Monday 9th April 2007 (Easter Monday)
Last week, Jacky and I were on holiday on the Isle of Mull. Hence no training blog. However, some serious hill climbing was done in an attempt to keep in trim. Unfortunately this seemed to use completely different sets of muscles to the usual cyclists’ cuisses de grenouilles. I found myself hobbling down the stairs of our accommodation on more than one occasion. Not only that, but weight was gained. Back to where I was around Christmas. Damn!
Found myself ruminating on the bad old days when 5 derailleur gears was a whole LOTTA gears, and the holy grail of 10 could be obtained by fitting a double chainset. With no indexing and changers on the down tube, you used to think seriously before attempting a gear change. If you got it wrong big time, you could end up in an entirely unwanted gear. If you got it ever-so-slightly wrong, you could be nominally in the gear you wanted, but your cycling experience would be accompanied by a persistent “Grinkling” noise. Grinkling was an indication that some of your precious pedalling effort was being wasted on friction and not being used for propulsion. Many frustrating moments could be spent fiddling with the gear shift lever to try to eliminate the grinkle. Hence gear changes were a thing to be avoided, and there was a lot more “honking” (i.e. out of the saddle and standing on the pedals) in my riding style in those days. This was a mixed blessing, it meant you changed position on the bike a lot more, and therefore didn’t get so sore, particularly on the bum, arms and neck, from being stuck in the same position for hours on end. But “honking” was also a somewhat inelegant, some might say brutish, way of riding.
When I got my first 10-geared bike, I found the double chain wheel at the front was a little more reliable to get the right gear. No grinkling there, just maybe a bit of rub on the front derailleur, which was usually easier to adjust out. Hence my preference to this day for front shifting, even if it means I end up in a slightly higher / lower gear than I really want.
Of course, you could get indexed gears in those days in the form of the Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub gear. But, try honking on a bike so equipped, and you literally could knacker yourself on the crossbar if/when the gears slipped into neutral, as they were prone to doing. Modern hub gears don’t do this, but they do emit noises. I get a gentle “tickety-tickety-tickety” coming from my Nexus 8 speed in most of the lower gears, and a “ytekcit-ytekcit-ytekcit” in the higher gears. Gear 5, being direct drive, is silent. It does disturb me that these noises are indicative of energy losses, like the grinkle of the out of adjustment derailleur. We’ve come full circle, as I’ve taken to honking again to try and stay in 5th gear!
Tuesday 10th April 2007
Back to work. Big Hill shock to the system.
Used new “Creek2Peak” rack rack-top-bag this morning. This is quite capacious. Unfortunately it blocks my rear light, and bamboozles Zefal, who will have to be re-located or pensioned off. What it does do is give better balance than a single right hand pannier which I have been using up to now. It is also slightly more aerodynamic, giving perhaps a couple of mph on the top speed coming down into Halifax. The advantage of the right hand pannier, which I have new forfeit, is that it helps fend off close passing vehicles.
Steed stabled, I remove my helmet and seek Rapunzel (perhaps our relationship has improved in my absence?):
“I have returned from the land of Red Dear and Eagles lair,
to see you oh maiden fair.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.”
This doesn’t seem to impress Rapunzel, who announces in a rather haughty tone “Please select your floor”. (perhaps she’s miffed that I am free to roam, while she continues to be confined to her cell). Oh well, I must confess it’s Rapunzel 2 I have a thing for. The slight lisp lends an air of vulnerability. Imperfection often enhances beauty in my eyes.
Time out 0:58
Time return 1.01 (v. stiff headwind into village)
Wednesday 11th April 2007
Zen-like state up the big hill. Constant 2.6 mph. Look down and waver all over the road. Look up and see a shimmering ahead. It's only my optic nerve starved of oxygenated blood. Wouldn't it be awful if you woke up one morning and found you couldn't balance? Avoid dwelling on the individuals who have to come to terms with MS and other similar debilitating conditions. Song for the occasion "Clear White Light" by Lindisfarne.
Much birdsong in evidence. The Curlews vs the Lapwings. The curlews are winning. But a lark is up there refereeing. A curlew comes into land hanging in the sky. From here he resembles a thorn torn from a rosebush (the sort you might pick up in your tyre.)
Sheep seem especially curious. Can't resist saying "Hello ewe" to one of them.
The case of Velocipede vs. Shanks' Pony.
Mr. A. Walker, counsel for Shanks’ Pony: “My learned friend has been observed grinding up the big hill at 2.5 mph. I put it to you Mr. King that you have also blatantly broken the law of the land by cycling on footpaths and exceeding the speed limit on a number of occasions. To return to the case for walking, I should like to add that walkers do not suffer the bane of the cyclists existence, namely punctures.”
Mr. King, counsel for the Velocipede: “Members of the jury, I draw your attention to Exhibit A. A pair of boots, recently descended from Ben More, Isle of Mull. Observe the lacerations around the welt. This clearly demonstrates that walkers do indeed suffer punctures.”
King: “The wheel is a thing of exquisite symmetry. Especially the wheel which boasts alloy rims and double butted stainless steel spokes. An artefact of shimmering beauty, shining like a CD! By contrast, I ask you how many times the shoe has appeared in the top ten inventions in the history of the world?”
“And walking is so SLOW, to boot!”
“Moreover, bicyles, with the advent of the mountain bike, can now go anywhere a walker can. Please examine Exhibit B, also from the Isle of Mull. It is my contention that a bike that can find its own way up Speinne Mor is indeed a miraculous contraption!”
“Cycling is exhilarating. All that is needed is a hill (preferably sloping downwards), optionally a road, and one or two irregularities such as sheer drops, stone walls, ditches etc. Throw in a few errant sheep for good measure and you have all the ingredients for a huge adrenalin rush.”
“I may even go so far as to assert that such sports as bungee jumping and extreme ironing are practised by individuals who have not yet evolved the superior intellect and precision of balance that is required to ride a bike.”
“By contrast walking is so, is so...PEDESTRIAN! I rest my case”
Then it's down into town, a skip lorry passes. He must be burning recycled fat for fuel - smells like an old burger. Wish I could burn off my fat as easily.
Time out 0:55
Going home, fine weather has brought out the Chavs (see wikipedia for definition) and numerous hysterical youths. Despite this a nice, if breezy, run home.
Time return 1:06 (via Flappit)
Last week, Jacky and I were on holiday on the Isle of Mull. Hence no training blog. However, some serious hill climbing was done in an attempt to keep in trim. Unfortunately this seemed to use completely different sets of muscles to the usual cyclists’ cuisses de grenouilles. I found myself hobbling down the stairs of our accommodation on more than one occasion. Not only that, but weight was gained. Back to where I was around Christmas. Damn!
Found myself ruminating on the bad old days when 5 derailleur gears was a whole LOTTA gears, and the holy grail of 10 could be obtained by fitting a double chainset. With no indexing and changers on the down tube, you used to think seriously before attempting a gear change. If you got it wrong big time, you could end up in an entirely unwanted gear. If you got it ever-so-slightly wrong, you could be nominally in the gear you wanted, but your cycling experience would be accompanied by a persistent “Grinkling” noise. Grinkling was an indication that some of your precious pedalling effort was being wasted on friction and not being used for propulsion. Many frustrating moments could be spent fiddling with the gear shift lever to try to eliminate the grinkle. Hence gear changes were a thing to be avoided, and there was a lot more “honking” (i.e. out of the saddle and standing on the pedals) in my riding style in those days. This was a mixed blessing, it meant you changed position on the bike a lot more, and therefore didn’t get so sore, particularly on the bum, arms and neck, from being stuck in the same position for hours on end. But “honking” was also a somewhat inelegant, some might say brutish, way of riding.
When I got my first 10-geared bike, I found the double chain wheel at the front was a little more reliable to get the right gear. No grinkling there, just maybe a bit of rub on the front derailleur, which was usually easier to adjust out. Hence my preference to this day for front shifting, even if it means I end up in a slightly higher / lower gear than I really want.
Of course, you could get indexed gears in those days in the form of the Sturmey Archer 3-speed hub gear. But, try honking on a bike so equipped, and you literally could knacker yourself on the crossbar if/when the gears slipped into neutral, as they were prone to doing. Modern hub gears don’t do this, but they do emit noises. I get a gentle “tickety-tickety-tickety” coming from my Nexus 8 speed in most of the lower gears, and a “ytekcit-ytekcit-ytekcit” in the higher gears. Gear 5, being direct drive, is silent. It does disturb me that these noises are indicative of energy losses, like the grinkle of the out of adjustment derailleur. We’ve come full circle, as I’ve taken to honking again to try and stay in 5th gear!
Tuesday 10th April 2007
Back to work. Big Hill shock to the system.
Used new “Creek2Peak” rack rack-top-bag this morning. This is quite capacious. Unfortunately it blocks my rear light, and bamboozles Zefal, who will have to be re-located or pensioned off. What it does do is give better balance than a single right hand pannier which I have been using up to now. It is also slightly more aerodynamic, giving perhaps a couple of mph on the top speed coming down into Halifax. The advantage of the right hand pannier, which I have new forfeit, is that it helps fend off close passing vehicles.
Steed stabled, I remove my helmet and seek Rapunzel (perhaps our relationship has improved in my absence?):
“I have returned from the land of Red Dear and Eagles lair,
to see you oh maiden fair.
Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.”
This doesn’t seem to impress Rapunzel, who announces in a rather haughty tone “Please select your floor”. (perhaps she’s miffed that I am free to roam, while she continues to be confined to her cell). Oh well, I must confess it’s Rapunzel 2 I have a thing for. The slight lisp lends an air of vulnerability. Imperfection often enhances beauty in my eyes.
Time out 0:58
Time return 1.01 (v. stiff headwind into village)
Wednesday 11th April 2007
Zen-like state up the big hill. Constant 2.6 mph. Look down and waver all over the road. Look up and see a shimmering ahead. It's only my optic nerve starved of oxygenated blood. Wouldn't it be awful if you woke up one morning and found you couldn't balance? Avoid dwelling on the individuals who have to come to terms with MS and other similar debilitating conditions. Song for the occasion "Clear White Light" by Lindisfarne.
Much birdsong in evidence. The Curlews vs the Lapwings. The curlews are winning. But a lark is up there refereeing. A curlew comes into land hanging in the sky. From here he resembles a thorn torn from a rosebush (the sort you might pick up in your tyre.)
Sheep seem especially curious. Can't resist saying "Hello ewe" to one of them.
The case of Velocipede vs. Shanks' Pony.
Mr. A. Walker, counsel for Shanks’ Pony: “My learned friend has been observed grinding up the big hill at 2.5 mph. I put it to you Mr. King that you have also blatantly broken the law of the land by cycling on footpaths and exceeding the speed limit on a number of occasions. To return to the case for walking, I should like to add that walkers do not suffer the bane of the cyclists existence, namely punctures.”
Mr. King, counsel for the Velocipede: “Members of the jury, I draw your attention to Exhibit A. A pair of boots, recently descended from Ben More, Isle of Mull. Observe the lacerations around the welt. This clearly demonstrates that walkers do indeed suffer punctures.”
King: “The wheel is a thing of exquisite symmetry. Especially the wheel which boasts alloy rims and double butted stainless steel spokes. An artefact of shimmering beauty, shining like a CD! By contrast, I ask you how many times the shoe has appeared in the top ten inventions in the history of the world?”
“And walking is so SLOW, to boot!”
“Moreover, bicyles, with the advent of the mountain bike, can now go anywhere a walker can. Please examine Exhibit B, also from the Isle of Mull. It is my contention that a bike that can find its own way up Speinne Mor is indeed a miraculous contraption!”
“Cycling is exhilarating. All that is needed is a hill (preferably sloping downwards), optionally a road, and one or two irregularities such as sheer drops, stone walls, ditches etc. Throw in a few errant sheep for good measure and you have all the ingredients for a huge adrenalin rush.”
“I may even go so far as to assert that such sports as bungee jumping and extreme ironing are practised by individuals who have not yet evolved the superior intellect and precision of balance that is required to ride a bike.”
“By contrast walking is so, is so...PEDESTRIAN! I rest my case”
Then it's down into town, a skip lorry passes. He must be burning recycled fat for fuel - smells like an old burger. Wish I could burn off my fat as easily.
Time out 0:55
Going home, fine weather has brought out the Chavs (see wikipedia for definition) and numerous hysterical youths. Despite this a nice, if breezy, run home.
Time return 1:06 (via Flappit)
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