Go fast, EVERYWHERE!

Up until two years ago I considered myself a born and bred mountain biker through and through. Then came the road bike and I was lured to the dark side. It's safe to say that while I still enjoy the old 'tractor' the road has taken priority recently and I have become fairly smitten with the speed of rubber on tarmac. So the idea began to form that a 'cross' bike was going to be the next logical step to provide a bridge between these two worlds and after much scouring of eBay the idea has become reality. And what a reality!

Today saw her maiden voyage. Oh the joy! To be able to cane it on the black stuff, spot a bridle way, peel off and rag some single track was one of the most liberating experiences of the two wheeled variety I've ever had. And what a day for a first ride. The sun shone, the trails dried, and all was right in the world. Few things beat the feeling of travelling at warp speed with the sun on your back. Needless to say she'll be getting a fair few outings. Cross bikes rule! :-)

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The big go slow

After the demoralising results of last weeks lactate testing I'm now a slave to the heart rate monitor to keep me reigned in for building up base fitness. I just can't belive how slow 'slow' really is! Riding at this pace will not be easy. Constantly have to check over my shoulder to make sure I'm not going to get overtaken by children on trikes or OAP's on mobilty scooters. I suppose at least I will get plenty of time to appreciate the scenery for a while.

Dave.

 

Lactate testing at Athlete Service (or truth by numbers!)

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[[posterous-content:pid___0]]For months now that feeling of ‘fitness’ has been an elusive creature. Deep troughs of fatigue have been briefly punctuated by feeling mediocre. Not since summer have the legs felt anything like good. So after finally loosing patience with the ‘finger in the wind’ method of training I decided to call on the services of a friend of mine, Filipe, a man who knows more than a thing or two about endurance training.

Filipe Salbany and Rob Griffiths run Athlete Service (www.athleteservice.com) based just outside Henley on Thames. They provide a host of services including Retul bike fitting and lactate testing, as well as being able to supply everything from a new saddle to full top of the range custom bike builds. But by far their most precious commodity is their knowledge of sports training.

Filipe cut his teeth riding for the Zimbabwean National squad before going on to compete internationally in running, swimming, and triathlon, lecture on sports physiology, and coach World and Olympic Champions.

Rob is an ex national and international rower who then switched to triathlon most recently finishing as the highest placed Brit in his age group in the Hawaii Ironman World Championship, the crème de la crème of Iron man events. Many experts have the knowledge but few have actually competed at the sharp end. When Rob and Filipe talk you listen. In essence they have the tools to help you go faster, more efficiently, and for longer.

So after drooling over various carbon fibre wizardry and dream bike builds it was down to business.

First up positioning. After the bike was set up on the turbo trainer within a handful of pedal strokes Filipe had already spotted I have bad flexibility in my right quad and hip flexor. There’s no hiding anything from this man! His knowledge of pedalling technique and positioning is world class and his demonstrations of the above make many pros look like average club riders. So after giving me a good talking to about my stretching routine or lack thereof he prescribed some useful stretches and pointers. Next up Lactate testing.

Lactate testing is truth by numbers. There is no hiding, no excuses, no drafting and no tactics. Just you, the numbers and someone with Filipes experience to tell you what it all means. In short it’s as we suspected. The numbers were awful. The diagnosis: Too much training at too high a level. Not enough rest.  Not enough base building. And too much guess work. Oh dear! Whilst this was a bit demoralising it was not completely unexpected and at least now I have a known start point to work from. Filipe has now provided me with a training plan to take the guesswork out of my training and I now have a fair few weeks of slow base building to take care of. I just wish I had done this a long time ago.

So whether you are simply an average rider looking to improve or a seasoned racer looking to perform I would thoroughly recommend a visit to the guys at Athlete Service. It could save you a lot of time and heartache.

By the way they're also a Kinesis Bikes dealer so you really couldn’t ask for more;-)

Dave.

Christmas Eve Ride

Out getting in some base training miles (including a coffee stop of course!) this morning with my mate Gez. My fitness seems to be a bit of a lottery at the moment, some good rides and some very bad ones. Seem to be dipping in and out of some pretty deep troughs of fatigue since winter began. After the disappointment of abandoning the Kielder 100 it's made for a slightly depressing end to the year, but I think alot all stems from having too much going on work wise at the moment. Hopefully things will pick up and there's lots to look forward to as well so it's all good really.

So wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Whatever your passion in life keep it burning strong throughout the coming year, and live every day to the full.

Dave.

D.N.F.......For friks sake!!!

Attempted the Kielder 100 on Saturday. They say: One lap. One rider. One adventure. One hundred miles. I experienced: 6 hours of rain. 2 sets knackered brake pads. 1 pair of seized forks. 1 set of knackered shock bushings. 1 knackered back/neck. 50 miles. And a big fat DID NOT FINISH!
700 starters. Only 177 finishers, and I wasn't one of them. FAILURE!

Dave.

The Climb

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Pain. Another wave courses through the legs. But more muted this time, the mind beginning to detach from sensations it knows too well. Instead random thoughts tumble past, a hundred thoughts a second.

How long to go? How long's it been? Why do I do this to myself? For triumph? Over what, over who? I haven't seen a living soul nor even a passing car for 30 minutes, maybe 45, or an hour, or maybe days. How long have I been on this climb? 

ALONE.

A glance to the right, the incoherent ramblings of a dehydrated sun baked mind flutter away like blossom in the wind. Have I really climbed that much? The ribbon of black tarmac snakes away far below as the mountains give way to orange groves peppered with white washed villages running out to the coast. Beyond, through the haze, sun sparkles off the sea. Sublime. Calm. Peace. TRANQUILLO! But the climb does not care for such moments, it continues unrelenting.

Switchbacks. Out of the saddle and embrace the pain. An explosion of images flood the mind, brought about by action not location. Mercx, Pantani, Mayo, Armstrong, or short Columbians, or rangy Dutch, all dancing on the pedals around tight hairpins. The beauty in the movement. But I'm no champion and breathlessness comes quickly to put me squarely back in the saddle. But for a moment it was beautiful, body and mind urging the bike upwards in the dance of the climb.

Now still breathing hard the road kicks up one final time. As if in the throes of death it stubbornly rears up, a last attempt to break the weak of mind and tired of leg. But not this time, I've come too far. As the heart quickens the mind races away on tangents again.

"Bridge to engine room, we need more power!"

       "But she can'ee take anymore Captain!"

Just a little.

And then it eases, and it's done. The top. A mental pat on the back and a wave of euphoria washes away the pain. But dehydration drives me on without pause. The sinuous descent unravels ahead. Big ring, drop cogs like machine gun fire. Bullet speed. The road snakes, bank left, shift weight, bank right. I can't contain the grin. Surrounded by mountains, the synergy of speed and control, the exhilaration total. PURE UNADULTERATED HAPPINESS!

The endless descent finally begins to flatten. A village. A restaurant! Never have plastic patio chairs looked so welcoming. "Una caffe con leche y una coca cola por favor, senior". I'm not normally one for sugary drinks but never has a coke tasted so good. Relief. Exhaustion. And as I sit contented, sipping coffee under the bluest of blue skies the thoughts begin again. I suppose I could do the climb again tomorrow. After all, it was beautiful out of the saddle on those switchbacks......

 

Location: Marina Alta Mountains, Costa Blanca, Spain. As a side note I'm thinking of heading back out there in October so if anyone fancies tagging along for a little biking holiday/training camp just drop me an email. The biking is awesome.

Dave.

 

 

SPD Sandals and brown corduroy flares...

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Problem: Current stable of bikes all too precious to lock up outside shops etc. Solution: Trawl ebay for bargain 'utility' bike. Result: 'The Animal'

Managed to find ebay bargain in the shape of a virtually unused Pinnacle Sentinel. 200 notes later and she was mine. I whacked some mudguards and a pannier rack on, and hey presto my commuter/hack/winter trainer/utility bike was born. Then in a moment of bike snobbery I covered over the Pinnacle logos with some Animal stickers to try and salvage some 'street cred'.

Mates ribbed me as to whether it came with a free pair of SPD sandals and brown flares, or if I might be making a career change to become a librarian. But between me and you I love her. She's already saved me a fortune in diesel with various commuting roles, and the other day to truly embrace the beardie, ale drinking, elbow patch wearing, map pinned to handlebar way of life I took her for a ride on the National Cycle Network. Turns out that if you don't mind the odd towpath and gravel track you can string together a fairly decent training route. And the 'Animal' did me proud, 93 miles and not so much as even a puncture.

Yes I may be getting old, and yes it's maybe not as cool as my carbon race bike or full susser MTB, but I'm telling you when you stop mid ride and pull sandwiches, sausage roll, and a flask of coffee out the old pannier bag your mates begin to stop laughing (or at least you don't notice them as much as you revel in your utilitarian comforts and consider what colour corduroy flares to buy next)......

Dave.

Parisien trackstands

[[posterous-content:pid___0]]Doing some work for a bike tour company this summer. Just back from support riding/driving a London to Paris trip for a great bunch of lads. The sun shone, the rain rained, the wine flowed, and the beautiful French countryside rolled by in cinematic soft focus. All good! 

And my personal highlight? Cruising round the streets of Paris on a borrowed titanium Condor in trainers and civies, no lid wind in my hair, dodging pedestrians and track standing at lights: Traffic, noise, people, wind, architecture, bike, atmosphere, FREEDOM!.....Pure Bliss.

Dave.

Road Trip, take two...

After the previous aborted attempt (see 'Pure Bliss' post) at my little road trip I decided to give it another bash only with the wifey in tow this time to keep me sane in the event of any more nightmares. So with the Landy all packed we set off once again, this time making it to the Pyrenees without incident. We were greeted at Luz Saint Saveur, at the the foot of the Tourmalet, by lashing rain and mist so binned the campsite idea in favour of a little B&B. As we were running to a very tight schedule on this trip the only way I could get a crack at the Tourmalet was to be on the bike for 5am the next morning.

Luckily the rain gave way to a dry but pretty nippy morning as I set off with lights ablaze into the darkness on the eerily deserted roads. A little way above Bareges a sign indicated the col was closed but I decided to press on anyway hoping luck would be on my side. Just above the ski station the barrier was closed across the road but I skirted round the edge still feeling optimistic. This didn't last long as rounding the next corner I discovered my way blocked by a 20m wide section of snow where the piste ran off the hill straight over the road. Arse! Still not wanting to admit defeat I shouldered the bike cyclo cross style, remounted and carried on. After repeating this procedure half a dozen or so times the going started to get decidedly sketchy with sheet ice and rock fall debris littering the road. DEFEAT! So after snapping a few pics I had to turn for home feeling a little bit disheartened. Having miscalculated just how cold a true Alpine descent can be I absolutely froze my arse off on the way down. At one point I thought one of my wheels had maybe come loose only to realise I was shivering so hard it was causing speed wobble. I almost ripped past the B&B like a bullet train through a station as my now useless frozen claws refused to apply any pressure to the brakes.

So with project Tourmalet proving elusive once again we had no option but to carry on with our little road trip. The only consolation was a great little ride on two of my favourite climbs, and a day or so chilling out with the wifey, on the Costa Blanca a little later in the week. The rest of the time was pretty much pedal to the metal with the occasional stop to empty my wallet at various service stations. The Tourmalet remains on the list under the heading 'Unfinished Business'. In the words of a great Austrian philosopher "I'll be back".......

This road trip was brought to you courtesy of Red Bull, Peanut M&M's, and vending machine cappuccinos.

Dave.

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White Horses and the Chiltern Big Dipper

Managed to get some good miles in the other weekend. A company I'm working for this summer very kindly invited me to an all expenses paid weekend near Swindon which involved a 60 mile organised ride on the Saturday. With the mention of free food I didn't need asking twice and so enjoyed a great day riding 'white horse' country (a number of huge chalk carvings in the hillsides adorn the area) with some very keen cyclists and new colleagues. There was another ride taking place on the Sunday but I had already committed to riding in the Chiltern Big Dipper Sportive so made my excuses and raced home on Saturday evening.

After doing a couple of Sportives on my own last year I had promised myself I wouldn't enter any more unless someone else was willing to come along and suffer with me. However, even with a lack of suitable lemmings because this event was taking place literally on my doorstep it felt rude not to. With the previous days ride still in the legs and a late night to boot it was never going to be a steamer but none the less I made it round the 100 mile route feeling reasonably happy. It took in a lot of the superb little climbs we have here in the Chilterns which was painful and great in equal measure but unfortunately the route marking left something to be desired leaving a few people a little unhappy. Luckily local knowledge paid off enabling me to keep on route and ending up ambling round to finish in 35th spot out of a 100 or so who rode the full distance.

Obviously my performance won't give Contador any sleepless nights but laid in the sun in the garden afterward with a cup of tea on the go I had that warm fuzzy feeling, a mixture of fatigue and contentment, that comes after all great days out. 

Dave.