Postmen on Pashleys

Out on the bike last week I cycled past a postman on a red Pashley postal bike. Breezing along, clearly visible in his bright yellow waistcoat, helmet perched jauntily on his head with the strap undone. Just balanced on his head slipping gently from side to side as he pedalled.

I’ve noticed this of late. Postmen, wearing helmets probably because they have to, but not doing them up. I don’t feel outraged by this I hasten to add – just a little bemused.

Because I also have to wear a helmet. It’s a rule and it’s non-negotiable, laid down by Beautiful Wife Jo in exchange for plenty of road time. When told by helpful Bikeshop Guy that helmets have a lifespan of approximately five years, she insisted that I bin the hideous maroon bucket of ten years in exchange for a new one. Grudgingly, I did as I was told coming away with a much lighter, sleeker and altogether more roadie flavoured white one.

The thought of wearing a helmet undone wouldn't enter my head, firmly believing that everything on my bike should be tightly adjusted, squeak free, smooth running and non irritable. A helmet (seeing as one has to wear one) should feel like an extension of the whole, as well as being well ventilated, easy to adjust, light in weight and fairly cool looking. If the vents are such that you can balance sunglasses in them upside down like Pro tour riders, even better.

Current object of desire? The Kask helmet range, but not the Sky team one - that's a no no. A bit like wearing a Liverpool football shirt when your no longer a teenager and don't play for Liverpool. Although that rule doesn't apply to rugby shirts (Unless it's an England shirt, you don't play for England and you're not a Twickenham).

Back to helmets, the Kask range and the fact that  my helmet is approaching five years old........

Kate and William, rings and mudguards

So, Kate Middleton and Prince William have announced their engagement at last – William sealing the deal with Diana’s engagement ring. Poignant and appropriate.

Last night Beautiful Wife Jo and friends are talking about this over tea in the kitchen.

“It’s a gorgeous ring isn’t it”

“Must be worth a fortune!”

“I’ve heard twenty thousand pounds”  (Probably more!)

“Gosh. I wouldn’t want to wear it then. I’d be afraid of losing it. Do you think she’ll have a copy made for everyday wear?”

My much loved Specialized Roubaix comp is leaning on the wall behind them and I realise I have the same dilemma when it comes to riding it. “It’s raining – I’ll take the Langster out instead”

Should I be doing this? I love riding the Roubaix and I know it’s made to be tough. Made to be ridden on the cobbles of Northern France, surely it can’t come to harm in the Cotswolds for goodness sake!

In the Cotswolds last week I stumbled upon the local club run out for their Saturday ride. “Feel free to tag along”, said the friendly Chairman – so I did. After a couple of miles I noticed almost all had mudguards on their machines, “Much friendlier for those behind you”, said the friendly Chairman, and I realised that he was right and that I felt like a hideous aberration, spraying people wantonly. Quietly I slipped slowly to the back – again.

Last night I put my race blades on my Langster (single speed specialized). Then I took them off again.

Exmoor Beast 2010

The Exmoor Beast sportive -  hard, but fabulous in a thigh burning, lung wrenching kind of way. This year was my second ride - a complete contrast to the ‘Siege of Leningrad’ event the previous year. That was carnage on the moor as cyclists plodded their way through the persistent winds. The only thing missing was the Black cat itself!

2009 was, ‘Will I get round?’. I had no choice in the end, having spent £200 on new winter boots and tights. The derision I would have endured from Beautiful Wife Jo if I had turned back was spur indeed. In the end there was the warm camaraderie of those of us who had battled round together, and snooty glances at those who did head for home.  But then I forgot to mention the compression tights I had also bought to drive home in.  Quitting was not an option! 

2010 was different. I’d  trained more, lost some weight, climbed the Alpe d’Huez AND the Col de La Croix de Fer, and finally bought a new machine. In carbon. Grey and subtle in design, lighter, faster and way more than I deserved. I was going to draft my socks off, hitch lifts, get out of the saddle on hills and generally be very impressive.

Which is interesting. 

As a fledgling long distance rider my view had always been ‘I’m here to enjoy the ride, get round, take in the scenery, blah blah blah...’ So how have I morphed into a phantom wheelsucker in the space of three sportives? (Etape Caledonia, Beast and Beast again) In fact I started Beast 2 with the first approach and finished with the second. Many thanks to the large guy in the orange jacket riding the tall bike who sucked me along for six miles average speed 24mph! I don’t think he knew I was there there until I nipped past him on the next hill. And yes....I did feel bad about that.

I’m competing towards the back though, and in fits and starts.   Riders I pass, pass me in return. We have time to admire each others’ machines, chat about how much nicer the weather is this year,  then quietly, almost unnoticeably one of us will pull away – ‘enough idle chatter – down to business.

I climbed the Dunkery climb better than last year, took the watersplash with the caution due a new carbon bike, flew down the road into Lynmouth, bolted my soup at the feed station and finally found I'd shaved one hour off my last year's time – result! I now have a target for next year – under five hours – and if achieved I may ‘man up’ and enter the 100 mile event for the following year. Or not.

Sitting on top of the Alpe D'Huez

I somehow managed to persuade my family to go and camp in the Alps this summer - Bourg D'Oisans, at the foot of the Alpe D'Huez. Needless to say an ascent was on the cards.

Day one - pitch tent and settle into campsite. Swimming pool handy, bar nearby, all well.

Day two - all four on bikes into Bourg. Bit off shopping and a coffee in the town centre.
Me: "Shall we go and have a look at the first couple of bends....see what its like?"

It was hot by the way..........very hot.

By bend two number one son was sweating buckets, Beautiful Wife Jo was appalled by the first bend, not to mention the second, but number two son Ollie was still with me, despite being the only one riding a heavy duty mountain bike with monster tyres - bless him.

So we beat a hasty retreat and squelched back to the campsite, the pool and the bar.

Two days later we got up early, had porridge, cycled to Bourg, hired Ollie a Giant Defy road bike and we rode the Alpe (because you can use the 'familiar' when you've ridden it)  It took three and a half hours.  Slow but fabulous. (Much quicker for Jonny and Ollie ...... "Do you mind if we go on......It's a bit boring waiting for you......No offense!)

So......my parents give me a chunk of cash to spend on a meaningful gift for my fiftieth birthday. What to buy? What have I always desired but never been able to justify?

And then I remembered Rob Penn's brilliant book, 'It's all about the bike', telling the tale of his quest for the perfect parts to assemble the machine of his dreams.

A Brooks saddle then - it had to be.

Rob Penn chose the Brooks Team Professional. Onto the Brooks website then and ..... there it was. The Brooks Team Professional Alpe D'Huez Special edition. Contour lines of the Alpe imprinted into the shiny black leather.

I'm a Geography teacher. I love maps. I climbed the Alpe with my family.

It had to be.

Confident on Rollers. Not a chance!

Dashed home at lunchtime to have a crafty bit of fitness. Rollers. Loaned by a friendly fellow roadie who hasn't used them very much. So that should have been a clue.

At home, so not much lycra required - bibshorts, shoes, t-shirt, bottle of water to keep hydrated as I crank up the miles. Rollers down, bike on, cleats in - fall off! And that was it.

Lying there I reflected on how much I liked my turbo trainer. I also pondered my shin, gently oozing, before shuffling off to find the micropore patch and the school nurse.

I'm not giving up though, although I shall be starting off in a doorway next time. Excellent, but badly timed advice from my amused friend.

It IS all about the bikes.

Confession. This is my first blog post. I've tried Facebook and I'm rubbish at that. I don't want to be poked and I'm not happy to have so many friends to feel guilty about. But I love cycling so I'm going to write about it here, just for the fun of it.

These have been my bicycles. Assorted trikes, scooters, a green thing with stabilisers and then my sisters Raleigh Pavemaster. First tryout she rode it into a parked car, threw it to the floor and that was that - mine.

1973 - A chopper, but not the classic Raleigh. Damn you parents! Towed a trolley of newspapers with it though and made a small fortune as a teenager.

1976 - A Dutch racing bike. Few memories of this one, except crashing it on black ice Christmas morning. Oops.

1979 - A Dawes Galaxy - beautiful, and I was proud. So proud, that three years later I happily loaned it to a mate at college and he had it nicked. It had randonneur handlebars - I thought that sounded good.

College years - various secondhand heaps. After the loss of my beloved Dawes I couldn't commit.

1986 - First teaching cheque and a Muddy Fox Adventurer - hurrah! Suddenly I was cool as so few people owned them at that time.



1998 - Muddy Fox nicked from the garden. Twice bereaved now, but the shape of things to come

1999 - GT Airsteam. A more upright ride due to a pinched nerve in the neck.

2006 - Neck better and a Scott Voltage Mountain bike - back in business!

2007 - Specialized Langster singlespeed - and the start of a new chapter.

2008 - Cannondale Synapse Tiagra - now a proper roadie, complete with bibshorts, cleats and shoe covers.

2010 - Specialized Roubaix Comp full carbon frame. A beautiful bike from my Beautiful Wife Jo on my fiftieth birthday.

Lots of bikes (I still have the last five) and plenty of stories. With loads more riding to come. And, actually, I'm not that fat.