Home grown, that is. I've eaten tomatoes before.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Monday, 24 August 2009
Cheese Fest 2009
As I'm on a rest week I thought I'd review the "80's Rewind Festival". In theory, a celebration of 80's music, but from where I was sitting, a celebration of badly dressed drunken slappers wearing day-glo t-shirts that might have been baggy in 1985 ago but now barely cover twenty five years worth of accumulated chicken nugget grease.
Firstly, the stage.
Note the clearish sky, bright sunshine. Remember the tendency for British people to strip to the minimum and toast themselves to a crisp at the slightest hint of UVA? Recall the growing obesity crisis driven by lack of nutritional and culinary education, easy access to cheap calories and a national obsession for slumping in front of the TV instead of moving around a bit?
Midge Ure (pronounced Ma-jure) did a mix of his minor hits, Visage's Fade to Grey (which he claimed to have written) and Vienna. Ah, Vienna. It lost a bit in the transition from record to stage so was more of a Vienetta.
Firstly, the stage.
Note the clearish sky, bright sunshine. Remember the tendency for British people to strip to the minimum and toast themselves to a crisp at the slightest hint of UVA? Recall the growing obesity crisis driven by lack of nutritional and culinary education, easy access to cheap calories and a national obsession for slumping in front of the TV instead of moving around a bit?
I'm sure you can put two and two together and get a king size chunkyburger meal with extra mayo wrapped in not very much at all. With cheese.
Anyway, enough of the visuals. The music.
First, Chas and Dave, cockney superstars. Without Dave. A good ol' knees up (or should that be knee up?).
The Blockheads with Phil Jupitus, who showed the crowd how to behave by keeping his clothing on, along with a jaunty hat. Well done that man, a fine example. They had more songs than I thought they did that I knew, if you get my drift. Three songs.
Then, um, The Christians. Not the religionists, the stage wasn't that big. In fact, I think there may have been some confusion as to the number of people that the stage could take, as once again there was only one Christian. He did bring along a couple of friends, and they could sing and play and were jolly in a kind of "I can't believe we're being paid for this!" way.
Was Nik Kershaw next? I must confess to having a bit of a soft spot for Nik, not just because I had a couple of his records (round black flat things, for the youth) but because of his excellent work with Chesney Hawkes, a vastly underated monohitist. Nik even treated us to his version of Chesney's song.Midge Ure (pronounced Ma-jure) did a mix of his minor hits, Visage's Fade to Grey (which he claimed to have written) and Vienna. Ah, Vienna. It lost a bit in the transition from record to stage so was more of a Vienetta.
Howards Jones can be summarised in three words. Good but pompous. Mate, you were moderately successful a couple of decades ago, you are not Prince. You don't need an 11 piece band to play five songs.
(At this point I went to get food, so thankfully missed Carol "I used to be in T'Pau you know" Decker proving that even the the 80's they could fix poor singing in production)
Paul Young. Poor Paul Young. Can someone put him out of our misery? I felt sorry for him, used to have a good voice, must have destroyed it through overuse. I'm being kind.
Go West. I really enjoyed them, knew how to whack out a singalong chorus, can still whack out a singalong chorus. Paul, take note. Go West bloke can still sing. You used to be able to sing. The other one from Go West went on a charity trek to South America with Martin Fry from ABC and Tony Hadley from Spandau Ballet a few years ago. It's like a Viz cartoon strip - 80s Pop Star Explorers.
On the subject of Martin Fry from ABC, he was up next. And... well.... brilliant. Great songs, fantastic performance, nice bloke. You could imagine schlepping up the Amazon with him. If you get a chance, go see. Appearing round a campfire at an Inca temple near you.
At this point I wanted to leave. Yes, I know Sister Sledge and Gloria Gaynor are icons of the bland 70s disco scene, but that's not a scene I've ever felt comfortable with. Yes, they were very slick, great singing and dancing, but I just don't get them. Apparently Sister Sledge are in the middle of making a reality show at the moment - they should have a word with Martin and Tony - that would be a great episode.
So, that was it. 80's cheesefest 09. I survived.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Achey
Firstly, the good ache - legs from four rides this week, including a fast 50km to Wantage and back, with Jon. He was on his new Wilier (with 11 speed!), I was on the Orca, and it seems that my bike advantage has now been neutralised. Either that or my six week break from any kind of intense training has had a significant impact. Still, the my next race is a long slow one, so I'm not too worried. And I can always buy some Zipp 404s.
Secondly, the bad ache. Last week we had a work BBQ at a local common, and a couple of us took mountain bikes up there for a bit of a play - wheelies, bunny hops, manuals. I did my best ever manual - I managed to get the front so high.... that I toppled off the back and landed square on my arse. Cue hilarity from workmates and some deeply bruised buttocks. They're fine unless I roll back on them at a certain angle, and then it's very much a case of STOP DOING THAT!
Actually, maybe I can blame the lack of road bike speed on deep arse bruising.
Secondly, the bad ache. Last week we had a work BBQ at a local common, and a couple of us took mountain bikes up there for a bit of a play - wheelies, bunny hops, manuals. I did my best ever manual - I managed to get the front so high.... that I toppled off the back and landed square on my arse. Cue hilarity from workmates and some deeply bruised buttocks. They're fine unless I roll back on them at a certain angle, and then it's very much a case of STOP DOING THAT!
Actually, maybe I can blame the lack of road bike speed on deep arse bruising.
Sunday, 16 August 2009
Friday, 14 August 2009
This week, next year
This week has gone fairly well - managed to drag myself out of bed early three times for pre-work rides, and did long rides home twice as well. Not bad, seven hours of riding. I've got Middlesex Rugby Sevens on Saturday, then going to see plastinated dead people (which really isn't my thing) on Sunday. I might be able to sneak in an early ride Sunday, but I have a feeling it won't happen.
So, next year. I've a few options to play with.
So, next year. I've a few options to play with.
- Torq training camp in Spain. I've done this twice now, and it's been very good for my fitness. More "lots of riding" than a holiday though
- Lands End to John O'Groats. Some plans are coming together with a few friends, including a support crew who are offering to drive, do food, put up tents and be rolling pit bitches. This would be probably be nine days of riding, 110 miles or so a day.
- Bhutan. A couple of people I know are interested in the Saddle Skedaddle Bhutan trip. I kinda like the idea, especially as I've not had a proper mountain biking holiday for a couple of years now. Expensive though, and would be a couple of weeks.
- "Rome to Home". Some people at work are thinking about a bike long charity road ride, from Rome to, er, Home. Home being Newbury. I can imagine this being great fun, but again would be a couple of weeks.
So that's about six weeks of potential trips. Then there are races, other training rides, sportives.... oh, and work. And non-biking trips. Visiting Mum a bit more.
I think I need a clone.
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Back to normality (sort of)
The past six weeks have been a bit difficult really, as you may have seen from my previous posts. I'm now trying to think a bit more about getting back into my usual routine - ride bike lots, get tired, ride more, do event, that kind of thing. I'm entered in the Gorrick/Torq 12:12 on August 30th as a soloist but I don't really expect much from that. All I'm trying to do is to get some decent zone 2 rides in over the next couple of weeks, with maybe a few intervals scattered in too.
After that - possibly the Kielder 100 (unlikely in all honesty), then a couple of weeks holiday, then suddenly it'll be October - where did the summer go? I'm in planning for next year already... hopefully a couple of really special things (although the one I really wanted to do has sold out already, I've just discovered. Bah).
After that - possibly the Kielder 100 (unlikely in all honesty), then a couple of weeks holiday, then suddenly it'll be October - where did the summer go? I'm in planning for next year already... hopefully a couple of really special things (although the one I really wanted to do has sold out already, I've just discovered. Bah).
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
Seven Days
Seven days since I got up at 0615, went out on my bike for a pre-work ride, and received that phone call.
So, today I got up at 0615 and went out on my bike for a pre-work ride. It was a little emotional - wistful is probably the best word - but I'm glad I went. Another hour and a half of solid thinking time, which I doubled by riding the reverse of the route on the way home.
Tomorrow is the big party for my Dad (I'm not thinking in terms of the "F" word, or the "W" word). We've got flowers in the shape of a helicopter and a pint of lager, Frank Sinatra, the RAF March, and £500 behind the bar. I'm sure I'll be in bits for the first part of the day (the part where everyone will be quite tearful) but the second part should be much better. We'll see.
So, today I got up at 0615 and went out on my bike for a pre-work ride. It was a little emotional - wistful is probably the best word - but I'm glad I went. Another hour and a half of solid thinking time, which I doubled by riding the reverse of the route on the way home.
Tomorrow is the big party for my Dad (I'm not thinking in terms of the "F" word, or the "W" word). We've got flowers in the shape of a helicopter and a pint of lager, Frank Sinatra, the RAF March, and £500 behind the bar. I'm sure I'll be in bits for the first part of the day (the part where everyone will be quite tearful) but the second part should be much better. We'll see.
Saturday, 1 August 2009
It's not about the ride
Some times, a bike ride is far more than just a bike ride.
Three days ago, my Dad died of a heart attack. He'd had a minor one about two weeks ago, followed by a stroke, and had been in hospital for about ten days. He was discharged last Tuesday as he seemed to be doing really well. Then Wednesday morning, about 6:15am, came the heart attack that killed him - pretty much there and then. He was unconcious immediately, the paramedics arrived within minutes, but despite working on him (both at home and in A&E) for over an hour, there was nothing they could do. He was probably dead before the paramedics arrived. At least he was at home, and went quickly and painlessly.
As you can imagine, things have been difficult. On Wednesday, I had just left the house for an early ride when Elaine called my mobile - my Mum having rung the house. I was back within minutes, and we were at the hospital before the ambulance. Then... stuff happened. Nothing I'm putting down here.
Wednesday was unreal, strange, shocking, confusing. Thursday was slightly better, as was yesterday. It still hasn't really sunk in though. Yesterday the family discussed arrangements, music, catering, flowers, guests. We also ate cake, drank beer, wine and brandy, and laughed a little (OK, a lot, especially when I introduced my Mum to LOL Cats).
This morning I went out on the road bike, in the rain, hurting myself for a couple of hours. On the bike I can focus, think, clear my head of the thoughts that go round and round. I wouldn't have been able to write this yesterday.
That's one of the key things I love about bike riding. I've used it in the past when my mind has been all over the place, when I've been too stressed to think, but can still take a singlespeed bike out to the woods and exist in the moment. It strips everything away that isn't "right here/right now", and afterwards it feels like your brain has been washed, 40C, with fabric softener. Most of the bad stains will be gone - some shadows will remain but that's all they are - shadows of something that's was there before but is now much less significant.
The next few days won't be easy, but they'll be easier.
Three days ago, my Dad died of a heart attack. He'd had a minor one about two weeks ago, followed by a stroke, and had been in hospital for about ten days. He was discharged last Tuesday as he seemed to be doing really well. Then Wednesday morning, about 6:15am, came the heart attack that killed him - pretty much there and then. He was unconcious immediately, the paramedics arrived within minutes, but despite working on him (both at home and in A&E) for over an hour, there was nothing they could do. He was probably dead before the paramedics arrived. At least he was at home, and went quickly and painlessly.
As you can imagine, things have been difficult. On Wednesday, I had just left the house for an early ride when Elaine called my mobile - my Mum having rung the house. I was back within minutes, and we were at the hospital before the ambulance. Then... stuff happened. Nothing I'm putting down here.
Wednesday was unreal, strange, shocking, confusing. Thursday was slightly better, as was yesterday. It still hasn't really sunk in though. Yesterday the family discussed arrangements, music, catering, flowers, guests. We also ate cake, drank beer, wine and brandy, and laughed a little (OK, a lot, especially when I introduced my Mum to LOL Cats).
This morning I went out on the road bike, in the rain, hurting myself for a couple of hours. On the bike I can focus, think, clear my head of the thoughts that go round and round. I wouldn't have been able to write this yesterday.
That's one of the key things I love about bike riding. I've used it in the past when my mind has been all over the place, when I've been too stressed to think, but can still take a singlespeed bike out to the woods and exist in the moment. It strips everything away that isn't "right here/right now", and afterwards it feels like your brain has been washed, 40C, with fabric softener. Most of the bad stains will be gone - some shadows will remain but that's all they are - shadows of something that's was there before but is now much less significant.
The next few days won't be easy, but they'll be easier.
Friday, 17 July 2009
Fuck it
Right, that's it. I'm sick of feeling sick. Ill, run down, whatever. This morning, fine. Lunchtime, fine. Afternoon, bike ride time? Odd, strange, woosy, tired. Not fair. Not fair at all.
Now it's evening, I've had tea, it's getting dark, but I feel great. Well, normal. And the torrential rain showers of the day have cleared to leave a stunning late evening/early night sky.
Fuck it. I'm going riding.
Down to the garage. Full-sus ready for big ride tomorrow. Bit wet out for road bikes. Scandal? Scandal, um, it's locked up. Singlespeed... mmm... singlespeed. Ah, no bottle cage. Don't fancy a Camelbak for a quick blast. Dig out a cage, fit it quicky. Find lights, I know they're charged as I did it last week. Fit front light. Remember that it kept slipping last time. Tighten it up, re-fit. Rear light on. Hmm, bit dim. Change batteries. Pump tyres. Bike now ready.
OK, helmet, gloves, shoes, emergency Torq bar. Glasses. Clear glasses. Where the fuck are they? I had them at Mountain Mayhem. Hunt. Think. Search glove box (i.e. box of gloves). Find glasses inside glove. Must have put them there for safe keeping. Right, multitool, CO2, tube.
Upstairs, get changed. Baggies, "Ghostbikers" top - nice mid weight and long sleeves, perfect for 14C and a bit wet.
Downstairs. Fill bottle. Remember that multitool is the road one, should really take the MTB one in the little case with the powerlink and tyre levers. And need heart rate monitor too - habit. Go outside, lock up. Go into garage, put on shoes, helmet, gloves, glasses, MP3 player. Change multitool. Take bike outside, lock up. Remember HRM. Unlock garage, retrieve from the bike on the turbo trainer. Back out, lock garage, fire up lights, start HRM, put key in the little case with the multitool.
Ride.
Singlespeed. Not ridden this for months. Feels good. Legs feel good. Up the hill, try a wheelie. Fail. Sky looking amazing now, brilliant to be out. Purple clouds, grey/blue sky, red tinges to the west. Some moisture in the air, a breath of wind.
The road flattens out. Drops down past the pub, watch for the bloke in the huge SUV edging out. Weave about so he picks up my (very bright) front light. Fly past, up the next rise before he passes me. First proper hill. Stand up, lock out the forks. Dance up the hill. This is great. I should do this more often. Why do we never night ride in the summer?
Past the community hall. It's Friday night, 10pm, and clearly a party going on. The smokers congregate outside. One shouts out at me, friendly encouragement. "Go on son, keep it going, go on!". Cheers. I'd have collapsed at the roadside if you hadn't said that.
I've decided now. I'm going to do a bit off road. Hell, this bike has mud tyres on, seems a shame to waste them. Just a little bit, familiar territory.
Somehow the music isn't right. I need to hear the real world, the sound of my tyres, gravel, sucking-mud, brambles grasping at my sleeves, the wolves and monsters that always pursue a solo night rider. Flick the earphones out, let them dangle. Brake brake brake - start of the trail. Nearly missed it. I always nearly miss it.
Onto the mud. Through the bracken, dodge the bramble, drift through the puddle, jump the branch. Sweet. Unlock forks. Sweeter. I know this trail so well, it drops just enough that a singlespeed spins out but a geared rider can pedal. Hell, I'm happy to freewheel, pumping through the dips and easing the bike round the bends.
Trail comes out - more mud or back on the tarmac? Tarmac - I'm out alone, no-one at home, haven't even Twittered that I'm going out. Take the safer route. Up, standing on the pedals again. Every time I ride this bike it feels alive. Bit too alive, actually. Lock out forks. Better. Earphones back in. Garbage, Killers, White Lies. Come to the junction - back towards home or a bit more? Bit more. Extra section will add 10 minutes or so. Practice jumping on and off kerbs.
Home stretch now. Another rider ahead! I can see his rear light blinking away - whoever invented the flashing LED rear light needs a big hug. Hey, I'm catching him. Pedal a bit more, whip past. I think my light is a bit more powerful than his. I'd be taking it easy too without 500 lumens of LED.
Home. Into the garage. Reverse earlier paragraphs. Beer into fridge for after the shower. Bag of crisps. Blog.
Done.
Now it's evening, I've had tea, it's getting dark, but I feel great. Well, normal. And the torrential rain showers of the day have cleared to leave a stunning late evening/early night sky.
Fuck it. I'm going riding.
Down to the garage. Full-sus ready for big ride tomorrow. Bit wet out for road bikes. Scandal? Scandal, um, it's locked up. Singlespeed... mmm... singlespeed. Ah, no bottle cage. Don't fancy a Camelbak for a quick blast. Dig out a cage, fit it quicky. Find lights, I know they're charged as I did it last week. Fit front light. Remember that it kept slipping last time. Tighten it up, re-fit. Rear light on. Hmm, bit dim. Change batteries. Pump tyres. Bike now ready.
OK, helmet, gloves, shoes, emergency Torq bar. Glasses. Clear glasses. Where the fuck are they? I had them at Mountain Mayhem. Hunt. Think. Search glove box (i.e. box of gloves). Find glasses inside glove. Must have put them there for safe keeping. Right, multitool, CO2, tube.
Upstairs, get changed. Baggies, "Ghostbikers" top - nice mid weight and long sleeves, perfect for 14C and a bit wet.
Downstairs. Fill bottle. Remember that multitool is the road one, should really take the MTB one in the little case with the powerlink and tyre levers. And need heart rate monitor too - habit. Go outside, lock up. Go into garage, put on shoes, helmet, gloves, glasses, MP3 player. Change multitool. Take bike outside, lock up. Remember HRM. Unlock garage, retrieve from the bike on the turbo trainer. Back out, lock garage, fire up lights, start HRM, put key in the little case with the multitool.
Ride.
Singlespeed. Not ridden this for months. Feels good. Legs feel good. Up the hill, try a wheelie. Fail. Sky looking amazing now, brilliant to be out. Purple clouds, grey/blue sky, red tinges to the west. Some moisture in the air, a breath of wind.
The road flattens out. Drops down past the pub, watch for the bloke in the huge SUV edging out. Weave about so he picks up my (very bright) front light. Fly past, up the next rise before he passes me. First proper hill. Stand up, lock out the forks. Dance up the hill. This is great. I should do this more often. Why do we never night ride in the summer?
Past the community hall. It's Friday night, 10pm, and clearly a party going on. The smokers congregate outside. One shouts out at me, friendly encouragement. "Go on son, keep it going, go on!". Cheers. I'd have collapsed at the roadside if you hadn't said that.
I've decided now. I'm going to do a bit off road. Hell, this bike has mud tyres on, seems a shame to waste them. Just a little bit, familiar territory.
Somehow the music isn't right. I need to hear the real world, the sound of my tyres, gravel, sucking-mud, brambles grasping at my sleeves, the wolves and monsters that always pursue a solo night rider. Flick the earphones out, let them dangle. Brake brake brake - start of the trail. Nearly missed it. I always nearly miss it.
Onto the mud. Through the bracken, dodge the bramble, drift through the puddle, jump the branch. Sweet. Unlock forks. Sweeter. I know this trail so well, it drops just enough that a singlespeed spins out but a geared rider can pedal. Hell, I'm happy to freewheel, pumping through the dips and easing the bike round the bends.
Trail comes out - more mud or back on the tarmac? Tarmac - I'm out alone, no-one at home, haven't even Twittered that I'm going out. Take the safer route. Up, standing on the pedals again. Every time I ride this bike it feels alive. Bit too alive, actually. Lock out forks. Better. Earphones back in. Garbage, Killers, White Lies. Come to the junction - back towards home or a bit more? Bit more. Extra section will add 10 minutes or so. Practice jumping on and off kerbs.
Home stretch now. Another rider ahead! I can see his rear light blinking away - whoever invented the flashing LED rear light needs a big hug. Hey, I'm catching him. Pedal a bit more, whip past. I think my light is a bit more powerful than his. I'd be taking it easy too without 500 lumens of LED.
Home. Into the garage. Reverse earlier paragraphs. Beer into fridge for after the shower. Bag of crisps. Blog.
Done.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
It's been a while
Three weeks? Something like that, since my last post. In that time I've
- Been to Atlantic City, New York and my sister's place (New Jersey)
- Won $160 at blackjack
- Walked for an hour and a half to find a bike shop in NY that had a decent "souvenir" bike jersey
- Been ill - while on holiday
- Watched a lot of Tour de France
- Bought more bike tops - a CCCP one, and the Giro points jersey (a fetching pinky-purple)
- Done very little riding
I have done a bit of riding - a great MTB ride on the full-sus, only marred by the chain getting stuck between the cassette and the spokes. It was shifting kind of strangely, and couldn't get to the top gear at the back and was overshifting on the bottom gear. The wheel axle looked a bit odd too. Putting it on the workstand at home I realised that the rear wheel wasn't properly in the drop-outs, but somehow I'd aligned the rear brake with it in this position; so I've no idea how long it's been like that. Sorted now, and the bike works as well as it's going to. This is a good thing as I've got 12 hours solo in Plymouth to look forward to, in about 10 days time.
The plan for this week is a couple of rides, just easing back into things, and a big MTB ride on Saturday to remind my back what it's like to wear a Camelbak for several hours. Hopefully, it'll be fun, but could well be hell. Ah well, must be done. Fingers crossed for some sunshine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)