We all cycle for different reasons

Some just do it better than others

Beverley and its beligerant Bovines

I have recently realised that since I have started blogging I have never featured my home town Beverley.

Beverley is a market town, civil parish and the county town of the East Riding of Yorkshire, England, located between the River Hull and the Westwood.

The town is noted for its main feature the Beverley Minster and architecturally significant religious buildings, as well as the Beverley Racecourse and the market place; the town itself is around 1,300 years old.
The town was originally known as Inderawuda and was founded by Saint John of Beverley during the time of Angle kingdom Northumbria.

After a period of Viking control, it passed to the Saxons, a period during which it gained prominence in terms of religious importance in Great Britain.

It continued to grow especially under the Normans when its trading industry was first established.

A place of pilgrimage through the Middle Ages due to its founder, Beverley eventually became known as a noted wool-trading town.

Beverley was once the 10th largest town in England and among the richest, owing broadly to its connection with founding saint of the town John of Beverley.

However, following the English Reformation, Beverley's regional stature was reduced.
For twenty two years, Beverley was the administrative centre of the local government district of the Borough of Beverley, and is now the East Riding county town.

It is located 8 miles (13 km) north-west of Hull, 10 miles (16 km) east of Market Weighton and 12 miles (19 km) west of Hornsea.

According to the 2001 United Kingdom Census the total population of the urban area of Beverley was 29,110, of whom 17,549 live within the historic parish boundaries.

As well as its Racecourse and markets, Beverley is known in the modern day for hosting various music festivals throughout the year.

In 2007 Beverley was named as the best place to live in the United Kingdom in a study by the Royal Bank of Scotland.

Well that's the formal bit out of the way.

All of my cycling routes start from Beverley.

If you travel anywhere North-East through to South clockwise you cycle on relatively flat roads into the Holderness plain. (this is reserved for days with a hangover, or for fast riding).

From South to North East you are directly into the Yorkshire Wolds and then towards the North Yorkshire Moors. This is big hill country, and my usual route.

This starts with a steady climb over Beverley Westwood. It is a large area of pasture land that permits free grazing through an old anomoly in the law.
As such the roads are shared with cows and bulls, some of which have very big horns. These are nowhere as big as the protrusions belonging to the Texas Longhorn, but with a ton of beast behind them, they make potent weapons. I actually find all horned cattle a little intimidating, especially when I am wearing red.

If I was the neuritic type I would be sure that these four legged creatures have a spy close to my house. Maybe its just coincidence I dont know but as each time I set off up to the Westwood, they all appear by the roadside. Its a bit like crowds lining the route of Alpe de huez in the Tour de France.

Each time I cycle up or down Westwood they are seem fascinated by me and their apparent curiosity brings them up close and personal. So much so that I am able admire the grooves on their horns and look for remnants of ripped Lycra, or cyclist blood.

Their favorite trick seems to be reserved for when I come home.

Whilst cycling at 30 + mph down the steepest section they like to step out in front of me, and stop stationary in the road.If i move to the left, they do, to the right they follow too, like some prearranged choreographed dance sequence.

I wonder are they autograph hunting? believing me to be a cycling bull.

Others like to run along side me like Didi, Le Diable, in the Tour de France.

All in all it makes for some interesting riding.

This Saturday sees a visit from Paddy by twin brother who has been putting in some great fast riding on the Texas Plains. I am looking forward to reacquainting him with some proper hills to see if he can compete for the polka dot jersey.

Sundays blog may just feature some brotherly pain as well as brotherly love, either way I am certain there will be some frivolity

Go Lance go...........................

He may not be the leader of the Astana Team or the wearer of the yellow jersey at the end of the Tour, but he is what inspires me and thousands of others to ride.
Go Lance go..................

Slow down............your killing me

This week Joanne and I had a 'big tiff', and as its cycling related its permitted for blog exposure.
Two weeks ago I started up a cycling club at work for Thursday evening rides.

I wanted to try and promote cycling by getting people out of their cars and onto bikes.

My idea was to wean them in slowly through gentle, weekly, social rides - no more than 20/30 miles, with the odd visit to a country pub thrown in.

Despite the wide range of bike/ body types and fitness levels, I wanted us to pace ourselves at the pace of the slowest cyclist.

I guess that's fine in principal, but if your the slowest cyclist It cant be much fun, especially when you think your slowing everybody down.

On our first week we had lots of promises, but only the already committed hardcore cyclists turned up.

Joanne had decided to come too expecting a nice evening ride, rather than to watch 'road racers' in front of her, champing at the bit. She was naturally apprehensive about joining us again.

This week I was assured by many other riders that they too would come, making it a greater cross section.

Despite reassuring Joanne of this she was having none of it, and harsh words were spoken.

So she went her way and I went mine ......on our bikes that is.

The social ride was far better attended with numerous people fighting for the slowest pace position.

Half way through the ride we saw a cyclist dressed in pink ahead of us, who then made a right turn, away from our desired route.

The consensus of opinion was that it was Joanne, so I went racing ahead trying to make my peace.

As I got closer and seemingly in ear shot, the road started climbing and the distance between us steadied.
'Joanne' I shouted 'wait up'

There was no response, so knowing that Joanne probably had her I-pod on I pushed harder, shouting all the while.

'Look I am sorry......I do understand, but we are a lot slower this week'

Still no response, by this time I was getting a little bothered.

Not because I was being ignored, but due to the sudden injection of speed that I was now having to contend with.

Rather than the gap narrowing it started to widen!!!!

With my heart rate already up to 160, I had got it in my head that Joanne had been deceitful and leading a double life.

She was a secret speedster, a true 'Ms Velo' probably competing with Victoria Pendleton during the week, when I thought she had a steady office job.

Frustration turned to anger which increased my adrenalin output.

As I stepped out of the saddle, my heart rate rocketed to 185 - way into the red zone.

'For F*** sake slow down.......your killing me' I shouted in vain as this pink apparition was climbing away like the late Marco Pantani.

There were of course numerous other words that I used, but half are too obscene to feature hear and the others my spell checker does not seem to recognise.

Regardless there was still no response.

By the time I had pulled up alongside, my mouth was frothing, my face was as red as an over ripe tomato and I was sweating like pig in a sauna with an advanced state of malaria.

It was precisely at that moment that I realise it was not Joanne.

The timing was perfect, because It was also exactly the same time, that this lone female cyclist saw a mad, demented, stranger with a frothing mouth, riding alongside her.

As I braked hard, my pitiful 'sorry' seemed totally inadequate.

I could just have wrecked an aspiring cycling career.....the poor girl may be traumatised forever.

When I got home Joanne had done nearly 60 miles at a pace far greater than our group and promised to come next week.

When I recounted my story, she reminded me that 'judgement', like cycling is sometimes better served if it is considered at a slower pace.

Training
This weeks training has been fantastic, I completed 284 miles in total, making 3,297 miles for the year. It included a 76 mile jaunt to York and back on Sunday (pictures below)

Months ago I set myself a personal goal. To ride a virtual route from Beverley to Houston (4772 miles) before the start of the Hotter than hell at the end of August. At that time I thought it a tall order and maybe just out of my reach. I still think that, but I know what I am like. Once I get a whiff of the finish, ill be cycling through the night.

Certainly with this increased intensity, I could just do it.

This week my virtual tour has had the benefit of a tail wind, I have flown through Massachusetts, New York State and am now in Pennsylvania.
Our 'Travelwithmymule' concept is still progressing slowly and we have finally ordered some shirts which I think are great. We are always looking for new riders, check out the website.

Fridays Feature

Its been a great week training so far, and the Tour de France is just a pedal turn away.
It feels as if the sun is shining on my particular cycling world today both literaly and in spirit, so I have decided to beg for another day off and take my Camera out for a ride!!!!!!!!
I so love cycling.

Wordless Wednesday

When I need motivation I just watch this and the pedals suddenly seem lighter....try it yourself