Crash, Bang, Wallop

In the world of the road cyclist they say that there are two types of riders.

Those who have crashed, and those who have not yet crashed.

The emphasis is seemingly on the inevitability of the occurrence.

Its funny how many anecdotes start with the collective 'They'

Sometimes there is a slight deviation where their certainty appears to waver.

In these rarer moments and they 'reckon' rather than 'say'

Either way Id like to know exactly who THEY are?

As far as cycling is concerned, don't we have any other options?

What about 'If you ride carefully and defensively, calling out wherever possible and wearing enough reflective gear to be seen from outer space?

Apparently 'They say' - that it does not matter! You will eventually CRASH

Charming !!!

But they were right

After a terrible winter that lasted right up to and beyond Easter, there was not much room for spring,

It came and went, barged aside by summer who gate crashed over the horizon.

With the warmth came the Lycra and gleaming bikes with shiny cassettes.

Much too new to have been cleaned that way, and surely never caressed by a chain.

Inexperience too.

The weekly Sportives post Brad have multiplied with as many each week as there were previously filling the entire calender.

In the Middle of June we did the Hornsea 100 km.

An Anglo Mule train across the Holderness Plain.

The poetry may have been lost on some, but our fluidity was something to admire.

Nigel - steering our paceline was more difficult than his Helicopter



Hitting the Holderness Plain



This was a warm up ride for our annual adventure down to Cambridgeshire for the 112 Mile Flat out on the Fens the following week.
We set off at 7am maintaining a speed close to 20 mph with a paceline the envy of many.

So much so that it grew and grew with solitary riders avoiding the strong winds at our expense.

After about 80 miles one of the signs appeared to have been moved which resulted in us (And everyone else on the road) taking the wrong route.

After about 7 miles we came to a T  Junction leading to a busy main road.

By this time one of the Motorcycle Marshall's had realised what had happened and escorted us back on track.

On the way we collected all of the oncoming riders and had soon amassed a large group of mixed abilities.

Unfortunately the true course presented us was a strong headwind and  narrow road to contend with. 

If you were at the back the pace must have seemed too slow

If you were at the front you were struggling to make headway against a blustery wind.

It all got very messy with riders pushing to the front  thinking they could pull the train along quicker.

On encountering the wind they often went slower still.

This created an inconsistent pace which constantly fluctuated and a concertinaed like a Squeezebox being played on acid

I guess it was inevitable as all the danger signs were there.

Crash, Bang, Wallop

Everything seemed to be in slow motion.

Screeching brakes, bikes, bodies and bottles, bouncing and bumping.

I avoided all and listened to my heart racing as I brought my bike to a stop, my hands frozen in a vice like grip on the brakes.

I took in a deep intake of breath and thanked my lucky stars.

Premature.

Crash, Bang, Wallop..........Struck from behind my seat post swivelled turning me around to witness the mayhem.

Sadly the impact also buckled both my wheels and my event was over.

Thankfully it was only the event over and not the season which is now in full swing.

Over the coming days and weeks It will be a case of playing Catch up.

I have 'An adventure to the Moors', The Big G, and Katy Flatlands (USA) to write about.

In the next two weeks we also have an Anglo/US Mule adventure Coast to Coast and Ride London.

Its the Golden Era of Cycling.

Id better get typing

Gauntlet thrown down to Le Patron and his US Mules

Earlier in the year I completed a sportive in the West Yorkshire Dales (Harewood) It was early season and I really struggled up the massive climbs. At times it was not unattractive picture with my face resembling that of a Wells Fargo Stage coach horse that has managed to out run the James Gang. My excuse was early season form.
Four months and four thousand miles I was unable to use that excuse and yet again found myself finishing a ride with a foaming mouth, an acute case of turrets, and a disposition which I could only describe as LOM- low of Mood.

The Reason 'The Big G' more formally known as – Grimpeurs des Wolds Cyclosportive.

The 160Km route started and finished where I live in the historic market town of Beverley and covered the best roads in the Yorkshire Wolds featuring many of the toughest climbs used in the East Yorkshire Classic and the 2006 &2007 The National Road Race Championships.

Featured climbs included Life Hill (Sledmere), Fimber, Wharram Percy Wold, Birdsall Brow, Thixendale Wold, Hanging Grimston, Acklam Brow, Great Givendale and Nunburnholme.

Each name now strikes fear in the same way that Frodo might have experienced when he first moved his little legs on his journey up Mount Doom.

Don’t be fooled into thinking that with only 3600 meters of climbing that it could not have been that bad. The climbs came thick and fast especially in the middle third where remaining in the saddle provided great risk of 'front wheel elevation' and getting out of the saddle required the balance of a tight rope walker.
My problem was not my lack of fitness, but my non lack of fatness.

When will I learn that the only way that the treasured climber can come out of me is if I stop squashing him with a A pasta induced poor power weight ratio.

On the flat and basic climbs I am happy with my performance, down hill I cant stop, and even on very steep but shot climbs I can survive. But if it is over 15% for more than half a mile I am like a truck moving into the crawler lane.
Anyway In post ride beer fuelled euphoria I realised that the only real way I can combat this is by setting myself a challenge that would totally fail unless I let my 'climber' out.

To face my fears head on and let the fear of failure be my champion.

So next July the Anglo Mules will ride 'The way of the Roses' Coast to Coast none stop.

What took us three days last June will now have to be squeezed into just 24 hrs.

As a warm up for this we will do the 156 mile longest distance on the Flat out on the Fens Ride a week before.

We also challenge the US Mules to take part in both too although we realise that Mouth foaming, turrets and involuntary wheel elevations are new skills they may need to acquire!!!!!

My next serious riding will be in The USA with Joanne where we will be joined by fellow Anglo Mules Karen and Simon to take part in the 30th Hotter than Hell. I understand that all the sins are that it may well be that hot this year that Satan himself has been appointed as the Race Director...........................we cant wait

Mad dogs and Englishmen flat out in the midday sun

Last Sunday saw the Anglo Mules take on the 112 mile Flat out in the Fens Sportive.
This coincided with the hottest day of the year with temperatures in the high 80's.
My twin brother Paddy in Texas remarked 'That's cold........I'd be wearing a coat in that weather'
I hope he was joking for any coat wearing would have surely have created the same affect of the culinary 'boil in the bag effect'
I would literally have been poached Shrimp !!!!



The course was flat if not monotonous and when the wind got up in the afternoon there was no hiding place. With long straight stretches over 5 miles at a time I saw numerous mirages in the road.
Not surprisingly they all looked like watering holes, the type that serve Ice cold beer in comparison to the warm juice that was simmering in my water bottle.With the earlier sportives seemingly choreographed by a tango instructor. It was pure joy to move away from the quick, quick, slow, of the Alpine wolds to dance a repeated quick step on this more benign terrain.

My peddles pured with the high tempo, sometimes being sent into a spinning frenzy.

My heart not so enamoured, repeatedly played catch up like a father chasing an errant child in the park.

What the Fens lacked in visual enjoyment they more than made up for in other ways.

When you are able to follow a back wheel at 2" away with speeds over 20 mph for hours on end, When you are able to feel part of the collective movement of a chain gang,

When the wind you feel is created by yourself and not by nature

Then you really know why you do it.

Next weekend five of us anglo Mules are plannning to Cycle 24hrs for Charity.........................................Life gets no easier

Flat out on the Fens - Deja Vu

Ever since the recent royal wedding the tabloid newspapers have been full of Pippamania projecting Pippa Middleton from a royal Maid of Honour to National Hottie.

Although I have to conceded she is rather pleasing to the eye I could never get caught up in this sort of exploitation. I am sure she does not want to wake up each morning to have half baked stories and speculative partners splattered across the nations tabloids.

This paparazzi fuelled literary drivel only has one use for me, and that is to keep my Fish and chips warm until I get home from the Fish and Chip shop.

Mr Murdoch must must have sensed my indifference and came up with a cunning plan to attract my attention.

Apparently not only does she carry a veil well, but she also runs and rides a bike.......fast!!!!!!

Pippa was snapped taking part in the Highland Cross challenge a duathlon across Scotland.

Her Bianchi looks a stylish as any Alexander McQueen outfit and the Mavic Aksiums will surely put distance between her and any 'Cannon clickers'.

This time last year most of the Paparazzi were over in South Africa drinking Lion Beer and being sworn at by Wayne Rooney as 'Our Lads' failed yet again in our national game.

As the Germans were peppering the English Goal with 'das fussball'.

I was cycling around Eastern England in the 'Flatout in the Fens' a 112 mile sportive by Kilo to go.

Although the field was reduced by the lure of masochistic tele viewing, I could not help thinking it was their loss. It was a glorious day and one of the hottest of the year.

Here we are again 12 months on and the forecast promises much with a cloudless sky and the temperature up in the low 80's. With a flat Terrain we could be cycling in Texas minus the Turkey Vultures and Gatorade.


This time there is a large Anglo Mule contingent with seven of us taking Part Me, Joanne, Karen, Simon, Bobby, Kelky and Karen W. its hopped that we can put in a good time and have people wandering....'Who are those Mules????'

Coast to Coast - Day Three

Appleton le Street to Bridlington

After ordering everything on the Menu and over hydrating myself at the wonderful Cresswell Arms I felt a bit Peaky on wednesday morning, and was grateful in the knowledge that we were close to our journeys end. As we flew down into Malton with our 'Wheeled Mules' proudly displayed on the backs of our jerseys we were joined by about 20 other fleet four legged beats. Thery came in the form of race horses who were exercising on the gallops which ran parallel with our road. Our horsey emblems were not lost on them and there were some supportive whinnying and neighing being emitted from both of the equine groups. After Malton we followed the road to Settrington which was the start of the only big climb of the day. Although the wolds bore no resemblance to the Pennines as far as elevation was concerned, its access roads were certainly comparable and uncompromising in the gradients they offered.

By the time I had reached the top, my thighs were so tenderised that any passing Cannibal may think that Tartare steak were on the Menu.

On the plus side it cured my hangover.

Once onto the Wolds the route was familiar with a long flat section from West Lutton to the outskirts of Bridlington.

On this stretch the Pace and tempo increased and Joanne made a guest appearance at the front. It reminded me a bit of Mark Cavendish, Totally anonymous in the mountains where he suffers, but as soon as if there is a whiff of fast flat riding hes hovering at the front somewhere.

As we passed through Grindle the smell of the sea was unmistakable and as we approach the brow of each new hill we looked expectantly for the 'blue stuff'. Eventually it came where photo opportunities presented themselves.

On our arrival Bobby being Scots got out his Quaich in celebration of our achievement.

It is a scots tradition of sharing Whiskey from a communal cup. It was actually something that I warmed to over the three days as it seemed to make the most odd appearances, and never semed to empty.
With the task completed we now look forward to our next event 'Flat out in the Fens' a 112 milen sportive next weekend.

'Flat out in the Fens' with no rear wheel

As we enter the last week before the start of The Tour de France I have been reading about Lance Armstrong's preparations on his Twitter and the Radio Shack site. He has been having a look at some of the climbs he is about to endure by riding them.
Not wanting to be outshone by Lance I decided that I too would have a look at my course for The Flat out in the Fens Ride this Sunday gone.

Riding the course seemed a bit excessive to me, so I persuaded my good friend Colin to take me up in his Aeroplane for some aerial reconnaissance.

I already appreciated the Course would be flat, very flat but by this method I would be able to get an idea of the road widths, traffic etc.
Airborne reconnaissance is hungry work so after a few loops around the area I was to ride Colin elected that we might stop off somewhere and have breakfast.
That appealed to me as I was in my Carbo loading mode.
I am not sure that a full English breakfast fits that criteria but that's what I had at a beautiful Fenland airstrip near Holbech.


When we took off to leave, the Air traffic tower called us up.
They usually do to bid us farewell. This time there was a level of anxiety in the transmission.
'Golf-Alpha-Papa..............When you took off something fell off your plane'

My basic knowledge of these things was that everything that might be attached to the plane was actually required for some reason or another.
The props propelled us, the wings guided us etc etc......
The radio crackled again.......'Golf-Alpha-Papa..........we have found your rear wheel on the airstrip......in fact the whole unit has come off'
To make things worse a student pilot had just taken off for her first Solo flight and was doing a short circuit prior to landing.
She was told to circle the airstrip.

Colin remained as Cool as Ice and interjected ......'the student should land prior to me as if anything happens she may be stuck with a closed runway.

Closed Runway !!!!!!!! I did not like the sound of this.
Colin continued 'I will do a 'wheeler' landing once the runway is clear'

As Colin banked the plane around I did not think it would be appropriate to ask too many questions.
He did however look at me and tell me to tighten up my harness as tight as possible and then proceeded to explaining how to get out the plane quickly in case it caught fire.
I listened intently.

He came in very low and very fast.
At one point I asked him if he was going to fly 'above' or 'below' the electric pylons that we were fast approaching........I don't think he answered me.
As we got close to the Airstrip I saw the firetrucks moving and nearly swallowed my tongue.

The landing was terrifying I thought that we were going to flip over in a cartwheel as the plane surged forwards on the grass strip. Finally he let the unprotected tail drop and we shuddered to a stop. WOW !!!!
Up until that time Colin had been Mr ICE, but now I could see his hands shaking.


We had to leave the plane at Fenland and get a lift home......I was quite happy with this more traditional form of transport even if it did take hours.


The Ride seemed a bit of an anticlimax in comparison.

Mark did exceptionally well in his first sportive of 112 miles and I don't think he will ever complete on in such temperatures......Well not in this country. It was far hotter than last years 'Hotter than Hell' in Texas and many participants were suffering.
After deciding that we would spend the day as 'wheel suckers' our pride got the better of us and we had some long stints at the front pulling.
What is clear to me is that there is no substitute for miles in the bank. Although I am still heavier than this time last year....I am so much fitter and now look forward to a proper Hotter than Hell challenge in August with the American Mules.

Flatout in the Fens

The last month has seen a huge amount of activity in the International cycling World.
We have had The Giro, Tour of California, Tour of Luxembourg, Dalphine Liberee and The Tour of Switzerland.
Frankly its been a double bonus.
Having been forced by patriotic obligation to watch our national team show their ineptitude in playing our national game, I find myself searching a thesaurus for new words that describe frustration and boredom.

Even watching the cycling 'domestiques' collect bottles from team cars was more exciting than watching Mr Rooney and Co audition for the remake of 'Out of Africa'.


The whole cycle scene is so intriguing with our entrees of 'pre Tour de france racing' served up with dollops of Drama and sub plot.

It has been really fascinating to see who has entered what and to note the general omission of the Tour de France General classification contenders facing each other.


Contador looked so comfortable in the Dalphine and he will take some beating.
Basso looked rejuvenated in the Giro
Mr Armstrong got a 3rd in Luxemborg, 2nd in Switzerland. As he says 'Do the Math'

There are so many podium contenders in the melting pot.
I enjoyed seeing Cadel Evans find some real form and I am looking forward to see how Sky go with Bradley Wiggins and the talented Edvald Boasson Hagen.

This Norwegian baby face is my dark horse to do well.


Over the next week all of the teams will be publishing their rosters for the Great event and I expect there will be a few surprises too.



Whilst all of this is going on 'The Mule Team' are ramping up their training for the Annual 'Hotter than Hell' ride in Witchita Falls, Texas in August.



I expect to announce a full Roster for this team soon when The Mules have been shod and had their manes cut. Some have spent too much time in the fields eating grass!!!!!!!


In the meantime two of the Anglo riders are taking part in 'Flat out in the Fens' this Sunday a 112 mile sportive.
With the temperatures forecast for the mid 80's it will certainly be a challenging ride.

I will be completing this with a new 'Mule' - Mark Kelk.

Mark is a strong and powerfull rider especially away from the hills .
Such is his prowess on the bike that they have seemingly named a village after him.

Mark we welcome you into the pasture and hope you do the Mules proud with Hard riding and good charity work.

A full report and Pictures will follow after the weekend

Embrace the inner loser in you

About a month ago I was returning home from work on my bike.
It was Friday evening and there was a large group of teenagers gathered on street corner next to some traffic lights I had stopped at.
They were smoking, drinking and the males were jostling for position of 'Alpha status' in front of their female counterparts.
With the lights remaining at red for some time their attention seemed to be distracted to myself.
A 50 year old overweight male dressed in Lycra on a road bike.
With my Head phones covering my ears they may have mistakenly believed that their conversions may not have been registered with me.
Why would they think otherwise in their eyes my age may have also determined that I was also deaf!
One of them turned to his girlfriend and sniggered saying look at that 'fat bastard on the bike', this caused them all to laugh, some instinctively, some through peer pressure.

I am not that sensitive to be effected by the immature posturing of a teenager, but if it had not effected me in some way I would not find myself typing about this incident now. I guess I was a bit hurt.

Yes I do struggle with my weight. In the Winter I am FAT, this winter I got very FAT.
But by the start of the summer I slim down to ensure that I can hold my own in the sportives that I enter.
This year I have given myself a new goal. To trim down, get very, very fit and to maintain that throughout the winter.

So what of these kids.......well my retort was simple.
I removed my sunglasses and fixed the gaze of the offending Neanderthal, and spoke.
My voice was calm and monotone
'When you have finished your fag and supped your cherryade would you like to race me up to the top of Westwood (A local climb) I am happy to wait, maybe your buddies might like to join in too.........(I was now on a roll)
In fact if you want an even chance maybe you could form a relay team, because looking at you, I expect you will be blowing out of your arse after about a hundred yards.

The girls laughed, not at me but at him and their potential suitors.......needless to say nobody took up the challenge.
Last night and 16 lbs lighter i pulled up at the lights again and there was the same group.
They all put up there hands with an appreciative greeting, all apart from the previous 'rude boy' who still looked as sheepish as he did when I last saw him.

Over the next few months I have two major bike rides.
Flat out in the Fens 112 mile sportive on 27th of June In the fenland's of Lincolnshire, and Norfolk.
And Hotter than Hell in Witchita Falls, Texas at the End of August.
The latter is the ride that I will try and peak for, and between now and then I will continue to get fitter and faster and hopefully thinner.
There maybe days I don't want to train and days that I want to depart from my healthy eating schedule.
But as long as I move forward it does not matter.

As Theodore Roosevelt stated 'In the Arena'

It is not the critic who counts;
not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles,
or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs,
comes up short again and again,
because there is no effort without error and shortcoming;
but who does actually strive to do the deeds;
who knows the great enthusiasms,
the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end
the triumph of high achievement,
and who at the worst, if he fails,
at least fails while daring greatly,
so that his place shall never be with those
cold and timid souls
who neither know victory nor defeat.

Hotter than Hell 2009 (L to R :- Me, Paddy).

Miles mean smiles

Smiles are good for you!!!!!!!!!!

It seems a long time ago since those short winter 'training days' of multiple layers and frosted fingers. Where snow lay as thick across the land as the fat did around my girth.When my weekly Target was achieving 50 miles without the desire for an oxygen tent.

When shadows were long, and even the simplest inclines seemed longer still.

When gravity helped me to zoom down hills like a rolling barrel, but hurriedly pulled me back when I attempted to go up the other side.

When I entered the gruelling 102 miles sportive 'The Cheshire Cat' in March and nearly gave up cycling for good. Oh such was the agony, and tears from constant climbing at double figure gradients

When my number 8612 on the Houston to Austin MS150 ride reflected my waist line in millimeters!!!!!!!!! When other riders sought me as a wind break as they hopped from one paceline to another, and farmers mistook me for a stray longhorn.
When I stood at the end of Photo shoots praying that the camera might miss me out or at least the lumpy parts of me.
It seems a long time ago since me and my kitchen made up and became friends.

Where it stopped stocking naughty food to tempt me or leave traps in the middle of the night.

I can now visit this room day and night without fear of ambush.

Where previously I might slip up only to dislodge some peanuts or chocolate biscuits off shelves and into my unsuspecting mouth.

Those days are gone and new days have arrived.

Miles have brought smiles in abundance.

50 miles per week became 75, 100, 150 and now I do 200 miles + a week and I get high on the endorphins that they now give me.

On my recent Flat out in the Fens sportive I was proud to pull a paceline for the first time.

By that I don't mean just for a few minutes of heavy perspiration and blowing out of my arse. (After all I had done that dozens of times)

I mean pulling for hours at a time, for miles and miles that were recorded, registered in my heart and in my legs.

I have completed 3,724 miles this year with 151,607 feet of climbing and burned 219,468 calories. I have lost 28 lbs with still more to come off.

My biggest event of the Year 'The Hotter than Hell' (100miles) only 7 weeks away I am no longer intimidated by such distances.

I look forward to it as a new challenge even if that means 100 f heat to throw into the mix.

Bring it on I say.

For me Miles really do mean smiles.

Smiles at the ability to wear clothes that look as if they were sold in a shop rather than a product from a marquee retailers.

Smiles at seeing my car gather dust and unused petrol remain in the garage forecourt.

Smiles at encouraging others to ride too and sharing the same enthusiasm that I have

Smiles at being able to see the world at a slower pace and being able to record it all by my blog site

To pinch a phrase from my favoritve cycle blog 'Change your life, ride a Bike!!!!!'

Rather than see it all as the end of a journey I see it as the start of a new one.

This week my virtual ride reaches Lexington (officially Lexington-Fayette Urban County) is the second-largest city in Kentucky and the 67th largest in the United States. Known as the "Thoroughbred City" and the "Horse Capital of the World", it is located in the heart of Kentucky's Bluegrass region. Lexington ranks 10th among US cities in college education rate, with 39.5% of residents having at least a Bachelor's Degree. It is home to the headquarters of Lexmark International, the Kentucky Horse Park, Keeneland race course, Red Mile race course, Transylvania University, and the University of Kentucky.

It is also where two well know actors hail from: George Clooney or George 'Swoony' as many women see him. I am a great admirer of his work both in front and behind the Camera. Then to balance things out there is also Ashley Judd who has occasionally entered my virtual world too, but not riding a bike.

After a date with a young Filly I was soon bonking

After 77 miles of riding in 'Flat out in the fens' yesterday, I missed my undulations.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the opportunity to ride at a high Tempo for long periods of time, but this sort of riding felt a bit clinical.

I had total control, If I was hurting I could just slow down, it felt a bit of a cop out.

I missed 'The Devils Chimney' and its elevated cousins, I missed the clunk of the sound you get when you select a lower gear and realise you have no more left, I missed the combat, where some of the control belongs to the road and you have to fight against it to keep going.
When your climbing and it hurts, you cant slow down, you either work through it or stop.

To treat myself to my gradient deprivation I decided to venture out to 'Dalby Forrest' in the beautiful North Yorkshire Moors National Park.

Although I had been there with my girls, it had been in the car - I had never cycled there.

I reckoned the round trip would be about 100 miles.

The first part of the trip was great, a good fast pace from Beverley to the foot of the Forge valley, where the climbing really started.

When you are in a car you forget about most hills but do sometimes recall the more awkward ones.

The ones where your initial gear selection has been over confident and you stall.

Where you frantically scramble for first before you roll back onto the Range Rover behind you.

As I started climbing I had an awful sense of Deja Vu and then recalled some of the monster hills.

The Dalby Forrest Drive is a private Toll road and was principally created to service farms and the forestry commission, not for recreation.

Tarmac certainly was not wasted!!!

If there was a hill, the road just went straight up it.

After the first big climb I stopped at the top of the hill for a drink and to eat some dates

(Gels are all well and good, but with the packaging, and additives etc I see them as being a bit excessive. I try and use natural foods like bananas and dates etc)

As I was eating my dates a horse appeared next to me and looked at me with hungry, sad, and seductive eyes.

I was completely taken in and I gave her a date. She nodded her head in approval and flickered her long eye lashes. Before I knew it, I had given her the lot, after which she shunned me in exchange for some fresh dandelions.

By the time I had got through the Forrest I had completed 70 miles and countless climbs. The Fens were also catching up on me making my legs feels like they were stuck in one of their many bogs.

The homeward journey was a nightmare.

I have never 'bonked' before and just thought it was people exaggerating about a bit of tiredness.

How wrong I was !! I was totally 'F***ed' or 'cream crackered' as the cockneys would say.

The last fifteen miles I averaged 11 miles per hour. It felt as if I were towing a beer truck.

When I got home I had completed 108 miles with 7,000 feet climbing and over 7,600 cals.I guess those flat lands weren't so bad after all.