I don’t want to speak too soon, but it certainly looks like the weather has finally taken a turn for the better. After what felt like weeks of endless howling easterly winds, the last few days have been sunny, warm, and pleasant, apart from a brief thunderstorm on Sunday evening and some rain overnight, which I’m sure the garden and allotment are more than grateful for.
The change in weather seems to have cheered me up a bit too. It’s amazing how much better cycling to work on a warm, still, hazy summers morning is, compared to a wet, miserable, windy winter commute. While we’re talking about cycling, I got out Saturday morning and had a better day than I have for a long time. As I mentioned last week, I’ve had a slightly different approach this weekend and it made a real change. Saturday, I had a couple of ride options all of which started reasonably close to home, 100, 200 or 300km options all appealed, but in the end the 100 won out. I’ve done the 200 before and it’s a great route but my thoughts today were that I could extend the 100 by riding to the start and back and adding a few extra miles in, plus I could have a leisurely day out and still be home in time for tea and medals.
With an 09:00 start, even riding to the start left plenty of time for a leisurely start to the day and I headed out from home into the morning sunshine, just after 07:30 (that’s a right lay in for me).
For the first time in a long time, my legs felt pretty good as I headed towards the start along familiar roads. My recent saddle tweaks seemed to have done the trick, as the aches and pains that have plagued my recent outings never materialised, although only time will tell if that’s a permanent improvement or not. It didn’t take long to knock out the 15 miles up to the start, just long enough to burn off enough calories to justify having a cup of tea and slice of toast at the start. Noting the empty trestle table where the brevet cards for the 200 and 300 riders had been, and the couple of left over cards from non-starters, raised a slight pang of regret, and the thought that maybe I should have been out getting some proper miles in, instead of messing around with a 100. But then I remembered that if I’d done the 300 I’d have already been on the road for 3 hours. I wouldn’t have had a leisurely start to the day, and i wouldn’t have been sat there drinking tea and eating toast whilst chatting to my fellow riders and having a lovely time. I’d have been out on the road somewhere!
Bang on 9 O’clock we were back on the road heading for the days first checkpoint (and the option for another brew) at The Saddleback Farm Shop at Farnborough (Berkshire).
Chatting with a fellow rider as we made our way through the countryside, the miles flew by. Long steady climbs rewarded the effort with expansive views from the tops and fast sweeping downhills. Birdsong filled the air as we traversed narrow country lanes and the sun shone down from a cloudless sky as we made our way North(ish) through picture postcard worthy English countryside. Almost too soon, the first checkpoint arrived, and our farm shop hosts had gone above and beyond expectations, setting up a tea stall outside with ready packaged cake offerings and hot brews to avoid the short queues in the main café. A slice of delightful chocolate brownie, a hot brew, and expansive views across the surrounding countryside from my seat on the sunny patio, reminded me yet again what I’d been missing in the race for ever greater distances and PBP qualifying rides. This was more like it, riding for the sake of riding, exploring the great British countryside from the saddle of my bike and taking the time to stop, look and listen. Proud Oak trees, church steeples standing proud against the surrounding countryside or peeking above the surrounding hills, Skylarks singing, Red Kites soaring majestically, roadside verges filled with a multitude of fresh verdant growth and wild flowers, fields with wildlife margins bright with Poppies, Squirrels watching intently with one eye as they go about their endless business, Deer standing tall amongst the fields of crops, listening and watching as you pass, and the unspoken camaraderie of fellow cyclists. Yes, this was what I’d been missing.
Much as I could have sat all day and watched the world go by, it wasn’t achieving much. My earlier companion had already departed by the time I’d finished daydreaming and I set off again alone. I’m happy with that though. Don’t get me wrong, I like a bit of company occasionally and I’m always happy to chat and pass the time, but at the same time I’m happy in my own company, just me and my shadow going about our business unnoticed.
Pushing on, the delights continued in the late spring sun. Mile after mile of quiet country roads through glorious rolling countryside, the surrounding fields a multitude of shades of green, silently basking under the baking sun. Through quiet villages unchanged, bar the addition of the ever-present motor car since the invention of the bicycle, across steams and brooks, filled with cold, brilliantly clear, fast-moving water, making its way silently to the sea. Past Duck ponds, manor houses, farmyards, and churchyards. Over railway bridges, erected before the advent of motorised transport, yet still doing their job over a 100 years later, across the Kennet and Avon canal where the working boats have long since vanished and been replaced by holiday makers and those seeking an alternative, more relaxed form of living, past horse riders, walkers, runners, and other cyclists all enjoying the wonders of the great outdoors in their own way.
An ice cream enjoyed sitting in the sun provided proof of passage for the next checkpoint and then a final few miles along more familiar roads as I made my way back towards the start. Burghclere, Kingsclere, Aldermaston, and Silchester with its Roman walls and ruins, all came and went, as I made my way steadily along.
Long climbs, short climbs, fast descents and twisty sharp bends, their corners loaded with loose gravel ready to catch the unwary, each provided variety and challenge. A brief spell into a head wind towards the end, made me grateful for those low gears and drop handlebars, as I got my head down to try and provide a smaller, more aerodynamic front, in an attempt to cut through the wind, but all the while a smile on my face.
Before I’d even had time to think about it, I was back at the start, the majority of my day done and still only just approaching 14:00.
A brief stop to get my brevet card stamped and signed off, refill my water bottles and thank the organisers for a brilliant day out and then it’s the small matter of the 15 miles back home. That’s no hardship though, not today, the sun’s still beating down from the cloudless blue sky and I’m as happy as Larry (whoever he is).
What a difference a few weeks make and what a difference a slight change of approach makes. I was back home with exactly 100 miles completed just after 15:00, leaving plenty of time for a shower and a bite to eat, and still had time to get the weekly shopping done before “The Emma” got home, and I’d had a really great day out.
In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it’s been a long time since I had that good a day out.
Whilst things are looking up on the cycling and running front (hopefully), there’s been a bit of a setback on the Allotment!
Having gone to great expense and effort to erect a Pigeon proof enclosure to protect my precious fruit and veg from their beady eyes I arrived at the plot Friday afternoon to find a Pigeon sat slap bang in the middle of my fruit cage! Not only was he sat there watching my approach with his beady eye, but he was also looking particularly rotund and pleased with himself! As soon as I got close, he flapped off, crashing noisily into the sides of the net before bouncing back off again and repeating his fruitless escape attempt at the opposite end a few times. Now I’ll admit that I’m not over keen on flappy things, or little scurrying things, or cats, dogs or horses, which doesn’t leave many things that I am keen on, and having chased the stupid Pigeon from one end of the cage to the other a few times I was starting to wonder how I was going to get it out. Whilst stupid, flapped noisily around, I took the opportunity to survey the damage he’d managed to do. Now, you’ll be amazed at how much destruction a single pigeon can cause, and this one had been busy. The little sod had stripped the leaves from every single Brassica which I’d spent time raising from seed, nurturing, watering, planting out and generally trying to get to grow. That’s 15 spring cabbages, 15 winter cabbages, 15 kale, 15 sprouts and 15 broccoli plants. To say I wasn’t impressed is an understatement! Fortunately for the pigeon a gust of wind lifted the net revealing the gap that it had obviously got in through and it beat a hasty retreat. I say luckily, as having seen the destruction it had caused my thoughts of shooing it out of its temporary prison, quickly turned to getting hold of the little git and making it into pigeon pie, so it had a lucky escape! I’m not happy though. I’ve fixed the small gap that it got in and back out again through, so hopefully that’s put an end to that. But I’m not so hopeful about the Brassicas. I’ve watered them a couple of times in the hope that they’ve got a strong enough root system to bounce back from their attempted murder. But I’m not hopeful, as they weren’t doing that well to start with, so it’s just going to be a case of keeping my fingers crossed and if they don’t look like they’re going to recover starting again! I’m sure these things are sent to test us and test us they certainly do!
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You might have noticed from the tone of my recent posts that thing’s haven’t really been going to plan recently. My knees are still a long way from being right, and I really seem to have lost my way a little bit recently. I know that I’m incredibly lucky to be as fit and healthy as I am. But, 3 months ago I was running marathons and cycling hundreds of miles without problems. And suddenly finding myself unable to run any further than the back gate without my knees hurting, and then having problems with my other leg during my recent Audax outings has been a bit of a blow! I managed a couple of short runs (2.5 miles) a couple of weeks ago, with no real problems and thought that things were looking up, but then last week I pushed that up to 5 miles and I’m almost back to square one again, although a couple of days rest over the weekend have seen an improvement. Likewise, I tried moving my saddle position on the bike last weekend in the hope that that would help with my cycling issues. And whilst there was an improvement, things still didn’t seem right and I’m not confident that that has solved any of those problems either. The biggest problem is that the only way to really find out if things are any better is by pushing the distance back up again, but I really don’t want to be stuck miles from home, in pain, with no way to get back again. It’s a catch 22 situation! Add into the mix the fact that my real goal for this year was the Paris- Brest - Paris 1200Km Audax which required a 600Km qualifier ride in the next couple of weeks and everything seemed to be stacking up against me. To that end, I’ve had some hard thinking to do over the past couple of weeks and had some difficult decisions to make. As I mentioned above the main target for this year (once the running went South) was Paris- Brest - Paris, which I had been looking forward too. But as the weeks have gone on and my knees have been playing up, the thought of achieving a 600Km qualifying ride within the correct time window, has gone from being an enjoyable one, to a lead weight hanging over my head. The thought of doing 600Km on legs that could barely get round a 200 the other weekend was filling me with fear, and that time window was just pressure that I don’t need. Plus, when I really started to think about it, I’m not even sure if I wanted to go to Paris in the first place. Paris- Brest - Paris is the big Audax ride, it’s the big one that started all the others and if you look at the Audax UK website you’ll see that qualifying for Paris- Brest - Paris was the whole reason Audax UK was set up in the first place, but does that mean that I really wanted to go and do this ride, or was I just being dragged along in the knowledge that it was the “done” thing? Last year there was no way that I was a going to miss out on London Edinburgh London, I’d have sawed my own head off to ensure that I was on the start line. But Paris- Brest - Paris, I’m not so sure! The whole thing was just becoming unnecessary pressure and a bit of a pain in the backside. Even if I did the qualifying rides, there is still the small matter of getting to Paris and back, and all the messing around that entails, and could I really be bothered with that? As I’ve already said, this weekend was supposed to be a 600km qualifying ride, and I’m guessing that the “supposed too” gives that game away. But. Friday morning, I took my Audax bike in to work to see how my legs felt, and despite feeling Ok over the 22-mile commute, things still didn’t seem quite right. Getting home I hit on the idea of taking my work commute bike instead. My legs have always felt Ok on that and although it wasn’t set up for Audaxing, I could probably manage a 600 on it as a one off, which seemed like a reasonable plan. Friday afternoon, I spent a couple of hours messing around swapping wheels, handlebar extensions, lights and a tyre around and doing a bit of general fettling, with the plan being to try and get the 600 in, even if it killed me. By the time “The Emma” got home it was nearly 16:00 and I was still messing around. I wasn’t really achieving much and was really just wasting time. I should have been getting ready to leave, not just filling in time pottering around and finding excuses not to be getting ready, but my heart just wasn’t in it. When “The Emma” came out with a brew and to see what I was doing we had a bit of a chat, and for maybe the first time I voiced my fears and told her that I didn’t actually think I had this weekend’s 600 in me. 600Km’s a massive distance however you look at it. And the fact that half of it was going to be directly into a head wind, my knees hurt before I’d even started, and my heart really wasn’t in any of this, made it seem like an impossible wall to climb, and not something that I was looking forward too. 90% of any long ride is mental resilience and having the will power to keep pushing on when the going gets tough, and if I was thinking about quitting before I’d even started, then what chance did I have? “The Emma” played the voice of reason, but I knew deep down, as I suspect that I have for a while, that this wasn’t going to happen. I sat in the sun for a while trying to make up my mind what to do. I huffed and puffed, I stomped around for a bit, I had another brew, and then I decided to go out for a couple of miles to shake my legs down and see how the changes I’d made to the bike felt, and hopefully decide what I was doing while I was out. I was only going to go round the block. But once I reached the end of the road, I felt like carrying on. The sun was shining, the wind was on my back (for the minute) and I headed out on a little route that I used to ride when I first got back into cycling properly, 10 or so years ago. It had been a long time since I’d last been this way, and my thoughts turned back to those early days. The hills that I now breezed up, had seemed like mountains all those years ago. Legs, strong from thousands of miles, propelled me easily along, and lost in my thoughts, some clarity started to appear. Paris didn’t interest me enough to put myself through a 600 this weekend, that was just unnecessary pressure. But I realised something else too. I remembered what I was missing and what I probably really wanted to be doing instead of pushing endless distances. The thing that drew me back to the bike was getting out there and exploring, it was stopping to have a sandwich in a field gate, whilst admiring the view, it was stopping for a brew mid ride, it was stopping to get my breath back and just stopping to look at something that caught my interest. All things that had been lost in the endless push for longer and longer brevets in faster times. Those few miles from home on Friday afternoon reminded me what I’d been missing and what I really wanted. I didn’t want the pressure of qualifying rides, I wanted to be riding for fun, and that’s what this was. Mind made up then? Well not really, I was still Umming and Arrring when I got home, but I knew deep down that I didn’t really want to go to Paris, I was just doing it because everyone else was, and it was allegedly the done thing. And I’m afraid that isn’t enough of a reason to push myself around a 600! So, I pulled out of the weekends 600 and I’ve abandoned my plans for Paris- Brest - Paris too. And you know what, it feels like a massive weight off my mind. I suspect that in a few weeks I’ll probably regret that decision. But it wasn’t a rash one, and I think I’ve known deep down, that I didn’t really want to go for quite a while, so I don’t think it’s a spur of the moment decision either. And at the end of the day, if I’m not enjoying the process then what’s the point. Cycling is supposed to be fun, not a chore. What now then? Well, for a start I’ve bought myself some thinking time and the chance to try and get back to some solid miles and pain free training (both running and cycling).
Now that there’s no pressure, I actually feel enthused about other things too. I’ve booked onto a couple of shorter rides in the coming weekends that I can get to from home, which I’m actually excited about, and I’ve got lots of other things that I want to do (not cycling or running) that I’m excited about too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not abandoning my cycling and running plans, and I fully intend to get back to full fitness as soon as possible. There’s still lots of things that I want to do on both fronts, but now there’s no rush, apart from my rapidly diminishing running fitness levels, and I can hopefully take the time to get back to where I want to be without causing longer term damage. To that end, those of you that are just here for the ridiculous running and cycling adventures might have to bear with me for a while. But in the meantime, as I’m allergic to sitting around doing nothing, I’m sure that there will be plenty of other stuff to occupy the odd blog update. A few sneak previews of which are below, just to possibly pique your interest. |
Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
March 2024
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