

On the flip side, there was no internet back then, and 'we' knew a whole lot less about sports physiology and nutrition. By 'we', I mean Joe Public. I suspect elite athletes like Seb Coe and Steve Ovett were extremely well informed, but the knowledge hadn't filtered down through the ranks. If I was attempting to do L'Etape back then, I would have probably made a hash of it, despite being physiologically fitter and stronger.

I don't want to harp on again about my rubbish attempt at the marathon in '83, but looking back my training regime was laughable. Carbo loading? Beer has a lot of carbohydrate in it, so I stuck to the pie, chips and beer diet. As for replacing the muscle glcogen stores during the race by drinking special energy-rich fluids, or even maintaining hydration by regularly taking water.... not a chance. No wonder I hit the 'wall'.

Now, I'm using all the legal resources available (obviously I'm not going to use EPO, steroids, growth hormone etc).

I've got special carbohydrate powder which I mix with water to make batches of fluid to go in my bottles. I try and drink a certain volume regularly during long rides.

I have energy bars which I munch regularly too, a little and often for solid nourishment. If I'm feeling really knackered, I have satchets of energy gel, easy to digest, which contain extra caffeine to put some tiger in my tank.

When I finish a hard training session, I take a drink designed to aid recovery. It contains a mix of whey protein and special carbohydrates. I hope it works, because it's not cheap.

I'm taking low dose multi-vitamins, extra iron and calcium, Vitamin C and fish-oil tablets.

I've made an effort to improve my diet, with extra fruit and vegetables, and cut down on biscuits, red meat and sugary rubbish.

There are loads of books and magazine articles which contain training regimes for all sorts of different sports. There are gyms in every mid-sized town so we should all be able to use running and rowing machines. We have training aids such as HRM's, and there are plenty of sports coaches, masseurs and well-organised courses and training camps to help if necessary.

The only thing that hasn't changed is the influence of the mind over the body. Endurance events can be won or lost in the brain of the participant. Lance Armstrong is famous for his exploits and he's churned out endless quotes. My favourite is.. 'Pain is temporary..quitting is forever.'

Suffice to say, I won't be quitting unless my hip or shoulder has dislocated or my head has jammed itself in the front sprocket...... which brings me to a joke about Kylie, Robbie and Elton. Maybe not.

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want.

2007-05-24T17:02:00.000+01:00

I made two predictions at the end of my last blog, and the current Mrs C pointed out that only one of them came true. Star gazing is not my cup of tea, but I am reminded of the funny story regarding the manner in which the 'astrologer' Russell Grant was sacked by late Robert Maxwell, then boss of The Mirror. The opening sentence in his letter of dismissal read, ' As you already know......' I got the feeling that AC Milan knew they were going to win last night.

I spent a whole day fishing on Wednesday. Up with the birds, we left Yarmouth Harbour at 5am to head down the western Solent with the ebb tide. We hung a left at The Needles then cruised for over 2 hours at 12 knots into the mid-English Channel to get our fill of early season cod. Well, that was the plan.
I suspect many people have a strange notion of what we actually do when we say we've 'gone fishing'. What we don't do is chuck a baited hook over the side, sit down on a comfy seat and wait for a gullible fish to take the bait. We're on our feet all day on a moving deck, working heavy lures 50 metres below on the sea bed, up and down, trying to entice the little blighters. It's hard work, but no one complains when the weather is good and the alternative would be a day at work. There is also a fair bit of yarning, mickey taking and some telling of awful jokes. We didn't get back until 6pm by which time we were all sunburned, dehydrated and tired. My legs felt really stiff and achey, and I had that unpleasant light-headed feeling after a day of too much sun and too little sleep. The floor swims for a few more hours when you get back. A great day out and a freezer full of..... well, not many cod actually but don't tell anyone.

The football was a big disappointment. In a way, AC Milan had their share of the luck that they lacked two years ago, but for once, Benitez got the tactics wrong. There was Pennant skinning his fullback 2 out of 3 times and knocking crosses into the box for who? Kuyt on his own up against Nesta and Maldini. Two 6 foot-tall world class defenders. Not a chance. If ever Crouchy was needed it was last night. And Zenden? Too slow. Too much huff and puff. Bellamy should have been given his chance on the left of Crouchy, with Riise playing the wide role. Mascherano dropping into the defensive midfield on the left. Gerrard had one of his off days, so he looked only average.

My bike training is reaching a crucial stage.
I've worked hard in the last 10 weeks and so far I've done OK. I completed two 100 mile rides. I've developed strength and stamina that didn't exist when I started.
But, consider this fact. On the big day in July...there are still two mountains to climb after the 100 mile mark.
The other factor will be the temperature.
Today I did a moderately fast 25 mile run. For the first time this year I can report that it was hot. Hot and dry. It saps your energy. I was wearing the minimum, just a thin layer of technical moisture-wicking fabric. It wasn't nice to feel the heat radiating back off the tarmac on the slow climbs. I understand that the weather can be variable in the Pyrenees during July, but the most likely conditions will be temperatures approaching the mid-30's or more. I believe a lot of riders really suffered up L'Alpe de Huez last year in the heat, and the water ran out at the feeding stations.The burning sun was so bad that some poor souls tried to gain some shelter by lying in the gutter in the shadow of the small wall at the edge of the drop-off.

I've said before that a good power to weight ratio is the key to climbing these big mountains. My weight has never been an issue in my mind, but I did something I rarely do today... I stood on the scales in the bathroom. 11 stone 3. I've lost about 4 lbs since the end of the footy season. I guess I could lose another couple or three pounds if I continue in the same vain.... it's a nice thought to imagine leaving behind two bags of sugar at the bottom of the climbs, and not having to carry them up the hill. But I'm not going to be too bothered about losing any more. I need to stay strong and healthy, and keep on doing the things I've been doing. I don't want to lower my natural immunity and succumb to an infection which could easily knock a week of training off the schedule.

The County Press are going to publicise my Etape ride and money-raising efforts. A write -up and a photo. I hope it's accurate . It's another pain I will have to endure.

L'Alpe de Needles

2007-05-22T17:04:00.000+01:00

Today I'm on holiday.
Glorious sunshine again.
This morning I went for a leg loosener with the missus up to the Needles. Here I am on one of the switchback corners near the top.
This afternoon, I've done a real lung buster.. 22 miles at 19.4 mph including the steep climb up Strawberry Lane above Brighstone. Didn't manage to breathe out of my bottom though, so there's more to come. After Sunday's ride I have realised the importance of high intensity sessions.
Nipper is off to footy training soon, and then we've got a Riptide practice.

Tomorrow I'm going fishing, and then Liverpool are going to win the European Cup again.

Today Matthew...... I'm a food processor

2007-05-21T13:21:00.000+01:00

It’s Monday afternoon and I’m on leave this week so I'm slumped on the settee. Despite stuffing my face with a very healthy lunch, I’m still starving hungry. I think I need good old pie ‘n’ chips.
Yesterday was my first ever cycling event, and I really enjoyed it. 104 miles in 5 hours 43 minutes. I don’t know how many calories I burned, but I think I’ve earned my hunger pangs.

The ride started near Winchester and then took us through some spectacular Hampshire countryside. Having said that, most of it passed in a blur. The worst climb was Watership Down but I didn’t see any bunny rabbits nor hear Art Garfunkel. We were blessed with perfect conditions, sun all day long and little wind, which surely contributed to my enjoyment and a good time. The organisers described the event as a ‘sportive challenge’ and stressed that it wasn’t a race. I can promise you, everybody around me was racing their guts off. In order to make it a decent challenge, there were plenty of climbs, particularly in the last 15 miles when everyone was getting knackered. I finished quite well, within the gold medal standard for my age group.

I arrived nice and early, and then enjoyed the spectacle in the car park. All the other competitors seemed quietly confident as they prepared themselves. There was plenty of banter and ribald comments as friends and club mates teased each other about the day ahead. There were a few ladies, and a couple of them looked very fit and super-cool. I guess some are triathletes?
The bikes on show were spectacular. There is no doubt that this is a sport for the well-to-do middle aged, who eschew more gentle pastimes such as golf or sailing and need the buzz of an energetic aerobic workout. Everyone looked highly professional, and I felt a little nervous that I was out of my depth and unprepared for what lay ahead. The pungent whiff of embrocation tarnished the air, and I had to suppress a smile when some of the guys started doing good old fashioned limbering –up exercises. Then the bloke next to me started stretching… he could get his foot up on the saddle with his knee straight! Impressive. I can just about get my leg on the pedal. There was an underlying current of competitiveness… more about that later.

I was very uncertain about how much clothing to wear. I’m sure I feel the cold more than most, so I had my arm-warmers and a sleeveless gilet over a base layer and my short-sleeved jersey. Too much? Maybe… but remember what your mum used to tell you, ‘You can always take it off, but you can’t put it on’
I had drunk extra water right up to the start, and had taken on about 500 ml of SIS PSP22 energy drink with 20 minutes to go with a banana. On the bike I carried two 800 ml bottles with more PSP22, and every available pocket was stuffed with flapjacks, energy bars or gels. I bet the bloke who owns SIS is a millionaire.

They set us off at 5 minute intervals in bunches of about 30 and I made sure I was in the second group. The first 10 miles flew past, and then everything started to settle down. We seemed to be really motoring in a big group, but I felt comfortable. You have to really concentrate on the arse/tyre of the guy in front (or gal if you're lucky) and keep your wits about you. At 20 mph, if anyone touches a wheel, veers off line or brakes suddenly, then there will be a multi-bike pile up and it could be very nasty. But there is a tremendous feeling of combined speed, with a purring sound of meshing gears and rubber-on-tarmac. In the 'peloton' you feel like part of a vast articulated machine rushing headlong along some pre-destined route. During the whole day, I had no idea where I was going, where I was, or where I had come from. I just followed the guy in front or the black-on-yellow direction signs. Brilliant fun.
Some early observations.
1. It was great to hear the cussing as people made plenty of horrendous clunky gear-changes. Despite lots of expensive kit, loads of people don’t seem to have made the fine adjustments to their derailleurs in order to eliminate the clicking and clacking from the slightly mal-aligned cog wheels.
2. There is a huge variety in the size and shape of peoples’ calf muscles. I wonder what mine look like from behind?
3. Cyclists do not have body odour (compared with runners/joggers who usually stink).
4. There was tons of sophisticated electronica on peoples’ bikes. Presumably these are cadence monitors, GPS sensors, HRM’s and power meters. Paradoxically, it became apparent later on that some people didn’t have any sort of timer or milometer of any sort.
5. Lots of shaven legs
6. Lots of funny short socks with logos on the back for me to look at.

Back to my ‘race’. I had spotted this huge bloke in the car park, with a gorgeous bike and all the fancy paraphernalia, who looked like a previous Tour winner. He was ahead of me, so I sprinted up to him and tagged onto his wheel and let him set my pace for the next 15 miles. My thinking was simple… No disrespect intended, but.... 'a big-arse bloke means a BIG hole in the air for me to tuck into’. I think it worked. Remember, I’m the novice here, and need all the help I can get. Around 25 miles, the bunch was slowly dropping people off the back, and I realised that I was much faster than big-bottom up the hills.He was dropped, but to him I owe a vote of thanks. By now we were catching up with lots of the slower riders from the first starters, and leaving them behind mercilessly. At this point I was realising that this was a race in every sense of the word, and no quarter was given to anyone.There were lots of mini-breaks, and people trying to sprint up hills to no avail. Every time the bunch of us would chase them down on the fast sections and swallow them up. Slowly my group was thinning out, so that by the first drinks station at 35 miles, we were about 15 strong.

Then I was in for a shock. I stopped to refill my bottles with High 5 and to my amazement all but two or three carried on without stopping. Sh1t. I then had to work really hard to find 3 other guys of suitable pace and we formed a mini-group and cracked on at top speed. I must admit that I did no leading, but hid behind someone from the Discovery team nearly all the time. I offered him an apology for my parasitic behaviour. We were now going faster than at any time before and I was working hard and really wishing that I hadn’t stopped. Around 40-ish we finally caught up with my original group and I was able to settle down at a slightly slower pace.

The ride then settled into a sort of rhythm for the next 30 miles. I learned a lot about riding in a ‘peloton’. First off, don’t ride at the very back. If you do, you can’t avoid this horrible elastic-band effect which makes it harder to keep in touch. Any slight change in pace at the front, either faster or slower gets magnified along the line. If they speed up you want to be within 8 feet of the wheel in front so that you can draft effectively. It’s a doddle, coasting, or just giving it a few gentle pushes. If not, at 25 mph you’ve got to pedal like a nutter making your own hole in the air. The cornering is exhilarating at 35 mph, avoiding gravel, potholes and drains. Good wheels and tyres are essential. I’m glad it wasn’t wet.
It also paid off to find someone with a smooth style. Some riders (and I’m probably one of them) are harder to follow because they ride a bit erratically, either in terms of weaving from side to side or speeding up and down. Now that's not condusive to energy conservation and that was the name of the game for me. Conserve energy was my mantra. Save it for later.

I really enjoyed the group riding, and the collective speed. Why worry so much about keeping with the group I hear you ask? Well, it was so much easier. The decrease in wind resistance, the pacing, the teamwork, the sense of having a measure of the required effort all helped me enormously. If I was on my own, I would be working almost as hard, and yet be going a lot slower. My worry at this point was whether I was going to be able to maintain this sort of speed to the end.

The miles ticked by and slowly we were dropping people so that towards 80 miles I was with 4 guys. I am indebted to a big strong chap decked out in sky-blue. His Pinnarello was blue, so were his tyres, shorts and shirt. He was strong as an ox and pulled me along all the flat stretches, pushing through the wind. I took my turns at the front , but I couldn’t do it for long, nor as fast as him. The great thing for me was the climbs… I was much quicker up the hills. It must be the bike and the 3 stone less that I am carrying.

The final 20 miles predictably became a bit more of a struggle. I was thirsty, had a headache and crampy tummy pains. My bum ached, my neck and shoulders were stiff, and even my hands were sore from gripping the bars despite wearing gloves. The lower back was stiffer than Dirk Diggler and, like every other rider, it was nice to get the chance to stand on the pedals every now and then and flex the spine forward to gain a few minutes relief. I’m very pleased to find that my back feels fine this morning.

The last few miles were annoyingly hilly, but I had plenty of ooomph to get out of the saddle and power up them instead of the slow grind in bottom gear thang. The organisers had told us it was 103 miles, but my odometer was well past the 104 mark as I sped around the final corners, and I can promise you that an extra mile at this point matters! Finally, around a final turn to enter Sparsholt College, over the speed humps far too fast, and then over the timing strips. Bliss. No cheering, no starlets, no cup of tea. Back to the car for a sit down on a comfy seat!

My official time will posted on the HHH website this week, but according to my data I'm pretty sure that I've qualified for an imaginary gold medal.

Afterwards I drank a 3 or 4 litres of water before I could get an effective diuresis going. Aren't kidneys great things. I felt sick for a couple of hours and my tummy was a little upset. My headache lasted until 9pm when I hit the sack for a delicious well-earned sleep. By the way, my daughter was competing at Bracknell Ice Rink all day, and came second in her event, which is fantastic. I didn't see her all day.

Today... bring on the food. It’s time to eat.

Don't forget www.justgiving.com/etapeorbust

I'm only sleeping

2007-05-20T18:59:00.000+01:00

Today I did the Hampshire Hilly 100.
What a fantastic exhilarating ride!
I loved it.

The statistics according to my bike computer ..... Total miles was actually 104. The 'official' anticipated mileage was 103, but everyone I spoke to agreed with me when they checked their computer or GPS system.

Average speed............... 18.2 mph in 5 hours 43 minutes.
I think that's an OK sort of time, but I don't really know. Of course, this wasn't a race . It was a challenge, a sportive, although everyone around me seemed to be racing their nuts off . I like that. If you didn't already know, lots of men (and women) are competitive in everything they do.
The organisers will be posting all the times in a few days so I can see how I measure up against the other 400 or so entrants.

I've got loads of stories to tell you about today, but I'm too knackered to write any more. Off to bed.

All the Small Things

2007-05-19T20:15:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow is the first big race/sportive of my cycling 'career', The Hilly 100.

Today the sun has cracked the paint off the walls, and we've had a strong south wester pushing up the Channel. Dry, windy and sunny.... my kind of perfect day.

I dragged the poor old dog up the beach at 6-30 am, by which time my daughter was already on the ice at Ryde Arena for her regular skating lesson.
Son No.1 was on the 'puter playing Runescape by the time I got back, and he didn't budge until about midday when he could no longer stand the pain of his full bladder. I have no idea what this game is about. Every 30 minutes he's on the phone to his buddy Macca conspiring together to advance through the game. I think that's what they talk about. Apparently they 'cheat' or work out some new strategy. I'm glad computer games didn't exist when I was a nipper.

The warm weather in the latter part of this week has got the grass (and the weeds) growing like mad. Unfortunately, my ride-on mower has been on the blink 182..... every time I tried to engage the blades the engine has been cutting out. Even I knew that it must be a faulty relay or switch somewhere, but it took me 2 hours to track it down to a tiny screw. Once I had found the fault, it was cured with half a turn of a screwdriver. If I hadn't got the grass cut today I'm would be needing to borrow a tractor and a set of gang-mowers.

Then it was time to get the bike ready for tomorrow's big ride. The main thing was to wash a weeks worth of sticky mess off the handlebars which accumulates when you drink from your bottles. She didn't need a polish, but she's had one anyway. Then I checked the brakes, the bearings and tweaked the adjustment of the front derailleur.

After the bike was gleaming, I got all the clothing together, mixed some drinks, made a load of flapjack.

I think it's important to get the small things right. The 'big' thing is the riding of the bike. I'm on the 6am ferry in the morning in order to get to Winchester for an 8am start.

I should be able to do the 103 miles. Well, let's face it. If I can't do a 100 tomorrow how am I going to cope with 125 miles and 5 huge climbs in the Pyrenees in 8 weeks time?

I'll let you know either tomorrow night or Monday.

She flies like a bird.

2007-05-18T18:31:00.000+01:00

This is the final word on saddles and sore bottoms.

This is a photo of 'Fred' sitting on my new 130mm Toupe. Fred had been on the latest trendy diet, but took it too far. As you can see his ischial tuberosities (the bony bits in your bum cheeks) are sitting nicely on the supportive wings of the saddle. After two test rides I've decided that my derriere is a lot bigger than Freds, and I didn't think the new saddle was an improvement on my original 143 mm Toupe. So, it's as we were, and I'm just going to tough it out, irrespective of the pain. This is a psychological war and I'm going to win.

Yesterday I did nearly 40 very pleasant miles with Peter and Steve, two top riders, who I have got to know via a combination of the power of the blog and work. We had perfect weather and it was nice to be able to ride with two other people instead of on my lonesome. The pace was decent, we had a nice mini-peloton thing happening, and I got the chance to see how hill climbing should be done.....err, faster than me.

So, after a shower and the obligatory pot of tea, we retired to The Red Lion at Freshwater for very good pub food and a couple of pints of 6X. The barmaid was a honeybus. After stuffing ourselves , I had the chance to bombard the lads with 101 detailed questions concerning all aspects of road cycling. Steve used to be a professional rider so has been to places on his bike that we bumbling amateurs will never reach. One of the things what I have learned about this road riding business are the massive amount of components and accessories available, which allows you to customise your bike as far as the budget allows. I'm slightly out of synch here because I know less about tasty bike kit than Manuel , and let's face it, 'He knows nothing.' Anyway, the message from Steve is clear. I need new wheels and rubber. Actually I don't need them, but now I want them. More sensibly, it would be a good idea to have some spares available in case I break a spoke or tear a tyre just before a big event.

The other thing that Steve stressed as the Etape gets ever closer is the importance of getting your weight down as much as possible, but without losing strength. That means sensible eating, skillful training and is not just about starving yourself. There are other 'tricks' involved designed to teach your body to burn fat more efficiently, so I think the message is to train 'smart'. Funny...that's the entire gist of the JBST smartcast.

As you know, I've got a 100 mile sportive/race on Sunday. After a confidence wobble earlier in the week, I've given myself a good motivational talk and am now feeling tip-top. Today and tomorrow are rest days, and I want to get plenty of sleep. Hopefully I'll be able to go kitesurfing tomorrow, as we've got a decent forecast.

Maybe I'll have an early night?

Is cycling the new golf?

2007-05-17T19:37:00.000+01:00

Here's a pic of Steve and Peter who have just dragged me around my neck of the woods for a couple or three hours on our bikes. One of these guys used to be a pro cyclist: Can you guess which one?

A few observations.
Cycling with other people is a thousand times easier than being on your own,
Riding in warm sunny relatively calm conditions is fantastic.
The Island is a hilly place to live.
Cycling is more difficult when your front brake is binding.
My bottom doesn't hurt when I don't think about it.
Ex-pro cyclists are much faster and fitter than middle-aged blokes who take up cycling instead of golf.

I've got to go and meet my new buddies for an intensive liquid calorie intake session.

An anagram for you

2007-05-15T22:13:00.000+01:00

An amazing thing happened today.
Somehow, don't ask me how, I flicked from Sky News and landed on Countdown.
There was brainy Carol Vorderman putting up the letters for an anagram. Des O'Flipping Connor instead of the legend that was Richard Whitely?

You'll never believe what the anagram to solve was .. PETECLOSE

That's me! Why did they choose my name? Is it a sign?

Can you solve it?
It's easy, but the two contestants failed.
Loads of people in the studio audience got it.

I need a boost of confidence

2007-05-15T21:05:00.000+01:00

I blogged about my Muddy Fox Explorer yesterday, which promptly nudged the old memory cells at the back of my brain and set my cogs a whirring. Consequently, I was obliged to spend two hours when I should have been asleep going through our box of crappy old photos, looking for the above picture of my old bike. Actually, I found the picture almost immediately, but that didn't stop me ooohing and aaaaahing over all the other photos which I simply had to go through one by one.
One interesting thing to note is the 'biopace' front chain rings... they are elliptical instead of circular. The idea was to improve the smoothness of the pedalling action.

It's just under 9 weeks to L'Etape, and I must admit that I'm leaking any confidence which I had like a leaky sieve with extra holes in it. It's a combination of factors. Initially I made big advances and really pushed myself. I did an 80 miler and quickly followed that with a ton. But since then I've lacked the time and inclination to repeat the 100, and I'm slightly dreading the thought of doing it again. There is also the feeling of impending doom when I think of the bum ache which I have to go through. Jacko has sent me a new 130mm Toupe saddle and I've fitted it and given her a go. The verdict..... I think it's better, but I'm not sure yet.
I've also got a bad back. I think it's down to lugging the heavy amplifiers in and out of the car for our gig last Saturday, but it might also be the cycling that's doing it. That worries me.

Today, I had some academic work to do. I'm preparing a couple of lectures and then I went through a load of old X-rays looking for cases of cycling injuries on Island patients from the last few years. I've seen some beauties.

Outside, it was tipping it down , but I was ready to ride at about 3 pm as it seemed to be clearing. I planned a fast 30 miler around the far West Wight. After only 15 minutes the sky's opened again and I got another drenching. Sodden. I think the new saddle may be a winner but this ride only lasted less than 2 hours so I can't be certain yet.

I'm deliberately taking it easy this week because The Hampshire 100 is coming up this Sunday. We expert athletes call it tapering. I want to be fizzing with vim and vigour come Sunday morning, with my legs loose and strong, not aching and stiff. I'm a little anxious that I am going to really struggle. 103 miles with loads of hills and a tough finish apparently, according to the website. I planned to do this event way back at the start of my campaign, and in a way it will let me know if I'm on course for the Etape. I feel that by blogging I'm setting myself up for public humiliation. On the other hand, if it goes OK on Sunday, I'll feel really chipper .

Oh well. I'll do my best. I'm looking forward to a nice semi-social ride with 2 work colleagues from the mainland on Thursday. We're planning a gentle 30 miles. BUT, one of these guys is an ex-pro rider, he's about half my age, and so I think I'll be tying an old railway sleeper to his rear wheel.

It's been a hard days night.

2007-05-14T19:59:00.000+01:00

The Beatles are the greatest band ever, and will never be eclipsed. I won't waste time or space justifying that statement, because I could write a thesis on the subject. Please don't bother arguing, unless you are prepared to respond electronically (and sensibly) to my blog so that we can all read your comments. (This is designed to provoke The Cosmic Lawnmower).
Anyway, my favourite Beatles story concerns Ringo ..... during a TV interview a cheesy guy asked the boys, 'What do the band think about the generally accepted opinion that Ringo has become the greatest drummer in the world?' Quick as a flash John replied, ' The greatest drummer in the world?.. He's not even the greatest drummer in The Beatles! '

I used to live in Liverpool, near Penny Lane, where my mate Mugsy is a GP. Way back in about 1984 I bought my first mountain bike. It was a Muddy Fox, bought from Alex Andersen at Valhalla Custom. (He made custom windsurf boards). Actually, we bought two, a his and hers. My girlfriend (she's the wife now) and I used to take them to Angelsey, or The Trough of Bowland or out to the Delamere Forest, go riding, have pub grub, drink beer and generally do things together (apart from the obvious, giggles out loud).
It's difficult to remember what a huge impact these fancy-dan bikes had on the cycling scene. The radical steering geometry, bullet-proof construction, the fat tyres, the brakes and the low gears...it really revitalised my enjoyment of riding a bike. I could zip in and out of town too, across the broken glass, over the paths, through the parks and bump it up and down kerbs. Great for city riding, as long as you could ensure that the scallies didn't knick your bike. I left it in town U-chained to a lamppost by George Henry Lee's once, and some annoying little urchin stole the saddle. That was an uncomfortable ride home. I'll have to go through the box of old photos to see if I've got any good pictures of my original Muddy Fox.

When I moved to the Island I graduated to Marin. I broke one in 1994 when I crashed in a downhill race (broke my clavicle and dented the top tube). Then a few years ago Adrian at Extreme Cycles wouldn't let me leave the shop unless I bought a Whyte PRST-1. A terrific piece of kit. I was more than happy to take it out into the forest and trails near my house once a week or so, and I used to exercise the dog on it, but the longest ride I ever did would be an hour max. Obviously, off-road riding is nearly always more energy sapping than tarmac riding. I also know some horrific trails and paths, up some pretty steep hills, and when it's wet, the tyres just bog down and slip. But, the point is, if you had told me 10 weeks ago that I would regularly be doing rides of between 3 to 7 hours on the road, I would have guffawed loudly. and then laughed some more. How would I find the time? Impossible.

And yet, here I am, in the twinkling of the eye, transformed into a road riding machine.Sort of. You wouldn't believe the kit I've acquired.... here goes.... shoes, cleats, overshoes, long-legged Assos suit, short-legged bib thingy, leg warmers, arm warmers, base layers..long and short sleeved, gilet, gloves, helmet, pump, inner tubes, tyre levers, saddle bag, toolkit, a computer, a heart rate monitor, tons of special sports drink powder, two jerseys, two saddles, one bike and a pot of Assos anti-sore-bum cream.

PLEASE, PLEASE do not state the obvious and point out that I would have raised a lot more money for Prostate Cancer if I had added up the anticipated cost of all this kit and simply donated it to the charity.
So I'm ramping up the money raising effort. I'm not happy so far... less than £500 in the kitty to date is pathetic.

I've raised the bar to a £1000, and I'm going to get there.

First off, I've got some signed copies of the biking film Cobbles Baby! to give to the people who make the biggest donations. AND they're signed by the dude who made the film, Scott Coady. Check out his website on http://www.thetourbaby.com/ or http://www.cobblesbabymovie.com/ .
So come on you lot. Help me spread the word. Tell your mates at work, let the old fella know, and email my blog address to 10 people in your address book.

The Bike. It's serviced it, cleaned, polished and equipped with a new saddle. I've had 2 days (essential) rest, because Saturday's ride really took it out of me. Tomorrow will hopefully be a 20 mile speed session, weather permitting. Then 30 miles on Thursday. Next Sunday I'm riding The Hampshire Hilly 100.

Some more stuff about prostate cancer.

2007-05-13T10:32:00.000+01:00

This image is taken during a procedure that I do at work called 'percutaneous nephrostomy'.

One of the nasty things that prostate cancer does is grow insidiously around the base of the bladder and slowly destroy the structures in the vicinity. There's quite a lot of important stuff in a man's pelvis. Unfortunately this commonly includes the ureters which are the tubes that connect your kidneys to the bladder. It's usually painless, strangely enough, but the result is slowly progressive kidney failure which creeps up on the patient. You've got two kidneys, so usually one side goes first silently with no signs or symptoms. The 'good' kidney takes up the strain until that one eventually gets blocked too, and then you're in big trouble. Soon it will becomes obvious that the patient is 'ill' and blood tests reveal renal failure. Without treatment you're dead in a couple of weeks, unless the blockage can be relieved, or you have dialysis. We're not talking about really ancient old codgers here.... these are otherwise fit and active men as young as in their 50's. Just normal blokes who work, play golf, dote on their families, people like you and I.

We can bypass the blockage in two ways. The surgeons usually try and pass a tube up through the bladder through the holes where the ureters insert. This is not always possible because the cancer has caused so much damage and distortion. The other way involves radiology, and that's where I come in. Using ultrasound and X-rays I've inserted a tube through the skin and into the middle of the kidney where the urine is collecting, so that it can drain out through the tube and allow the kidney to hopefully function again. I would normally then pass another tube called a stent down the ureter to the bladder and get it across the blockage to leave the lower end in the bladder. I'm not blowing my own trumpet here. I've been trained to do this...it's my job. It's a team effort too, involving radiographers, nurses, anaesthetists etc.

The point is, 50% of us on the planet have a prostate. Men are rubbish at reporting embarrassing symptoms to their doctors, and ridiculously self-conscious with regard to being examined. I hope there will be a cure out there for prostate cancer, maybe not for my generation, but what about my son? Without lobbying, research and publicity it won't happen.

I've done this procedure twice in the last three weeks, so it give you an idea of how common this problem is.

Yesterday I did 67 miles. We had a gig last night. I'm tired! It's tipping with rain, so I won't be cutting the grass (again).
So, I'll be busy fitting my new saddle, checking my bike over after cleaning it, and then it's time to watch Wolves put 3 or 4 goals past West Brom... I hope.

Did I say it was windy yesterday ? I was wrong.

2007-05-11T17:43:00.000+01:00

I made a pathetic plea for a show of support on Thursday. As I type on Saturday afternoon, I've had 12 responses which is 1 more than I expected. So, I'm happy.

Big thanks to those regular responders... Mark, JackH, nmcgann and Jacko. Hi to John Colv.

JackH has pointed out the lack of any serious hill work in my riding and he is quite right. I'm aware of this and it's making me nervous. I have been scanning the wall planner at work trying to see if I can get a week away between now and early July for a week of serious hill climbing. But I don't think I can do it. Too many commitments, things to do, weddings, gigs etc.

And yes, I think the climate is changing. I must take a photo of the banana plant which I've grown from seed in my garden.

Last night was a bit hectic. We went out for a pizza to belatedly celebrate my daughter's birthday, and then I got a text telling me we were supposed to be in Cowes so that my son could attend the end-of-season awards night for his football team. Off we dashed, arrived just in time, and he picked up a medal. I also picked up a small memento for my input as a coach. I managed to restrict myself to a half of lager. That's willpower.

I'm at the stage now where I have to plan my rides up to 10 days or so in advance. A week on Sunday is The Hampshire Hilly 100 (miles) so I need to taper for that. Ideally I would have gone for a big ride tomorrow, but the forecast is pants with a wet capital P, so I had to go today. I felt tired last night, so I passed on an early start and set off at 9-ish after endless mucking about getting my gear together. AND my iPod shuffle wouldn't work. I think it has died after being drenched twice this week. I thought these things were supposed to be bomb proof?

Anyway, off I went, and Boys Oh Boys, was it windy? Absolutely honking, from the south west. You know it's windy when the spume reaches the road at Compton Bay, and as I passed I got a big faceful of grit and salt. I struggled to steer at times. My mind was whirring as I tried to think of a route to protect me from the worst of it, but due to where I live I was only too aware that wherever I went, I was inevitably going to be heading back into the wind for at least the final hour or so. Over Brading and Mersley Downs it was horrendous. It was all I could do to reach 12 mph on the flat into the wind, and the gusts from the side as I descended had me all over the road. Good bike handling practice, though! Thanks to those car drivers who realised I was struggling and gave me a wide berth.

If it wasn't for L'Etape, I would have been out there kitesurfing today. I am 'enjoying' getting cycling fit, and some of my rides have been a real pleasure. But, faced with the prospect of 4 or more hours of pedalling hard-yacca (particularly in these conditions) versus 4 hours of kiting, the latter would win every time. Not today though.... I've got to be dedicated if I'm to have any chance of completing the course in July.

Something else.... after completing over 1000 miles on this bike, I got my first puncture today. Have I mentioned I've been carrying a spare inner tube, tyre levers and a carbon mini pump? Plus, a pair of plastic gloves so that my hands don't get covered in oil. Therefore I was able to change the inner tube, remove the bony spike which had caused the puncture (looked like an animal tooth) and pump up the rear tyre to a reasonable pressure and continue, as opposed to getting on the phone to the missus and begging to be rescued. Smug. (By the way, I've had gazillions of punctures on my mountain bike, usually from riding over gorse or from flint shards cutting through the tyre). My ebay bought Barbieri pump weighs in at only 60g and it really did the job. Good design.

One strange thing .... the tyre had an awful lot of water inside it, between the tyre casing and the inner tube. There must have been ingress during my rides in the wet, but surely that shouldn't be happening? Has anyone else encountered this? How can it get in with pressures of 120psi? I don't know. I suppose this means I've been carrying the weight of that water around with me, not to mention the extra rotatory inertia as I pedal. Not good.

So, I ended up doing almost 70 miles, and arrived home feeling really ker-knackered. Extremely. The wind made it so tough, but I take some strength from the fact that cycling into a 25-35 mph wind on the flat is equivalent to climbing a hill when it's calm. I hope I'm going to feel better than this during the real thing, because there's no way I could have done another 50 miles including two Cols on the basis today's performance. Worrying.

Tomorrow, it's Walk The Wight, an annual charity event where 5000 people walk the Island from Bembridge to Freshwater. It's about 26 miles, over the chalk downs, and given tomorrow's forecast for rain and wind, it will be a real hard test for most. Last year over £200K was raised. Good luck to everyone, and I hope the rain holds off. I won't be doing it. A bit of kitesurfing in the morning, then I'll be watching Wolves beat the West Brom.

The garden has been neglected this year because of all this cycling, so I need to get the mower out if it stays dry. I also need to check my bike over, clean it, and have a look in the tyres for more water!

Finally, thanks to mucker smooth-legs Jackson, who has sent me a new saddle (130 mm Toupe) and a pair of slightly smaller shoes. Cheers.

Is anybody reading my blog?

2007-05-10T21:25:00.000+01:00

One of the most disconcerting things about blogging, is the thought that there is nobody actually reading all this drivel. Well, not literally, because I definitely know of.... oooh , at least 8 people, or maybe 9, who are regular readers, mainly at work. At least they tell me they read it. Then there are a couple of fellow cyclists and bloggers, particularly Mark, who has been a source of support and advice in the last few weeks. And top Northern pro racer, and mentor, Jacko. But that's it. It's annoying that the blog software doesn't have one of those devices which could log all the visits to my blogpage. On the other hand, it could be embarrassing as the counter lamely ticked over the 23 mark after 10 weeks of effort. Have you ever listened to the radio at 4 in the morning? No, of course you haven't. There are all these radio jocks sitting on their lonesome in some dusty studio babbling away to themselves. Very Alan Partridge. At least they're getting paid. My saving grace is the money I've raised for the old Prostate Cancer Charity. That can't be bad. And of course, I'm going to put in the effort whether or not anyone out there actually cares.

But then again, do I care? YES! So, here's a plea. I want those of you who read this daft blog on a regular basis to leave a comment .... please. Anything. I need at least 10 responses. So, come on. This is a test. Go on, go on, go on, go on. I dare you. It's easy. Just click below on the bit that says... 'x comments' ...and do it. Thanks.

I got home from work at 4-ish and as usual I was starving. I had a bowl of cornflakes and some tea, then got my cycling kit on in order to set off an hour later when my stomach emptied. I told you I was going to go for a ride irrespective of the weather. I started in the dry, but within 30 minutes it was tipping it down. The wind was Force 6 and gusty. Climbing up Blackgang Chine was murder. Hats off to the gang of old fellas and lasses on their bikes coming up the hill from Niton. I think they were still trying to do the Randonnee. They all looked in a bad way. Guess what... the blokes were at the front and 30 yards behind were their ladies. Why do they do that?

The wind was horrific on the top by viewpoint car park. These lightweight road bikes are really flighty in strong side winds, and the wheels with their flat spokes make steering almost impossible at times. My ear-bud headphones wouldn't stay in my lugholes again, so I had no music. I actually enjoyed the sound of the tyres zipping along the wet tarmac with the whirr of the chain and gears.

The final score was 27 miles at 17.8 mph. Which even Lance could not have done today. Honest. Not a chance.

Plan A and a go-faster haircut.

2007-05-09T18:58:00.000+01:00

Be careful what you pray for. It's blowing a hooley out there with wind and rain coating the house with salty spray. I'm having a rest day, nursing some tender muscles and achey legs. I've just had a go-faster haircut from the lovely Lorraine at Cut'n'Run in the West Wight Sports Centre, who cut off the gay quiff, and skillfully removed any vestiges of middle-age. She actually snips the stray hairs protruding from my ears and eyebrows. Does anyone think I should get some sort of special hair-cut just before the Etape? I've never dyed my hair blond ...... a sponsored hair-do or a sponsored leg shave?

We've waited all year for a decent blow from the south west. Those of us into kite and windsurfing had practically given up all hope of ever getting wet again as our kit gathers mildew in the garage. Even the reliable storm-chasing spring equinox has come and gone with nary a puff of wind. The gardeners are complaining already about the lack of rain, and it's only the second week of May. Perhaps we're in for another summer like that of 1976, when I had the misfortune to be doing my O-levels. Those halcyon days of flares, tank tops and The Osmonds. The Government of the day became so desperate that they appointed Denis Howell to be The Minister of Drought, and then three days later the heavens opened and the drought was broken. That was either good luck or an inspired appointment. What did the Chairman of a premier football club famously say.... 'Given the choice of a brilliant manager versus a lucky one , I'd take the lucky man every time.'

I have to say the fine weather has been a real help to my training. I know I've got to be prepared to ride through anything on July 16th, but there is no doubt that calm, dry conditions with a bit of warm sun on your back makes it all a lot easier. I understand that it is possible to freeze your nuts off even in mid-July on the top of those Pyreneean Cols, but there is no need to suffer unnecessarily on the Isle of Wight in mid-May. I want as much heat as global warming can chuck at me right now. Any day now the mackerel will be arriving in big numbers in the inshore waters around the Island, encouraged to move with an advancing front of warmer water pushing up from the West. With the mackerel come the bass, which has become an incredibly expensive and fashionable fish in the last few years. They are a great sports fish, plentiful and relatively easy to catch, and obviously also great to eat. I'm going to have to sacrifice a few fishing sessions in the next 9 weeks and get out on the bike instead. That will be a tough call, but I really have to knuckle under and keep racking up the miles.

The forecast for tomorrow is more wind and rain, so I don't think I'll ride to work, but aim to do a 20 mile speed session in the evening whatever the weather. A week on Sunday, I'm entered in The Hampshire Hilly 100, which will hopefully be a benchmark to see how I'm progressing. I need to think ahead about my training to try and make sure my legs will feel fresh and strong. I think I'll concentrate on intensity rather than distance in the next 10 days and see if I'm OK. If not..... I'll revert to plan B.

Let's Go For An 80 mile Ride

2007-05-08T16:38:00.000+01:00

Today we're going to do an 80 mile ride on the Island, and you're coming with me.

Preparation begins the night before. I need to make sure that my bike is ready with no annoying faults. I always check that the wheels are secure and that the brakes aren't binding. I also pump up the tyres to their correct pressures, and pack my saddle bag with my puncture repair kit, door key, £5 note, multi-tool and a spare inner tube. I reset my cycle computer and fix it in its holder on the bars.

I try and make sure all my cycling clothing is together so I can find it in the morning because I don't think the wife will be very happy if I wake her to ask where my shirt is. I'll make my mind up in the morning exactly what I'll wear depending on the weather. I mix some SIS energy drinks in my bottles, leave them in the fridge, and weigh out some spare 50g sachets and wrap them in foil. They go in the saddle bag, with some pieces of homemade flapjack.

I also need to load the iPod shuffle with a playlist. This can take ages....Do I go for music or podcasts, a mixture, a random shuffle or what? It's important because I'm anticipating a 5 to 6 hour ride and I'll go nuts if I have to listen to my own brain for all that time.

Early to bed, hopefully,having avoided any spicy food for tea. I also try and ensure I'm reasonably well hydrated with clear looking urine (as opposed to yellow). No beer.

Up at 5-15 am. Creep downstairs, feed the cats, kettle on. I often feel a bit nauseous when I get up this early and today is no exception. We're low on milk; I can't have cereal. So breakfast is a lemon curd sandwich, a banana and 3 mugs of tea. The gastro-colic reflex kicks in on cue, so after the bathroom, I get dressed. It looks grey and cold outside, and it's windy, so I opt for my warm Assos long-legged trousers and an intermediate jersey over a long-sleeved base layer. I would rather be too hot than too cold. This turns out to be a very wise decision.

Last things before I leave, empty the bladder, grab helmet, gloves and shoes, gels and energy bars in my jersey back-pockets and finally stuff my mobile in its neoprene protective case. You never know when a phone could save the bacon.

Off we go. Computer on. I'm cold, particularly my arms. I head up the steep hill from my house in Brook, then right towards Carisbrooke. The first half hour is always a little uncomfortable getting into a rhythm, and I'm still feeling slightly sick. There is always a feeling of low grade trepidation, knowing that we've got 6 hours of effort ahead of us. Arctic Monkeys on the iPod....oh NO, they're singing Mardy Bum!

7 miles and I head north to Porchfield, and then hang a left to face due west. Immediately the strong south-westerly hits me and my speed drops. I tuck down to minimise wind resistance. I try and drink regularly, a little and often. Overfilling the stomach will make me sick, and you can only absorb a limited amount per hour. I'm feeling good now, the legs are strong and I've warmed up. I hunker down and try and enjoy my music as I spin towards Yarmouth, and then on towards the extreme western tip of the Island, the Needles. I climb the hills past the no entry sign, and go right up to the coastguard lookout. 15 miles. Not much of a view today, but this is what it looked like last week.

We speed away with a tail wind and head for the Military Road which runs along the south west coast with the surf on our right. It's a 16 mile run to Niton, with 2 biggish hills to climb at Freshwater and Blackgang. The wind is pushing me along, Force 6 and so we really give it the full monty treatment. I'm flying along at 25 mph, and it feels good. Geoff Lynn sings Mr Blue Sky, but the sky is looking increasingly overcast.

From Niton we take the undulating undercliff road with its subsided road surface, and I hit a bad patch. It starts to drizzle, and my bum starts to ache. We've done over 30 miles by now. 2 hours. Time to eat. I reach behind and grab a power bar and try and open it... to no avail. I virtually come to a standstill trying to rip through the wrapper with my teeth, and I almost give up and do a Basil Fawlty. Eventually we're into it, chewing laboriously, making my ears pop. I have to wash the stodgy stuff down with lots of fluid but I do seem to get an energy buzz 20 minutes later. It's just as well, because we're facing a gruelling climb out of Ventnor. I've deliberately taken a circuitous route through this Victorian seaside resort because I want to get used to horrible hills, and so I force myself to do a bit of an up and down circuit. That's commitment. Bring on the Pyrenees.Only joking.

Unfortunately it's now pissing down, to coin a phrase, and I'm not happy. Geoff Lynn is onto Horace Wimp. A number of things run through my brain. My bike will get wet. I'm going to get wet. Will my phone be OK? Will the tiny revolving CD's in my iPod get rusty? As the water gets thrown up my back from the rear wheel I gradually get soaking wet. I feel as if I'm sitting in a wet nappy as the water soaks into my seat padding. I start downhill towards Shanklin and I'm feeling cold. It's time to dig deep. I'm also very nervous of throwing it down the road. The slick tyres are starting to skip a little on the manhole covers. Years of riding a motorbike has prepared me well, as I scan the road surface ahead for rivulets of rain, the telltale rainbow signs of diesel, and those little treacherous patches of matted leaves, blossom and gravel on the corners. Scary time on the descent.

We climb out of the side road from Shanklin towards Godshill, then take the Canteen Road. The wind blows me along at 30 mph on the flat so I forget the discomfort for the next 15 minutes. I do a loop through Newbridge and head up the downs towards Robin Hill. I'm in the clouds up here. Left to Arreton and do the loop again, but this time, hang a right after Knighton towards Brading. A long climb, not too steep, but my feet are squelching every time I push down on the pedals.

We're on the brakes,descending gently, through the driving rain which is stinging my face and blinding me. Drop into Brading on a 14% gradient before turning right and heading back to Yaverland, Sandown and Shanklin beyond. I'm cold, tired and so wet. My perineum is feeling raw on the wet saddle. Now I know why babies cry when they fill their nappies. I briefly think about bawling, but decide it won't make any difference. On the Pod, we've got Queens of the Stone Age. Pedal to the metal.

This is the toughest part of the ride with 30 miles to go, which amounts to 2 more hours. Through the back of Shanklin on autopilot then begin the utterly dreadful climb at Cowleaze. It's not so much the gradient as the appalling rutted road surface near the Rec, and the wind is relentless. My thighs are feeling tender now, but there's still plenty of ooomph in them. I've been munching my energy bars and flapjacks, and refilled my water bottles from a petrol station (NO..with water..not petrol). I'm so glad I've got wind protection from my Assos gear.

The climbs through Ventnor are not too bad, then we go out the back way to Whitwell, and head to Chale. Like Steve McQueen,a fast machine. Sheryl Crow...she's brilliant. I could be home in 10 miles from the Spar, but I need to do nearer 20, and so I head out the back way towards the Chequers at Rookley. It's all about determination at this stage, and keeping upright through the puddles, avoiding the boyracers on their way to work. Why do they stick those waste-paper bins up the back of their cars where the exhaust pipe should go? I guess they think it looks cool? You want a cool car?

Ford Capri circa 1983. That's rear wheel-drive class. I always wanted the 2.8i, but living in Liverpool it would have been a waste of time. Scally car thieves couldn't resist them.

I'm without music as I head out of Rookley, taking the back road to Carisbrooke Castle, and Michelle's horses. My ear drums are so wet that the ear-bud headphones won't grip the skin of my ear holes ( external auditory meatii actually) anymore. I hardly notice the effort of pedalling, which is a measure of my fitness after 10 weeks of training. From The Waverley, to Shorwell Shute, and I'm out of my seat giving it a bit of welly. Ralph Cook in his tipper truck. I nearly lose the front wheel on the gravel by The Crown, then it's a drag through Brighstone to Brook into the full teeth of the wind off the Back of the Wight.

We've done 86 miles at 16.5 mph in about 5 and a quarter hours. A sense of satisfaction.

Fall through the back door, peel of the sodden gear, hot shower. Food. Mugs of tea.

I hope it's days like these which will eventually pay off in July. If I can cope with the wind, rain and cold today, it can't get much worse..? Can it?

Jacko..get me a 130 mm Toupe , please.

Let There Be Rock

2007-05-07T10:22:00.000+01:00

If you've ever watched a group of kids playing, you quickly notice that they are really good at just mucking about. They laugh and giggle, find fun in the smallest thing , and generally enjoy themselves. Sadly, most adults have forgotten what it feels like to just have a good laugh and it becomes difficult to do things purely for the hell of it. I know there are exceptions to the rule, but most adults will understand the gist of what I mean. The gradual onset of an ever increasing combined burden of responsibility.... job, mortgage, parenthood, debt, etc slowly chips away at the carefree hedonistic 'feelgood' factor which we used to feel in our early twenties. Then there is the inevitable physical decline, even amongst those of us who are lucky enough to be healthy. The hair ...what's left of it, goes grey, the eyes slowly fail, achey backs and joints, indigestion, hangovers, piles, droopy bits, incontinence; need I continue? Depressing. The point is, it gets more difficult to act like a child, to just get out there and have unbridled fun. However, most of us find things that we enjoy doing and try and get around to our pastimes as often as possible. We also tend to find hobbies which match our income and social class. Which brings me to the subject of greasy leather-clad bikers. Here's a group of people who haven't forgotten what it's like to have a good time, doing what they like best, riding their bikes and partying hard.

There were two rallies less than 5 miles from our house this weekend. One is called The Over The Edge rally, the other The Gurt Gallybagger. Over a 1000 scary grebos on their bikes camping in a couple of fields. They're a sight too. Choppers, rat bikes, trikes and every other conceivable smoke-belching noisy machine. Then there's the Nazi helmets, goggles, rough-hewn skin cuts, boots and lots of black leather. It's probably true to say that some of them are not the most athletic chaps on the block. I would imagine that this vision of hell puts the wind up middle-class England? No need. What do you think they get up to ? Fighting the locals, rape and gang-bangs, orgtastic drug taking, knife fights, theft, thuggery and general mayhem? Well, no actually. Nothing of the sort. Most of them are as soft as pussy cats. They may look like an unruly bunch, a little scruffy and unkempt, but they are no worse than the semi-naked ladettes with their tattoos, short skirts and low-cut tops who stagger around most town centres every weekend drunk as skunks.In fact they are probably better-behaved and less of a problem to our police force .
The bikers are just a normal cross-section of society who happen to be united by their enjoyment of motorcycles and haven't forgotten what it's like to meet up together with their mates, tents and camping gear and have a great weekend. By day they laze around chewing the cud, take the bikes for a ride, and visit some of the Island villages. They eat a lot of food, and drink some beer. By night, it's more beer, music, dancing and general high spirits in the confines of a marquee in a field a few miles off the beaten track. OK, the odd spliff may be passed around, but that's about it. And they have a really good craic. Just because they can.
Hopefully Riptide contributed in a small way to the fun. We really enjoyed the gig.
The top 5 songs from our set list I hear you ask?

1.Motorhead....................Ace of Spades
2.The Proclaimers...........I'm Gonna Be (500 miles)
3.Shania Twain................Feel like A Woman
4.AC/DC...........................Let There Be Rock
5.The Darkness...............I Believe In A Thing Called Love.

Eclectic. You bet. Variety keeps it interesting.

Sadly, I'm not anticipating much variety during my next bike ride. I think I know every inch of the Island roads by now, but I need to keep racking up the miles if I'm going to complete this Etape route with any modicum of comfort. I'm definitely a bit bored of the long sessions over the same routes, and wish I could cycle across a bridge to the mainland and have a go through The New Forest.
Fellow Blogger Craig http://www.cstewart.net/blog/ has unnerved me by posting his account of a trial run along the Etape route. Quote.. 'On this week’s form I could certainly make it, but it will take superhuman effort. L’etape du tour is no cakewalk. Make no mistake.'
We're reaching a crucial stage of my training programme when I can still make big improvements as long as I continue to push myself. There are 9 weeks to go. Not very long is it?

Not enough hours in the day?

2007-05-06T17:07:00.000+01:00

I love the May Bank Holiday weekend. There are a combination of factors.... the prospect of the summer ahead, a long weekend, the start of the fishing season and all the things happening on the Island to make life more interesting.
Obviously, being a dedicated cyclist my first thoughts had to be of planning my training around the family's needs and other commitments. I decided not to do the IOW Randonnee on the Sunday, mainly because I don't feel that I need to do another 80 miler at the moment. I've already got two long rides under my belt in the last 3 weeks , and at the moment I'm aiming to increase the intensity of my rides, rather than the distance. It's a difficult balance to strike, but it's also important that I don't totally knacker myself. Riptide are playing at the Over The Edge biker rally on Sunday night, so I need to be on form, full of vim and energy, rather than feeling ready for bed.
Saturday afternoon I got my first chance to try out the heart rate monitor (HRM). I planned to do a 20 miler at just under 20 mph and aimed to try and keep my rate between 70-80%. I sellotaped a small note on the crossbar with the target rates written against 60, 70 and 80% rates which I had calculated from one of the formulae on a HRM website. It was interesting to see that when I started and settled into the ride, my rate wasn't high enough. I had to consciously pick up the effort to get over the 7o% mark and then I had to push it the whole way. So straight away I can see the the HRM ensures that I'm putting in the right amount of effort and getting the most out of the session.

Up at 5 am Sunday morning. I can promise you it took real dedication to force myself out of the house. I had to sneak into the bedroom to pick up my mobile just before I left, and I was so tempted to change my mind and slip under the nice warm duvee next to my nice warm wife. Another two hours sleep or two hours on the bike? The bike won...now that is true grit.

I needed to back within a couple of hours so I aimed to do about 40 miles or so. It was cold, misty and windy. Again I wore the HRM and went a little slower keeping to about 65-70%. Unfortunately I had terrible reflux towards the end of the ride and felt quite sick by the time I got home.
I'm deliberately not mentioning my mardy bum, in case you're all becoming besotted with its well being.

10 am and my mate helped me to relaunch my boat in Yarmouth Harbour. The town was brimming with recreational cyclists doing the Randonnee. This is an 80 mile ride around the Island. Congratulations to everyone who did it, or even attempted to do so. I saw a huge variation of machines and ironically the people who had the worst bikes also seemed to be the least fit.
One observation. Many man-woman couples were clearly riding 'together'. But, time after time, as I overtook them in my car, the man would be about a third of a mile ahead of the woman, while she puffed along in his wake, red-faced and exhausted. Why do blokes always do that? Couldn't he ride at her pace, or even lead her by a metre or so to enable her to take it slightly easier in his slipstream? It must be so demoralising to be constantly playing catch-up, and surely doesn't do much for the sense of togetherness.

Finally, lets hope and pray that Madeleine, the missing English girl in Portugal, can be recovered, alive and well. It's a horrible situation, a nightmare.

Well done to the Wolves. Bring on the Baggies.

Mardy Bum

2007-05-05T14:25:00.000+01:00

Thanks to everyone for the advice regarding my sore bottom. It's great to know you all care so much!

Above is the rogue saddle, a Specialized Toupe 143 mm width. As mucker Jacko stated, I now know they are also available as a 130 mm version. How is anyone supposed to know what size their bum is? Well the answer is to measure it actually, so I searched out my wife last night and gave her a ruler. I then exposed my bottom, bent over and put my middle fingers firmly on my ischial tuberosities (the bony bits you sit on). 'Measure between my fingers' I asked her...well I ordered her . 'OOOOOOOerhh', she said. Anyway, the upshot of this ridiculous episode is that I still don't know the size of my backside. Then she told me that when she was in a bike shop in Southampton they had a special bum-measuring gel pad device. That would do the trick.

I've had the bike back in the lounge, sitting on it propped against the sideboard, trying to make sure I've got the fore-aft position and height set correctly.

I've been massaging the synthetic chamois in my bike shorts with lovely Assos cream. Sorted.

Finally, another interesting thing is the torque settings quoted on my seat stem to ensure that the seat post clamp is tightened properly. With a carbon post and stem it would be easy to overcook it and crack the carbon, so I've always been a bit timid when I've been cinching it up. My mate John is the nation's top man with a torque wrench, so I asked him to check the tightness against the quoted setting of between 6.2 and 7.3 N-M (as if the average man in the street has an accurate torque wrench into which he can fit a 5 mm Allen key bit). Surprisingly, I had it done up far too loosely. Jacko uses hair spray to stop his slipping! The mind boggles.

When all this messing around is finished, I can't forget that I've got to get on the bike and ride. Time in the saddle is what I need. I'm going to go for a 20 miler today and try and use my borrowed heart rate monitor for the first time. One major problem is the complexity of this Suunto t6. I just can't get to grips with it. I want to keep my heart rate between two parameters, and be able to record my average rate at the end of the session. That should be easy, but I'm not confident that I've got it set up properly. We''ll see.

Top Island athlete injured climbing ladder!

2007-05-04T18:49:00.000+01:00

Now I know how Hugh Grant must feel as the paparazzi pursue his every move in the search for a newsworthy photograph. It's perfectly natural to doze off on the settee at the end of a tiring day, without being stalked by the wife and her camera. I don't know about you, but reading always makes me sleepy. A weak excuse.
The book is called 'Maximum performance for cyclists' and contains some very interesting training ideas. A lot of the content revolves around the principle that a cyclist needs to undergo some physiological testing to determine his baseline fitness, and then formulate a specific programme of exercise. This will include a lot of intense sessions using a heart rate monitor, plus weight training and flexibility exercises.
Yesterday was a bit disappointing on the cycling front. My muscles were still tender after Tuesday's 50-miler, and experience has taught me that piling on another session of exercise doesn't really get me anywhere. The muscle is sore for a reason, and the positive effect of the training effort comes from the repair, not the breakdown phase. Depressingly, as you get older, it takes longer to recover. The heart and lungs are stronger than the muscles, tendons and ligaments, despite the will power and resolve of Steve Redgrave... well almost. Us over 40's are also injury prone, and that is the other problem.
I have a boat which I've just taken out of the water on a trailer in order that my mate can service the outboard. It's been sitting in the drive for a few days (catching leaves and sticky sap). I have to climb up a short ladder to climb over the gunwhales, and as I bounded up yesterday afternoon my right calf muscle gave an almighty twang.
So, that put the kybosh on my intended training sesshy.
Thanks to Jacko and Mark for their advice on the saddle front. I took that photo of my saddle a few weeks ago and so it is in a different position as compared to the picture. I'm using Assos chamois cream. I think I will try a thinner saddle.
So, we've got a 3 day weekend ahead. Hopefully the weather will hold up for the biker rallies, the cyclists, walkers and tourists. We're going to be busy. Childcare commitments means I'm anticipating little free time for the bike.
So, I'll study my book, fiddle with the saddle and try and sneak out really early in the morning for a couple of hours.... and try not to snooze on the settee.
Thanks to all the A&E docs at St Mary's for their donation to the Prostate Cancer Charity.

There's nothing wrong with looking at the flowers.

2007-05-02T20:26:00.000+01:00

I've had a number of Fotherington-Thomas moments in the last week or so. OK, it's not the full-blown syndrome.... No skipping, no talking to the flowers and no girlie crying. But, I was compelled to stop three or four times during my ride yesterday and photograph the scenery, and I'm even admiring the hedgerow plants and blossom as I speed along the country lanes. This picture is supposed to show the coloured cliffs of Alum Bay. Unfortunately my tiny camera phone can't quite capture the glory of the colours, nor the strange light quality, but believe me, it's a great view. You have to walk, cycle or take the bus to get up to here. The bay below fills with boats in the summer, as it's a popular picnic spot for the yachtie brigade. It's usually calm and safe for snorkelling or a swim (or a gin and tonic). A strange antediluvian chairlift can bring you down to the beach from the Needles amusement park. My advice is to make the effort and get here early in the morning before the chavs launch their jet bikes. Snob? I used to have a Seadoo jetboat. Yes, I'm a hypocrite.

I'm sure another important factor in my relaxed and contented frame of mind is the perfect weather. There is no doubt that the warm sun on your back has an uplifting effect, and makes it easier to get out of the house and on that saddle. Weatherwise, it doesn't get much better than this. Unless we get a Force 5 Sou-wester and then we can all go kitesurfing again with some decent waves.

Talking of saddles, mine is a Specialized Toupe (pictured above) and I understand that it is generally regarded by the bike mags to be one of the best available. I'm becoming more certain that it is a bit too minimalist for my puny bottom. Sir Alex may have coined the phrase 'squeaky bum time', but for me after a couple of hours of riding, it's 'ooh my bum aches time'. It's not totally crippling, but the discomfort starts to occupy my mind and makes it more difficult to concentrate on pedalling. I find myself shifting my weight around to try and ease the pressure and then I'm standing on the pedals on gentle downhill sections to take weight off. I had hoped that by now I would have developed tolerance (or leathery bits of skin). Will it be bearable with a projected 9 to 10 hour day of effort during L'Etape? Probably, yes, but I don't need to make the task more difficult than it is already. I'm assuming that the Toupe is super thin in order to save weight and also to maximise energy transfer during the pedalling action. The rails are made of hollow titanium. But, L'Etape is a marathon, not a sprint, and I'm aiming to finish, not win a medal. Did I just say I don't want a medal?

So. I think I'll swap with my mountain bike saddle and see how I get on with some extra padding. I'll let you know.

Talking of marathons ,as opposed to sprints, don't we all love a cliche? The final games of The Championship action on Sunday will hopefully see Wolves into the playoffs. Or maybe not? To coin a phrase, it's not so much the losing as the hope what hurts. Eh? Hard luck to Chelsea and Man U. Europe has got the final we all wanted. Now I'm rambling.

It's been a Rest Day today. I'm ready to use a heart rate monitor tomorrow, kindly donated by Paul Rudling, so it should be very interesting to see where my heart rate is during my standard 20 mile route. My hope is to come in below the 80% mark, but I could be setting myself up for a fall with a prediction like that. Watch this space.

Sickness and health.

2007-05-01T21:14:00.000+01:00

The weather may have been beautiful again today, but it's been a miserable day for my 10 year old lad. The dreaded D and V has laid him low for the last 24 hours. He's feverish as well, and it really makes a parent worry when your children aren't well. He's starting to look a bit better in the last hour, so I think we've turned the corner.
I managed to fit in a 53 mile ride today at an average speed of 17.5 mph. I really enjoyed the ride, with a route which took in a trip up to The Needles Old Battery. This photo looks across the western Solent with the mainland and Hurst Castle in the background. My legs are unquestionably stronger with 8 weeks of work in them, and my mind and body have become accustomed to sessions of exercise which last for more than 3 hours. I am sure I'm on the right track, but I'm starting to become more and more certain that the key to the next couple of months is to train smarter. I spent the entire ride today listening to The JBST podcast, which is made by two triathlon coaches discussing modern training techniques for endurance athletes. It's inspiring stuff, and confirms my suspicions that I must get myself a heart rate monitor , and learn how to use it. Actually, there has been an interesting development in the last couple of days. The power of this blog has enabled me to make contact with a local pro cyclist, and he's kindly offered to help me with expert advice and guidance. There's talk of a session on a static bike, a ramp test and an attempt to measure my power output. It all sounds a bit scary because I'm going to be tested to my limit. Ultimately though, the appliance of modern science based on sound physiological principles appeals to me.
Come on Liverpool. Kuyt was onside.

Going green

2007-04-30T22:43:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-29T20:22:00.000+01:00

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?

2007-04-28T10:28:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-04-26T20:16:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-04-25T18:28:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-24T21:52:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-04-23T18:16:00.000+01:00

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?

2007-04-21T22:44:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-04-20T18:15:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-19T20:58:00.000+01:00

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!

2007-04-18T18:25:00.000+01:00

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?

2007-04-16T20:20:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-15T20:36:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-13T23:05:00.000+01:00

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?

2007-04-13T20:24:00.000+01:00

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!

2007-04-12T21:13:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-04-11T17:54:00.000+01:00

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.

2007-04-10T18:25:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-09T19:01:00.000+01:00

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?

2007-04-07T19:02:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-07T14:37:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-05T16:43:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-04T18:22:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-03T20:05:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-02T19:13:00.000+01:00

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.

My cunning plan

2007-03-31T10:04:00.000+01:00

I took this picture of my bike last week when the temperature was 19 degrees C. In the background is the rapeseed on the fields by the English Channel along the Military Road. I was about 4 miles from home at this point and swealtering hot.The next day it was down to 6 degrees and I haven't seen the sun since. Hopefully it should be warming up later today.
(Don't my water bottles look rubbish. Kit deficiency.)
Anyway, blogreader nmcgann has pointed out that I should be doing longer mileage endurance sessions, and I absolutely agree with him. I wish I was! The problem is....I just can't fit it all in. I'm sure I'm no different from many other people who have busy lives and family commitments. 2 children, a wife and a job.
There are two other factors for myself; football and avoiding getting injured.
Firstly I play club football which basically is a saturday afternoon match and training on Thursday evening. This means I need a rest day on Friday, and Sunday is recovery day. Football is an impact game. I also have to take my son to his football match on sunday which keeps me busy until early afternoon. Then, even if I was feeling OK and not still aching I couldn't really disappear again for the rest of the day...can I? So, on a Monday I might try and cycle to work instead of drive (25 miles). But, last week I was injured, and this week I have work commitments until 7pm. Tuesday is hopefully my 'big' ride of the week.....meaning that I need to recover on Wednesday, or perhaps cycle to work again....except I've had to go to parents' evening last week, and son's footy match the week before that. So, it's difficult. When the football season finishes in the next week or so, I'll obviously free up a lot more time and not be carrying soft tissue injuries. (Bearing in mind that the footy fitness is almost certainly a good thing, and gives me more strength and power).

I'm also deliberatley holding back a little in these early weeks. Remember I've gone from zero to 50 miles in three or four weeks. I'm 47. There is no doubt that the heart and lungs are stronger than the tendons and ligaments and I know only too well how middle aged sportsman tend to get overuse injuries and chronic annoying tendinitis.

Finally, I've also got other hobbies. Kitesurfing for one, fishing another. My motorbike. And I play guitar in a regularly gigging band. I'm prepared to make sacrifices for L'Etape but on a windy sunny day, I'm going to go kitesurfing. And when the bass start running, I'm going fishing.

So, the plan. I've built up to 50 miles with another 15 weeks to go. I aim to have a weekly long ride, increasing the distance by between 5 to 10 mile increments. Within a week or two the football will be over and that will enable me to get out early on a saturday and put in a long one. Also, I won't need to worry about resting before a game and recuperating after one. I'll be doing a bit of kitesurfing, and this will be good for strength and suppleness. I've got at least a couple of weeks annual leave between now and L'Etape and that will let me have a week-long-blitz and really go for it. I may go to France or Spain to really try and get acclimatised to proper hills and the heat.

I'm also planning to have three organised events:-
The IOW Randonnee is 100km on May 6th. That should be fun, cycling aroung the Island with hundreds of other people.
May 20th is the Hampshire Hilly 100. Sounds tough.
June 17th is the Circuit of the Cotwolds. Probably very very hard.

In between the big ride, with football out of the way, I'll do shorter hard speed sessions. I strongly believe there is a lot of benefit to be gained by mixing it up, and training at different speeds is vital. These marathon rides can be a bit boring, can't they?
That's it. I told you it was cunning.
By the way, my wife has totally banned me from shaving my legs.Final word.

Helen, Sister in X-Ray, has been personally tending to my wounded leg.

2007-03-30T20:04:00.000+01:00

I do apologise for posting another photo of my wound, but pathetically it has been troubling me all week.
I work as a Radiologist in an X-Ray department and we have Sister O'Kell keeping an eye on everyones' minor ailments, cuts and bruises. Helen has taken responsibility for dressing my wound after I exhibited typical male doctor ignorance. Anyway, the 'treatment' has been to clean it, and then cover it with a film of Opsite....which is similair to high-tech cling film. Hopefully you can see that a goopy golden exudate has been collecting under the Opsite. This is good, apparently, and it lets the wound heal without scabbing over and avoids scarring. It certainly seems to be working. I would think that all cyclists must have fallen at some time. It's not really practical to carry a first aid kit.

Which brings me nicely onto the subject of shaving your legs. Now Simon Jackson has suggested that I should shave mine, perhaps for charity. Strangely, it seems that the practice of shaving your legs amongst keen cyclists is widely known by the general public. But can we clear up some confusion? Is it to facilitate streamlining/diminish wind resistance or is it because cyclists are so prone to falling off their bikes that they want to make administration and removal of the copious amounts of Elastoplast easier, less painful and more hygienic? Surely it is the latter. And am I supposed to oil my legs too? I am planning to use sunblock in the summer and that's pretty greasy. Will that suffice?
But isn't this a slightly pessimistic indictment of the sport. I mean, we all know motorcycling racing is a seriously dangerous sport, but do those boys get their blood cross-matched before a race? No. It suggests that falling off your bike is practically the norm, and in view of the pain which I have endured after my relatively trifling 'off' last week, I salute all those professional or amateur racing cyclists for your bravery and committment.
I fell on my wounded right hip at footy training last night and it chuffing hurt. But I've got to play against Sandown tomorrow (for Ryde Saints reserves) so it will have to do. Then we've got a gig at The Anchor, Cowes saturday evening and then sunday will be relative rest day. If I'm not too knackered and the weather warms up a bit, I'll probably go for a 20-miler in the evening.
Thanks to everyone who is reading my blog, and the comments are very much appreciated.

2007-03-29T23:04:00.000+01:00

Foix to Loudenvielle - Distance 196 km
Km 27 Col de Port Ascent of 11,4 km at a 5,3% gradient
Km 98 Col de Portet d’Aspet Ascent of 5,7 km at a 6,9% gradient
Km 114 Col de Menté Ascent of 7 km at a 8,1% gradient
Km 159 Port de Balès Ascent of 19,2 km at a 6,2% gradient
Km 184 Col de Peyresourde Ascent of 9,7 km at a 7,8% gradient

I've copied out the profile of the route with the 5 major ascents. It's very difficult to imagine just how bad these climbs are going to be. I wish I knew how steep the climbs are on the Island. We've got some pretty nasty roads within 5 miles of my house, so I might spend a few hours just going up and down. I've certainly spent a few years grinding up horribly muddly forest trails with the rear wheel spinning under load. But the mountain bike has 27 gears and a tiny granny ring.
Presumably a 6% gradient means you rise 6 metres for every 100 metres along the road? Can anyone out there confirm? But I bet the ascent isn't steady. For sure there will be flat sections interspersed with horrendous steep bits. I think the climb up Brading Down is 14% so that is way worse than any of these Cols. The trouble is, the climbs on the Island last for a couple of km at most, not for 10 to 20.
I've been footy training tonight and I've got a league match on Saturday so I don't think I'll get out on the bike until Sunday evening.
Clearly,there is no substitute for hours in the saddle, building stamina, improving technique and developing mental resilience. Easy.

Fifty miles today.. my first half century

2007-03-27T22:42:00.000+01:00

50 miles today, exactly. Average speed 16.7 mph. I'm pleased.
I enjoyed it, except I was freezing at the start and boiling by the end. I had one really bad patch on a long climb with very rough broken tarmac. My lower back started to really hurt, so I think there is something wrong with my posture. I stopped at the top of the climb to answer my phone (landlord of The Anchor, Cowes, offering us a gig this coming saturday) and I felt Ok when I restarted.
My backside was fine, so maybe I'm getting used to the saddle and I've got it adjusted properly.
My bike is a pleasure to use. It runs silently. Everything works as it should. I haven't fallen off again. I did 'the' roundabout once more at 25 mph, the difference being that it was warm and dry today.
Early night required.

Let's take stock so far.

2007-03-26T21:53:00.000+01:00

Ok. 3 weeks of training under my belt. 16 to go. where do I stand?

I'm not going to mention my fall and injuries again, except that my leg bloody hurts and I will not do any more dickhead descending. (Well not on my road bike). Steve Peat can relax.

I'm quite pleased with my mileage. My max ride so far is 48 miles, and if I increase that by 5 to 8 miles per week I should theoretically get up to 130-ish. However, it's pretty easy to type that phrase, but it's something else to actually do it. There is the big problem of maintaining enthusiasm and actually making the time to spend a whole working day on a training ride. BUT...the terrifying prospect of the final two Etape climbs after a 100 or so miles in the saddle is the ultimate motivation. I'm a little scared , not of the pain or suffering on the ride, but of having to drop out or get caught by the broom wagon. Not an option.

I've also realised that virtually everyone else is way ahead of me. I've found a couple of excellent blogs, and these guys are so much in front.....And I'm an old git. 47 years old. Nevermind, I'm going to do my best.

I'm pleasantly surprised how much enjoyment I'm experiencing from getting in the saddle, spinning the pedals and just zipping around the Island roads. I love my bike. It's fast, responsive and a pleasure to use. I love it when a bit of kit is beautifully designed and built for a specific purpose.

I don't like the cars and lorries. F****** c**p drivers. I get cyclists' road rage. Why can't they slow down a little instead of squeezing past? Prats. I'm used to being off road, on the trails through the forests or riding on the chalk down paths. 20 years ago I used to commute when I lived in Liverpool, and I was a bit of a grumpy biking renegade. When cars used to cut me up, or brush against me with their wing mirrors, I would chase them down, and slam my fists on their roofs and bend their wing mirrors back. And what about those pillocks who still insist on using their handheld mobiles while they're driving? Grrrrr. I feel better now.

I'm still not confident that my compact crank (50-36) and rear cassette (12-27) are going to give me low enough gearing. There are quite a few steep hills around here, and I'm happy to grind up them at the moment. Trouble is, can I do it with 100 miles under my belt, in the raging heat? Hopefully my legs will get stronger and my technique improve.

More kit needed. I need a helmet, gloves, leg warmers, a gilet, a long sleeve jersey, arm warmers, foot cover things. I'm really suffering with cold feet, although the temperature has gone up by at least 5 degrees today so maybe it'll be Ok from now on. Spare inner tubes, a pump, a bike bag, energy bars and drinks.

My mucker Simon Jackson is going to help me out on the equipment front. He and Steve Atkinson are responsible for me doing this ride. They were in Majorca a couple of weeks ago and clocked up about 6000 hilly miles in a week, average speed 25 mph, or something like that, the bastards.

Right, time for an early night, aiming for 50 miles tomorrow. The missus has loaded my Ipod shuffle with one of her playlists, so it might be purgatory.

Nursing my injuries

2007-03-25T12:49:00.000+01:00

It's three days since my big 'off' and I've got to admit I've been a wimp, and haven't ridden since. My hip where I lost the skin is agony and I've been struggling to sleep. It's difficult to keep a dressing over the open flesh and my trousers and boxers just rub the raw exposed bit every time I move. It's effectively like a second degree burn because I've lost the covering skin and some dermis. I couldn't play football yesterday.

Also, lots of other bits of my body are now hurting, particularly my shoulder and thigh. I'm so glad I was wearing a good pair of gloves which also have windstopper material, as these have saved my hands and fingers. I learned the importance of always wearing gloves many years ago through falling off my mountain bike on numerous occasions. I used to do a lot of manic trail riding through the local forests, and falling off was a regular occurrence.

The picture above is from the Paris-Roubaix. The pro riders seem to crash all the time in their races and just have to get on with it. Broken bones are common. I'm reading a fantastic book at the moment by Graeme Fife called Inside The Peloton. He describes how Paul Sherwen fell off 9 times during the Roubaix in the old days before modern pedal cleats. After his final fall he lay in the cold, wet, grime, tangled in the bike, feet still strapped to the pedals and decided to quit. 'Bugger this, I'm not getting up again' he thought, only to find a group of bystanders bodily lifting him up and sending him on his way. He finished 15th. Awesome.

One of the things I preach to medical students is to ensure that they learn from their mistakes, and only make them once. At this point I'm hoping my wife won't start laughing and use words like 'hypocrite' and 'do as I say, not as I do'. So, I'm going to be more wary of adverse road conditions, and just take it easier on the corners until I've got a few more hundred miles of experience on this road bike. Mental note...this is a bicycle , not a motorbike.

I mentioned that my rear derailleur was knocked out of alignment by the crash. I was worried that the mechanism itself had been damaged, but on inspection it seemed to be OK. Therefore I decided that there must be a subtle crease in the hanger. After all, it is presumably engineered to be a deliberate weak link to prevent much more expensive damage to the derailleur or the carbon frame. I detached the hanger and on close scrutiny confirmed that it was very subtly bent. I but it in my bench vice and using my plumbers wrench tweaked it back. I've reassembled everything and it all looks to be as new, and the gear change is slick and as it should be. I'm not taking any chances, so I've ordered a new one from Wiggle. If I fall on the big day, I don't want the weakened original hanger to snap off completely.

Finally, the buckle on my shoes had been dragged across the road and mangled. It doesn't quite work properly. It has one of those ratchet type mechanisms that you get on ski boots for tightening the strap. I need a new one from somewhere but haven't found a supplier yet. I can make do in the meantime.

So, Sunday afternoon. British Summer Time is here, the sun is shining and I'm going to go for a nice relaxing ride of 30 miles or so. Rest day tomorrow, then I'm going to do 50 miles on Tuesday after work.

Anatomy of a 30 mph crash

2007-03-23T19:33:00.000Z

I'm pointing at a scrap of matted hair and skin on the inside of my leggings which I've just peeled off. I've just got home after throwing myself down the road. It's hurting (a lot).
I suppose I should have known better.

With the evenings drawing out, there was time for a 90 minute ride before dark. It was cold and a little misty as I set off, but I was pleased to see that the road was mostly dry. I planned a nice route of about 25 miles along the coast road at the end of my road (the Military Road) with a big nasty hill at either end. Perfect.

I normally would have been football training on a Thursday evening but I have a couple of nagging injuries which need rest, so a good cycling aerobic workout is the perfect non-weight-bearing substitute exercise.
I had done the hard work, final climb finished, and was only 8 miles from home. I was giving it the berries, descending from St Catherines into Chale. The hill is steep, a double S bend, with a roundabout half way along. It's tricky I admit, but I've been down here loads of time at speed on my Fireblade. This is a knee-down corner. I know the perfect line, and I know that the camber is adverse as you hit the roundabout. I was flying. I glanced down at my speedo which read in the mid-30's, and dabbed the brakes a little. I had a conscious zing of excitement at the prospect of a slightly dangerous corner. Time to test the limits of the tyres. I set up for the bend, perfect entry, shift my weight, gently ease from left to right, a touch of opposite lock then BANG. I went down in an instant onto my right side. I hit really hard on my upper thigh and elbow. My momentum carried me across the road for 5 seconds or so and I careened into the kerb. My right leg folded under me and an agonising pain shot through my calf. For a moment I thought I had broken my leg, but it was only cramp. Luckily the roads were deserted and I was able to scrabble off the tarmac quickly and collapse on the verge, before a boy racer totalled me. For some reason, I quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen me fall. Noone, of course.
Naturally, my first thought was for my bike. Any damage? Well, the front brake was jammed on, the brake levers had twisted around, and the rear mech, right pedal and right side of the saddle had scraped along the road. Apart from that, almost nothing else. The carbon is undamaged. The brakes were easily sorted, I tweaked the levers back and I nearly felt lucky to have escaped so relatively unscathed.
By now, I was feeling very nauseous from the pain and shock, but I jumped back on the bike, and scooted home as fast as I could. The rear mech was chattering and obviously had been knocked out of alignment, but I still managed a 27 mile ride at an average speed of 16.9 mph. Adrenaline is a great thing.
In the kitchen my long suffering wife made sympathetic noises, camera at the ready, as I gingerly peeled off my tights. A scabby bit of hairy mangled skin tore off to leave a raw gravel rash. Nice. Amazingly there was no hole in my expensive Assoss leggings. I had 3 layers on my arms so I only had a small graze and big swollen bruise on the right elbow. Gloves had saved my hands. Calf muscle not good, and I needed a pot of tea (and a flapjack).
Now, I can't believe I had been so reckless. What a stupid thing to do. What if I'd cracked the frame? Or my head? I know this is a notoriously tricky corner. The temperature was dropping as dusk approached and the atmosphere was getting wetter. The tyres would have been cold. There is always oil and rubber residue on roundabouts like these, and here I was on ridiculously skinny racing tyres at 120 psi. This is not the first time I've had a bad fall off a bicycle. The last 'stupid boy' episode was a broken clavicle sustained during the warm-up for a downhill mountain bike race. That's right...the warm-up. Ambulance. Hospital. Operation. Pain.
This evening, I'm sore and achey. I've been over the bike and confirmed that the only problem is a bent hanger. I've ordered a new one, and have muscled the original back in line. It'll do for now. My lovely shoes are scuffed and the ratchet buckle on the strap is a bit kerplunked. I'll replace that in due course.
As Simon said, the 40 miler is back on for tomorrow!

Brass Monkey Weather and 48 miles.

2007-03-22T15:00:00.000Z

The weather has turned really cold again this week, and even the Island hasn't escaped the bitterly cold wind and flurries of snow. So, at 8am yesterday, I would have rather been wrapping up warm and cosy on the settee with the newspapers, a pot of fresh tea, and a couple of rounds of thickly buttered toast and marmalade. Instead I was venturing out on the bike for this week's 'long' ride. That is dedication. It was 3 degrees C, with a very blustery Force 6 wind from the north. At least it wasn't raining.

Last week I froze my nuts off, so today I was determined to try and keep warm.My legs really suffered so I put on thin Musto thermals under my Assoss long-legged trousers. The latter have wind break material in front of the knees and lower abdomen, with thin fleecy material lining the insides but they're not designed for these sort of temperatures. Two thin breathable running shirts on top and my fleecy cheapo cycling jacket from Decathlon in Le Havre. Two pairs of socks and my Specialized Pro BG shoes.I think I need some overshoes. Finally my wooly hat and thin gloves, plus of course the obligatory I-Pod with ear-bud headphones. (No..I don't wear a helmet).

Last week I did a 41 miler so I planned a route for 45 today despite the strong wind. I also took some Allen keys with me so that I could tinker with the saddle position.... fore-and-aft and angle. I think I've got the height sorted. Needless to say, once I started thinking about the saddle angle I had to keep stopping and change it a fraction until after about 90 minutes I was happy.

The ride itself went really well. My legs are definitely stronger and I'm fairly cruising up some of the hills. About two thirds of the way round I hit a bad patch as the wind was absolutely head on and I was hurting all over. My feet were completely numb and freezing. So, I resorted to tough guy mentality and imagined what Lance or Eddy would have done on a day like today. Dig in hard and waste the opposition. A bit of fantasy cycling and I was bursting up some Pyrenean col to the finish line with the peloton eating my dust. Arms outspread I cross the line to pull on the jaune jersey.

Ultimately, I've got to believe that every mile on the saddle is 'money in the bank' and cycling in horrible conditions is all part of the training. I used to wind and kitesurf in all weathers, so at least I'm not actually having to immerse myself in freezing water. In any case,my 11 year old daughter gets up at 5 am three mornings a week to go ice skating in a freezing (literally) cold rink, so if she and her pals can do it, so can I!

Anyway, I turned for home with slight wind assistance and really creamed the final few miles. Head down, watch the shiny crank turning and the mesmeric whirring of the chain and rear cassette. Weezer and Rancid on the playlist.I even put in an extra detour over the downs fron Freshwater Bay to Compton which lifted me over the intended 45 mark.One final hill before freewheeling into my drive.

Total 48 miles at average speed of 16.1 mph. I'm not experienced enough to know if that's any good, but it'll have to do for now.

And now for the best bit.....I staggered into the house and up the stairs like an old man. I ran the hottest bath this century, collapsed in it with copy of Classic Rock and the missus brought me up a nice mug of tea as I soaked for an hour.8 weetabix, two bowls of Grapenuts, 4 more mugs of tea.

Bring it on.