One tiny hill to go!

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

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.

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

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.

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!!!!

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..

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

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

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

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

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.

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...

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

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?

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

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

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.

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.

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...

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!

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

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

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!