live-cycle

Preparing for a ride is never simple. Too often I tell my other half that I’m going for a ride and, 45 minutes later, as she sees me setting off she exclaims: “Are you back already?” If you ride regularly, you know the ins and outs involved: planning routes, finding clothing that’s clean (well, not too smelly) and appropriate for the weather (four seasons), checking the bike, pumping tyres, oiling chains, filling bidons, finding bike computer, helmet and gloves that match. And that’s just for a two-hour Saturday ride. When planning a four-day ride, preparations increase exponentially.

So you can imagine, I’m sure, what it’s like helping to prepare for a ride with someone who lives 200 miles away and has never ridden before. My ride with Chich, my brother-in-law (see previous post) is one such. There are the obvious things to tell him: wear gloves, helmet, chamois shorts (not with boxers underneath). Use a Camelbak, or some kind of hydration system worn on the back – certainly easier for a blind person than water bottles. Also, what to drink, what to eat, and how often.

Funny little things crop up: usually on a tandem the taller person rides in front. It seems we are not the perfect match, and not because neither of us is called Daisy. Chich is taller than me, but because he is blind I am insisting that he rides at the back. Last week he went for a ride with a friend and found that his knees scraped the handlebars. He was reluctant to raise his saddle, and it wasn’t possible to raise the handlebars. After some thought I suggested that he rotate the handlebars forward slightly, and move his saddle back. That worked, fortunately.

I’m also trying to convince Chich that he should use SPDs (clip-in pedals) because I found that if you lose the pedals on a tandem it can be very difficult to get your feet back on them while your partner is pedalling. Of course, the sanest piece of advice is the one that I haven’t given him: don’t do it.

The madness gets nearer. In two weeks’ time (Monday September 12) I will find myself pedalling in earnest on the business end of a bicycle made for two. In tandem with my brother-in-law, Chich Hewitt, I will spend four days cycling from Holyrood House in Edinburgh to Holy Rood Church in Swinton, Manchester. I suppose you could call us the Holy Rood Riders, but I would have to make it clear that Chich is the Holy one.

I’m not sure if either of us really knows what we have let ourselves in for. After spending several hours poring over MapMyRun, I have concocted a 380km route that hopefully avoids the busiest A roads, the biggest hills (they are really mountains, aren’t they?) and the wettest weather. (That last one is just a wish, really.) I don’t think four days cycling that distance is a problem for me but we do, collectively, have concerns for Chich, who has never cycled further than around the block. Also, because of his blindness, Chich has had to do almost all of his training on a stationary bike.
Apart from me (ha ha), Chich doesn’t have youth on his side – he has already been issued with a bus pass by Her Majesty’s Government (God bless ‘er). So why on earth, I hear you ask, is he taking on such an onerous task on two wheels when he could simply hop on a bus?
Well, our ride has a dual purpose – to comemmorate the centenary of Holy Rood Church in Swinton and the four hundredth anniversary of the King James Bible. Chich has three real worries: hills, the weather, and hills. I have only one worry: Chich (the fact that I might let him down). Of course, because I will be sitting at the front, it will be up to me to find the way. So anyone pedalling around Edinburgh on the morning of September 12, please feel free to join us. We could do with any support we can find, moral or otherwise.

Sometimes, when I think about things, I wonder if perhaps I should leave all this Tour de France predicting to the professional pundits. I mean, what do I know? No more than the next guy in the street, I suppose. So why then do I have my say on what’s going to happen? Why do I set myself up to be proven wrong (not always, but certainly sometimes) by subsequent events? Well? Because I can. And because it’s fun. And because I love this race and the people and the sport, and everything about it.

I suppose that my predictions about Contador and Wiggins crashed as badly as those two riders did, although Contador did manage to survive the race, and even showed true mettle in the closing stages. His race was hampered by bad luck, and his hopes of a win ended virtually on day two, by which time he had lost serious seconds due to a crash and a poor team time-trial. His first two weeks were plagued by crashes, and you started to wonder if he was jinxed. Or was there a conspiracy to ensure that he was never a contender? But he survived – with a quiet dignity. All I can say is: don’t write him off yet, whatever the outcome of the CAS appeal.

So where was I right? Well, I’m ecstatic that Mark Cavendish won the green jersey. He was a vision of cycle racing at its gladitorial best. I love Cav’s passionate and unpredictable nature. And you alway know that he will give his heart and soul, and that there will be some hiccups at the start. And should he shed a few tears along the way, so what! It just proves that he is more human that the rest of them. And his future? It seems that, with his HTC team folding, he will head for Team Sky, for better or worse. But what we will miss is the sight of that HTC train – all nine riders in their white jerseys – dragging the peloton along the final miles of a stage and lining up Cavendish to set him loose for the final sprint. What a team they were – we will probably never see their like again.

Cadel Evans showed that grit and determination is what it takes. And not panicking – although there certainly were moments when Cadel came close to that. But over all he kept his cool, and never let the prospect of that yellow jersey out of his sight. Andy and Frank Schleck, on the other hand, showed that they lacked the necessary grit when it mattered. And their complaints about dangerous downhills bordered on the ludicrous. Why don’t they admit that they are just not good enough on the downhills, and be done with it?

So that, in a nutshell (must be a coconut) was the 2011 Tour de France. The main thing that I was right about is that it was more exciting, more thrilling, than ever. Now, roll on 2012, I just can’t wait.

That most thrilling of soap operas – the Tour de France – has returned for its 2011 run. And even though the latest episode has only just begun, it is already throwing up twists and turns that even the whackiest storyline writers could never have dreamt up. Of course, there is also the old theme that never seems to go away – allegations of drug use – only this time, now that Lance Armstrong has retired, there is a new whipping boy.

Alberto Contador, the defending champion, is the man in the hot saddle. Many believe that he shouldn’t be racing. They just keep chucking more and more muck into the Spaniard’s spokes in the hope that some of it will spray over his nice powder-blue SaxoBank kit. So far it hasn’t worked. And so we have two types of reporting on the race. We have opinions like those in the upstanding Guardian which preface any mention of Contador with the word ‘disgraced’. And then we have the live-and-let-live approach of BikeSnobNYC, writing for Bicycling. I won’t attempt to quote the funny and irreverent BikeSnob – just go to the website and read (and enjoy) his reports.

Maybe it’s just my innate belief in the goodness of human nature that makes me believe Contador’s explanation for the minute amount of clenbuterol in his system. I have no more reason not to believe his explanation than to believe it. So for now I give him the benefit of the doubt. I seem to be in a minority – although I believe popular opinion on his case has been tainted, just like his steak, by unsubstantiated suggestions of plastics in the blood – but as far as I am aware, that is simply malicious rumour.

And so Contador has become a contradiction: at the same time the underdog and the favourite. He certainly seems to have frightened the pants off The Guardian, which warns against the ‘nightmare scenario’ of  the ‘disgraced’ Contador winning public sympathy through his early misfortunes in the race. Well, my wish is to see Contador rip the race apart. Then let the court for arbitration in sport do its worst.

As for the rest – I would like to see Cavendish in green. He has the capacity to win, but somehow he seems to get elbowed out by the officials. And I reckon Wiggo could get a podium place, if his teammates let him.

What I enjoy about cycling is the challenges that it always throws up. Sometimes the challenge comes in the form of training for an event, sometimes it is the event itself. And occasionally it has little to do with the training or the event, but has everything to do with the preparation necessary to get the whole project off the ground. And that is the challenge that I face right now.

In itself the task ahead is not the most challenging: a 220-mile road ride from Edinburgh to Manchester, with about a week to complete it. That sounds simple enough, but this is where it gets interesting. I will be riding with my brother-in-law, Chich, who has not cycled for some years and was never a regular cyclists (at least, not until he conceived this venture – so I can blame him for everything). So far, so good. The problem isn’t that Chich is not a regular cyclists, it is that he has been going blind over the past 18 months. Hence we will be doing the ride on a tandem – an experience new to the both of us.

While I know a bit about buying bikes, I have found that buying – and riding – a tandem is a whole different ballgame (if you’ll excuse me mixing my sporting metaphors). Also, new tandems appear to be incredibly expensive, so we need to take the second-hand route, especially seeing that it will probably not be overused.  I did mange to source one, only to find it was no longer on the market, so I have had to cast the net wider. Aah, the Net: Ebay is always a good place to start, but there is always an element of buying something with your eyes closed. Still, we will take a punt and see what happens.

What is a greater concern right now is planning our route. We want to avoid the busiest A roads, naturally. Leaving Edinburgh and arriving in Manchester will be the busiest sections, so we need to be particularly careful there. I have tried to incorporate Sustrans routes and cycle paths with my own inaccurate knowledge of the area, but way just gets longer, more complicated and more circuitous. So, this is a cry for help: does anyone have a mapped-out route for this ride? And what is the best way to navigate? Maps? Satnav? Sextant and compass?

Any suggestions (on the back of the postcard to the usual address) would be greatly  appreciated. And then maybe I will tell you WHY we are doing all of this …

… or maybe it’s just your lucky day!!!

There comes a time of life – and some might say that I may soon be reaching that time – when you no longer expect to find yourself sitting in a classroom learning how to do this or that. I know that we never stop learning the lessons of life, we just stop paying attention to those lessons. Patently I haven’t quite reached that stage, because quite recently, and quite voluntarily, I found myself sitting in a classroom in Hackney with about 20 assorted cyclists, learning how to lead a group bicycle ride.
Well, it wasn’t all about the classroom, some of it was about the bike, and we had a super time holding up Hackney carriages and cars on a Saturday morning.
The object of the lesson was to become Sky Ride leaders – we went through all sorts of routines, from checking bikes to checking people, then taking them through a warm-up routine. Then there was lots of talk about communication between leaders, their assistants and followers, about risk assessment, route planning, signing on and signing off, then some more practical time, playing in the traffic. I had a definite sense of being a sheepdog learning how to round up a bunch of stray sheep.
There were serious bits, like the CRB (Criminal Records Bureau) check, but most of all there was an emphasis on fun. Now, as the proud owner of a British Cycling Ride Leader certificate, I can do what it says on the can – officially lead Sky Rides, a series sponsored by Sky and British Cycling.
And so, on Sunday, I will don my new blue Sky Ride Leader cycling jersey and head off to Woolwich to take part in my first round-up. If I manage not to lose any sheep, I’ll let you know what happens.

A friend – a cycling one, naturally – showed me this, and I thought that I should pass it on to a wider audience.

Cyclist’s prayer

Thank you, gracious God,
for the privilege of pedalling,
for the chance to see so much more,
for the opportunity to stop and talk
or look and listen,
for the exultation of racing down hills,
for the increased fitness of struggling up them.
Keep me committed when it is wet or windy.
Thank you, gracious God, for bicycles. Amen.

Andrew De Smet

Perhaps we don’t always (ever) think of praying when we get out on the bike, but it certainly wouldn’t harm you to do so. One thing that I might add to my prayer, though, especially when riding in London, is:
“Lead us not onto the A3,
and deliver us from high-sided vehicles.”

I don’t know who coined the adage: Time flies when you’re having fun. You certainly couldn’t apply it to my life. Time just flies by, fun or no fun. The last bit of fun I had was, oh, a week ago; in the time that has flown by since, I’m starting to have trouble remembering it. Oh yes, I remember now: I fell in love. Yes, I know I’m so sad – I really don’t get out much these days, but that’s what happens when you work at home. So my day out last week was to the Future Gallery near Leicester Square for the long-awaited launch of the 2011 Boardman bike range. [Yes, I told you last year that the range would be out only IN 2011, unlike those manufacturers who launch new bikes six months before the new year begins.]

So there I go, dressed in my best blue jeans, to enjoy the evening as Chris Boardman and Andy Smallwood served up their 2011 offering. Quite a scrummy serving it turned out to be – and I’m not just talking about the canapes. On the plate was a refined range of bikes, both on and off road, including  a new Elite range at the premium end of the market, where some of the new carbon confections come with equally eye-watering price tags. That said, there has been no price increase at the lower end of the market, keeping the entry-level bikes affordable and among the best available in terms of value. And the changes are real – not simply a different paint job and a new set of decals.

I had heard some niggles (see earlier postings) that the launch was “so late”. Well, as Boardman explained, in order to be able to offer genuine change with each new generation of the bikes, the company works on a two-year cycle, not yearly. And they would rather have the range perfect before they show it to the public.

So what are the changes? Well, Andy Smallwood continues to amaze me with his inexhaustible knowledge of every nut and bolt that goes onto a Boardman bike, but I’m afraid that he lost me somewhere between “superior resin combinations” and “exacting frame geometries integrated with the latest component technologies”.

Besides, my head had already been turned by the shapely contours of one of Boardman’s entourage. Don’t tell my wife, but I was smitten by her beautiful profile and wonderfully structured frame. Of course, I am talking about the stunning hardtail Pro Carbon, with internal cabling, Rock Shock SIDs, and SRAM X9. Her svelte frame weighed in at a mere 23.8lb. It was love at first sight. I spent the rest of the evening drooling over her crossbar and saddle … well, at least until the security guys chucked me out. Still, it would never have worked out – Mrs R would never have allowed a new addition to the harem in the back shed, even if I could have afforded her. But she really was a stunner. If you don’t believe me, you can check her out for yourself at the Boardman website.