Bleeding Lost ....

....well actually that should be "bleeding" and "lost" ...but I am getting ahead of myself.  The training plan for this week called for a 40 mile ride (that's 64 kms in really money).  Suzanne had this great idea to ride on the Grand Union canal towpath up to Watford to her friend Paul's house.  And I thought "yeah great idea".  The day dawned bright, sunny and warm, thus continuing to support my theory that winter has been restricted to two weeks this year and Spring has well and truly sprung.

We got on the Grand Union canal towpath in Brentford and set off at pace.  Well ... at pace for all of two minutes until we came to an unexpected and rather high humpback bridge with a 45 degree approach. Suzanne came to a sudden stop ... and I rear ended her. Down I went at zero kms an hour, still clipped in.  After ensuring that I hadn't scratched her precious PearlE she helped me up ... so she could check that I hadn't scratched Lara!!.

Back on the bike.  The surface and condition of the towpath was shall we say "variable" at best and we decided to get off and onto a road when it got really rough, for fear of getting a puncture. As we cruised up to an intersection and stopped, I uncleated my right foot and then proceeded to try and put my left foot down.  Result, down I went again at zero kilometres an hour, landing on the footpath on my elbow and bashing the back of my new helmet on the tarmac (thank goodness for my helmet). This one hurt a little more than the last one, but everything seemed intact so we got back on the towpath again.  We saw a railway station and I asked a man walking his dog which one it was and he said "West Drayton". I said "er umm Suzanne, that's on the way to Slough, is Slough anywhere near Watford?". "er umm No" she said. Then we spotted a sign that said "Slough arm of the Grand Union Canal".  Luckily we also spotted a waterside pub and Suzanne said "I need the loo" (see my earlier blog post re me being the one holding the bikes outside public loos in France on the ride).

I decided that I should check my elbow as it was a little sore and when I took my jacket off and bent my elbow blood squirted out at Suzanne who said "eeek it's split down to bone, we need to get you to the hospital, and you must keep it sterile" .. and then promptly shoved her much used looking tissue into it, before packing me off to the toilet to see how bad it was and to wash it.  When I got back she had got us a beer each, she said it was needed for the pain ... hers!

By now of course we knew that we were lost and wildly off course, so with the aid of the iPhone cycling app on my phone we worked out where we were and a general direction to get us to Watford by road. En route we had to carry our bikes through a closed road covered in mud, climb lots of hills, get lost several more times, and Suzanne got a bit terse (I of course remained the epitome of sweetness and light for the whole duration) but we did eventually get there, albeit about 4 hours later than planned. Luckily for me both Paul and his partner are trained in first aid and have a first aid cabinet the size of a walk in wardrobe.  He cleaned me up and put plastic stitches and bandages on my elbow and gave me a thing to wear to constrain movement to assist in the healing. Then he gave us the most delicious baked potatoes I have eaten in a very long time. His last act of generosity was to plot our route home ... on the tube!  I felt a little conspicious taking Lara on the tube through central London on a Saturday night, but I was so tired I quickly got over it.

When we set up the blog and I wrote about sharing our moments of pain along the way, I didn't realise that the pains would be mine!! Or, that I would rapidly become an expert in inflicting the most damage on myself by falling off at zero kms an hour ... no more please ...
        

Falling off a bike .. now that’s very Bard

Had a wonderful ride in Richmond Park today, trying to get used to cleats for the first time.  And for some reason, I came over ‘all Shakespeare’.. being Anglais and all … enjoy .. (perchance) ..

To cleat, or not to cleat, that is the question:

Whether ‘tis Nobler in the mind to suffer

The Ridicule and Mockery of non-cleated cycling,

Or to take feet against a road of potholes,

And by cleating them: to panic, to fall

And to fall, and possibly dent my bike and pride

The heart-ache, and the thousand pieces of tarmac

That would imbed in my flesh?  ‘Tis a consummation

Devoutly not to be wished.  But to cleat, to look fabulous,

To fabulously ride faster in my Dreams; Ay, that saddle ..now

There’s the rub…  

        (But that is another story for another day in the Park…)

Today was information day for the ride

 Declan "our" project manager for our particular ride had advised us of the info day well in advance and chased us up to make sure we would attend if we could (even though he couldn't!!).   And ... yes Declan is Irish.  In fact, he's from Derry city in county Londonderry in the North.

 The three girls, once at the venue, thought it might be of the same quality and comfort level of hotels that we will experience on the actual trip itself ...

Kenny, who was leading the briefing, was clearly a chap of much experience in all aspects of cycling, including many times as tour leader of these London to Paris rides - which apparently is the most popular and most fun ride on the Skyline charity calendar.  One of Kenny's next outings is as leader of a top to bottom Great Britain that goes from Lands End (nice car park and hot dog caravans - Adele and I went there once for a car park circuit in the summer fog) to John O'Groats (obviously the Scottish porridge mecca) in May. Apparently he has a 75 year old chap that cycles 15 miles a day at 12 miles per hour signed up for the ride and he's confident he will make the 1000 mile trip.  I think he was trying to tell us that even "lardies" can make London to Paris but if you want to not be in pain and actually enjoy it then at least try and better Mr 75 years in the training department.... or suffer.

On day one we bike from London to Dover and then catch the ferry from Dover to Calais. There are supposedly no hills ... only "undulations" on this ride ... Dinner that night is one of the meals that are not included in the trip - well "hey ho" who would guarantee the food on a ferry anywhere in the world right !!!  Other than that we have fab food, loads of water stops, and hotels that we won't remember cos we'll be so tired.

 Apparently, we will also learn that we need to take very little in the way of clothing and footwear, as long as we can "rinse" things out and they will dry overnight.  Clearly by the time we actually get to Paris and the last day celebration we will be so tired/euphoric that we could be wearing the curtains from our room to dinner and that will be just perfect!!!

It's going to be a challenge ... but that's why we all signed up right!!!.  There will be beauty and libations along the way apparently and we will soon divide into our natural groups while riding (I have to admit that I am not actually sure what that means in reality but I have already asked my quota of questions).  We are all going to stay together while riding cos after all that's why we agreed to do it as a team right ... but dear reader why do I have this feeling it will be me holding PearlE and the as yet un-named steed (Dutch mare) outside the public loos regularly ....

So ... after the briefing Tulip and I climbed on Lara and Tulip's bike and headed off into the seriously inclement (ie spring rain constant downpours) but warm weather.  Suzanne climbed into her little sports car and whizzed off ... but hey ... after all it was her birthday ... happy birthday Suzy (aka Pomme Anglais) x

What do cyclists eat then

Well you could be forgiven for thinking that they don't actually eat at all, given that you seem to have to go at least two sizes bigger in cycling clothing than you normally wear, and this includes the shoes as well!!!  They do eat, and as we are discovering, "it's food Jim but not as we know it".

We did a 30 mile ride (that's 48 kilometres in real money) yesterday and decided that we should really venture into the world of cycling nutrition. Cos as enjoyable as a pint of beer and packet of pork scratchings are, they are not really the recommended fuel for a long ride.

So we bought a selection of "protein and energy bars" that fit conveniently into the pocket of your cycling shirt, and decided on a taste test.  On the first bite of the yoghurt bar we decided that the best rating scale would be a 1 to 5 "blurk-ometer" ie a polite way of saying how likely they were to make you throw up. The higher the blurko-meter rating the higher the likelihood. Really only up to BB is actually edible in my book anyway.

• Cliff bar - B - it looks and tastes like an Anzac biscuit from my homeland

• Mule Bar - BB - it did taste a bit like strudel and didn't have too many raisins to stick in your teeth

• Promax diet - BB - technically a high protein bar for weight loss, chocolately with a slightly funny texture

• ZV9 protein recovery bar - BBBBB - disgusting, it was like trying to eat bubble gum and it even looked awful like the yoghurt coating had melted and then reconstituted. 

Oh .. and I have it on good authority from Pomme Anglais that the best pork scratchings come from Birmingham apparently ...

Is this an Eiffel Tower I see before me … or..?

Hello readers!  Firstly I have not been stewing in my own ‘pomme’ juices and forgetting about our wonderful blog, I started a new job this week so have been a little preoccupied. 

However, I have a little story I wanted to share with you all.  So, I hope you are sitting comfortably…?  Good, so I will begin..

I have spent this week being ‘induced’ .. well, going through the induction process with the new work.  I was with a group of disparate new hires and part of the course was the usual ‘tell us something interesting about yourself’ …

As the bike ride is so close to my heart I talked about this – the training programme, the new bike, the charity, my two Kiwi fruits that will be following me miles behind en route etc. etc. …

Over coffee we all ended up chatting about these new found interesting things about our colleagues and one of the guys – I shall call him ‘Pete’ to keep anonymity – shared with me that he too did the London to Paris charity ride a few years ago. 

I was so excited to meet someone that had done it and promptly started to ask him questions (how was it for him, did he stick to the training plan, what sort of bike did he have, did he use cleats or not, how was his bum (en route, not at the moment of course) … all of those ‘sad’ questions that have suddenly become so very important).  However Pete stopped me mid questioning and shared with me how it was for him.

Pete had cycled with his chums all the way to Dover, staying in some youth hostel where he told me there was a fight going on outside as they got there (but they were so tried it did not matter).  They crossed on the ferry in the morning and cycled (uphill) out of Calais.  He said the journey throughout France was great – pretty flat and interesting.  They entered into Paris on the final day and he and his friends cycled towards their final destination – the Eiffel Tower – with great great excitement.

He then said that the next memory he had was waking up in a French hospital.  Somehow along the final metres toward the Tour Eiffel he managed to fall off his bike and knock himself out.

He is now really envious about me doing the ride and wished me lots of luck. 

I guess the moral of the story is to keep pedalling – carefully – right to the end of the road.. I could not imagine doing 298.5 miles and falling on the last 0.5 mile, but talking to Pete, I now know this ‘could’ happen (especially if I do not get used to my cleats)!

    

Week 4 - 20 miles in the slush !

So we woke up yesterday to lovely snow on the ground, all pretty on the trees and in the park. But of course the training programme waits for no (snow)man/woman so I got the mountain bike out and set off, thinking that as the main roads had been gritted they'd be passable not just for cars but for me as well. 

Yes that was right, and I'm extremely glad that I'd put all my waterproof layers on including the booties, because as EVERY car kindly swung out to give me lots of space on the road, they duly sprayed me with the slush they were driving through to do it !! Such fun. Not.

Anyway after getting a face-full of dirty snow from a couple of vehicles, I decided that 20 miles was quite enough, and I would return home to toast my poor cold toes (yes, again!) in front of the fire for the rest of the day.

I have developed a theory about the cold toes - I think that the metal pedals transferring the cold to the metal click-in cleats in the bottom of the shoes then into my socks is what is mainly causing the freezing effect. So next weekend I shall put extra padding in that part of the shoe and scientifically test my theory.

So watch this space!

Tulip x

And by the way, here's a lovely photo of my dog Romeo pretending he is the top half of a snow man: 

So it snowed in London then

Well it snowed all over the UK in the weekend and, amazingly in London, it snowed almost on cue and to the depth that the Met office predicted.  It has also made Mr Global Cooling New Ice Age rather happy as his prediction models that seem to have let him down badly through December and January have come good again. This is just after 6pm when it had really just started to fall.

However, the 4cm plus of snow put pave to sunday's planned cycle ride around Richmond Park.  This wasn't so good, as I had the latest addition to my ever increasing "sad git" wardrobe ready to try out. Yes ... over shoes and, yes they look like scuba boots and, yes they are made of the same material.

I really felt the need for a ride too as my great idea of going for a ride on Friday night after work when "everyone else would be in the pubs so the streets would be clear" turned into a nightmare. I chose a route that seemed to have also been selected by every truck driver in London at the time as their means of exiting the city. I went on one of the Cycle Super highways to practise with my cleats. This called for a great deal of concentration and as a result I realised that when I thought about unclipping and attempted it that for some reason I drifted into the right hand side lane, much to the alarm of on-coming cyclists.  Worse, in riding on the right, I was in serious danger of being seen as "eurocentric", a position heavily frowned upon here in the UK right now!!

After 30 minutes or so I decided to turn back and head for home, taking a different route back through the city.  Slap bang into a closed road, where there were several signs shouting "Cyclists Dismount" rather loudly.  My last brush with the law still fresh in my mind, I decided it was best to concur, so I got off and pushed Lara down the footpath.

Outside Cannon Street station I saw this obviously grumpy old guy rudely pushing people aside as he attempted to cut through the pedestrian traffic against the flow to get into the station.  As he made it to me, he didn't realise I was pushing a bike and barrelled straight into Lara.  My complete fluro "sad git" outfit and helmet was clearly not enough of a clue that I might actually have a bike for this charming chap.  There followed a rather heated exchange in which I was forced to cast aspersions upon his ancestors.  Came home and cleaned Lara!

Apparently falling off your bike is easier than falling off a log

Brian shared with me a couple of his mishaps which I thought I'd share .. cos you do don't you!. His opening line "I've lost count of the number of times I’ve fallen off bicycles for one reason or another" was really encouraging .... thanks Brian.  So here are a couple of Brian's stories. I enjoyed them lots.

The first time I can remember was racing down the footpath beside my house, trying to get to the local paper shop for the start of my paper round, shortly before 0730 one wintry morning.  As I hit the road, I discovered that it was a sheet of ice and I went right across the road on my side, ending up in the gutter. Got sacked by the paper shop for being late. ED note: under child labour laws you should never have been employed Brian! - let's sue in retrospect!!).

In Bolivia, I was cycling back to the main office from the transmitter hut (ED note: yeah as you do Brian! Bolivia like), having completed a task which involved the use of a soldering iron.  As the soldering iron was still hot, instead of putting it in my tool-bag, I wrapped the cable around the handlebars, allowing the hot end to dangle and cool down.  It wasn’t many yards before the soldering iron went between the spokes of the wheel and brought me to an abrupt stop.  Much to the amusement of the Quechua ladies on the market stalls.

 About 4 or 5 summers ago, (ED note: Brian this is England you can't really say "summer" and expect us to have images of sunshine and warmth now .. clearly that's winter 2011/2012, warmth wise).    

Anyway ...
 
I used to cycle to Reading and then take the train into Burnham and cycle the final mile to get to the office.  I had terrible trouble with recurrent punctures. The tyres which came with the bike seemed to be made of very soft rubber which offered little protection against sharp bits of flint on the country lanes.  I’ve had less trouble since changing to Continental 4 Seasons (ED note: excitedly .. I have these exact tyres). Anyway, got to Reading station to start my journey home.  Another puncture.  Patched it and put the tube back into the tyre, pumped if up and carried on.  Obviously, I hadn’t pumped it up enough because at a bend at the bottom of a hill, when I was going quite fast, wheee! Back wheel went out and I was sliding across the road on my side.  Gashed knee,  grazed elbow, torn shirt, mud over everything.  Yuk! Still five miles from home.

That’s just three out of many.

 I suppose it’s best to keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down.

Well they said it would happen ... and it did already

So ... it's simple to fit cleats and bung them into the pedals - yeah right!!! After a less than successful stint in the park by myself,  I  rode to Condor to get them fitted properly and my pedals tuned and everything greased and all the rest .... right back on the bike.  Day 1 was good, slow and cautious, but the sensation was good.

ok ok then I got a bit over confident and ignored what the little "uncleat, uncleat, be prepared for intersections, no matter how quiet, cos you are a day 2 novice" voices were saying in my cycle safely consciousness.  And then and unplanned stop ... and BAM... well more like "aagghh oh no" and down I went.  So, I have the kind of injuries you sustain when falling off at less than 1 km an hour - a scraped knee, a bruised shoulder, but no real blood, and it doesn't count if there's no blood according to my motorcyclist mate!!  In my own defence, it is not that intuitive (yet) clicking in and out of the cleats.

All that aside, I could feel in a short space of time the difference that real bike shoes with cleats will make to the ride.  However, the faster you go the colder your feet seem to get as well.  So naturally I have now bought my shoes some wet weather and keep warm "over shoes".  These have to be the saddest addition to the sad git wardrobe to-date.

I suspect that my experience is mild compared to some of the other crash stories I have heard ... I'd like to keep it that way if at all possible.