Lancing the Boil

As a parent you sometimes have difficult decisions to make in respect of your children.

One of these concerns the myth of  'Father Christmas' or 'Santa Claus' as he is known in the United States.

For the early years of our children's lives we lie to them, telling them that a big fat man, dressed in red, is going to arrive during the hours of darkness and leave them some presents.

We often reinforce this by advising them to leave out milk for the reindeer and cookies for our rotund invention.
As they gleefully open their presents the next day we whisper 'Did you hear the reindeer bells in the night?'


The joy in their faces is priceless.
Sadly as children get older we know that a time will come when they will find out the truth.
A dilemma evolves.
Do you tell them yourself knowing that you can explain everything? or do you let them work it out themselves to prolong the magical moments that come with this falsehood?

Either way, when they do find out they will realise that you have lied to them.
The age of innocence is over
From thereon in, Christmas changes and is never the same again

For Years Lance Armstrong was my Santa Claus.
He provided me with regular gifts of inspiration - not only in December but throughout the year.
The inspiration never came from his winning the Tour de France seven times, but from his courage in fighting and beating Cancer.
From the inspiration and strength he has provided to cancer sufferers for over a generation.
And yeah drugs or no drugs he was a fantastic cyclist and a consummate athlete.

I had already worked out sometime ago that maybe he didn't drive a sleigh, but it made his gifts no less valuable.

The USADA has now formally told the world that Lance Armstrong is a cheat.
That he is no longer my Santa Claus.
I am not happy

Maybe they are right, but what have they actually achieved?
Where does that leave them now?
Where does that leave the principals of Justice?
Where does that leave cycling ?

It is commonly known that for over the last decade professional cycling has been plagued with the misuse of performance handling drugs.
During that period it is impossible to say who won clean and who won dirty.

Some cyclists were caught, and we  know with total certainty that some were not.
We  knew all these things way before the USADA Investigation.

During that time Lance was suspected of doping he was singled out for testing time and time again.
Each time he passed.
He often quotes that he had never failed a drugs test and I am certain that what he said was factually correct.
Does not mean he didn't take drugs? No
It means what he says 'He never failed a drugs test.
It could also mean had he was able to employ the best chemist, and doctors to mask the tests.

I don't really want to get into the debate about whether he did or didn't, in an environment where there was no even playing field.
I question  the relevance today and the proportionality of the actions taken by the USADA.

Armstrong retired in 2005!!!

Since that time cycling has totally cleaned up its act.

It is now a booming sport both with viewing and participation.

If the USADA wanted to be fair whilst conducting  historical investigations they should investigate all US cyclists or none at all.
They state they have some key witnesses who were willing to testify against Lance but wished to keep them anonymous for fear of intimidation by Armstrong. Do they think we are that stupid!!!!!

It does not take a genius to work out who the witnesses are and I am sure Lance sees, or speaks to them regularly.
What are the USADA doing about their possible involvement?

Lets think this one through...............(hypothetically of course)

Maybe you had been involved in taking performance enhancing drugs in the past and had ridden for a prominent team.
Maybe you  had not yet retired.
Your reputation is still intact and you are earning a good living.
In the past you had seen other cyclists, often friends whose lives had been reduced to tatters through doping exposure, they had become humiliated and some turned into national figures of hate.

Along come the USADA who just might have some evidence that could cause you a few problems.
It may not convict you but could certainly be that sticky sort of mud.
Instead of going after you they induce you.
They say if you testify against your friend they wont go after you.
You are then scared, cornered and trapped.

Maybe they also tell you that they have seen your old mate  who has already agreed to Testify.

You could end up feeling that you have no choice.
Times that scenario by 12 and the pressure is really on Lance.

What hypocrisy
The USADA favours some, but not others, targets some not others.
Offers inducements - Aren't they a body that are meant to deter cheats?

What about the cycling and UCI?

If Lance is stripped of the Tour de France Titles who do they go to?
With most of the prominent riders of that era already exposed who can be sure that the title does not go from one suspected doper to another.
If awarded the title, should any new recipient undergo the same scrutiny as Lance?
If not, why not?

The USADA may have thought themselves as being responsible by telling the world that Santa Claus no longer exists.....but maybe some of us didn't want to know

Ride with Brad

Way before Bradley Wiggins was given his Yellow Jersey to keep, and received yet another golden gong  our meeting was already scheduled.
The 19th of August 2012.
Yes - before the Tour de France and Olympics Bradley had set up the Bradley Wiggins Foundation

A charity with clear aims and objectives
To promote participation in sport and encourage people to exercise on a regular basis

To support keen and talented athletes from all sports who have the potential of taking their talent to the next level
To provide equipment or facilities to allow participation in sport as an individual, through clubs, local communities or schools

To launch the foundation he organised a sportive to take place in the local area where he trained.

Judging by his accent, and believing he was a London Boy, I rubbed my hands together thinking the only hill that might trouble me would be at  Highgate.

Unfortunately Bradley now lives 'Up North'  and trains on the Pennines around the Yorkshire/Lancashire border. The location for the ride.

Not appreciating any future pain from the comfort of my desk -I entered the event , coaxing some of my fellow Anglo Mules to join me.

Later when I saw that some of the climbs had 'names' - I realised that they must be significant.
Hills or mountains don't normally have names unless they have some sort of personality.

The Iconic 'Nick of Pendle' and 'Trough of Bowland' both had plenty, if they were human they would be absoloute rotters.
Both were featured in my book '100 greatest cycling climbs' by Simon Warren.



On arriving at Barnoldswick I soon realised that this was no ordinary Sportive.
There was a real buzz of excitement within what I can only describe as a cycling village.
As we were corralled into starting pens our turn eventually came which saw us take our place at the front of the cordoning ribbon.

The MC who was entertaining the crowing crowd and linking in to the local radio station spotted our equine shirts. Within seconds a microphone was pressed in front of me asking me to talk about 'The Mules'.
My mind was on forthcoming gradients, not witty remarks, so my response was tepid.
It wouldnt be the only time that my tongue would abandon me that day.
   

Thankfully I was saved by the bell and we were off

A quartet of pink and black in perfect Symmetry.

Wherever there were houses there were people.....hundreds of them with placards and Union jacks.

The love for Bradley Wiggins overflowed so much, that even us mere mortals were able to lap some of it up.

It provided such a lift, that it was like a verbal  anesthetic. It numbed the pain of constantly pushing into the red zone.

The first 15 miles were similar to the wolds with  rolling hills.

Fuelled my adrenaline we were averaging just short of 18 mph.

This was abruptly reduced  by a flock of sheep that were being moved out to pasture.

What a great idea........I nearly followed.!

What did follow was Waddington Fell.

As we moved onto the bigger climbs the roads were chalked and dozens of spectators lined the road to bring a welcome cheer upon the barren moors.

On reaching Sabden I could see the road wind out in front of me far, far into the distance.
The vista was not horizontal but vertical.
As climbs go this was by no means the toughest but it was certainly the most beautiful and awe inspiring that I have ever climbed. (The pictures are not from the day but feature various stages of the climb)

The closer I got to the top the bigger the crowds got, and the louder the applause became .

Dozens of people were forced to walk as the increased gradient opened up the lactic acid valves on lower limbs.

I knew that my feet would remain in my cleats.

Each cheer I harnessed into another turn of the crank and another few meters closer to the summit.  

After the summit - came the descent where Mark registered 48 mph - MAD F***ER!!!!

We then moved into an area that was once described as a wild and lawless region: an area "fabled for its theft, violence and sexual laxity. Interesting.

 It was an area which was the centre of the Pendle witch trials in 1612, a date which is recorded on its imposing landscape.

As the event drew to an end I knew that I was nearly empty and I was starting to struggle.

The rain came making the roads slippy and the narrow ascents became more taxing.

On one such ascent I heard a voice next to me. 'Keep going, your doing really well, there is not far to go now' glancing over - It was him.

The Tour de France winner, and Multiple gold medal  Olympian. Bradley Wiggins

I had rehearsed this moment in my head for weeks, like an outside Oscar nominee.

I would talk about the Mules, ask about the Tour.etc etc

Instead all I could offer was a gormless starstruck smile and a shriek 'Bradley'

He did smile back before smoothly accelerating away from me.

 WHAT A DAY

The Gold Diggers

 

Over the past two weeks the country has been gripped with Olympic fever and for a small Island we have been punching way above our weight as far as our success is concerned.

If you were to compare our medal haul with our national population then we would be clear leaders in the merit tables.

However to measure our games purely on our sporting achievements would be like glancing at the cover of a book and believing you understood the content.

The real tale lies underneath, within the pages, some of it obvious and some subtly interwoven within the storyline.

One of the less obvious consequences is the affect that the event has had on the media.

Regrettably football or Soccer as its known in America is our national sport and as such it normally dominates both the front and the back pages of our Newspapers.

When I say 'regrettably', I am not referring to the actual sport, but its troublesome bi products:-

The players and their WAGS (Wives and Girlfriends)

With a few notable exceptions the majority of our footballers are selfish, greedy, and arrogant.

They are disrespectful of themselves, other players and officials.

They are disloyal to their wives, partners and teammates

They are yobbish, crude and illiterate.

It does not surprise me that many of them use 'Twitter' to communicate, because using any other form they would struggle to string TWO sentences together.

Finally .......continuing with my rant ..............they are hardly patriotic!

When they line up for England they play with less passion and pride then most couch potatoes viewing them. 

Sadly they are also obscenely overpaid and often 'recievce' in a weekend what an average supporter earns for the whole years work. 

Unfortunately such bounty often attract women with the same levels of morality.

To snare a footballer is  regarded as an actual career choice which fortunately for some have no formal  educational requirements.

The application process does expect some essential characteristics though

These include a high level of silicone, regular botox, and a size 0 frame. 

Despite their objections both the players and WAGS appear to crave the limelight, and the paparazzi are all too keen to help out.

The result is that we get very little worthy news.

Any interest into the richness of life appears to have been diluted into a preoccupation with the lives of these creatures.

The WAG and her Mate have evolved into cut out rolemodels that children worryingly look up to - hardly a lofty  aspiration. 

Over the past two weeks, new and legitimate role models have evolved, who have been so influential that the media have abandoned the Gold Diggers and embraced the Gold Getters.
This is none more so then with our women pursuit riders Laura Trott, Dani King, and Jo Rowsell.

They are everything that the WAGs are not.

Brave, committed, loyal, patriotic, respectful, hard working  and now very much loved.   

Last Saturday In the Olympic final, they smashed the world record for the sixth successive time.

Behind each Olympian there is a story, usually of total commitment and sacrifice, with  great highs and lows that come with four years of training. For this trio there is no difference.
Each of the trio, in different ways, has overcome adversity in their journey to the top of the podium.
Jo Rowsell who shares the same birthday as me has shown such courage in her battle with alopecia.
Brought up in Surrey she used to wear her long auburn hair in plaits.
"I remember crying to my parents and asking why it was happening," Rowsell once said when remembering the day her alopecia was diagnosed at the age of 10. "They said they would get someone to fix it."

Alopecia, however, can only be treated rather than cured. Rowsell became inhibited, concentrating on her schoolwork as a way of avoiding thinking too much about her appearance. She did not dare imagine a life where she might feel confident enough to have a boyfriend. It was then, when she was 15, that a small sporting miracle intervened. Rowsell's undoubted physical potential was spotted by a British cycling scout who visited her school in Sutton in 2004.
Cycling transformed Rowsell. In return, she has provided Dave Brailsford's programme at British cycling with a rider who, at 23, is the steady heartbeat who leads out this young team.
Her humanity resounds and, again with some bravery, she admitted her vulnerability on the last occasion all her hair fell out.
She had just met her boyfriend. "I was so worried he wasn't going to like me," she said.
LauraTrott, the new star of British cycling and the strongest rider of the three is a double Olympian having secured the Omnium on Tuesday the track equivalent of the Heptathlon.

Trott claims to "love that weird feeling you get in your mouth when the pain is so bad it tastes like blood". Trott pushes herself so hard that she regularly vomits after races.
To have her on the track in itself is a miracle as she was born with a collapsed lung, and her life was in jeopardy for six weeks. This contributed to a constant struggle with asthma which she has had to overcome.
The 21-year-old Dani King, meanwhile faced her own serious test three years ago. King's hopes of being offered a place on British cycling's elite programme looked like they would be ended by a serious bout of glandular fever. The illness had such a ravaging impact on King that there were doubts she would ever make it as an elite cyclist.

Travelling without my Mule


Last week my training was interrupted by a work trip to New York and I decided to take my Mule shirt with me on the off chance that I might be able to ride.
The last time that I had visited New York was when they had black and White Televisions and any cycle I owned probably still had three wheels.

Although I was working I wasted no time, opting to rise with the sun to ensure that I could experience as much as possible. All around the city were stalls that sold everything from key rings to T Shirts depicting the slogan 'I Love NY' and I am not surprised. I loved it too. As cities go 

I found it to be Warm (Actually it was scorching) vibrant and diverse. Totally cosmopolitan and displayed all the positive aspects of Americana.

The only shortcoming I detected though was its limited encouragement for urban cycling and commuting.

Apart from Brooklyn Bridge (Above) and Central Park it appeared that any cycling journey would be like undertaking some medieval quest, with hazards abound and beasties at every corner.

Having said that I thought that the cycling facilities in central Park were amazing and was able to experience them for myself by hiring a bike from one of the many outlets.

'What a training ground' - The park offered smooth roads,  hills, fast flats, all surrounded in a beautiful setting surrounded by Iconic landmarks.

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Although I did not have my own 'Mule' with me I soon became acquainted with its distant cousin, who performed admirably.

The only downside was my choice of  sports shorts which was not the ideal clothing to interact with a saddle at 100 degrees of heat, but jeans were my only other choice.

 Note to myself  'always bring bibs or cycle shorts for such eventualities'

The seven miles that I appear to have registered was my shortest ride of the year and certainly the slowest,

but I was equipped with a bell that said 'I love New York'

As I sounded it that was certainly the tune I heard too.

.

The Giant Bradley

Since last Sunday in Paris the country has been overcome by a wave of euphoria surrounding the triumphant exploits of Bradley Wiggins in the Tour de France.

The media circus, with little else to cheer about - have been surfing this good news story as far up the beach that they can.

Now the whole nation knows about him. 

They have not only been told  that he is the first Briton to win the Tour de France - but what he eats, drinks, wears.

What music he listens to, and details of the 'mod' scooters he rides.

His side burns and nicknames also receive attention, I particularly liked 'The banana with sideburns'

Cycling rarely features in any of the red tops, but even they are cashing in.

 The Daily Mirror a paper renowned for cycling coverage (He says tongue firmly in cheek) provides us with Ten things we didnt know about Bradley Wiggins.

Who didnt know? Is that the royal 'We' or just the Non Cycling Public

Another headline that caught my imagination was from the Yahoo website which stated 'Bradley becomes a sporting Giant'

My attention was immediately diverted to the local people of Market Weighton who must have have had apoplexy when they woke up to the news that a giant called Bradley had won the Tour de France.

Surprisingly none of the editors of the 'fish and chip wrappers' seemed to pick up on a previous Bradley who was equally famous and somewhat larger than life.

William Bradley or 'Bradley the giant' as he has become known was born on 10th February 1787 in Market Weighton, about 13 miles from where I live. He was one of thirteen children.

John Bradley, his father, was a respectable master tailor, his mother seemingly a professional child bearer.

At birth William weighed 14lbs and at the age of 11 he weighed 154 lbs.

At 19 he weighed 378 lbs and was 7ft 9ins in height.

His stockings measured 3ft 9ins, his walking stick 5ft 10in and his shoes were 15ins long and 5.5ins wide.

I am quite certain Sidi do not do this size!

William occasionally worked assisting a local butcher, Robert Foster, and on such occasions could get plenty of food to satisfy his large appetite. It was said that he could eat with ease a full sized leg of mutton with vegetables at one sitting. For desert he settled for half an apple orchard.
With falling profits the butcher let him go.
In his teens he went into farm service but he broke the forks, rake shovels and other tools so his employers had to get larger and stronger tools made for him.

William once accepted a challenge for a wager that he could load a wagon with manure in less time than it took two men. He filled his wagon long before his two competitors.
Despite this achievement  nobody was brave enough to call him a S**T shoveller

Whilst at Market Weighton one year, Barnum’s travelling show were exhibiting a huge pig bred in Sancton known as ‘The Great Yorkshire Pig’.
They struck a deal with John Bradley to take William around the country along with Edward Calvet, a dwarf from Shiptonthorpe.
A giant, dwarf and inflated pig ...........They didn't scrimp on entertainment in the 18th Century!!!!
The show attracted vast crowds wherever it went.
 At the time he was as famous as our side burned hero.

As well as being the home of the Giant Bradley Market Weighton is also one of the landmarks on The Big G Cycle sportive which was another less famous cycling event that occurred last Saturday an warm up to the main event. Last year I swore that I would never do it again and was reminded why, when I took to the relentless succession of hills. My lack of climbing credentials are always highlighted on such sportives where it is now a standing joke that I have got the only bike with a reverse gear.

Nunburnholme hill featured below was a real leg burner, especially coming so close to the end.

I have never seen so many people toppling over into the verge.

Most cyclists will know that feeling....... When the hill is so steep that any kind of controlled extraction from your cleats is impossible. Fortunately It has not happened to me for a few years, but its a real art lining up that bit of 'softer' road or a verge with no nettles to execute your capsize.

Some people make it into an art form, others end up like bugs laid on their backs, their legs thrashing around  trying to remove their cleats from a horizontal position.

Thankfully I remained upright but was unable to muster a smile for the Camera.

Whilst the Anglo Mules were Taking part in the Big G the US Mules were completing The Katy Flat Lands
with 16 of the Team the largest group that they had assembled all in their livery...Some sight.
Unlike our course, theirs weres as flat as a pool table and they were able to average an impressive 20mph



I do like the sense of unity when the US and UK Mules are riding in events at the same time in different continents.



There next ride is the Hotter than Hell up in Wichita Falls North Texas.
It will feel strange not being part of it for the first time in Four years.



Instead I will be tacking another elevated climbing sportive in North Lancashirewhich is called  the Bradley Wiggins Sportive .
Yes you got it The Bradley Wiggins !!!!!!
It is to highlight his charity to get young people cycling.
 The great man will be riding so obviously I will be looking for for both his wheel and his approach to join the Mule Team.

From Fat lads to Flat lands

When I used to play rugby I loved the way that the structure of the game embraced different physiology's.
In most sports only one 'body type' usually prevails with the athletic ''Mesomorph'  being the most common of three the other being the endomorph and the  Ectomorph
As a child I definitely wanted to be a Mesomorph, and after an early growing spurt I came quite close at the age of 13.
Unfortunately vertical growth gave way to that of the Horizontal type and the closest I got was being a mesomorph/endomorph mix. That was twenty years ago.
 I am now definitely an 'Endo' and really just have to accept it.

In rugby the tubbier, squat Enomorphs with their strong necks, and powerful legs provide an invaluable linchpin in any scrums formation. They are usually shorter and often hidden behind their more Herculean 'Mesos', but the Rugby 'Endos' can be easily spotted by their vegetable shaped ears.
With a low centre of gravity and bullish obstinacy they are able to push and grunt all day long  in any  elements that God might deliver.

They are always valued and often emerge to be the most unlikely of hero's.

There was also some space for the slighter wirey Ectomorph.
For me they always looked like they could do with intravenous drip of liquidised cream cakes.
Their light nimbleness is their greatest attribute, being able to waltz out of trouble and then run like Forrest Gump.

When I started cycling it was the Ectomorphs who appeared to dominate and be the chosen form.

On any mixed terrain they are accomplished and in the hills they are peerless.

When trying to hold a position in a 'Ecto' Paceline I would often find myself  gasping for breath.
They on the other hand would be idly chatting away.
' B*****D's!!!!'

Sometimes their greatest asset is also their Achilles heel. They hate strong side winds, where they bend and twist like weeping willows, often struggling to hold their bikes on line.

At the end of June I took on the 112 mile Flat out in the Fens for the forth year in a row.

The course is totally exposed and on previous years we had been blessed with fine weather.
This years summer has been so poor with frequent autumn type gales.
One particular gale, decided to join us and whipped up the wind over the fens.

Being a classic 'Endo' with a low centre of gravity, and shorter frame size the conditions were fine by me.
I found an easy rhythm  using my comedy over sized thighs to push the 'Diner plates' on my chain ring.
The 'Ectostickss' were not happy being blown from dyke to dyke. Where they could they sought refuge behind my rear wheel.
At one time I counted over thirty.
I was forced into a smile........
I was as happy that day as I once was on the rugby field.
Pushing and grunting all day long, in the weather that god had provided.

Unfortunately the road is not always flat and in most events the terrain is totally unsympathetic to us Tubby 'Endos'.
In ten days time I do the Big G which is 100 miles of climbing and descending up and around the East Yorkshire Wolds and Howardian Hills.
When I finished it last year I crossed the line totally spent and cursing.
I swore that I would never complete it again.
Curiously I must have registered this year whilst intoxicated or through some peer pressure as my number has mysteriously arrived and now mocks me daily.
Alarmingly last year I was  fitter, lighter and of course one year younger.

In a ridiculous attempt at some sort of reverse psychology I devised a plan to overcome my fears.
I thought that if I complete a much harder prior to this event,  then the main event might seem easy on the day!!!

With the plan hatched out came the ordnance survey Maps as I scoured the sheets for the illusive 'double chevrons'  >> indicating the most brutal of climbs.
My 'hillometer' inclined towards the North Yorkshire Moors.

Curiously Her Majesties Stationary office must have had their office party when they printed this particular map as there appeared to be some sort of chevron spillage.......they were everywhere!!!!! >>>>>>>>>
This was the place.>>>>>>>>>>>>

......>>>>>>>>>>.........>>>>>>>>>>

Early on Saturday morning I was joined by two Mesomorphs and an Ectomorph to bear witness to my fool hardiness. 

We set off at 7am from Sledmere in the East Yorkshire Wolds. 

Jokingly I taunted my fellow riders with tales of roads so steep that only tractors could get up them, something I regretted later.

We energetically moved quickly onto the Vale of Pickering and on to Thornton le Dale where we started to climb.

During the first gradients, limited conversations were just possible as we moved up into the North Yorkshire Moors National Park.

From there we headed towards Lockton and Levisham when we were abruptly stopped in our tracks.

Our jaws dropped our mouths muted.

To me it was obvious....I must have misread the map and we had come to the edge of a cliff.

After checking again and again It dawned on me that this was actually the Mystic world of double chevrons, You know......The ones with roads so steep that only tractors could be used.

If ever there was a time that I wanted to resign my Endomorph status.....It was now.
I could hear every muscle in my legs screaming as I cajoled my Mule up each climb.

In the Yorkshire Wolds we are used to seeing the 16% gradient sign....even the very rare 20%

But here the baby Brutes were 20% with Mum and Dad 25% and 33% respectively.
If ever there was an argument to introduce three chevrons >>> it was here.

So on we went through Levisham and across the rail track which hosts the North Yorkshire Moors Steam railway. We then climbed through a pine forest up to Stape. By now the topography had changed to barren moorland punctuated with splashes of deep purple heather.

Once on top of the Moor we headed North towards Egton Bridge.  With all the rain that we had been experiencing I was concerned about a number of 'Fords' that we had to cross. The first we encountered presented no more than a photo opportunity with the water just lapping the edge of the road.

Later we came across Wheeldale Gill at the bottom of a small gully.
The picture below shows the location on a normal day.
This was no normal day. We came across it after a months rain fall had fallen in the previous 24 hrs.
The water was a frothy mass of brown liquid .....a bit like Guinness, although moving at a far greater rate than from a glass to my mouth.

Duncan a new addition to our Saturday adventures did not wait for a debate about how to overcome such an obstacle. Bravely he accelerated parting the waters like a modern day Moses. Like the many Lambs on the moortop we followed suit.

I know I am often prone to exaggeration but in this case there is no need.
As I rode through the deluge the water came half way up my calf and physically moved me sideways a few inches.

 From Egton Bridge we knocked off the 20%+ climbs like a walker bags a Munro moving across the Esk Valley to Grosmont and Sleights. From there it was up Blue Bank and onto the Hole of Horcum Via Goathland.

 By the time we had reached that stage any future ride was going to feel easy especially the next ten miles with a gradual decent to Pickering. Amazingly my legs decided that I could use them again and during that stretch we we close to 30mph for most of the passage.
The rest of the Journey back to Sledmere was pretty routine with some 16% climbs....Paaaaaaaah
I'm the first Endo in the 33% club.

It was a great ride, great company and great pain if there is such a thing

Plugging the Gap

When I first entered the world of 'blogging' my friends and family were very supportive.
Why wouldn't they be?

They have an unwritten commitments to uphold like 'Thou shalt support thy friend or family member whatever daft idea they may think of next'

Despite such allegiances I did detect an  degree of uncertainty.

You know the  quivering lip, lack of eye contact, and swallowing without food.

I deduced that there was some doubt in the air which transcended into  questions regarding its sustainability, and my stamina.

Having been in my 'Mid life Crises' (MLC) for a few years at that time, I had certainly provided some evidence to support such  thoughts.
My very first symptoms came with a declaration that I would like to 'Fly like a bird'
Or to be more exact I poetically declared that I wanted to learn to para glide, to soar over the cliff tops with  Jonathan Livingston Seagull  
Within months the impressive collection of books and videos that  I had purchased were gathering dust as a new distraction had entered my consciousness.
In a complete 180 degree turn my desire had plummeted as I now wished  to 'Swim like a fish'. My adapted OCD had now turned to diving.

At the end of the 'Phase' Neither the heights or depths were ever pursued, although I did learn to 'fly' by the seat of my pants and achieved notoriety in finding assorted piles of mire in which to dive into.

Yesterday eyebrows were certainly lifted as this blog-site reached its third anniversary.
Now three years may not seem a lot, but in blog years it is a mark of true sustainability.
It also seemed to coincide with my metamorphosis from an occasional cycle user to a real cyclist.

Three years is not insignificant................People acknowledge the concept that dogs have a different ageing process  to their masters, where 1 dog year equals 7 of ours.

Well a blog year is similar to a dog with 1 year equalling about 8 normal years, so my blog at 24 years old is in its prime.
 It has been through kindergarten, school and a variety of editorial growing pains.
Graduation was achieved and University was expensive.
So  its now time to be all adult and grown up.

The perceived maturity of the blog seems to have been reflected with an increasing number of manufacturers and PR Companies asking me to write reviews, or to try out various new products.
Although this was never the intention it is not something that I am adverse to - providing that whatever I am evaluating I support.

I have recently been asked to review 'Just Ride' by Grant Petersen.
For those of you who have never heard of him he is a bicycle designer and the founder of Rivendell Bicycle Works. He was U.S. marketing director for Bridgestone Cycle (U.S.A.), Inc. during the 1980s and 1990s, where he designed the XO series of bicycles.

Petersen is widely known in the cycling community for opposing complicated design and manufacturers apparent obsession with speed, light weight and racing-led fashion — over tradition, comfort and durability. He specializes in bicycles intended for all sorts of riding outside of competition. His trademarks were lugged steel frames, leather saddles, downtube or bar-end shifters in place of brifters, and the use of "moustache" and "cruiser" type handlebars. It would be fair to say that he is a no nonsense sort of guy were he seeks products that are "simple, practical and proven."

Petersens book follows in the same vein which he describes as 'A Radically Practical guide to riding your bike'.
It covers four main areas 'Equipment', 'Health', 'Safety' and 'Attitude'.

Prior to receiving the book I knew very little about Peterson and my my first reaction on its receipt not welcoming. I presumed that this would be yet another publication regurgitating advice that I have already read in countless other cycling books and monthly magazines.
As such it was disrespectfully tossed into 'The Basket' which contained cycling magazines and assorted suppliments from weekend broadsheets.
The Basket holds a unique position within my house situated at arms reach within its smallest room, its importance within my daily routine should never be underestimated.

During the course of one such laborious visit I was compelled to reach for it knowing that I had an obligation to make comment.
Thankfully at that time there was no other demand for the use of  this particular room as if this had been the case, I swear that a mishap may have occurred.
After I had emerged the big hand on the clock had cycled around its circumference at least one and was well into its second lap.

All of the 89 articles are informative, most of them are radical, and the majority of them left me either agreeing with the content or thinking 'Ill adopt that too'.
Sanderson is such an obvious cyclist. He is also practical, insightful and inventive.
He deals with all of the obvious subjects from a position so outside the box, that there is no cardboard in sight. He also deals with issues that are never featured in main stream cycling literature because nobody has thought of them.
Even though Peterson appears to scoff at 'lycrists' who have a need to use racing type road bikes I found his  approach a total breath of fresh air. I would highly recommend this book as an ultimate, no nonsense guide to riding your bike.

He has also ensured that my visits to the smallest room in the house remain regular and deliberate which can only be good for my health too.

On the subject of reviewing products there are a number of manufacturers whose products I adore and need no invitation or incentive to wax lyrical about.

One of those is Rapha Performance Roadwear 

I have been a 'new raphaelite' for as long as I have been blogging and have now amassed such a good cross section of their clothing that I am able to choose which item to wear.

With their understated designs based on traditional patterns and a unique logo, their products are instantly recognisable through their subtlety and their quality. 

Another feature of Rapha wear is their cost.
There is no point beating around the bush here, their clothing is not cheap, but neither are their products -  like most things in life, you get what you pay for.

When I first reached adult hood I was advised that when buying clothing that there are some essentials that you must not skimp on, where opting to go cheap is false economy.
'I still own my quality suit, dress shirt, blazer and brogues' which have out lasted my proportional changes.

In cycling you also need some good quality essentials.
For me these are:- bib shorts, base layers, and jersey.
All come from Rapha

Bibshorts
A comfortable pair of cycling shorts is the most important clothing purchase any rider can make. Get them right and you can spend hours in the saddle without even noticing them. Get them wrong and every kilometre will feel like a hundred. The Rapha Classic Bibs have been designed for total comfort.
The most important component in any bib shorts is the pad and Rapha shorts use the top of the range pad from specialists Cytech. It has slim, body-contoured padding and a soft, chamois finish.
The shorts are made from a soft, matt-black Lycra with great stretch. The bibs are made from a luxury mesh material with a large cutaway section in the back to prevent overheating. For extra comfort in the saddle, Rapha’s bib shorts have flatlock stitching throughout to prevent chafing and are finished with soft gripper around the legs. The shorts also have a small key pocket and black-on-black Rapha logos and are cut low at the front to make it easy to answer calls of nature.

Baselayer
Any experienced cyclist knows the value of a good base layer. It will keep you cool on scorching hot cols in July and warm on freezing descents in January. A good base layer helps regulate body temperature whatever the weather, transferring moisture from the skin and proving a vital aid to performance.

Rapha base layers are made from 100% merino wool and are naturally anti-bacterial and odour resistant. Wicking moisture vapour extremely quickly, they are soft on the skin and itch free.
Rapha’s merino base layers come in three styles; sleeveless, short and long sleeve. All the seams have flatlock stitching so they won’t chafe and are positioned behind the shoulders to avoid bag or bib straps rubbing while cycling. The base layers are close fitting and cut long at the back for a better fit on the bike.

"Base layers are incredibly important in winter to help regulate the body's temperature, but they also keep the body dry without it getting too hot. Rapha's base layer does this superbly, something that the mention of wool might normally have you doubting.”

- Cycling Weekly

"There's a soft pliability to Rapha’s wool that makes it a joy to wear as a layer against the skin. The wicking… is outstanding. It's the best base layer I've ever worn [and] was equally pleasurable at both ends of the temperature spectrum."

- Competitive Cyclist
Despite the rave reviews I was initially put off this product by the word 'Wool'. I could not for the life of me reconcile how something that was made of wool could keep you cool!
For me wool was something that you wore when your bike had been wrapped up for the winter.
How wrong I was.
I love these merino base-layers so much I wear them for casual use with jeans or shorts and as nightwear.

Jersey

For road cyclists, a high-performance jersey is indispensable and performs multiple roles. It protects the rider from the elements, helps to regulate body temperature and stores vital cargo such as food, tools and valuables.
The Rapha Classic Jersey has received numerous plaudits since it was first launched in 2004. The jersey combines functionality and cycling performance with Rapha’s trademark styling. It can be worn on its own or as an additional layer.
The jersey has three main cargo pockets and an additional pump sleeve in the middle pocket. The right rear pocket has an eyelet to run headphone cables inside the jersey and an additional zipped, valuables pocket keeps contents secure.

They come with a set of complimentary arm warmers, designed specifically for use with the Classic Jersey, are perfect for cold mornings and feature a brushed fleece inner and contrast piping.

Reviews:

The best bike jersey the world has ever seen.

- Bill Strickland, Bicycling Magazine

I do have lots of cycling clothing for spinning, commuting, and sportives.
They are grabbed rather than selected.
They will be worn, but eventually discarded, through wear and tear or because they have lost their appeal.

My Rapha gear is like my suit, dress shirt, blazer and brogues - quality that lasts the test of time.
An assortment of clothes for any occasion.