Yet another Tour de France has come around, and for another year i am still in the UK. The last one was easier to miss a serious injury, a pair of crutches and a pandemic was far enough out of my control to sit back and enjoy the racing.
The upside of being at home was i actually got to see the race, start to finish coverage is a revelation all the early action that gets skipped over when you just jump to a group ahead and the peloton cruising their way through the kilometres.
Working at bike races can be fun and working at a Grand Tour is another level, but don’t think if you are taking photos of the race that you actually see the race or know what’s going on. Its not like the team cars with a tv showing the coverage there are days where all you know is who crossed the line first bouncing from a panoramic shot early in the stage and then jumping in a car and driving twice the distance of the race to get to the finish
This year is slightly different…no crutches, although i really don’t think i could keep up with all the walking and hours standing entailed just yet. COVID is probably having the biggest impact, followed by brexit, still a few weeks away from getting my second vaccine leaves me a little nervous to be throwing myself into a massive public event. Having spent most of the pandemic at home with crutches i might need to ease myself back into large crowds…and it wasn’t something i really enjoyed previously anyway.
So i’m going to skip the need for quarantine, all the effort of travelling, even the effort of taking the photos myself while still enjoy the chance to stare at a laptop and edit some photos late into the evening…you know the fun part of the job.
On the upside the bits i will not miss, the bits that most of the media that work the tour accept
spending an hour trying to find the random hotel you booked because it was the only one with rooms within 100kms of the next day’s stage
missing the restaurant kitchen closing time and eating what ever random unhealthy snacks you’ve loaded into the car
swapping chargers around as there’s only one plug socket in the hotel room
trying to find wifi (preferably one that’s free and fast
trying to find clean and dry clothes…when its hot, cold, wet and all things in between
Inspired by all the love that outpoured over the weekend for the gap in the spring classics and the postponement of a new entry into the women’s racing calendar, i thought back through my time with the race.
It was the first professional race i ever photographed with credentials and a baptism of fire which is almost appropriate for the hell of the north. It’s also the race i have photographed the most times, i think i have a story from each race, which usually only seem fine after the fact and with a good, dark Belgian beer in hand i’ll bore everyone with them, although i do like to think some of them are funny.
Firstly the weather…always at the forefront of peoples minds..i have never seen wet roubaix, in person or on TV the cobbles below are as close as its gots…and i’m not sure i care…there i said it, it may be an unpopular opinion but there it is.
If i were watching at home i might be more for the muddy, water logged Roubaix but when you have to work the race there’s an element of danger that the mud adds that i am quite happy to do without.
If not for the dry conditions i would have no idea who was leading the peloton, probably not even editing it afterwards.
While i haven’t seen mud, i have had complete vista of other options…so cold i’ve had to wear gloves, so sunny i got sun burnt and so windy i almost got blown over and certainly got a face and mouth full of gritty dust, not exactly Belgian toothpaste, maybe more like Belgian mouthwash…
I honestly enjoyed the sunny editions, the dust can be irritating…your camera’s certainly need a good clean afterwards but so does everything else…the dust does get everywhere. Its not quite the dust storm that you get for Strade Bianche but it occasionally works for Roubaix
I’ll take blue skies and warmth any day of the week.
Aside from the racing, Roubaix was always a long weekend for me, bike and camera gear packed into the car, not that i had any plans for Cobbles, the ones outside the Palais de Compiegne were more than enough. As with most of the spring classics there are inextricable links with the great war’s the consumed Europe and Paris Roubaix is no different and its for that reason i was drawn to the Foret de Compiengne, where both the armistice of WW1 and the French surrender of WW2 was signed
Its possible that i have trivialised it but most times i have ridden there the fog hung around the tree’s like treacle i pictured it as the perfect location for filming a zombie apocalypse
Digressing back to the race itself, its hard to convey the chaos that ensues once the race hits the cobbles, following the race doesn’t always lend itself to what’s going on, each stop between Compiegne and Roubaix a snap shot of what’s happening right there in that moment. There a few set pieces that narrow the options…before luck and the pave claim their tributes. Once you leave sector 17 of Pave all bets are off…anything can happen, the race is on and stops for no-one.
The race has taught me that even applies to photographers, possibly even on a bike as well as in a car. The evening before i usually finish up my route planning, not that it varies too much from year to year, at least not in advance, bending the satnav to my will…programming in seemingly random targets that will take me on and off the race route at the right points.
That one year i climbed on a bulldozer to try and get a slightly different shot, as i stepped down i landed in a rut and fell flat on my face, twisting my ankle, the rest of the day was quite a challenge and every shot needed to be about 2 hobbled steps from the car, that day would not have been improved by mud.
It may seem foolish to follow the same plan every year, but its mostly just a starting point, the route doesn’t alter much, the official deviations are the same, the non-official deviations also don’t alter much, its the race the alters it, headwind or a tailwind…30s either way make the difference of popping out in front of the race with clear roads or sat watching the race go by and reprogramming the satnav…there’s always a back up option…hit the gas and zip off into the tiny roads of northern France.
The times its gone wrong are usually boring, the gendarme pauses just too long deciding if they are going to let you through, you don’t even get out of the car, there’s just a blur of colour. Its the times it almost goes wrong that are most exciting.
Having navigated an official deviation which cut down most of the public, an extra little jump was meant to get us back on schedule, the gendarme calmly waved us onto the route, driving along at a sensible speed for crowd lined road and hit a cobbled sector. As you’ve probably seen from the tv, or maybe even experienced yourself they are not nice things to be on and unless you have to drive fast on them, you don’t!
Sadly for me having rolled onto a longish, twisty section of cobbles, that choice was taken away…i spotted a blue light in the rear mirror, not an unusual site, there are lots of police bikes making sure things are safe, but this one seemed to be moving a little faster than expected. While i focused on the road ahead my passenger Pete looked behind…and suggested i might like to go a little faster. As it turns out, that wasn’t an outrider, it was the lead bike and Tom Boonen had taken a flyer 50km out. Yet again, grateful for a dry Roubaix, as i slammed my foot on the accelerator and gunned the crappy little car with about 50HP under the bonnet urging it forward. Almost immediately i have to then slam the brakes on and throw it round a cobbley s-bend, the crowd literally goes wild and i get a mexican wave as i somehow bounce round then end of the sector is in sight. But the cobbles aren’t done with me yet, there’s a crater like hole where the pave meets the tarmac which i manage to avoid but not without the suspension taking a bit of punishment…and the side mirror actually popping out. Somehow there’s enough time to slam the brakes on, Pete jumps out and grabs the mirror and i take great joy in smooth straight roads to pull away.
The kicker to that story, that i learned later, on that same corner was another good friend who was also working that day and had managed to get to the cobbles with a bit more time to spare. Usually no slouch when it comes to capturing the action, he was left stunned into paralysis as we flew by…apparently with looks of horror on our faces, which given how well the car handled i’m not overly surprised…
It wasn’t that long before we saw him again…having got a little breathing room to let the adrenaline wear off, the plan was adjusted and boom there was the shot.
while that’s probably the best story, there’s also the time i though i lost my passport, the time i drove into a crop field (although that doesn’t count as that was the TDF does Roubaix). Its safe to Taylor sums up how i feel after every Roubaix i have done
In a way i am happy that Roubaix has been postponed, by the time October comes i might actually be able to make it to Europe, there might even be crowds and with the World Championships the week before it will be like we’ve had Holy Week twice this year. Hopefully we’ll get to see the newly crowed Womens and Men’s champions flying over the cobbles, although given the time of year i hope MVDP doesn’t go for the all white look…the mud will ruin that skin suit
While you may not agree and desperately long for the caked mud, dirty faces collapsed in the Roubaix velodrome i’m hoping i won’t have to pack my wellie boots…and on that note i’ll bow out
On the bank holiday weekend and for the first time in 147 days i rode a bike outside…and it was glorious, I had forgotten the sense of freedom bestowed upon you being on two wheels.
It was so enjoyable, that barely an hour later with some more suitable cycling attire on I went out for the second time. In fact it’s been a part of every single day since….the weather has contributed in no small part to that.
Although I’ve kept it low distance and local it means I’m riding the same segments again and again and by the very nature of Strava ended up comparing it to pre-injury. Thankfully I’m sanguine enough about my recovery to know that I’m going to be slower, although as it’s turning out over some short distances not that much slower, which is quite satisfying.
I try not to take Strava too seriously, segments are a bit of fun competition to spice up the odd ride, compete against myself or just enjoy some free speed from stonking tailwind. But there are some that their segment trophy case is their pride and joy…it’s a matter of reputation to keep that number 1 spot. There’s a local legend around my area who’s gone out and claimed as many segments as he can…much to the chagrin of a few. You could say he’s possibly taken it a bit too far and is rumoured to have broken a bone or two in that quest and since cut back on the devil-May-care attitude. That gap has now been filled by riders claiming a moment of pride to take one back.
Now the key to taking a segment isn’t just in choosing the ride conditions (hands up who knows where the nearest flag is to check wind direction) it’s about attitude, The snappy ride title that sets the scene, you weren’t really trying and it’s almost surprise “oh was there a segment there..”
It’s hard to tell who means it sincerely and who means it ironically, and a dangerous path to walk to the full “Strava wanker”.
From personal experience, ignoring a few accidental ones, I tried damn hard for any segment I’ve claimed and know that with the data on Strava there’s no hiding it so don’t even try.
So i thought I’d try a little experiment and see who the really competitive riders are near me.
I’ve found the most obscure road possible can that doesn’t have a segment already and create one, with the least effort possible and leave the bait and see who bites. The cruel plan is hopefully they only claim it by a few seconds so that I can take it back and see how many times it changes hand.
Given it’s a dead end anyone riding it is going to have to make a special detour…let the baiting begin…
The primary care i received after my accident was second to none, I can’t speak highly enough of the paramedics and the nursing staff. The surgical team had a little less face time with, I think there was about 30s of conversation with anaesthetists (which is probably enough of a indication of quality) and the x-rays as proof of 8 hours of quality work from them.
The mission of the staff, nurses, doctors and the physios was to get me well enough to survive outside of the hospital. For the physios that meant standing up, using crutches well enough to get about (mostly to get to the loo as no-one enjoys a bed pan) and make it up and down a flight of stairs.
Being able to function for the necessities of day to day life was not going to be enough for me. Having started New Year’s Eve and with almost 300 miles notched up on the saddle for just that week, my activity level took a substantial nose dive.
While the morphine was flowing and I couldn’t even get out of bed this was fairly easy to accept.
Half way in at 6 weeks in is a very different mind set and requires more resilience than being in a hospital bed letting the body do its thing. There’s an eye on 12 weeks when I can start putting weight on it and in the intervening 6 weeks trying to minimise the loss of condition, strength or fitness ready for that.
Not for the first time I’m grateful of my education, doing a physiology degree means not only having some knowledge myself but also having friends I can count on for knowledge I don’t have…and some abuse when my training ethic takes a knock.
While i am not a professional athlete I certainly aspire to be competitive so thought I’d find some comparison. I crossed Geraint Thomas off as he got back on his bike and finished the Tour de France, that’s not an option. So the closest I knew of was Chris Froome and looked to see how long it took to return from his crash. He managed to notch up a few more broken bones and definitely did more damage to his bike. Either way seeing him back and racing in less than a year gives hope.
The first scary thing to come to terms with is probably learning to walk again, learning to trust a leg that hasn’t been used for 3 months, it will literally be one baby step at a time.
Hopefully like the bike riding I intend to get back to I won’t have forgotten!
Everyone has their hobbies, the activities they fill their free time with, however much or little of it they have. Its those things that make them happy or transports them to a place that makes them happy. Previously i have written about one of my happy places, a beautiful place just outside Maastricht in Valkenburg, a quiet loop with some beautiful ups and downs and flat and the tarmac dedicated to cycling and not the car.
Getting there requires two things that i can’t do at the moment, driving and cycling, ignoring the fact I cant walk without crutches. Being able to go abroad is a privilege and although there are plenty of local roads that have more than enough appeal, if i constrained to the UK, i’d go back to to the Mendips, not sure what it was about Cheddar Gorge but it was beautiful, the ride up, the ride down, soaking in the history those rocks have seen. It reminded me of a favourite Terry Pratchett book that was set in a valley that I imagined was much like Cheddar. Mostly though, it was probably the sheep and goats that kept me doing loops round it.
Getting on a bike would be enough, that simple pleasure of being outside and pedalling my way to peace and quiet, feeling sun and the wind on my face. The sense of freedom from everything that it gives is unmatched for me.
Exercise addiction, to some degree, is not the worst thing to suffer from because in general it should keep you fit, healthy and active which can’t be a bad thing. Although when injury or sickness strikes, whether it be a sniffle or something more serious like my shattered pelvis, the urge to exercise is hard to temper. Through many years and many miles I have pushed on occasionally or tried to get back to it as quickly as possible. Never have I come close to the heroics of some athletes. Tyler Hamilton grinding his teeth down while riding a Tour De France stage with a fractured collar bone but in contrast I’ve not earned my living from home it. Probably more appropriately is Geraint Thomas jumping back on his bike after a crash only for a post stage X-ray to show a small fracture (he continued and finished that tour almost 2 weeks of riding later).
There was definitely a few mins post crash where I thought I was going to shake it off, jump back on the bike and ride home. The frankly physically debilitating pain quickly dispelled that thought and it wasn’t long before acceptance set in, when the excellent paramedics asked if I could get in the gurney and I had to be the proverbial sack of potatoes and allow myself to be lift on.
The first 8 days post crash didn’t exactly sail by, but the complexity of my operation meant I had blood transfusions and recovering sufficiently to be let home was the only goal. This focused the mind, rather than think about the next 12 weeks and what that might entail.
My life is filled with cycling, drawers of clothing, photos…bikes in the house, not relegated to a shed or garage, which means a constant reminder of something I can’t do. In an attempt to curb this longing I have backed away from a things and let them rumble on without me, or with as little involvement as possible. Realising that watching the Pro’s races is abstracted enough I could live vicariously through others without envy. Although come April when I might normally be riding or even photographing (which despite its proximity to a given race is the worst way of spectating) it might be harder. Next year I will definitely trying to go to some Cyclocross races (assuming it’s not too rainy…)
The weather is also doing me a massive favour, my magic triangle of cycling is still flashing on 2 sides, although I might change “dark” or “cold” for “dangerously windy”. While the timing means no fitness for racing, the silver lining is that as it hopefully gets sunny and warm I’ll be ready for something, even if it’s slow and short.
All this has forced me to find some form of tranquility, an acceptance of what is, at this point in time, I can save that frustration for when I can ride properly again and mash the pedals till I am out of breath.
Since committing the first paragraphs of this post I had my six week check up, denoting the half way point of recovery. While they vehemently reinforced the “non weight bearing” conditions of the next 6 weeks, using my CT scan and the word “shattered” several times, they did say if I was careful I could do some pedalling. It’s probably been the most alien kind of cycling I’ve done, a foot on each pedal but only one doing anything, and pedalling at such a slow cadence that outside it would see me in the ditch.
Cycling is an odd juxtaposition, it’s mostly a team sport that very seldom looks like one and in general it encourages groups of people to be around each other. The counterweight to this is that the key components of exceeding are generally best executed alone following a precisely measured training plan. Or if you follow a more laissez faire approach and do it anti-socially together, the breathless blood pumping and generally painful experience of the chain gang where there isn’t the spare moment to have a natter.
It might be difficult for those outside the sport to understand how the team work contributes to one rider crossing the line on their own. Even In stage races where its hard to even spot the team work, especially those stages that don’t end in a bunch sprint. You could compare to the scoring of a goal, only one person actually scores the goal but the buildup would not have been possible without a team. This analogy is flawed as you can see the build up, the similarity ends, you can’t really play something like football on your own but you can certainly ride a bike on your own and you can definitely compete on your own.
So this prompts the questions is cycling really a social sport, are the soloists among us the exception or the rule.
My initial start in the sport was with my local club where my uncle and cousin rode and i joined the club run, which involved some long slow miles, some important lessons in Group etiquette and a lot of tea and toast (i don’t remember much cake on the little chef menu). As i progressed to racing i joined up with a group of fellow racers and a regular routine of sunday morning riding.
This was also true of my days at University, i was on a sports science course so the odds were in favour of at least being a few people who also rode a bike. There was a great group to spin away the sports afternoons while others were off playing football or rugby.
The same could not be said for post university, the work environment is not quite so convenient for meeting people who share the same hobbies, or even if they do the chance of them actually living close enough to join you. That was a situation my group riding didn’t really survive, the absence of routine became my routine, mostly going out when i was free, when the weather was good or just when i felt like it.
Life for me has taken quite a turn in the last 8 months and its led me to look back and wonder about my habits…”the group ride of one” suddenly seemed less of a joke. Was my lone riding a victim of circumstances or something else so i went through my reasoning, trying to work out if i was antisocial or just out of step with other peoples routine.
A part of me would like to put it down to simple geography, living too far away from fellow club riders and when you combine with timing, motivation all but vanishes. If you work the timing back…the meeting point was 7 miles away, while not an inconceivable distance by any means, still 25-30 mins riding at starting pace. Add to that at least 30 mins to get ready and that’s almost an hour before you’ve even seen another rider. Now all of that doesn’t sound too bad but when you stick the start time at 7am all of a sudden your first day of the weekend you’re getting up at 5:30am. Then we you chuck in winter, its cold and its dark, does anyone really enjoy that? Isn’t it nicer to wait until the sun has come up, you haven’t put extra layers on for those few extra degree’s of cold. It was interesting to chat this over with some of the 7am regulars over a few beers and realise that they go through the same thoughts, They live a bit closer but the pain is still the same they drag themselves out at an ungodly hour, layer up and somehow manage it time and again, probably pushing through the less enjoyable darkness and cold until the sun comes out.
So to try and set my mind to rest i thought i would try some data mining and as its that time of year it coincided with Strava’s annual year in sport. Lets assume for a minute the mantra of “if its not on strava it didn’t happen” is true, although to be impartial there are other platforms and some people don’t even record them (oh the horror) . If that’s the case then for 2019 49% of all rides are group rides but i don’t think that gives the whole story. There are some details you could assume are missing or at least list out as questions…
How many of those rides are races,,,,i’d exclude them, i don’t count virtual rides as group rides, even though it could be with 100’s of others, lets exclude them. it would be nice to get a look and see some more details.
What i’ve come to realise is that i want a bit of everything, its nice do a group ride occasionally, although i would prefer to be in charge, but i probably prefer the quiet time and spontaneity of the group ride of one going when and where i want.
When i get back on my feet again from injury i’m probably going to do a lot of solo rides…not having walked or ridden for 3 months will have seriously reduced my fitness not sure i want to inflict those first rides on anyone 🙂
Its that time of year again…once my birthday is out that way i feel like it time to say goodbye to summer as only a few short weeks separate it from the Autumnal equinox on 23rd September.
In cycling terms this means its time to start thinking about the winter bike, if you are lucky enough to have one, and tucking the best bike up for hibernation.
Its time for the obligatory mud guards, unless like me you eschew them and accept being lambasted by your group or using it as an excuse to ride on the back, which is obviously not my reasoning, honest ;). Its time to get the extra front and rear lights ready and charged, if you are commuting for normal office hours, its not just needed “to get you home” they are on before you leave.
The traditional lines for racing are now very blurred, when i soley rode road races i’d still be swinging into September and October in race mode, in fact my palmares has the one solitary, very lonely win on it from September and on my birthday no less. The Kent Road race league (SERRL of a previous incarnation) had a “race of the falling leaves” and given the circuit round some lovely kent backroads it usually was covered in leaves. In those days i was vaguely aware of time trials, mainly that they took place, my home club “San Fairy Ann CC” had a strong contingent of very good testers.
While the cross season already seems to have been going for a few months the road season, or at least the professional road season, is winding down to its final races.
The final monument of the season takes in the beautiful northern lakes of Italy is often seen as the end of the season and is the pinnacle of a week of Italian races.
The autumnal weather can be cruel or kind, my previous visit to Lombardia ended with some very damp clothes as I stood on the final climb in the pouring rain. This year was the antithesis of that, warm sunshine and blue skies
The racing action matched the weather with some Grand Tour winners duking it out for the win
Having seen the pros do it Sunday was my chance to finally ride some of those famous climbs, the temperatures were a bit colder but I did set off at 7:30
While it was probably one of the hardest roads I’ve climbs, simple for the fact I had to grind out my lowest gear the whole way up, the view was worth it.
With that done it’s time to break out the winter kit, clean the race bike and make sure my Zwift Memhership is paid up!
Having moved house recently i have had to say goodbye some some local roads that were my “go to” for a quick spin round the block. Its not that i’ve moved that far, its not even like i won’t ride them ever again or even very irregularly, they are on my commute and they aren’t actually that far away just not close enough for a quick spin if the wind is right (some people know what i mean).
Now i would like to tell myself that i have honourable intentions, and its probably mostly correct. There is definitely a collecting mentality to my cycling, collecting memories of places i have been and sights to be seen.
The one feature that i prize on strava, that doesn’t have a directly competitive element, is the the Heat maps, its a great record of the places i have been and ridden, run, skied, basically anywhere i’ve recorded an activity, While i haven’t taken the opportunity to have my bike with me on many of my bike race photographic adventures there are still some reasonable miles logged
The darker the blue, turning into red, the more times those roads have been ridden and i love looking back at the thin blue lines and working out where and when those rides happened and remembering the fun times i had in those places.
This is probably not an uncommon occurrence but for slightly different reasons, for those with the right kind of competitive spirit and also the legs to back it up there will be a lot of “Strava Scenting” but almost always combined with “Segment Hunting”. Depending on how sociable you are will depend on how familiar the names in the top 10 of any given Stava segment are to you. You can take a good guess at the circumstances. Quite a few of the segments on my rides often have names and places on the same date, which only jumps to one conclusion…a team ride.
Some may argue that technology is ruining cycling, with governing bodies writing regulations stipulating weight, geometry and general shape of a bike, even the height ones socks should be. Power meters provide plenty of column inches and how they are ruining cycling with professional riders deemed to be competing like robots, not riding to the race but riding to the numbers.
Given the trickle down effect the same could be said for ameuter cycling although maybe not in the same way, the battle ground is a lot wider and the playing field less level.
Take a look at yourself or the cycling loved one in your life and check off some of the following.
Leaving bottles, tool kit and any other ballast behind…or at least in a compact package ready to ditch in a safe place
the final sin….checking the wind direction before setting out…this is the final and most cardinal sin…and yes there are web sites which will help you plan the best day to “attack that KOM..”
i didn’t start riding seriously until i was about 17, well i say seriously it was serious enough to be half arsed at ametuer racing. at some point between then and now, that i can’t quite place, i started viewing every road from a cycling point of view.
Anytime i’m not on a bike there is a sense of longing to be on the bike and enjoying the joy that any particular stretch of tarmac had to offer.
I’m hoping a lot of cyclists do this, as they drive up, down and round this country and other counties, look at glorious pictures in magazines they imagine themselves cruising up or down them on two wheels.
Lacets are probably the best example of this, whether you are going up or downhill, hairpins are the best road cycling the mountains has to offer
I remember one Skiing holiday boring my travelling party with tales of Alpe D’huez,as the coach took us up the 21 hairpins of the snowy climb. To be fair to them not sharing the same passion for cycling me wittering on about how hot my rims had gotten braking late into corners that i popped my tyre off is probably the height of tedium, i’ve avoid asking other cyclists if that applies to them as well.
But its hard not to reminisce about the excitement of an awesome stage of a bike race.
While being able to tie iconic climbs or roads to some unique tale of cycling might keep fellow cyclists interested (maybe) taking a ride down memory lane of your own childhood is probably only interesting to yourself. For me the bike offers a unique experience when riding solo and disengage the brain a little bit and to ride round an area that i’ve spent a lot of time in to bring back some happy memories.
For nigh on 10 years my family camped in the south of Devon, tucked away in the peninsular town of Salcombe. A beautiful town sat at the mouth of an estuary surrounded by the rolling hills typical of Devon…the terrain being either up or down with very little flat at the top or the bottom.
As the roads were quiet and very narrow driving a car was impractical at times and my dad being an ex scout master, on foot was the primary means of travel. Now i am sure that for most of the walks to and from the campsite and in and around Salcombe i was not silent about the amount of walking we were doing. The tactic was to mollify me slightly with supplies of clotted cream fudge or coconut ice rationed out suitably like a proverbial carrot in front of a donkey.
The joy of entering this shop is almost indescribable, in the same way Vega casinos pump higher quality air around to keep people awake, i’d swear sugar vapour is floating around this sweet shop as you are presented with more fudge than you could possibly eat.
On some level i do remember that the walk to and from the campsite and the rest of Salcombe were not what you might call flat but i am not sure i ever really realised quite how brutally hilly they were. I certainly didn’t accurately remember how narrow and twisty they were.
Riding alongside Batson creek probably has a different appeal to walking along side it, The flat quiet road is crying out for a full on sprint along it round some gentle curves in the road, if only to enjoy some speed before you are well and truly reminded that Devon is not flat and any speed you may have is gone in a heartbeat.
As i struggled up this little beauty i figured out why i hadn’t quite remembered it being so steep or narrow . As i got to the top and it flattened out slightly a flush of memories came back, this was usually the point at which the pink and white sweet bag rustled and my parents would offer the reward as we were probably halfway back to the campsite. It was also a stretch of road where i remember signing Ging Gang Goolie while glow worms fluttered around us on the warm summer night.
If i had brought a mountain bike with me i’m sure i could probably find the long cliff top path between two places called Bolt Head and Bolt Tail but mostly in the hope of finding a different sweet shop that sold some very fine Turkish Delight.
If anyone was wondering where i got my sweet tooth from it was probably childhood holiday in devon…thankfully i am riding a bike so i can afford to indulge in a few delicious calories
Indoor training isn’t new but indoor training that is bearable for more than 10 minutes certainly is. This is something we should all be grateful for but apparently this is does not fit with the general consensus of opinion in the cycling community.
For those that know me would probably describe me as a fussy fair weather cyclist and to some extend i would happily agree with them but there is some logic behind this, and maybe a bit of laziness.
This is not to say that i haven’t braved all sorts of conditions to ride my
bike and that’s probably just to prove, at least to myself, that i can ride in
any weather, to appropriate the unofficial creed of the US posties (and yes i
do appreciate the irony of this) ” Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor
gloom of night…”
If you are trying to do a structured training plan then why not take the
stress out of it and concentrate on the goal of completing the session. Anyone
who could do an hour and a half of Over Unders on the open roads of west sussex
has my upmost respect and if you could “kudos” a ride more than once
i would definitely go into double figures. i can’t imagine watching the
training plan flit between intervals while avoiding potholes, junctions, cars
and other road hazard you can think of.
During this winter i could probably count on the fingers of one hand how
many times i rode outside (ignoring a little winter sun break). While i may
have been depriving myself of some company i wasn’t depriving myself of vitamin
d. The wet and miserable British winter was probably a contributing factor to
any increase in sales of smart trainers and Zwift subscriptions. Not everyone
can spend their winter in the warmth of Canaries or Calpe and i don’t hear
anyone foolish enough to tell the pro’s to HTFU when they spend as much time in
sunshine as possible,.
This year i have definitely seen pro’s on training camps riding their turbos
to avoid some horrendous conditions
So this summer, autumn and winter i won’t be cancelling my Zwift
subscription and i may even ride indoors on nice days…you never know i might
even do some E-Racing. Every time i do this i will be dreaming of the open
road, the freedom of spirit that cycling gifts me as that’s the purpose of
training for me, so I’ll sign of with some words of wisdom (although possibly
bending his words to my own purpose)
“Ride as much or as little, as long or as short as you feel.