Withering away

Harrumph! I've got a right sulk on today. In fact I've had the sulk on since exactly 9.37am on Friday when, after a lovely ride to work, I changed into my civvies and put my back out whilst tying my shoelaces. I haven't done this since my brief foray into the world of the triathlete (we're not talking Ironman here, just the 'sprint' distance which I like to think I could have done had the honeymoon not got in the way and the motivation waned) when I totally buggered it on a morning run. So I spent the weekend abstaining from the bike and even forwent my commute on Monday in an effort to nip it in the bud quickstix. Alas, dear reader, I have now had to spend the last 24hrs at home on the floor in an effort to ease the pain interspersing this torture with hot baths and Deep Heat (quite a pleasant sensation really). I need to get better in preparation for a 4 hour train journey to see the parents on Thursday which, whilst I am delighted to be doing, will mean that it will be AT LEAST 3 WEEKS since I will have been out for a nice long ride and my legs will turn to mush and I will miss this lovely spell of mild weather and I will suffer for the entire winter and things will never, never, be the same ever, ever again! Perhaps I am being melodramatic but God! I hate not being well! Harrumph!

Introducing Zippig

I've tried, GOD KNOWS I HAVE TRIED, to erase the thought of any deep section carbon crossing the threshold and skewering itself onto my pride and joy. But, to paraphrase Kylie, I just can't get them out of my head (sha-na-na). I enjoy thinking about them, I enjoy surfing the internet and stalking e-bay, I enjoy feeling sorry for myself when I can't discover the bargain of the century and, quite frankly, I enjoy the paradox of stressing about how I will support a family whilst simultaneously considering dropping over a grand on some wheels, To continue this mildly masochist form of bike porn masturbation I have decided to enlist the help of my little spotty friend Zippig. He / she was a birthday gift from my parents to my beloved (can you imagine the horror on my face as she unwrapped it?) and has languished unloved in the spare bedroom (soon to be a very occupied bedroom) for the past 2 years but has now been enlisted into my cunning little plan to attain my 303 dream. Coppers, silvers, circles and hexagons (but not paper) are going to be fed into Zippig until one day he/she bursts thus ensuring a heavy visit to the local Barclays followed by a 3 clicks visit to the best on-line price. I like to think of it as low impact expenditure.

The way things are gonna be

The weekends always go too quickly and not least of all when you spend over 2 hours at Peter Jones with a 'Nursery Advisor' who chirpily takes you around the store telling you everything that you are going to need for when the little one decides to grace us with it's (no doubt screaming) presence. I was tossed between logical blokey interest (prams, car seats and BabyBjorns), practicality (cot bed's and storage), tearful cutesiness (little hats, socks and swaddling wraps) to downright toe-curling disgust (breast pumps - arghhhh!). It was all a bit too much and with every new product that was introduced I could not stop myself from saying 'add it to the list' in a semi-pompous nothings-too-good-for-my-child sort of way whilst at the same time having the inner Schleck pleading with me to shut up as he saw any chance of deep section wheels slipping away. It was hellish! At least all this came after a nice early morning jaunt into Kent (I am loving the 39x25 - especially now that I have refitted it without the rattle that plagued the Ride of the Falling Leaves (did I tell you that I was 18th in the GC?!)).

On Sunday came an experience that I probably never thought would have happened - I donned baggies with Dan and headed off into the woods for a bit of mucky fun. Titter ye not, it was the first time that I had been mountain biking 'for real' (ish) and, although only marginally less socially awkward than dogging, I quite enjoyed the romp in the Hertfordshire forests (if you can call the broker belt estates and golf courses of Berkhamsted 'forests'. Whilst Dan hopped and skipped his way over logs and down trails I gamely tried to keep up - in his desperation to convert me to the way of the muddy path he had lent me his best bit of kit, an Orange (make not colour) full suspension frame with Fox forks (about £800 a pair apparently) - scuffing and scraping every bit exposed flesh on trees, nettles and brambles as we went. Luckily the bike, which was surprisingly light for something that looked like a tank, forgave most things under foot and I found myself merrily ploughing over branches (not logs - which I daintily dismounted for unlike bunny-hopping Dan) and spinning up hillsides. Whilst I'm not in a hurry to go out and get myself a new toy and join him on a regular basis and I certainly won't be shopping at Howies but I did enjoy the experience and it did give me a good excuse to write about something other that carbon fibre for a change. Thanks Dan.

Picture - Howies

All that glisters is not gold

Being the smart Alec that I occasionally am I often like to correct people when they are wrong. For instance the much used (often in a slightly patronising way) phrase 'All that glistens is not gold' should actually read as today's title using the word 'glistERS'. It's only because I was forced to study Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice that I know this fact but, despite failing English Literature, it's nice to think that I remembered something from my school days. All this waffle leads me, albeit rather pithily, onto today's subject - pimping your ride for promotional purposes (and try saying that after half a shandy). Naturally at exhibitions each stand is vying for attention and they try as hard as they can with clever lighting, pretty girls (in very short supply at the Cycle Show - although the girl on the SKINS compression clothing stand was a marked exception), loud music or, as above, a ridiculously pimped example of a certain product. Now, the above Brompton was not actually on the Brompton stand so we can't be too tough on Andy (chapeau! by the way on getting the Prince Phillip Designers Award) but you can't help getting the feeling that somebody at Brompton knew what was going to happen to one of their babies and secretly quite liked the idea. No, this 24ct Gold 'beauty' was being used to promote an insurance company. Not only had they had the audacity to gold plate it but, to add insult to injury, they had added a cue-ball derailleur lever in an attempt to make it look like something ridden around South Compton instead of South Kensington. What made me laugh the most however was the fact that you could actually win this bike. Why in the name of Vicky Pendleton would anybody want to ride around on a 24ct Gold Brompton? One thing is for sure - you would need every penny of your accident cover for each time you were rammed into the curb by every driver that caught sight of you. However, if you think that this is a bit OTT you should have seen the Swarovski (is their NOTHING that those whores will not 'customise') bike. I couldn't bring myself to take a picture for fear of being blinded by the glister.

Top Tube Tuesday (2)

Here we have the second in the very occasional Top Tube Tuesday feature (I had hoped that the Tour of Britain might provide some more fodder for this feature but it seems that none of the riders cared to personalise their bikes, unlike Le Tour). Today's top tube is non other than Shanaze Reade - superstar, thunder (and we are talking tropical storm level) thighed BMXer and, if she cares to be, track goddess. Here is her actual Olympic bike (which wouldn't have come close to my yellow / metallic blue Puch Magnum back in the day), the very same one that she hit the deck on during what, with maybe the exception of Spartacus' demented final chase in the men's road race, was the most dramatic 2 wheeled moment in Beijing. Behold the chunky carbon fork (below) which I'm sure your average council estate hoodie would kill for (quite literally). It takes the BMX to a whole different level. On further investigation it seems that Ms Reade, despite her quiet interview demeanour, has a bit of an ego. Having 'Speedy Reedy' on your top tube treads dangerously into Cav territory, further evidence of which can be seen on Ms Reade's very own website complete with a stylised Shanaze in flowing dress on her mini steed (surely she must have got oil on it?). Although I will say that the diction and typos on her blog are a travesty - honestly, some people should have spent a bit more time in the classroom and a little less time on the berms!


Check out demz fawkz!

An uphill struggle

To those who follow such things this was THE Sunday marked with a big red ring in the calendar of South Londoners (and those further afield) who like to partake of pure pain for a couple of minutes. The world's oldest cycling competition, the Catford CC Hill Climb takes place in the morning whilst the Bec CC Hill Climb takes place a few hours later. Being the loyal husband that I am, I fully intended to miss these cycling monuments in order to appease my beloved after yesterday's free pass but, much to my surprise and joy, she was rather keen to go and see what it was all about. Alas, cycling history was deemed a little too early to witness on a Sunday morning so we opted for the big money (£1000 first prize is not to be sniffed at - only huffed and puffed at) and we made our way over to Titsey Hill to watch the Bec CC event. It's all jolly English with a nice dash of wannabe continentalism thrown in. Shouts of 'allez!' mixing with the 'go on's of the less deluded old skoolers. Having a vested interest in the form of Team Vitsoe's (for this is the jersey that I wear with pride on my weekend rides) star member Keith Henderson gave it an extra edge and there was also a real buzz about seeing teen sensation Germain Burton. So, amongst tea, cake and drizzle we yelled, clapped and clicked our cameras at the 80 odd masochists as they gave it their best shot. The winner of the grand prize (and £1000 really is a grand prize) was a relative unknown, Michael Leonard-Smith from Milton Keynes with last year's winner Jody Crawforth coming in second. Most dramatic ride of the day was Germain's as, surprisingly, he struggled badly until he reached the point where he simply could not turn the wheels, falling heavily. Shocked gasps echoed down the hill as his DeVer teammates ran to his aid, lifting him from the ground and giving him a final shove so that he could complete the last 30 metres (all of which I totally failed to catch on my camera - I desperately need help on this front). A very hard lesson in pacing but also a real display of true grit. However, final mention should go to 'our Keith', only ever having competed in one hill climb the weekend before he finished top 20 in both of today's. David Brailsford take note!


Tadros digs deep......



......but Henderson digs deeper.


DeVer wait for their boy (I quite like this picture, it's 'composed' one might say)


Proof of a hard 132 second's work.

The London Cycle Show

After a very pleasant breakfast with the in-laws at The Wolseley I made my excuses and skipped off to the Cycle Show at Earls Court exhibition centre. By 11.30 it was heaving with all types of geeks intensely discussing the pro's and con's of titanium, steel, gears, no gears, brakes, no brakes (you fools), clinchers, tubulars, lycra and leather (or was that just me?). It's the second year that I have been to it and, although not a bad few hours, I always feel a little disappointed in the fact that you get to see all this nice kit but can only buy very few things - the 'Retail Zone' was full of the usual bland stuff but packed with punters who were so horned up by the things that they had seen on the trade stands that they would have probably spent in the thousands if they had been able to. It's nice to see 2010 kit but it would also be nice to make it Britain's biggest bike shop for a few days. Apart from that gripe, I did like wondering around occasionally spotting a bored cycle star (Jamie Staff, Nick Craig (he won this year's Three Peaks and Nicole Cooke) doing their promo duties. I shan't do a long blog today about everything I liked (it will seep slowly from the blog over the coming days) but I will leave you with my favourite 2 non-kit pictures. A very strange man in his trike wheelchair (eccentric or not, 'kinky but wrinkly' is just plain creepy) and Captain RAAM himself, Jim Rees, pictured below attempting to cycle 1000 miles on a Watt Bike in four days on a stand built by spending £30 in Homebase. Team Inspiration is obviously operating on a tight budget.

The Correspondents Bike Part 2 (or, in 2 Parts)

Look at this. A painful site in more ways than one. All that (insurance) money spent so lovingly building up one of the flashiest machines seen on the roads of Cricklewood only to tank it within weeks. Nothing, not Super Record, not Assault wheels, not all the white carbon fibre in the world and obviously not even (yellow!?) SwissStop brake pads can help you when a car decides to cut across you whilst in full flight. So it is with much sadness that we consign The Correspondents bike to the annals of cycling history. Happily our hero has escaped remarkably unscathed from this encounter despite, according to one eye witness, 'being thrown like rag doll down the road'. Not a single bone broken, the doctors simply couldn't believe it 'the man's a miracle' they cried throughout the hospital and no doubt his unbreakable bone structure will be used for medical research when he does eventually depart for the big velodrome in the sky. In the meantime it's most likely a bit of feeling sorry for himself whilst busily filling out claim forms and making mental shopping lists for the next two-wheeled pimp mobile. Oh how I can't wait for the text and picture messages to start again.


A very crude attempt at building a unicycle worthy of breaking the hour record


He sent this picture to show off his swollen and bruised kidney but I found myself wondering why he shaves his pubic hair into a triangle - very strange.

Herne Hill Cyclo Jumble

Rising (slightly) earlier on Saturday I thought I would leave my beloved snoring and take the PM for an unheard of Saturday spin down to the Herne Hill track to have a look at the cyclo jumble that was being held. I have to say that it does upset me going to a once great venue to see the now decaying mess that it is but much has already been written about that particular matter and no doubt I will post something at a later date. The intention of this visit was to secretly indulge in the uber geekfest that is cyclo jumble. I suppose that they are no worse than any other form of car boot or antique and 'collectors fairs (the latter often laughing defiantly in the face of the trades description act), but they do make me smile as many of the stall holders and a good few of the browsers look as if they haven't touched a bike since their distant youth. Where does it all come from? Piles of tat and shapeless clothing mingles happily with cranks and cogs and bit's and bobs. Camera in hand I thought I would do a pictorial of some of the characters but, as ever, after a few clicks I come to terms with the fact that I am no more than a happy snapper and should leave the reportage stuff to those who know better (John, enjoy your veiled compliment). Actually I was quite surprised at the mix of codger and cool. After a little while I realised that I had subconsciously hit a rich vein of photographic form by taking pictures of the amazing mix of colours that form the cycling accessory category which you can see below. So after a nice 40 minutes of mingling I left with a warm feeling of having witnessed a subculture and smelt the first smells of another wonderful Dulwich autumn (though not before being cornered by a Moulton geek who started talking about things of which I have absolutely no idea - shudder!).

Oh, by the way, I returned to the velodrome on Sunday to ride the Dulwich Paragon 'Ride of the Falling Leaves'. I slept well, prepped well and turned in a time of 3hr 40min - VERY HAPPY CHAPPY!




What does bar tape need........?


.....bar stoppers.


And what goes in a bottle cage.......?


oooooooh, you little beauties.


Vintage clothing I understand, tat I do not.


With the exception of a Rouleur poseur I have never seen anybody carrying a musette let alone a used one. Suggestions for use please?


And finally, this display was obviously done with love.

CLICK HERE FOR HERNE HILL VELODROME

A certain ratio

Gearing - it's really one for the scientists and not for the weekend poseur like myself. However, whilst watching the World Championships with the looming spectre of the Ride of the Falling Leaves and the gentle burning in my legs from that morning's 'training' run in the Surrey Hills, I began to pay a little bit more attention to the dulcet ramblings of Hugh 'ees gorriz rice fice on nowooh' Porter and Rob 'chirpy, cheeky chappy (with elbows out)' Hayles as they discussed the 39x25 'tiny gear' that was being used on the slopes surrounding Mendrisio. 'Could this help me?' I wondered. So, with feet up, I had a quick flick at 'cycle gear ratios' on Google. Lordy! Please, somebody explain what it's all about. I honestly think that if Stephen Hawking was to take up cycling tomorrow (you never know) that he would give up straight away after trying to work out his ratios. All I want to know is this - if I go up a steep hill, what will make my legs hurt less and my lungs burn less without looking like a mountain biker. I'm inclined (boom, boom) to say that it's not rocket science but it bloody well is. Anyway, being the easily influenced wannabe that I am and having put the Zipp 303 dream to bed for this year (outbid AGAIN!) I succumbed to the subconscious chanting of Porter and Hayles on every climb (39x25, 39x25, 39x25.......) and bought myself a new cassette for Sunday's event. Quite a thing of precision beauty - let's see if it makes one jot of difference (if I can manage to fit it without breaking something).

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