'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).

Fair-weather cyclist

In February I started commuting to work for the very first time.
With the weather being generally dreadful my appearances on the early morning roads were tempered to perhaps two or three days a week.
My excuses however were not of frostbitten toes, or having to put on wet clothing, clearly the truth would have presented me as an impostor in the world of ‘cycle commuting’.
Instead, my excuses revolved around logistics.
The requirement to have smart and pressed clothes ready for work each day, the retention of that highly important ‘corporate image’.
Other cyclists and colleagues at work offered advice and help in how to overcome these barriers.
They volunteered to take my clothes in for me or suggested that I collect during working hours (Whilst driving close to my house).
Eventually my excuses wore out and rather than admit to being a ‘Lilly livered wimp’, I now commute 5 days a week whatever the weather.
I don’t particularly like getting up at 5am every morning and find it strange going to bed before the illumination of my residential street, but these are now constants that I have now adapted to. They are part of my daily routine.
There are also other constants:
At 5:46 I meet Joanne at the Long lane junction
At 5:51 I see the chestnut mare in the adjoining pasture
At 6:01 I wave to a spotty youth on a mountain bike going the opposite direction
At 6:06 I overtake 3 Eastern European ‘Greenhouse’ workers who are also riding to work, there are no buses available at this hour. They don’t get to choose.
At 6:13 I wave to a road racer on his morning training ride
At 6:17 I see three more cyclists travelling towards and past me, on their way to Swift Caravan Manufacturers. Two are older on old bikes, they wear fluorescent jackets, the other much younger is on a red road bike, he wears black and smiles.
At 6:19 A low loader passes too close to me carrying two Swift Caravans – I shake my head and show the finger
At 6:20 I part company with Joanne as we peel off towards our differing destinations.
At 6:22 I see a deer drinking from a pond.
At 6:27 I see a woman on a motor/scooter travelling towards and past me. She never wears a helmet and seems happy about it.
At 6:33 I arrive at work.
I don’t have to look at my watch to know when I reach my respective way points, I just know.

Last week the weather was glorious light winds, clear skies and temperatures in the mid 70s.
Cycling was a pure joy, but with the sunshine came a plague of cyclists ‘The Fair-weather Commuter’ They flooded my roads with overly exuberant smiles and destabilizing waves, knocking out my metronomic inner timepiece and diluting my landmarks in a sea of Lycra.

Look Mum - No Hands

Looking at the date of my last blog the Natchez Trace seems a distant memory now and I find it hard to rationalise that I managed to cycle so far in such a short amount of time.
Arriving back in the UK I was inspired and wanted to use my American adventure as a spring board for forthcoming cycling season.
With the prospect of fine weather, a decreasing waistline and commuting to work each day -things were looking good.
My first Sunday I decided to go out with the local CTC (Cyclist touring club) with my cycle buddy Simon.
When we met at Cottingham Green I was surprised to see a group of more elderly statesmen on bikes that were as old as their beards.

Our intention was to ride about 100 miles..........easy I thought having just completed over 600 miles in nearly as many days.
It was soon apparent that my new riding companions must have been members of the British Sky team dressed up as older men with rust sprayed on their bikes.
They were No slouches and soon had my pulse moving into areas that were reserved for special moments.
I was curious at their level of fitness as all were past retirement age.
Cycling to them seemed to be the answer for the retention of post retirement health, they were cycling 2000 miles a month and chose a cycle rather than a walking stick.
With my own retirement not a million miles away I was excited at the prospect of cycling
Nirvana

During the ride we stopped to water a few plants and on commencing our journey I found myself last to remount my trusty steed. In order to close the gap on my fellow riders I put on a short sprint before freewheeling to give me a chance to put my gloves on.
This proved to be a bit of a struggle so as well as having both hands off my bars I also engaged my teeth to assist with the pulling process.

There are no prizes for guessing what happened next
I have looked at the guide to riding with no hands:-
Step1 Find a straight, level road.
Step 2 Gain some speed and then coast.
Step 3 Shift your body weight backward so you're resting on your pedals and seat.
Step 4 Bend your knees in toward your frame for balance.
Step 5 Take your hands off the handlebars. Practice taking them off for a split second and then replacing them.
Step 6 Sit up tall and straight once you get comfortable riding with no hands.
Step 7 Turn by gently leaning your body to the left or right.
Step 8 Try pedaling once you have become a confident no-hands rider. Shift to a medium gear and develop a smooth pedal stroke rhythm
To my surprise it does not say anything about tugging your gloves with your teeth at the same time.
The great news was that my bike was undamaged.
The not so good news was that I took all of the impact on my hip and thigh which curtailed my new found enthusiasm and rendered me inoperative for nearly three weeks.
It was my first ever major spill and frankly not being able to cycle made me miserable.
My pain killers were swilled down with red wine and accompanied by junk food as I soon became a sedentary couch potato, watching the Tour of California and Giro Each day.
One of the great things about having a twin brother is that he always seems to feel the anguish too and then come to the rescue.

This time it came in the form of an invite to Texas in August to take part in The Hotter than Hell in Witchita Falls.

I did not need anymore incentive to get back on the bike and to shed some weight.

Such is my new found dedication I even took my bike with me on a business trip to Devon.
My hip is now fine but I have a new permanent scar on my knee from the road rash which reminds me what handle bars are for.

Tour de Mule - Day Five

Although my Tour de Mule Blogs are not totally up to date, Now we have finished the tour this will be remedied over the coming days. For now sit back and read this post which has been scripted by Adam Miller another writer/cyclist.

Thursday evening while the boys slept in, the sun feasted heavily in preparation for the coming day. Their morning began in the dark with a solid breakfast as it had each day prior; only this time it was a call for mutiny brewing instead of Colombian roast.

In moments like these a leader emerges. "Throughout history it has been the inaction of those who could have acted, the indifference of those who should have known better, the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most.

That has made it possible for evil to triumph." Once the words of Haile Selassie now the call to forge on from our Captain

And so Kenny formerly known as Chicken Little set the plan.

For each prior day Chicken Little programmed the elevation in reverse.

On Friday, Kenny had sound evidence of what was to come: 4,000 ft of positive elevation change. Nearly 40% of the entire trip's climbing compressed into the final segment.

33 miles into the morning, the Mules left Alabama and raised their flag in Tennessee

By mile 55, they rendezvoused with Major Ted who added the Southern delicacy of boiled peanuts to our menu.

The Mules charged into a blazing sun which rose the temp to 90 degrees for the rest of the ride. While the asphalt cooked, the boys were challenged to replace the water they were losing.

The climbs got harder, "16 hills ahead," said Kenny.

"These are 'mountains'," said Phil.

"Come back Chicken Little," said Adam.

In moments like these when everything around you is hell, no one talks, you hear your heart and you feel the support of friends.

Who knew on the other side of Devil's Backbone which starts at mile marker 391 is Fall Hollow After a brief respite, the Mules climbed on. With laughter, tempo, guts and Ted, they achieved Adam's trip goal at mile marker 400

Then they achieved Kenny's goal at mile 420 of a 4th consecutive century.

As the fierce sun set, the crew was ready to pack it in when the Captain cried out

"Hoist the main and full-speed.".

With Ted lighting the way and protecting them from traffic, the Mules rode the last 24 miles into the dusk.

They faced hills nay mountains, treacherous descents and cross winds. At this point, the elements ricocheted off the Mule's adrenaline. The final push was led by their Captain.

On the shield of the Natchez Trace is a Post rider who are as tenacious as the mule is stubborn. As the finale picture was shot , the Post riders of Natchez's past looked down with a salute to the Mules.