A bit of an unusual post for the end of 2023 - The words below aren’t what I set out to write. In fact I don’t really know where they came from. But the fact that they came from somewhere within my brain must mean that they’ve been playing on my mind, so they’re probably worth sharing. Another year done, another year older, although I’m not sure if I’m another year wiser, but I’ve definitely learned a lot this year, both in general and more importantly about myself. 2023 has been a funny year for me. Not in a side splitting, hilarious way (although there have been a few moments) but in a “that was a strange year” kind of way. 2023 seems to have been the year when my age finally caught up with me. I’m not old by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m not that young either, and the years of being injury and aches and pains free, seem to be slowly catching up with me. Apart from the first few months of the year I seem to have gone from one injury to another this year, and if I’m honest it’s knocked me a bit. The year started off well, with plenty of running and some really good cycling miles. I averaged almost 600 miles a month through Jan - March, which would normally be the worst months weather wise, and at the same time managed to get in 5 Marathons. But then at the end of March it all came crashing down when I hurt my Left Knee. The physio diagnosed it as overuse, (when I finally decided to go) and gave me a stretching and muscle building regime, with a slow build back up, which I followed. Just as that was on the mend though, I went off to ride Brevet Cymru, a 400KM Audax and I don’t know what I did, but 200 Km in my Right knee started hurting. Realistically I should probably have stopped and made my way back to the start by other means, but in the spirit of Audax I pushed on. Just as my left Knee was getting better, my right knee was 100 times worse, and then to really hammer home the blows, I somehow managed to hurt my left Achilles tendon! And that was that. From 400 km rides and ultra marathons, to hobbling down the stairs and seriously wondering if I would ever run again, or realistically be able to get back to longer distance cycling. The knee problems continued throughout the summer, and I tried various fixes and different approaches to manage what was happening. Changes of saddle height, shorter cranks, lower gearing. They all made little differences and improvements, but nothing made a major difference. Realistically, the only thing that was likely to really solve the problem was rest. But with no running the only thing keeping me sane was cycling, and to stop that too. Well, I just couldn’t face the idea of that! Slowly as the summer progressed things did start to improve, and gradually my knees have started to feel better. A few longer rides gave me hope that things were on the mend, and after many hours of stretching and strengthening exercises the aches and pains slowly started to recede. Untill, finally, in the middle of October I felt strong enough to resume some gentle running. Slowly at first, ever fearful of doing further damage, but at long last I’ve started to build the miles back up and I’m hopeful that eventually I might get back to somewhere close to where I was at the start of 2023. I should be grateful that I can do any of the things that I do. But when you go from the prime of fitness, to nothing, it’s a massive blow, and If I’m honest, my injury plagued year really knocked me mentally, even more so than physically. I found other things to do to amuse myself. I spent a lot of time tinkering with cars, and there was The Carpet Caper, The Garage Project and obviously the allotment was always in the background. In fact the allotment did really well this year, so maybe spending a bit more time up there isn’t a bad thing! But it wasn’t running, and every morning when I woke up, I lay in bed and gingerly moved, hoping that today was going to be the day when it stopped hurting and I’d be able to run down the stairs instead of wincing with every step. 2022 seemed to be a year of great achievement. Longer runs, longer rides, big cycling and running milestones ticked off. But 2023 seems like I achieved nothing. Looking back though, that couldn't be further from the truth. In 2022 I was totally focused on running and cycling, and realistically I did few of the other things that I enjoy and that provide reward in other ways. As I mentioned above there are a lot of tangible things to show for my efforts in 2023. I’m sitting in the lounge at home right now, with my feet resting on the new carpet. I’m just about to wander over to the garage and spend a couple of hours in the dry tinkering with my latest project, and later I’ll have to nip down to the shops in the little Peugeot (that’s the Peugeot that would have gone for scrap back in June when it failed it’s MOT if I hadn’t spent the time and efforts fixing it). I’ll be going to the shops to get something for tea, I won’t need to get much though, because there’s a bucket sat outside the back door that I bought back from the allotment yesterday, which has got a cabbage, some leeks, sprouts and parsnips in it, all of which I planted, nurtured and grew from seed. Seeds that I planted way back in the spring. All of which will taste far better than the soft, wilted, tasteless varieties which you buy in the supermarket. Every time I walk (or hobble) up the stairs and catch a glimpse of the carpet, I think of the work that went into fitting it, and it makes me smile with pride. Every time I get into the little Peugeot, I think of the skinned knuckles, the rust flakes falling in my eyes, and the thinking and learning that went into bringing it back from the dead, and it brings a smile to my face to know that I did that. Likewise, the allotment remains a constant throughout. A place where I can feel happy and content no matter what life (or the weather) is throwing at me. So why can’t I just be happy with my place in life? Why isn’t contentment just enough? Why must I be constantly pushing and challenging myself for greater achievements? And why have I found this injury plagued year so demoralizing? Is it that running and cycling provides something that the other achievements can’t, and thus without them I’m unfulfilled? Or is it simply that long distance running and cycling takes you to some pretty dark places mentally when you're tired and on the brink of exhaustion, and if you come out successfully the other side you learn more about yourself and what you can achieve than you ever thought possible? Is that what it’s all about? The rhythmic fall of your feet on the ground, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the repetitive beating of your heart. The knowledge that you have nothing else to do, or worry about, apart from putting one foot in front of the other, or endlessly turning the pedals? Is this all just a search for inner peace, and a yearning to know more about myself? Every time you push into that deep dark place, where your mind and body is screaming at you to stop, but you overcome that desire and push on to finish, you learn something about yourself. And you can’t get that from fitting carpets, or fixing cars. You need to push yourself beyond your comfort boundaries to find out what you are capable of and to come out the other side stronger. Maybe, indirectly, I’ve answered my own questions there. Maybe, without being able to push myself beyond the limit of what I should be able to do, I wouldn’t be able to find out who I am? Maybe the path to true contentment lies with knowing exactly who you are. With being happy in your own body and with yourself. And maybe, just maybe, I’m still searching for that answer, which is why the thought of not being able to run or cycle, knocked me so hard? I don’t know the answer to my own questions, and I’m not really sure why this blog post has gone down the route it has. The words above aren’t what I set out to write, but the fact that I’m still sitting here writing and that the words continue to flow tells me that it’s clearly something that I’ve been thinking about for some time, and writing it down is normally a cathartic experience. What I do know is that being alone with your thoughts provides your brain with the opportunity to sort those thoughts out. An opportunity which running and cycling provides. Back in 2016, when I left the RAF, I set off on an epic cycling adventure to travel from home, to Lands End, then to John-O-Groats and back again. 2000+ miles, in around a month. For the first week or so, the time went incredibly slowly. My mind was constantly thinking, replaying past conversations, past occurrences, previous experiences, always thinking, always busy. But after a couple of weeks I suddenly realised that the time was no longer going slowly. I wasn’t thinking about those past experiences any more, I was just at peace with myself, enjoying the journey for what it was, and enjoying the new experiences I was encountering. For the first time in my life up until that point, my mind had had the time and space to make sense of all those past encounters and experiences and file them into the correct spaces. Peace had descended in my previously chaotic brain and an inner calm had replaced the chaos. Continuing to dedicate time to similar pursuits, continues to allow my brain the time to clear the fog and provide that same inner calm. It may only be 45 minutes cycling home from work, but that's long enough (provided no one tries to kill me on the way home) for my brain to park the day's events, to think about whatever project I’ve got ongoing at the time, and arrive home calm and collected. If I extend that time to the 1:30 it takes to run home, or 10 hours cycling for a 200Km Audax, or whatever, it’s just more time for my brain to sort out the humdrum of life and find its peace. And as above, if once the humdrum is sorted, you’ve got the opportunity to push into the darker recesses of your brain, then that's when you really start to learn about yourself and find out what you're really capable of and who you are. It’s not always about pushing hard into those areas where you're battling against the desire to stop though. Sometimes it’s about the slower pace. The opportunity to just progress peacefully through the countryside. The sun shining, the birds singing, the world around you tranquil and still, as you move slowly through it. We evolved over millennia at this slower pace of life. No phones, no needless, pointless deadlines to meet, no rushing from one place to the other. No spending hours sitting in traffic, no endless background noise, no TV, no crowded shops, no nothing. Maybe that’s what it’s all about, an escape from the daily grind and the harsh, noisy, realities of life? Cycling and running certainly both offer that opportunity, it’s just you, your legs and your breathing, progressing steadily along! On that note, I Think it’s time to leave this one here for the time being, as I don’t really know where I’m going with it and I’m aware that it’s not so much a blog post but more a mind dump of what’s going on in my little brain. Maybe that’s what it’s all about though, maybe 2024 will be the year when I do finally stop running and find whatever it is that I may, or may not, be searching for. Peace? Contentment? A pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? Who knows? I will leave you with a link to a You tube clip that I watched the other day which sums up “Why” far better than I ever could. “Why” is something which I get asked all of the time, and I suppose my answer is above, but skip to 39:50 for Fr Johannes’ closing reflection, where he explains what I was trying to say in my uneducated way above. And on that note I’ll say goodbye for 2023 and wish you all the best for 2024, where hopefully there'll be plenty more to keep me occupied and plenty more memories to be made.
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Here we are again, fast approaching the end of another year and the start of another chapter in the wonderful world of me. But before we get too maudlin, there’s still another week left of 2023 and there’s a week’s worth of adventuring to catch up on before we get that far.
So what’s been going on in the last week then? Well, not a great deal if I’m totally honest. The weeks leading up to Christmas are normally quiet, but this year seems to be even quieter than normal. I know it’s an easy scapegoat, but the weather’s not helping matters. In the weeks leading up to Christmas last year we had snow on the ground, but this year’s just been dull, damp and dreary. That's not stopped me getting out and about though, and I’ve been managing to get a fair bit of running in. In fact I was only at work Monday and Tuesday this week, and had planned on running in my lunch break on Tuesday. But, looking out as lunchtime approached, it was throwing it down so I did what I do best and reconsidered my options. The forecast predicted it would stop by 15:00, so Ok I’ll just run home instead. Which left the little issue of my bike and a pile of dirty washing being left at work over Christmas. There’s always a solution though. And in this case, whilst I wasn’t supposed to be at work on Wednesday, my solution to the little conundrum was to just run back in again on Wednesday morning whilst “The Emma” was was sleeping off her night shift, and pick my bike and stuff up that way. Personally, I thought that this was a brilliant idea. 20 miles of pleasant running, and an extra 11 on the bike for good measure, and all for free. It would appear though that everyone else just thought I was nuts. As I left work on Tuesday evening to run home I said to the lads at work “Happy Christmas, I’m not in tomorrow but I’ll probably see you when I run back in to pick my bike up”. 30 minutes later and I was still there explaining why I was going to run home and then run back again the next day when I didn’t need to, and trying to justify to the disbelievers that, yes, this is fun and that, yes, this is a good idea. Those 30 minutes were nothing compared to the look I got when I stuck my head round the office door on Wednesday morning to say hello before cycling back home again though. It was like I’d grown an extra head! “I told you last night that I’d pop in today to pick my bike up” “Yes, but we didn’t really think you would” And that my friends is the difference between me and them. I could have just laid in bed, or sat on the sofa, but there's better things to do with my time than that. It’s all about getting the miles in and taking advantage of every opportunity, no matter how small or how ridiculous the idea might seem, you’ve got to get out there and make the most of it. And anyway, I was still back home by 10:00 just as “The Emma” was getting up and I’d put an extra 10 running and 11 cycling miles into my legs without even thinking about it. Result!
In another attempt to squeeze as much into every day as possible I had another bright idea this week, involving going down to see “The Old Man”. I really needed to go down and see them before Christmas, but you know how it is, I hate driving, and, well it’s a long way, and, stop making excuses!
I could have just driven there and back in a day like any normal person, but where’s the fun in that. A far better idea in my opinion, was to drive half way, and then cycle the rest. Double brilliant, not only do I have to do less driving, but I get a bit of cycling in and see a few new roads and places too. To that end, I took the van down to Horsham after tea on Wednesday evening and had a quiet night in the van (I don’t know why but I always find that I sleep really well in the van) and was up ready and raring to go early on Thursday morning, for the short journey down to “The Old Man’s” and back.
It was a bit of a strange day Thursday. For a start there was a strong wind blowing, but more unusually it was really warm. I wasn’t exactly dressed for the Arctic when I set off, but even so, within the first ten minutes I was stopped, discarding my buff and thin hat, and undoing my jacket, and within 20 minutes I was cursing my winter gloves and wishing I had shorts on.
According to my phone, it reached 15 degrees by mid morning. I’ve already said that this time last year we had snow on the ground. But 15 degrees, we’d be glad of that in the summer, let alone December! Unusually high temperatures and strong wind, (which did its best to push me into the gutter most of the way), aside, I had a great ride down to Dad’s, and it was lovely to spend a couple of hours catching up on the gossip and enjoying their company. Heading back towards home in the afternoon was a bit harder going. The Wind that had been on my side in the morning was now a full on head wind, which made for some hard, slow, miles. I’d planned on being back at the van before dark, and very nearly got caught out, having forgotten quite how early it does get dark at the moment. With darkness fast descending and a dozen miles still to go, It suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t have a head torch with me. It’s not a major issue, I only need it to read the map and in case of emergencies anyway, so I wasn’t that bothered, but it’s always nice to have that safety blanket. (try fixing a puncture in the dark without a light). By 16:00 the light was really fading fast and I still had a couple of miles to go, when coming up a short, sharp climb I heard the unmistakable sound of escaping air. Bugger, puncture! Coming to a stop, there was still just enough light to see by, and it didn’t take long to identify the source of the problem in the shape of a bit of flint protruding through the edge of the tyre. If you can find the source of the puncture before taking the inner tube out it’s normally possible to fix it without taking off the entire tyre, which luckily proved to be the case today, and within ten minutes I was back underway. Those ten minutes made a big difference though and by the time I got going again, it was totally dark. Sometimes I think luck’s on my side. If I’d set off ten minutes later, or been that bit slower pushing into the headwind, or even just stopped for a few minutes on my way up. The chances are that I’d have got that puncture in the dark, then I’d have been walking the last few miles, because there was no way I’d have been able to fix it in the dark without a head torch. Or maybe I wouldn't have gotten the puncture in the first place? Either way, I’m looking at it as luck being on my side and I’ll take that as a win!
While we’re talking about luck. The fan on the oven at home has been making a bit of a racket recently. I’d been meaning to take the oven apart and have a look at it, suspecting that it was just unbalanced due to accumulated grime or rubbing on the back of the housing, but like everything, I only ever thought about it when the oven was on, and then it was a bit hot to do anything about!
Anyway, Friday I was busy making sausage rolls and Christmas ham, which reminded me about the noisy oven fan. I say it reminded me, the fact that I was standing in the kitchen with ear defenders on and you could hear the oven from the end of the garden gave me the kick up the backside I needed to finally have a look at it. Once it had cooled down enough to get it apart my guess that it was just greased up turned out to be incorrect and the bearings on the motor are shot. Not an ideal situation a couple of days before Christmas. A bit of googling found a replacement, but by the time I’d ordered it it was half past 5 on the Friday before Christmas, so there was no chance of that getting here before the big day. Not to worry though, I’d just have to cook Christmas dinner with my ear defenders on. Imagine my surprise then when at 15:00 on Saturday there was a knock on the door and the postman presented us with a parcel (that's unusual in itself because they normally only appear on special occasions). And what was in the parcel? The replacement fan motor for the cooker. That’s pretty impressive service. Less than 24 hours from ordering to delivery, and it wasn’t even ordered until after closing time on the Friday before Christmas! So now the oven’s fixed too, and we’ll be able to cook Christmas dinner without the fear of going deaf. Result! Worn out bearings seem to have been a bit of a theme this year, in addition to the various bike ones which I seem to spend half my life replacing, there’s been the washing machine, the oven fan, “The Boy’s” car gearbox, and the Peugeot rear axle, and that’s just the ones that come immediately to mind. Bearing that in mind we’ll see what 2024 brings. You’ll all be pleased to know that there’s not a great deal to tell you about this week, so this will be a short and sweet one. If I’m honest I’ve had one of those weeks where you're rushing around like a mad thing and achieving very little, which is never good for the old morale. But, I guess that I must have achieved something, no matter how inconsequential in the big scheme of things. I did run home, and then back to work the next morning, one day in the week, which is another step in the right direction and another increase in the miles I’m managing to sustain. It’s only 10 miles each way, but running home one evening and then getting up early to get back to work again, gives me 20 miles in a 14 hour window, so there’s not much recovery time there. And getting up at 05:00 to run to work in the rain can be pretty hard going sometimes. That’s all part of the fun though, and if it was easy everyone would be doing it, wouldn’t they! The best bit of news from the weekend is that I’ve finally got “The Boy’s” car back together and can confirm that it’s fixed, which is a massive result as far as I’m concerned. There was no way that repairing it would have been economical if he was paying someone to do it for him. But he’s back on the road again, and he’s got a well maintained little car there that will easily see him through another couple of years (I hope). If I’m honest, I probably got as much (if not more) out of fixing it than he will get out of it being fixed. But from my perspective it was a brilliant learning experience, and it’s been another one of those jobs where anyone you talk to says “You can’t do that” or “You’ll never be able to fix that”. But I have, and I’ve got a tremendous sense of achievement out of doing so. It wasn’t an easy job, and there were a few moments where I had to use all my ingenuity and cunning to overcome the problems that working on the floor brings. But the job’s done now, and it’s running as sweetly as a Swiss watch (not that I know anything about Swiss watches, so I don’t know if they run sweetly or not). Having got things back together on Friday afternoon, I took the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone and arranged to meet “The Boy” in Swindon Saturday afternoon. Meeting him half way not only gave me the chance to do a few miles in the newly fixed “Old Man Mobile” before I handed it back. But it gave us the chance to catch up over lunch too. And I must confess that it made a nice change for me to actually sit down for lunch, as well as it being really nice to catch up with “The Boy” with no other distractions for a couple of hours. There’s not much else to report from the weekend other than that. Sunday morning I dragged myself out of bed early for a bit of off road running fun. Managing to get fully muddy in the process, which was nice, and also managing to get ten miles in before it started raining, which is always a plus. And the afternoon was spent washing a couple of weeks worth of road dirt and detritus off my bikes, and generally catching up on a few odd jobs and a bit of bike maintenance (fixed a puncture twice and then gave up and put a new inner tube in (I think the inner tube was too damp for the patches to actually stick)) and sorted out a few other minor jobs. And that was that, another week done. I suppose that eventually I’m going to have to start thinking about Christmas, but for now, I’m sure I can have another few days pretending that it’s never going to get here and I’ll worry about that later! A rare treat this week folks. I’ve been running. And it’s been a long, long, time, since I’ve done any of that. In fact it’s been 8 Months since I last did any competitive running, and there hasn’t been much running of any kind in the interim either. Before we get to the interesting stuff though. Saturday was spent freezing my bits off, putting the gearbox back in “The Boys” car. You’ll no doubt be pleased to know that I’ve replaced the knackered Input shaft bearing which I’m hoping was the source of all the noise, and managed to get all the gears back into the case. Helpfully, “The Emma” didn’t complain when I brought the gearbox into the house on Thursday in the hope that it would warm up enough to allow me to get some sealant onto the mating faces. And she still wasn't complaining when it reappeared Friday night, in the hope that the sealant might actually start to cure before I put it back in the car. It says on the packet to apply it in temperatures above 10 degrees, but nothing about what to do when it’s -10, so into the hall it came to warm up. And “The Boy” needs to be thankful, as do I, that I’ve got such an easy going Wife. (Although if I’m honest I think she just likes the easy life, and it’s easier to either ignore my antics, or just say “Yes Paul” than it is to try to stop some of my silly ideas. It’s back in the car now though, so that's a positive. Although I still don't know if it’s fixed because A) The sealant still hasn’t gone off and I don’t want to fill it with oil until it has. And B) Whoever's been in there before me has managed to strip all of the threads out of one of the mounting bolt holes, so now I’m waiting for a thread repair kit to arrive before I can finish putting it back together. It’s progress though and a step in the right direction, so I’m happy about that. And on an even more positive note the bearing that I’ve replaced was definitely knackered, and it’s always reassuring when you find that the item you suspected to be unserviceable is, and you’ve actually got something to point at and say “that’s the problem”. There’s nothing worse than taking something apart and either finding nothing, or finding that the bit you suspected to be the problem is actually OK. Anyway, that’s enough about that for the time being, let's get back to the main event. The Mapledurham Half Marathon. Yes, it’s only a half and a big step down from where I was this time last year, but I was really looking forward to this one having not run for such a long time and it’s another step in the right direction! I’ve run a lot of this course before, but not for a few years, and the last time I did run it, it was only 10 miles. The Half has been added at some point over the last couple of years and although much of the route is the same as the ten mile, some of it was going to be new to me. After Saturday's freezing temperatures, I’d almost been hoping for more of the same on Sunday. It wasn’t to be though, and by the time I got to the start the temperature was into positive numbers (although still chilly) and by the time I’d collected my number and started getting ready it had started raining. A bit of freezing rain never did anyone any harm though (probably) and it was easy to forget the cold, wet, raindrops, landing on my head, amongst the excitement of being back at the start line for the first time in many months. There’s something special about standing in a wet field waiting for someone to shout “Go”. There’s always an apprehensive excitement in the air, and an all prevailing tension. Final stretches, endless checks of watches. The odd bit of small talk, “have you done this one before?”. But deep down everyone’s thinking the same thing, “How am I feeling”? “How’s this going to go today”? “Are my legs feeling good”? “What about that little niggle”? “Come on let’s go”! The 10K runners set off first on Sunday for an extra lap of the field to ensure the distance was actually 10K, and passed back through the start to much applause, whilst we waited to be released. And as they disappeared into the distance, so we in turn moved up to the start line. “Hang back me, this one always goes out fast and there’s some good runners here”. “There’s no point killing myself in the first mile, it's been a long time, but remember what you learned from all those previous races”. “Start slow to finish fast”! As predicted, once we got going, the front runners were away like scalded cats. The first couple of miles are along a concrete farm track, which makes for some fast running, but I quickly settled into a pace which I felt comfortable with and felt I could sustain for the duration, whilst the front runners disappeared into the distance.
With the pace settled, the end of the concrete quickly arrived and we peeled off into the woods for the first climb of the day up a muddy footpath. Falling in behind the man in front, as we neared the top he offered to let me pass. An offer I kindly declined, knowing that the pace we were doing was fast enough and if I overtook I’d have to pick up my pace further, rather than hold him up in the process. A rousing performance from one of the lovely marshals manning a sharp turn, directed us across a muddy field and into the woods for the first time, where dead leaves lay thick in the wet mud and heavy drops of rain dripped from the trees as we passed. Through the 5 mile mark and I was feeling good, I was working hard but not too hard, and my knee, whilst tender, was holding up Ok. Coming up to the 6 mile mark I gained a couple of places as we slipped and slid along a muddy track. The ground underfoot already churned up by the 10K runners, who had taken a shorter route to this point and arrived ahead of us. Another uphill section, saw another couple of places gained. My start slow, finish strong tactic starting to pay off. And as we approached the 9 mile point, having again rejoined the route of the 10 Km runners, the first of the back markers from that race hove into view. I fully appreciate how demoralising it must be to be passed by someone who set off ten minutes after you and has done 10 miles to your 10Km. But, as the one doing the passing, it’s a massive morale boost, and with almost 10 miles in my legs, any morale boost was more than welcome. Just shy of the ten mile mark the 10Km / 10 mile and half marathon routes split again, and as I followed the route for the extra 3 miles to make up the half marathon, most of those in front peeled off, their day done, leaving just a few visible in front of me. Repeating the slippery muddy trail from earlier I picked off another runner and on the next climb the only other person I could see in front of me fell behind. The pacing strategy was certainly paying off, and as I started the descent back towards the start I was able to pick my pace up slightly. More backmarkers, this time from the ten mile and ½ marathon groups, gave me plenty of people to chase after during the last mile and a half, and I put in my fastest mile of the day racing towards the line. Heart beating, breath ragged, legs pushing long strides, I crossed the line in 1:47, a time which was good enough for 25th place from the 97 starters, and more importantly, a time I’m more than happy with considering this year's lack of miles and injuries. Yes I could undoubtedly have gone faster, but today wasn’t about times, it was about seeing how my legs felt over the distance and having fun. And by god did I have fun. I didn’t realise quite how much I’d missed running until I started getting ready for Sunday. Collecting up the bits that havent been used for all those long months where injuries have stopped me running. Safety pins to attach my number, trail shoes from the van, gloves from the drawers upstairs, water bottle from the cupboard. All little things that were so familiar and then weren't. The drive up to the start, the excitement and apprehension waiting for the off, and the thrill of the run itself. Legs working hard, breath ragged on the climbs, pushing hard to catch the person in front, working even harder as you hear someone catching from behind, and the joy of being outside, propelling yourself through the damp winter countryside. Muddy paths, stiles to climb, puddles to run through, slip sliding from one side of the path to the other. Open countryside, wooded climbs, fast descents and boggy paths. Oh yes, I’ve really missed running!
Good news everyone. Firstly, for those of you who've noticed that I've missed a couple of weeks of Blogs, I am still alive, (which may or may not be good news depending on your viewpoint). The real good news though, is that whilst I haven't been here wittering on about a load of old rubbish, you haven't had to read my old rubbish either. So, like I said good news.
You can't have good news, without bad news though. So the bad news is that, as I've just mentioned, I am still alive, and because I haven't been here for a couple of weeks I've got loads to tell you all about. Which means now your going to have to read loads of my old gibberish. No I'm only joking, this is going to be short and sweet, because the reason I've got behind on the blog posts is that I've been busy, and I'm still busy, so the catching up will just have to wait. What I will do though is give you a quick update on the last couple of weeks and then hopefully I'll be back on track and we can get back to some proper updates. Looking back to my last update, I think I'd just got back from my mini adventure up to Cosford for a seminar (yawn). But, as if that 300 mile round trip wasn't enough, I'd lined up a cheeky little Audax for the Saturday too. It wasn't supposed to be anything too strenuous, just a little 100Km jaunt round the local area from Reading. But it seemed a shame to drive to Reading just to go and play bikes. What seemed like a far better idea, was cycling to the start, doing the 100K and then cycling back again. Why do 100Km when you can round it up to 115 miles instead? What didn't seem like quite such a good idea, was the fact that it was lashing it down with rain when I set off from home at Audax O'clock (stupidly early) and the forecast for the day didn't look much better, although the rain was supposed to stop around 10:00. As I sat at the start pouring the water out of my boots and wringing my socks out, my brilliant idea of extending my day didn't seem like quite such a brilliant idea after all! Luckily, the forecast turned out to be right, and whilst it was an incredibly humid day, by mid morning the rain had stopped and stayed away for the rest of the day. And if I'm honest, there's not really much else to add about that one. Apart from saying that it turned out to be a good day out, along a fairly testing and hilly route. A route that was no doubt made harder by the mud and general detritus littering the roads after the weeks of rain which we seem to have had in the preceding weeks.
As if that wasn't enough bike fun, last weekend saw some real silliness, in the form of The Moonrakers and Sunseekers 300Km. 300Km, that doesn't sound too silly I hear you all saying. And you'd be right. It isn't.
What is silly, is starting at 22:40 on a Friday night after having done a full days work and pushing straight through the night ready for breakfast at the half way point, before pushing on back to the start point ready for tea on Saturday! 22:00 is normally bed time, so heading down to the start line at that time seemed a bit weird, and I was just about ready for bed, not ready to head out into the cold and dark for some bike fun. Cold it was too. The forecast was for -1 overnight, but it was hovering around freezing as we headed out from Bristol bound for Devises and Salisbury, en-route for Poole for breakfast. Pushing through Bath as the pubs discharged their happy punters, the cars glistened with frost, and the almost full moon shone down from a clear sky. By the time I reached Devises it was certainly colder than -1, and by 02:30 as I got to Salisbury it was bitterly cold and my water bottles had started to freeze. Now, I know how -1 feels and it needs to be colder than that for water bottles to freeze in my experience, so I'm guessing that the forecast temperatures were a bit out!. 2 base layers, a winter jacket and a down jacket, Long cycling leggings plus a pair of running leggings over the top, 2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of gloves, a neck warmer and a hat, and despite riding hard I was just barely warm enough. The thought of having to stop was almost scary, because I didn't have any more clothes to put on, and if I had to stop, it was going to get very cold very quickly. Despite the cold, riding through the night was magical. Fast, flat roads, that you'd never be able to ride with the daytime traffic made for some fast, easy miles. The night, dark and still, the odd red light of the riders in front, glimpsed on straight bits of road. Groups of riders at the checkpoints, all wrapped up against the cold, desperate to get moving again to warm up, but needing the time off the bike to stretch tired muscles. A group of lads, obviously on their way back from a late night out, provided some amusement at the final night time control. As I arrived at about 04:00 they were deep in disbelieving conversation with another group of riders regarding where they had come from and where they were going. "Bristol, no way! And your going back there. Today?" - "Your heading to Bournemouth next, we were there earlier, it's miles away!" By the time I reached Poole and the welcome sight of the scout hut where a lovely group of volunteers provided a much needed hot breakfast it was approaching 06:00. And as I departed, with my belly full, and water bottles unfrozen for the time being, the first hints of dawn were just starting to turn the sky from jet black, and push the moon towards the horizon.
I'm not afraid to admit that the leg through the dawn and up to Yeovil was brutally hard. The temperature was still well below freezing and the dawn is always the hardest part to stay awake. As the sun rose so the desire to sleep became more and more pronounced, until at some point around 07:00 I awoke with a jolt as my brain realised I'd stopped pedalling and was in danger of falling off the bike if I continued to sleep.
It was too cold to stop, but that microsecond of sleep seemed to do the trick, and, when minutes later another rider caught me from behind and pulled alongside to chat, I knew that the sleep issue was behind me. The brutality continued though, as we made out way through the long steep hills and deep valleys of Dorset. Pretty little villages nestled in the frost covered valleys, smoke rising lazily from their chimneys as the inhabitants awoke to another day, whilst we toiled silently up long climbs and rolled down steep, ice riddled, country roads. Tiredness, the steep climbs and icy roads all combined to bring my average speed down towards 10 MPH and the morning dragged intolerably onwards as I slowly but steadily made my way towards the next checkpoint at Podimore services. Arriving just before 11:00, a bacon roll, chocolate muffin and hot brew worked their magic, and it was with renewed vigour, if not increased pace, that I set off again, for the final couple of legs to take me back to Bristol. It remained brutally cold all day. My water bottles finally defrosted about 12:00 and although the sun shone for most of the day, there was no warmth to it, and no reviving of tired bodies through it's magical powers. A packet of biscuits powered me on towards the days final checkpoint, where another brew helped revive my freezing fingers, and the final few miles back into Bristol were made easier by the company of another rider who sort of knew the way (I say sort of because it was a bit of a joint effort and we still managed to go wrong a couple of times. Tired brains really don't like dealing with afternoon city traffic and complicated directions). Just under 17 hours after setting off, and just before it got dark again I was back at the start. The overnight adventure finally done. But what an adventure it had been. Brutally hard at times, viciously cold, but magical none the less. At times I wanted nothing more than to get off the bike and give up (interestingly all of the hard times were during the day and not over night as you might expect) and by mid day I was cursing my stupidity for signing up for such a silly ride. But by the time I'd got back to the start, sat down for a few minutes and had a brew, I was more than ready to go again. A stupid idea? Of course not. A magical adventure and more memories tucked away ready for my old age? Too right. Now where do I sign up for next year? (Hopefully I'll find time to write this one up properly over the next few weeks, because it really was a brilliant adventure!)
Before you all say it, and I can already hear you all thinking it. "Two little rides and we've not heard from him for weeks, that's not busy, what's the lazy so and so playing at?"
And you'd be right. It's not the cycling fun that's been keeping me busy recently, it's this.
For the non mechanically minded amongst us, that's the inside of a car gearbox. Or more precisely, that's the inside of "The Boy's" car gearbox.
A few weeks back, he mentioned that he was looking at new cars because he didn't think that his little run around would pass the MOT and the gearbox was on it's last legs. Now, we've all got things that were good at and things that were not so good at. Being an attentive father, standing on the touchline watching "The Boy" kick a bag of air around or going to children's parties, isn't my strong point. Helping "The Boy" out by swapping his car for my newly acquired MX5 whilst I get his through the MOT and have a look at the gearbox problem, now that's more within my skillset. So to that end, a week or so ago "The Boy" bought his "Old Man Mobile" (Honda Civic), (What self respecting 25 year old drives around in a Honda Civic? A sensible one that's who) up and took his life, and hearing, into his own hands by driving the MX5 all the way back to Cardiff (he's a braver man than I am, that's for sure). I put "The Old man Mobile" in for it's MOT and it passed with no real problems (slight corrosion to a brake pipe, and misting to the headlights. Both of which are easy fix's, and to be expected for a 18 year old car). Which just left the slight issue of the gearbox sounding like someone had filled it full of old spanners. Which is what's been keeping me busy. In between the cycling I've been laying on the cold, damp, floor, taking the gearbox out of his car, in the hope that I can fix it. And to that end, I'm going to have to go, because whilst the gearbox is out, sitting here tapping away at the keyboard isn't going to get it fitted back in again is it! |
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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