Two slices of toast with cherry jam.
One slice of malt loaf.
A Nature's Valley granola bar.
An apple.
A Nutrigrain Elevenses bar.
An egg salad sandwich.
A giant jacket potato with baked beans.
A handful of dried cranberries, blueberries and raisins.
Another slice of malt loaf.
A small High-5 gel.
400ml of Torq Recovery, Chocolate Orange flavour.
Another slice of malt loaf.
A slice of bread with some chicken, sort of folded over into a sandwich.
A square of Lindt Mint Intense chocolate.
I'm now cooking tea - home made ciabatta pizzas. Then I'll almost certainly have a Solero. And maybe some more malt loaf.
I'd better do this 200km bike ride on Sunday, otherwise I'm going to be really really fat.
Friday, 10 June 2011
Monday, 30 May 2011
Tour of We
Or 2/3rds of Tour of Wessex.
Yes, I wimped out on day three. Tired legs (from about 20 miles in on day 2) and a forecast for persistent rain swung the will-I-enjoy-this-ometer firmly into the "Hell No" zone. Having spent most of the day sleeping and eating pizza and cake I think I made the right choice.
Day one was windy, showery, hilly, occasionally picturesque and windy. Did I mention windy? I rode most of the way round with Darren, having let Jon, Phill and Phill's friend Chris escape into the distance. I remember the climb up Cheddar Gorge, the second feed station (with little old ladies serving tea and coffee in china cups!), Darren chatting to a young lady for 30 miles (she kept trying to get away but she just wasn't quick enough), the climb up to King Alfred's Tower (ouchy) and Darren's dodgy knee making an appearance again. I also remember Becky (of the Brownies) arriving back at the campsite after getting round the 73 mile route - an amazing achievement when her longest previous ride was about 25 miles.
Day two was hilly, often picturesque, occasionally sunny, windy and hilly. Did I mention hilly? Darren had to turn back after the first 2km - broken knee - and there was a resolution from the team to "take it easy". To be fair, I managed to stay with the others for most of the first section, only to lose them after the feed station and have to ride most of the next 30 miles solo, into the wind. Still - it was pretty - Lulworth Cove, Corfe Castle, some other rolling hills covered in green stuff. I think I saw the sea, but I was concentrating on not crashing on a steep descent so paid it little attention.
Ah, descents. 70kph/43mph on one, narrow and twisty through the trees. I was back with Phill and Jon at that point; I'd caught up at the second feed stop and sat behind the pair of them as they towed a group along, into the wind. I managed to hang on for most of the way back, before blowing up in impressive fashion 10km from the end. I even needed a caffiene gel with 2km to go - I was never going to make it otherwise.
So, 363km/227m in two days, lots of up, lots of down and lots of wind. I don't think I'd do the event again - the whole concept of multiple daily loops from one place gave the feeling of not really getting anywhere. The camping facilities were poor, the "event village" more of a hamlet and it wasn't great value either. Compared to something like TwentyFour12 it was a bit disappointing - I guess it goes to show that mountain bikers party better than roadies.
Yes, I wimped out on day three. Tired legs (from about 20 miles in on day 2) and a forecast for persistent rain swung the will-I-enjoy-this-ometer firmly into the "Hell No" zone. Having spent most of the day sleeping and eating pizza and cake I think I made the right choice.
Day one was windy, showery, hilly, occasionally picturesque and windy. Did I mention windy? I rode most of the way round with Darren, having let Jon, Phill and Phill's friend Chris escape into the distance. I remember the climb up Cheddar Gorge, the second feed station (with little old ladies serving tea and coffee in china cups!), Darren chatting to a young lady for 30 miles (she kept trying to get away but she just wasn't quick enough), the climb up to King Alfred's Tower (ouchy) and Darren's dodgy knee making an appearance again. I also remember Becky (of the Brownies) arriving back at the campsite after getting round the 73 mile route - an amazing achievement when her longest previous ride was about 25 miles.
Day two was hilly, often picturesque, occasionally sunny, windy and hilly. Did I mention hilly? Darren had to turn back after the first 2km - broken knee - and there was a resolution from the team to "take it easy". To be fair, I managed to stay with the others for most of the first section, only to lose them after the feed station and have to ride most of the next 30 miles solo, into the wind. Still - it was pretty - Lulworth Cove, Corfe Castle, some other rolling hills covered in green stuff. I think I saw the sea, but I was concentrating on not crashing on a steep descent so paid it little attention.
Ah, descents. 70kph/43mph on one, narrow and twisty through the trees. I was back with Phill and Jon at that point; I'd caught up at the second feed stop and sat behind the pair of them as they towed a group along, into the wind. I managed to hang on for most of the way back, before blowing up in impressive fashion 10km from the end. I even needed a caffiene gel with 2km to go - I was never going to make it otherwise.
So, 363km/227m in two days, lots of up, lots of down and lots of wind. I don't think I'd do the event again - the whole concept of multiple daily loops from one place gave the feeling of not really getting anywhere. The camping facilities were poor, the "event village" more of a hamlet and it wasn't great value either. Compared to something like TwentyFour12 it was a bit disappointing - I guess it goes to show that mountain bikers party better than roadies.
Thursday, 26 May 2011
Something truely momentus has happened
The recipe for "Becky's Brownies" has escaped, and ended up in our house. It came with a full set of ingredients (estimated value: £341.56) and a brownie tray. They were a very kind present for Pie on her birthday and yesterday they transmutated from blocks of calorie laden individuals into blocks of calorie laden combinations.
 |
| Each block: 840kcals |
This has happened at a very convenient time - carbo loading day. As everyone knows, chocolate is a carbohydrate, as is butter. I'm not so sure about sugar and marshmallows but I'll tolerate them. They also come in handy chunks, much like Clif Shot Bloks, and I can eat around 15 in a sitting. I'm excellent at eating.
Carbo loading day inevitably precedes some kind of exercise - in this case three 100 mile rides on consecutive days. After last year this should hold no fear, however the combination of breakages, no real base training and recalcitrant back muscles might come together to make things a little tricky. Not to mention a forecast for rain - the first real rain for two months.
Still, if it all goes wrong I can kick back at the campsite with a beer, some brownies and work on my stomach.
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Wow, three weeks
That's a bit of a gap since the last post. It's not that I've not been doing stuff, but it hasn't seemed interesting or exciting enough to mention. OK, I've bought a car (therefore completing part two of my shopping list). I eventually let practicality get the better of me and ended up with an estate, although it does have 414 BHP.
What else? I've learnt to drive a Land Rover Discovery (old model) very slowly. Low range box, diff locks, chunky chunky tyes... "let's off-road!". Great fun. Almost as much fun as taking a 414 BHP estate car onto a runway and being coached in how to drive it properly by Don Palmer, all thanks to a 40th birthday present. I just wish the present had included a new set of tyres too. I did this with my friend Chris, who also has a 414 BHP car (saloon version) and curiously also received a driving course for his 40th birthday.
That's enough about cars. On to bikes. Remember those pics of me in Cycling Weekly last year? Here and here? Fuzzy, but definitely me. Well, they've got a better photographer. I don't even need to annotate the new picture.
If you click on it you'll see that's me at the front and Jon behind (as ever...!). Somehow they've made me look fat, which is quite an achievement.
Next weekend is the Tour of Wessex. Hopefully I'll be in good shape - I've certainly got back to reasonable fitness - but I annoying managed to tweek my back while fiddling with a bike after my ride last night. I'm currently lurching around the house like... um, House really. I'm sure I'll be fine. Really.
I'm not just getting my excuses in early. Honest.
What else? I've learnt to drive a Land Rover Discovery (old model) very slowly. Low range box, diff locks, chunky chunky tyes... "let's off-road!". Great fun. Almost as much fun as taking a 414 BHP estate car onto a runway and being coached in how to drive it properly by Don Palmer, all thanks to a 40th birthday present. I just wish the present had included a new set of tyres too. I did this with my friend Chris, who also has a 414 BHP car (saloon version) and curiously also received a driving course for his 40th birthday.
That's enough about cars. On to bikes. Remember those pics of me in Cycling Weekly last year? Here and here? Fuzzy, but definitely me. Well, they've got a better photographer. I don't even need to annotate the new picture.
If you click on it you'll see that's me at the front and Jon behind (as ever...!). Somehow they've made me look fat, which is quite an achievement.
Next weekend is the Tour of Wessex. Hopefully I'll be in good shape - I've certainly got back to reasonable fitness - but I annoying managed to tweek my back while fiddling with a bike after my ride last night. I'm currently lurching around the house like... um, House really. I'm sure I'll be fine. Really.
I'm not just getting my excuses in early. Honest.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Well that went quite well
107 miles in 6:14 (official time, including feed station stops), 39th out of 253 people doing the long route. Not bad considering that I've missed a couple of months worth of training, and I've not ridden more than four and a half hours since... let me think... August?
The preparation was pretty much perfect - a week of rest and eating, culminating in a magic pasta followed by rice pudding at Jon's, courtesy of Jem. Staying over gave me the chance to meet little Esme, reaquaint myself with slightly bigger Tom, and meant I didn't have to get up at 6am. Easter Monday morning came and a light breakfast, a gentle roll to the start and we were off...
Light winds, sunshine and Jon and pal pulling on the front for the first ten miles. Then some more pulling on the front by Jon, interspersed with me trying to get him to slow slightly on the flat and hoping he'd wait for me at the top of every climb. This continued for about 50 miles, until the first couple of real climbs... the kind where people were walking... but somehow I wasn't. Somehow, all those intense turbo sessions had done something. Somehow the training had worked.
We rolled through the 100km in about three and a quarter hours. A brief calculation gave me similar to complete the remaining 70km and finish in a Gold standard time. How hard could that be?
Well, then came the hills. The gut busting knee wrenching teeth clenching real hills. Some I remembered from last year, some were new or maybe blanked out. I rode them all though, even though I was sub-walking pace for parts. Being able to trackstand is a handy skill.
And finally - the last 30km. At this point I was confident I'd finish so I was able to put a bit more work in on the front. Handily this coincided with a drop in energy from Jon (who later turned out to be incubating a nasty stomach bug) so I was able to pay back the earlier favours a little. A group gathered behind as we swept up slower people who'd started before us.
Then the last 5km. A main road, flatish and fast. I thought I'd sit on the front and time-trial to the finish, towing the group home. Three others in Performance Cycles jerseys had similar thoughts though, so I ended up four back.
500m to go. A rise in the road - not a hill, just a kicker. So I kicked, sprinting into the climb, breaking away from the group. Then a black a white rocket, who had the same idea, came past me. Ah, Jon's back. One other rider came too, and when I looked back we were 50m ahead of the bunch. Childish I know, but I'm really a big kid.
The finish line. The Easter Egg. The food, coffee, stretch, bimble back to Jon's for more food, water, tea and cake. Home.
Slump on sofa.... a nagging feeling I've forgotten something...
Recovery Tights!
The preparation was pretty much perfect - a week of rest and eating, culminating in a magic pasta followed by rice pudding at Jon's, courtesy of Jem. Staying over gave me the chance to meet little Esme, reaquaint myself with slightly bigger Tom, and meant I didn't have to get up at 6am. Easter Monday morning came and a light breakfast, a gentle roll to the start and we were off...
Light winds, sunshine and Jon and pal pulling on the front for the first ten miles. Then some more pulling on the front by Jon, interspersed with me trying to get him to slow slightly on the flat and hoping he'd wait for me at the top of every climb. This continued for about 50 miles, until the first couple of real climbs... the kind where people were walking... but somehow I wasn't. Somehow, all those intense turbo sessions had done something. Somehow the training had worked.
We rolled through the 100km in about three and a quarter hours. A brief calculation gave me similar to complete the remaining 70km and finish in a Gold standard time. How hard could that be?
Well, then came the hills. The gut busting knee wrenching teeth clenching real hills. Some I remembered from last year, some were new or maybe blanked out. I rode them all though, even though I was sub-walking pace for parts. Being able to trackstand is a handy skill.
And finally - the last 30km. At this point I was confident I'd finish so I was able to put a bit more work in on the front. Handily this coincided with a drop in energy from Jon (who later turned out to be incubating a nasty stomach bug) so I was able to pay back the earlier favours a little. A group gathered behind as we swept up slower people who'd started before us.
Then the last 5km. A main road, flatish and fast. I thought I'd sit on the front and time-trial to the finish, towing the group home. Three others in Performance Cycles jerseys had similar thoughts though, so I ended up four back.
500m to go. A rise in the road - not a hill, just a kicker. So I kicked, sprinting into the climb, breaking away from the group. Then a black a white rocket, who had the same idea, came past me. Ah, Jon's back. One other rider came too, and when I looked back we were 50m ahead of the bunch. Childish I know, but I'm really a big kid.
The finish line. The Easter Egg. The food, coffee, stretch, bimble back to Jon's for more food, water, tea and cake. Home.
Slump on sofa.... a nagging feeling I've forgotten something...
Recovery Tights!
Sunday, 24 April 2011
First event
When I broke myself, one of my thoughts was that I'd wasted all the money used in entering various events. Well, here I am the day before my first scheduled one and I'm tapering and carbo loading in preparation. For those who don't speak cyclish, that means I'm resting and eating.
Tomorrow is the Cotswold Spring Classic, an event so good that they give you an Easter egg at the end. I did it last year - it was tough, but not killer - and it'll be a good test to see how much worse I am after an unexpected couple of months off earlier this year.
Jon claims that he's going to pace me round the 100 mile route (there is a 100km option) but I seriously doubt whether he'll be able to ride as slowly as I'll be going, especially when there are other riders to chase. At least the weather is looking promising - 20C, 9mph winds - so he can work on his cycling tan.
So how do I feel? Legs are... OK. My newly acquired powermeter is giving me a rating of "Cheshire" on the cheese-legs scale. I reckon I may have been at "Double Gloucester" this time last year, so not quite as good. I've certainly not done anywhere near the amount of hill climbing practice - I've missed those weekly 7am trips to the Cotswolds to ride for five hours every Saturday.
All in all, I'm pretty positive. Not that I'll do well, but that I'm actually going to be on the start line. If I complete the 100 mile I'll even be ahead of my "best case scenario". Fingers (and collarbone screws) crossed.
Tomorrow is the Cotswold Spring Classic, an event so good that they give you an Easter egg at the end. I did it last year - it was tough, but not killer - and it'll be a good test to see how much worse I am after an unexpected couple of months off earlier this year.
Jon claims that he's going to pace me round the 100 mile route (there is a 100km option) but I seriously doubt whether he'll be able to ride as slowly as I'll be going, especially when there are other riders to chase. At least the weather is looking promising - 20C, 9mph winds - so he can work on his cycling tan.
So how do I feel? Legs are... OK. My newly acquired powermeter is giving me a rating of "Cheshire" on the cheese-legs scale. I reckon I may have been at "Double Gloucester" this time last year, so not quite as good. I've certainly not done anywhere near the amount of hill climbing practice - I've missed those weekly 7am trips to the Cotswolds to ride for five hours every Saturday.
All in all, I'm pretty positive. Not that I'll do well, but that I'm actually going to be on the start line. If I complete the 100 mile I'll even be ahead of my "best case scenario". Fingers (and collarbone screws) crossed.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Personal Training Camp Days 4 and 5
Failure. Failure to do the planned 400km/16 hours. The total was about 12 and a half hours, 320km. Not bad, but not great.
Still, I've learnt a couple of things.
I needed some socks.
Still, I've learnt a couple of things.
- In the middle of a personal training camp, on the designated "rest day", don't do a set of power intervals and then get taken out by Jon to be "manned up"
- After being "manned up", the most likely result for the next day will be a bimbling recovery ride, at a pace that a unicycling rhino would call slow
- Pro-cyclists, on a pro-cyclist training camp, probably don't have to go down the tip
- It's highly unlikely that they'll go shopping for socks in Winchester either, and end up buying expensive handbag presents
- And don't get me started on the temptations of hot pastie sellers and free samples in the posh chocolate shop. They don't sell many pasties in Lanzarote.
I needed some socks.
Saturday, 16 April 2011
Personal Training Camp Days 2 and 3
After the excitement of my longest ride for ages on day one, I eased things back slightly for day two and did a well used loop of 85km. Pace was slightly slower (a good thing) and I clocked up another three hours.
That's all I can remember. Wow, it was only two days ago and already my mind is a blank. I think that's the problem with solo rides on familiar roads - everything blends together. There may have been a dead badger or two but I've seen a lots of dead badgers recently; it must be the season for them.
Day three. This was designated as my "rest day", so I was up early, did a trip to the tip to clear some garage space, visited the bike shop for cables and rim tape and returned home to talk myself into some intervals. After an hour of internal debate I dragged my carcass down to the garage and fired up the turbo. Two sets of 3 x 2 minutes, at a power of "hurty". After the first set I remembered that I'd also arranged another ride with Andy Schlek/Jon that evening. Hmm. Better not do the full second set then. Another hour clocked up.
5pm, and it looks like Jon this time, instead of that Andy fella. Jon in his full shop team kit including matching silly shorts. We set off and I soon realised that wha looked like Jon's Wilier (that's a bike) was in fact some kind of lightweight motorcycle. That's all I could conclude as I just about hung on behind him as we cruised along at a steady 45kph. There were also "vroom-vroom" noises and exhaust fumes but I'd rather not talk about them.
Another 35km notched up, and another hour and a quarter (there were some hills where the pace dropped a little). I limped up the stairs, fed Jon coffee and a hot cross bun, then collapsed on the the sofa.
So much for a "rest day".
The score after three days - 9 hours 45 minutes riding, 257km. Oh, and the start of a saddle sore...
That's all I can remember. Wow, it was only two days ago and already my mind is a blank. I think that's the problem with solo rides on familiar roads - everything blends together. There may have been a dead badger or two but I've seen a lots of dead badgers recently; it must be the season for them.
Day three. This was designated as my "rest day", so I was up early, did a trip to the tip to clear some garage space, visited the bike shop for cables and rim tape and returned home to talk myself into some intervals. After an hour of internal debate I dragged my carcass down to the garage and fired up the turbo. Two sets of 3 x 2 minutes, at a power of "hurty". After the first set I remembered that I'd also arranged another ride with Andy Schlek/Jon that evening. Hmm. Better not do the full second set then. Another hour clocked up.
5pm, and it looks like Jon this time, instead of that Andy fella. Jon in his full shop team kit including matching silly shorts. We set off and I soon realised that wha looked like Jon's Wilier (that's a bike) was in fact some kind of lightweight motorcycle. That's all I could conclude as I just about hung on behind him as we cruised along at a steady 45kph. There were also "vroom-vroom" noises and exhaust fumes but I'd rather not talk about them.
Another 35km notched up, and another hour and a quarter (there were some hills where the pace dropped a little). I limped up the stairs, fed Jon coffee and a hot cross bun, then collapsed on the the sofa.
So much for a "rest day".
The score after three days - 9 hours 45 minutes riding, 257km. Oh, and the start of a saddle sore...
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Personal Training Camp Day 1
Ow. My legs really shouldn't hurt this much. 114km, 4hr 30mins, a few hills in there. Probably a bit more intense than I should have been riding but I seem to be doing that a lot recently. I'm sure tomorrow will be different.
I was up on time, coffee'd on time and out on time. I'd found a route called "Magnificat Stage 1 Plus" buried on my laptop, which I thought was the first chunk of last year's event with a loop back. Almost right. It was obviously something I'd drawn last year after the event, as the first 30km and last 40km were from the official route but with a beautiful linking section through some picture perfect Hampshire villages. Honestly, I had a "Isn't this bit of England brilliant" moment and I even saw my shadow a couple of times as the sun bravely tried to make an appearance.
Hell, I even passed the Vitacress watercress place and the entrance to Jody Scheckter's organic farm.
I stopped near Basingstoke for a Snickers and Powerade top-up which just about saved me from some low-sugar wobbliness and I kept up the pace until catching my chain on my front mech (again... really must sort that) which pulled it round and meant I sounded like I was trying to grate a spoon for the last 5km.
In, stretch, recovery drink and a first appearance of the year for the recovery tights.
The next couple of hours were spent slumped on the sofa watching "The Flying Scotsman", continuing the cycling theme.
Now off to a quiz. That's not very training camp but I'll pretend the Directeur Sportif has organised it.
Tomorrow - 3 or so hours, then physio appointment, then maybe another hour. We'll see.
I was up on time, coffee'd on time and out on time. I'd found a route called "Magnificat Stage 1 Plus" buried on my laptop, which I thought was the first chunk of last year's event with a loop back. Almost right. It was obviously something I'd drawn last year after the event, as the first 30km and last 40km were from the official route but with a beautiful linking section through some picture perfect Hampshire villages. Honestly, I had a "Isn't this bit of England brilliant" moment and I even saw my shadow a couple of times as the sun bravely tried to make an appearance.
Hell, I even passed the Vitacress watercress place and the entrance to Jody Scheckter's organic farm.
I stopped near Basingstoke for a Snickers and Powerade top-up which just about saved me from some low-sugar wobbliness and I kept up the pace until catching my chain on my front mech (again... really must sort that) which pulled it round and meant I sounded like I was trying to grate a spoon for the last 5km.
In, stretch, recovery drink and a first appearance of the year for the recovery tights.
The next couple of hours were spent slumped on the sofa watching "The Flying Scotsman", continuing the cycling theme.
Now off to a quiz. That's not very training camp but I'll pretend the Directeur Sportif has organised it.
Tomorrow - 3 or so hours, then physio appointment, then maybe another hour. We'll see.
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
My own, personal, training camp
For those who spend their lives not obsessed with cycling, training and eating (and I know there are a couple of you left) a training camp is where you go somewhere sunny with other freaks and spend the days riding and eating.
This is not my plan.
I've been to a couple of training camps - semi-public ones - in Southern Spain. The weather was sunny (we'll conveniently gloss over the rain sodden days where we nearly died of exposure), the routes glorious and the food plentiful. Riding with a group adds additional motivation and having a plan and some ride leaders meant that six hours of training a day was done.
This is not my plan either.
I have 5 days. Three in the week, two in the weekend. I'm in drizzly Berkshire. I've no-one to ride with Wednesday and Thursday, the chance of 45 minutes riding with Jon and Friday and no plans for Saturday or Sunday. My endurance fitness is questionable and my motivation marginal. I do however have a fistful of GPS routes, a garage-full of energy products and a fridgeful of milkshakes.
My target: 400km or 16 hours.
Game on.
This is not my plan.
I've been to a couple of training camps - semi-public ones - in Southern Spain. The weather was sunny (we'll conveniently gloss over the rain sodden days where we nearly died of exposure), the routes glorious and the food plentiful. Riding with a group adds additional motivation and having a plan and some ride leaders meant that six hours of training a day was done.
This is not my plan either.
I have 5 days. Three in the week, two in the weekend. I'm in drizzly Berkshire. I've no-one to ride with Wednesday and Thursday, the chance of 45 minutes riding with Jon and Friday and no plans for Saturday or Sunday. My endurance fitness is questionable and my motivation marginal. I do however have a fistful of GPS routes, a garage-full of energy products and a fridgeful of milkshakes.
My target: 400km or 16 hours.
Game on.
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