MS 150 Houston to Austin 2010 the Journey Starts

Usually when I have completed the MS 150 I have had the luxury of staying in a ranch close to La Grange the location used for the overnight stop. With such accommodation you get basic amenities such as hot and cold running water, fluffy pillows, and an environment relatively safe from third party intrusion.

For same insane reason which now escapes me Paddy and I decided that we would renege on the ranch and join the majority of the 'die hards' in a large communal tent.
We talked the whole thing up with views of fellowship and brotherhood and beer, after a while the notion became quite appealing.

On the Friday before the ride we helped load up the van that would be used to move 'The campers' gear. Not having slept under canvas since I was 11 years old I was surprised at the quantity and variety of appointments people brought for a single overnight stay.

One couple brought a bag that was so big that it could feasibly contain all of the contents of a small bedroom. Half jokingly I commented on this. The response which I recieved, I took to be delivered in the same tongue in cheek way as it confirmed that what I was suggesting was in fact true.

On Saturday morning I was up at 3am which I pointed out was closer to evening time, than morning!!!!! However being as resourceful as ever I soon found a 'pick me up'

WE started at about 7 with wet weather and a strong tail wind. Our team soon got into stride with a pace line that saw few rivals and gobbled up the miles. Without stopping we had soon arrived at Bellville for lunch having completed 50 miles. I struggled to keep up at times and when I got detached from the group, I had to work even harder to get back.

That Christmas cake and all those other bad things tasted great when I ate them but the added poundage was really taking its toll.

After lunch I became conscious that this two day event was only the start of something much bigger with 'The Natchez Trace' to follow immediately afterwards.
I allowed myself to be shelled from the group and was joined by Paddy and Taylor, we found our own pace which enabled us to enjoy the surroundings and not have to concentrate on half an inch of rubber.

We arrived at our refuge camp early in the afternoon and were each allocated a cot to sleep on. That's about 150 people in one tent.

Cosy

I managed to find one next to an exit and chuckled to myself as I observed the 'Big bag couple' unpack a blow up king size mattress, sheets, four pillows and a duvet.

Apart from the apparent loss of hot and cold running water, and fluffy pillows I was ever so perturbed about some unwanted guests. The floor of the tent appeared to be covered in spiders.

I don't like spiders and only wearing a pair of flip flops increased my anxiety. It was difficult to tell if it was a blade of grass of a 'legged' creature that tickled my toes.

With spiders on my mind I went to bed about 8pm knowing that we would be rising at 5am.

As I dozed off I dreamt of spiders crawling all over me and woke up in a start thankful it was just a dream only to see TWO spiders seemingly having a chat on my forearm.
My sleep was broken from then on as was my sense of humour as a storm broke outside.

My cot soon became an island surrounded by a shallow puddle of water.

Call me a wimp-camping out is not for me.

Sunday we set off at 7am and I was pleased to leave spider camp.

I found the ride to Austin tough going against a moderate headwind but we had a good group and got in just after lunch.

It was not my best MS 150, but like all of the five I have completed -it was memorable.

Natchez tomorrow..........bring it on.

After the thaw its all gone Potty

Sunday morning was different.

As I lay in bed under my duvet I could not work it out right away, my brain was frozen.

Far too slow to decide on which sense was being stimulated.

But finally it came to me.

It was the sound of birds outside.

Not the joyous sound of Spring, but more of a birdy sigh. The sort of equivalent sound that a human might make when finishing a long journey or completing an unpleasant task.

Of course my curiosity got the better of me and to the window I went, angling the blinds to look outside.

Although I lived on a street , I could be forgiven for forgetting such a fact as the roads, pavements, fields and even local beaches had been covered with thick layers of snow.

Not for the usual day or two but for nearly a month!!!!!!

Birds had stopped singing, they had lost their sense of humour. Even the red breasted robin no longer blushed.

It was too F***ing cold to sing.

If they sold beak balm, I am sure whole aviaries would have been queuing up to buy some.

Like us they just saved their energy to keep warm and look for food where ever it might come from.

Even some of the local stores had run short on bread and milk.

The birds were not the only surprise, the road was silver.

The dampness from the melted snow was shimmering in sunlight and bathed in long shadows.

I could Cycle

My recent cycle training had been confined to reading my colourful Lance Armstrong book 'Up close and Personal' so the concept of actually riding my bike seemed quite novel.

My brother Paddy in Texas has already stolen a march on me going out every weekend and already up to 45 mile sessions.

With Texas and the MS 150 Houston-Austin in April looming , I realised that I had to get my skates on (sorry cycle shoes). Of late I have been pre occupied with alpine pastimes.

So off I went wishing that I had not eaten all that christmas cake as my bike creaked under me, and my Santas sack protruded towards my handle bars.

I decided on a short cobweb blowing, hill climbing route.

The green grass on Beverley Westwood looked bizarre dotted with half melted snowmen and the odd pile of 'Scarf, carrot and coal button combination' remaining isolated and unemployed on barren grass.As I climbed up towards the mast to the north of Little Weighton there was the last remnants of our big freeze defying the morning sun.

Lines of snow framed fields and gullies creating white linear patterns all around like an agricultural chessboard.

The road so familiar to me had also changed since summer months with new unwanted arrivals.

Pot holes.

A month of freeze and thaw had exploited the weakness of the friday afternoon resurfacing. Where workers minds were on pints of ale and fancy girls, not on Mr Macadams compound.

Some parts of the road had more in common with a lunar landscape than a rural highway.
Still it made the ride interesting, a slalom without snow.

I was relieved to get to the top of the climb, the the icy air hurt my lungs as I breathed heavily.

The 20+ mph average from last summer was now a paltry 11mph, I was struggling, really struggling.

The long descent home increased it to 14 mph, whilst my heart beat recovered.

I recorded 16.03 miles, hardly respectable but at least it was something.

When I got home the birds had again stopped singing, I think the novelty had now worn off.

I put away the bike and reflected in front of the fire with a hot chocolate.

Its a long way to go to get cycle fit again, but in every journey there has to be a start.

Mine is now behind me.

Happy cycling

A Change in fortune

For some time now I have been struggling.
Struggling to cycle, struggling to blog....sometimes just struggling to get up in the morning.
If I were a cycle you could say that I had lost a few spokes and my chain had snapped.
One of my excuses for not doing my blog was because I had lost the battery charger for my Camera and was unable to take any pictures. How lame !!!!
One of my excuses for not cycling was that I had lost focus.

Last week my new battery charger arrived and as I plugged it in I heard a 'ping' on my computer indicating that I had some incoming E mail.

On looking it was an E mail from my brother Paddy in Houston.
It was confirmation that he had entered me in for next years MS150 Houston to Austin ride in April. It will be my 4th.
He had also booked my flight and told me that we might be doing the Natchez trace immediately after the MS 150.
For those of you who think that I might be talking about a Gastro tour around the finest Mexican restaurants in Texas - you are mistaken.
The Natchez Trace is a an unforgettable road that stretches 444-miles from the Mississippi River in Natchez through the Shoals area in Alabama across Tennessee's Cumberland Plateau and on to Nashville.
I now have more focus than a zoom lens and a camera to record all of my training.
My bucketful of excuses has run out.........................Off to spinning classes.

If Yorkshire were a state in the USA - Which one would it be?????

Having spent three weeks in Texas it was nice to finally come back to my home in Yorkshire.
I am always surprised that when I travel, how many people outside of Europe have never heard of Yorkshire or know exactly where it is positioned within the British Isles.

I say British Isles as one Texan recently asked me. 'Yorkshire, that's in Dublin ain't it ?'
I was also asked on the same day 'Did they name Yorkshire after those cute little dogs?'
You are both wrong and forgiven as I seem to recall that a certain Mr Bush was not too hot on Geography either.

Yorkshire has often been refered to as 'Gods County', which is sometimes further exaggerated in to 'Gods own Country', probably by the very inhabitants who live within the white Rose region.

Yorkshire people are straight talking, brash and opinionated. They are also immensely proud of their roots, heritage and the values of familylife.





There is a couple of well known sayings that typify this.
'Yorkshire born,Yorkshire bread.
Strong in the arm, but thick in the head'.
And
'A Yorkshire man says what he likes, and likes what he says'.

Although I was not born in Yorkshire, I consider myself one, having spent most of my life living here.
Although I do not totally subscribe to these stereotype images, I do understand how perceptions can be fuelled. In large working class families, loud voices were needed to be heard across crowded dinning room tables, where three generations of families would often be gathered daily scrambling for Gods offerings.



Manual work such as mining, steel forging and working in the mill created dominant Alpha male figures who were carved out of the same sort of granite that was scattered upon the surrounding Moor tops.
Yorkshire folk like other Northerners are often ridiculed and seen as prime targets as comical scapegoats.



I often wonder whether this is influenced as much by envy as it is by ignorance.
Yorkshire has a distinct Identity.
It is an incredibly diverse County both culturally and geographically and embraces numerous multi ethnic communities.

Its countryside and people have been and inspiration to many of its sons and daughters such as The Bronte Sisters.

"He said the pleasantest manner of spending a hot July day was lying from morning till evening on a bank of heath in the middle of the moors, with the bees humming dreamily about among the bloom, and the larks singing high up overhead, and the blue sky and bright sun shining steadily and cloudlessly." Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)

David Hockney.

Patrick Stewart and Bill Gates.

Yes even Mr Microsoft has been genealogically linked to Yorkshire.

It also boasts a massive participation in cycle events. Throughout the whole year Yorkshires highways, moors and forests trails are lit up with brightly coloured two wheeled athletes, enthusiasts, and pleasure seekers. In typical Yorkshire fashion if they stopped there riding during the winter months they would think they had been short changed.

Us Yorkshire Folk are a hardy bunch you know.

Having not ridden since the MS 150 Houston to Austin Event, ten days ago, the thought of riding again did not enthrall me. After tasting the delights of using a proper road bike and obtaining averages of well over 20 mph, I knew that getting reacquainted with Scott would be a bitter sweet experience. Sweet at seeing him, bitter at knowing now that he had severe limitations. Sure he would carry me anywhere, but only in his own time.
But cycle I did and I was joined by my Yorkshire Lass Joanne on a chilly spring day. We only did 26 miles today. My legs were tired and Scott was playing up, protesting with a 'go slow'. He obviously saw that I had another distraction and perhaps sensed that his days were numbered..
It did however give me the opportunity to take some photographs of my ride.
Having ridden in 90f last week It felt freezing. I was still brave enough to wear shorts, but had to conceded to arm warmers. Full training resumes now and blog will return to more of a cycle theme.

Links:

Bill Gates_a_yorkshireman
Emily_Bronte
Charlotte_Bronte

Patrick_Stewart

David_Hockney

Thank you for reading

MS 150 Houston to Austin - Part 2 'The Main Event'

After showing our belligerence as the 'Renegade riders' on Saturday a degree of decorum was now required for Sundays main event. Our rider numbers were revealed and carefully attached to bikes, helmets and onto the rear of our fancy team jerseys. Grooming rituals took place where razors headed north to greet stubble chins, an unusual diversion from the more customary lower limbs.
As we gathered together with our BHP Billiton team mates in La Grange there was one visual difference between us and them.
It had nothing to do with tired eyes or sun burnt necks, but we each wore a black 'Pirates of the Caribbean' wristbands to signify our brotherhood.
It was out of mutual respect for each other from escaping the jaws of the 'Prairie beast' on the previous day.
Poor Dave, despite his courageous act of gallantry, he didn't even have any scars to illustrate his heroic actions. Unsurprisingly these were getting more and more exaggerated at each rendition. We even thought of carving some claws marks into his seat to provide actual evidence as to the size of the creature.

With the sun shinning in a cloudless sky it was a beautiful scene as 13,000+ riders gathered by the Courthouse in central La Grange. A whole array of different brightly coloured shirts greeted the morning, and there was a warm energy that radiated from all the participants. It was quite awe inspiring.
The American National anthem was played just prior to the start with complete silence honoured. It was something I both respected and warmed to.
When I say I respected it, I don't mean that glibly. I listened to the words and related to them. They felt right, and they were especially poignant just prior to this event.
Although I am proud to be British I think our own national anthem is irrelevant to me personally. Its all about our sovereign and not about 'The people'.
Am I sounding like a socialist?

Shortly after the start the route splits and provides two courses before converging again at the lunch time stop of Bastrop. The easiest and fastest route was along the shoulder of Texas 71, a four-lane divided highway. The other was simply called 'The Challenge' route, a series of rode less-traveled, farm-to-market roads that wound through two state parks of Beuscher and Bastrop. On my two previous MS 150 rides I had elected to take the easier route.
You see I never really liked the word 'Challenge' unless its placed in context.
To me challenge is a bit too ambiguous, it comes in the same category as other words like 'Nearly' or 'Not far'. Its all about perspective.
At the end of March I took part in a Cycling Sportive called the 'Cheshire Cat'.
It was 102 miles and described as 'challenging'.
Although I did manage to complete it in a fairly respectable time, I nearly cried on some of the mountains (that were described as hills). I found it a massive challenge and so did Scott (my bike) We didn't speak to each other for at least a week afterwards.

Anyway continuing our more rebellious theme we opted for the 'Challenge Route'.
Dave and Kelly (Who joined us on day two) had previously completed the route and therefore knew the terrain. I just followed them with a degree of scepticism.
I never really quite worked out which aspect was the official 'challenge'.
For Houstonians I expect the numerous steep climbs and rapid descents were very challenging after flat riding.
For me there were two.

The main one was avoiding novice climbers who suddenly ran out of gears or puff and stopped or fell over abruptly in front of me.
Very inconsiderate of them!!!!!
But equally as demanding were the technical challenges, which worked my mind far more than my body.
Constant visual readjustment was needed when moving from bright sunlight to heavily shadowed woodland. With my aging eyes it was like being temporarily blinded. I hope I didn't bump into people during those darkened moments. I now have visions of me causing my own trail of destruction whilst riding under natures canopy, through the shadowed twilight.
The forest trails also varied in their surface, some parts were dry, others damp or even contained puddles. Some parts were clear others were strewn with pine needles, bumps and pot holes.
I loved it, both the technical aspects of the challenge and its beauty.
With it came the sound of a bagpiper playing. His music reverberating through the woods reminded me of home.
We stopped at one of the drink stations which was contained within a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees.There was music playing, people dancing and singing.
It was more reminiscent of a sixties rock concert than a charity cycle event.

The previous days dampness seemed another season away as the sun now burned at my skin. Feeling slightly dehydrated I drank and drank at every opportunity. I also tried some pickle juice, apparently its good for cramp. Whether it prevented me from cramping or not I will never know, but it was disgusting.

After some lunch at Bastrop we set off for the final leg to Austin.

Out of the shelter of the Park we were struck by 20 mph + headwinds, but nevertheless we soon got a good pace line going. At one time I looked around and we were pulling about 100 bikes - It felt really great.

It did not matter that nobody else wanted to take a turn at the front with the wind conditions I didn't blame them.

Just as we had got a really good rhythm going Dave had a puncture so we all stopped.

Sensing our hospitable nature we were joined by a BP rider who requested our assistance with her own puncture.

Kenny and Dave were alarmingly quick off the mark to assist although her particular puncture seemed far more serious and seemed to take on a life of its own.

It took two inner tubes, three CO2 canisters and much cursing to solve.

Whilst all this was going on I soaked up the sun and took some photographs of riders as they filed past.

I even managed to get a snap of a real cowgirl who had ridden up to see what all the commotion was about.

I offered her my bike in exchange for her horse but I don't think she understood my accent or my unique English humour.

She smiled sweetly and gently pressed the heels of her ostrich boots into the sides of her white stallion before riding off through the long swaying grass. With her right hand she skillfully held her double reins and in her left she lightly secured her cowboy hat. All that was missing was some 'voice over' firmly stating that this was 'Marlborough Country'

For a minute I thought my dehydration had got the better of me and that it was all an elaborate mirage.
As we approached the outskirts of Austin the road became familiar as did the long undulating terrain into the city.

The finish was incredible and something you would only expect to see in something like the Tour de France. The streets were cordoned off with supporters four or five deep outlining the streets. People were so generous reaching out to touch your hand and shouting out with all the support they could muster for every single rider. I struggled to hold back my tears of pure joy.

And suddenly it all made sense.

Links to Media Articles:

http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/publications/pwdpubs/media/pwd_br_p4505_0043p.pdf

http://www.hcnonline.com/articles/2009/04/20/conroe_courier/news/ms1500420.txt

http://www.kxan.com/dpp/news/local/thousansds_cycle_in_ms_150_bike_tour

Although this ride has now finished, this is just one story on 'The travels with my Mule'

There are many more to come.

One of the things us renegades talked about was to try and set up our own charity cycling team called 'Travels with my mule'.

We had some great ideas for shirt design.

Any feedback or ideas would be welcome.

MS 150 Houston to Austin - Part 1 'Renegade Riders'

Renegade
On Friday night the 'Renegade riders' were full of bravado and testosterone, ready to take on the world and more besides. However by 4 am on Saturday morning the storm clouds were not the only things to roll into 'Camp defiance'.
With the Radar pictures taking on the appearance of a Jackson_Pollock painting, double helpings of apprehension appeared with our morning 'Starbucks'
Morning itself had also decided to stay indoors, leaving us in the shadows of dark foreboding clouds which rumbled and growled like a discontented old man.
At 7am we set off from a parking lot next to Tully Stadium the traditional starting point for the MS 150.
With a strong tail wind behind us and fear being pumped through our veins,we set off at lung busting speed maintaining 25 mph on empty roads. Knowing that 13,000 + people had entered the event we all believed that there would be a few thousand rebellious miscreants like us who would wish to complete the whole event. There were very few. Those that we did see on the road appeared to be seasoned riders. As we broke through the fifty mile mark the sky darkened further and the wind dropped, always an ominous sign.
The crackle of thunder and pyrotechnic lightening display followed, accompanied by the sort of deluge that Noah would have needed to float his arc. Although we were slightly mad we were not altogether insane so we sought shelter in the town of Bellville. Visually it looked like 10pm but it was approaching 10am.
Other riders then appeared and we all crowded around 'Blackberry's. Streamed Radar images were sought and we watched the red splodges move across tiny screens, covering up the name of Bellville. Roads became rivers, sports pitches lakes, and cyclists as wet as otters pockets.
We found a local eatery and decided to have an early lunch under a veranda. Half expecting to float away at any moment we looked around for some prospective makeshift paddles. After sampling the local delights the weather had not got any better, although the lightening had stopped.
With that danger eliviated we decided to press on in the knowledge that fine weather was appearing at our destination.
Progress was slowed considerably.
The rain and standing water were bad enough, but being caught by 'The Rooster tails' streaming off the leading bikes was like being hit by a fire hose.
The water was not the clear carbonated 'spring' type that you might have to accompany a good meal. No, this was the brown muddy type.
'Road kill soup' diluted with water from overflown drains.
The bouquet was as equally unpleasant.
As the afternoon wore on the rain stopped, temperature rose, and the Sun decided to put in an appearance.
We also started to talk to each other with the fear of getting a mouth full of effluent subsiding. With four miles to I found myself pulling as the lead bike. As I rounded a corner there was a farm to my right and sat smack bang in the middle of the road was a dog.
Now at this stage I really need to set the scene properly.
Having been bitten attacked and bitten by a big dog when I was young, I have an inbuilt sense of fear towards certain dogs.
I kind of know the difference between the nice ones and the bad ones.
They don't have to wear black or white cowboys hats.
There are ones who will roll over and let you tickle their tummy and others who salivate at the thought of sinking their rabid teeth into your reproductive equipment.
This was a bad one. He had the apperance of a cross between a hyena and a wolf with teeth the size of knitting needles.
Dave Hill was behind me. Now Dave is a fit, young, tough, strong Texan, who probably rides bulls in the rodeo and allows such dogs to use his arm as a doggy chew.
So being a considerate sort of guy and all heart, I let him go in front of me.

The gladiatorial scene was set with an audience already in place as this beast had already stopped the traffic flow from the opposite direction.
As Dave approached him the 'hound of the Baskervilles' was already snapping at his feet.
Sensing an opportunity I accelerated on his outside fast approaching my top speed ever on a bike much to the amusement of the non paying observers.
With a similar sence of preservation, my fellow cowards had followed my course of action, and we all watch on with interest from a safe distance.
After initially failing to pull Dave from his bike, we all heard a loud guttural roar as a new beast appeared. The one that was polishing Dave's shoes with its slobbering mouth was seemingly just the puppy as its mother three times the size appeared from nowhere.
Me shouting 'Remember the Alamo' didn't really help Dave, but his increased cadence did as he scorched away from becoming dog food.
I thought that Dave might have been upset with my nervous laughter that I could not contain, but he was proud to show his undoubted bravery and take one for the team.
Dave you are my Hero.
La grange soon appeared in no time with 101 miles completed.
We were then picked up by Joella, my brothers wife and travelled to her mothers house for the evening.
Rest would be needed to join the 13,000 + for the final leg.
Part two to follow, where our intrepid riders enjoy the sunshine of the Texas Hill country.

MS 150 Houston to Austin Cancelled

Due to some horrendous weather in Texas with tornado warnings all around, the MS 150 organisers have cancelled the first day from Houston to Austin. They will review the final day later. Apparently La Grange has had 11 inches of rain today and some of the support tents have blown over.

This means that many people will probably not ride at all, and the remainder will just be able to complete the 60 miles on Sunday, from La Grange to Austin. Literally a wash out.

This will be a massive disappointment for so many people, especially for organisers and thousands of volunteers who do invaluable work behind the scenes.

It must also be disappointing for the local townsfolk who come out in their thousands. Many spend all day clapping, hollering and ringing cowbells in support of the miles of Lycra that snake through their streets.

They will all be missed especially by some renegades. Who may just wish to go on a collective Saturday cycle ride, from Houston to La Grange (without their sponsor shirts) then complete their quest the next day. Some may write blogs about mules.

Unless they were experienced and committed riders, with their own support systems in place they would be very fool hardy.

So I guess I will see you on the road

http://videolog.uol.com.br/video.php?id=406620

MS 150 Houston to Austin - 'Grown Men do Cry'

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By some terrible twist of fate I have suddenly lost all of my blog posts.
A day before my biggest cycle ride of the year.
This includes the one that I wrote and published today which contained all of my training photographs.
There is definitely tears dropping on my keyboard.
I am officially glum

Deep breaths...........and cup of coffee required.

(ten minutes later)

I found myself talking out loud

Q: 'Ok Houston we need a damage report'

A: Not good Im afraid, 36 blogpost lost down the computer plughole, picture, links, and even your amusing anecdotes.

Q: Is the situation retrievable

A: Retrievable ?

Q: Yeah stupid,Retrievable.........you can write cant you.

A: Well I try

Q: And you do have a memory?

I suddenly felt very stupid and extremely selfish.

My training and cycling has given me so much.

A new sport, fitness, new friends and an inspiration to create and service a blogsite.

One that even people read.

I am so fortunate and privileged to be riding a bike in a sport I love with 13,000 like minded people.

The MS 150 ride from Houston to Austin is such a great event and has been going for 25 years.

The event that was so oversubscribed that all the places were taken up within hours of release.

The ride is about raising money and awareness for persons suffering from multiple sclerosis.

My blog was designed to compliment my charity cycling events. Its temporary demise is a problem that can be and will be fixed tomorrow.

People suffering from MS or many other illness can often only dream of such a recovery.

There will always be a requirement to help our fellow man either practically, financially or emotionally. It is something we should all try and do.

If you have been following my 'Travels with my Mule' , just bear with us.

Some re hoofing is required and normal service will be resumed.........soon

MS 150 - An Italian Affair

(This old blog has been rescued by Tee in Washington State, thank you so much )

After the previous weekend mauling by ' The Cheshire Cat' , last weeks cycling was limited to a meagre 55 miles.
With the prospect of three weeks hard cycling amongst the Texas Blue bonnets, I decided to give myself a less taxing schedule. I was quite sure that my now 'off white legs' would be happy for some respite, certainly my glutenous maximus was !!!!

I can't seem to keep everyone happy though. Scott was not at all amused. He sulked so much that I had to put him in the garden shed, and even turn him around to face the back wall.
I know its tough on him but he cant always be the centre of my attention.
Maybe he is just a bit insecure about me going away ? If Id really appreciated that bikes were so sensitive before I took up cycling, I'd have become an overnight rambler, train spotter or twitcher.
I do feel a bit guilty though as I still haven't told him about 'Bianchi'.
I'm not really sure how he is going to take it and to be frank, I am dreading it. Bikes know when you are unfaithful, its second nature to them. The change of grip, the way you straddle them, the minor seat adjustments - all tell tale signs. If you have been anywhere near another bike they will know for sure.

A lot of people cycle to into where I work. The other day, I was admiring a rather classy looking scarlet Trek. I was even invited to straddle it and wizz around the car park.
It felt fantastic between my legs. It had fancy wheels and tri-bar shifters which responded to the very lightest of hand movements. What a bike !!!!!!

Scott knew as soon as I walked in. He took the right hump and was very awkward about going out with me that evening. He usually shows his displeasure by finding me a deep pot hole, or flicking up some remnants of road kill into my face. On this particular occasion he slipped his chain as I set off from the first traffic lights, rendering me motionless in a busy box junction. Nice one Scott.He is sensitive about all other bikes.
As a cycling enthusiast, I subscribe to cycling Plus. I have had to make special arrangements to have it delivered in a plain brown envelope to ensure that Scott does not shred it before I get home. Then once opened I have to read upstairs to ensure that Scott does not see me.
With only hours to go before I leave I mustered enough courage to speak to him.
Hearing my confession and the words that I would soon be united with an exotic Italian number was not easy for either of us.
I think he got some comfort from seeing the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't tell him Id just peeled some onions.What hurt him most of all was the fact that Bianchi and I were going to be eventing together. Taking part in the MS 150 in 'America', with thousands of other bikes.
Obviously he would have heard of the MS 150, that's for sure.
His tyres are bound to be deflated when I get back.
Although I kept telling him that he is my trusty steed, insecurity is a difficult emotion to deal with, especially if you are an aluminium bike in a world full of Carbon beauties.
People are not much better either, men as well as women.Many years ago I was trying to help a friend out. I accompanied him to a local bar after work where he had fancied this girl who worked there. He wanted me to go with him as moral support and to mask his true motive. It was the very least I could do. With an obvious age difference between the two of us, I would often be mistaken as his benevolent uncle or dad, rather than his best buddy. He often played on this, which I felt was a little cruel.
My friend had apparently spoken to this barbiesque image a few times and was convinced that there was a mutual attraction. The bar had been busy with summer trade and when we walked in she acknowledged him with only a half hearted smile. I could not discern any obvious chemistry.
After an hour of staring gormlessly into space, whilst my friend preened himself, I was ready to go.
It was apparent that the only person who seemed to be receiving any attention was me, much to my friends annoyance, and my total embarrassment.
Eventually she approached him, making initial small talk, before verbally wounding him.
' Do you know your friend reminds me of that actor, Michael Douglas'He was gutted having just had his heart ripped out, I was surprised she was old enough to know who Michael Douglas was.
We left the bar shortly afterwards and although we are still great friends he has never asked me to drink with him again.
However the story was revisited a number of times as was the name of Michael Douglas .
During my Non cycling weekend, I had my girls Poppy and Daisy over to stay ( 10, 14 years). They are very independent now, choosing 'cyberspace' rather than 'Daytime Dad' as their nominated entertainment source.
I am not totally ignored though. There is definite interaction around feeding time, bed time, taxi service time, and opening the wallet time.
I do have one rule though. We have to have allocated 'family time'.
This usually consists of watching a film together.I spotted the action movie 'Romancing the stone' in the TV schedule.
Knowing that it featured 'Michael Douglas', I hurriedly ran upstairs to announce to my siblings that 'Dad' was featuring in the Sunday afternoon movie.
Daisy laughed and reminded me and Poppy that she had already seen 'Shrek' a million times.
I now knew what Scott felt like and allowed him back in the House.

Weekly Road Mileage 55 miles
Weekly Weight Loss (0 lbs)
Weekly Climbing feet 2,367 feet
Yearly Road Mileage 1,446 miles
Yearly Weight Loss (12 lbs)
Yearly Climbing 65,577 feet