Saturday 21st April 2007
I know this is not strictly relevant to the training log, but there have been Rapunzel developments which I must relate. Rapunzel 2 has broken free. She has slipped the clutch of the imprisoning ogre (someone should report that slipping clutch to maintenance) She is now working in the White Rose Centre, in Primark no less. I know this because I heard her today with my own ears. That unmistakable voice with her "Pleathe thelect your floor", "Doorth clothing", "Going Down" I'm almost certain it was her. I was not alone in the lift, so I didn't dare speak, for fear of ridicule.
Wonder how she regained her freedom. Stole away when the ogre was asleep? (at dead of knight, of course). Doubtless, like all young things, she'll have aspirations to put herself through college and go up in the world. Ah well, it could be worse, she could have ended up as one of those pole-dancing types.
Anyways up, it's good to see she's carving a niche for herself. The pay may not be much, but she has her independence.
Sunday 22nd April 2007
The tale of the Brooks saddle.
As you know, I've been building some bikes up which hopefully will be up to the task of carrying Georgina and me the 1000 or so miles reliably and in relative comfort.
On the comfort front, one of the main considerations has been choice of saddle. To this end, I invested in a Brooks saddle with Titanium rails, (which cost a pretty penny), way back in January. This has been fitted to an Orbit Expedition frame, which is now nearing completion.
I had entertained the idea that this bike would be suitable for Georgina, but it looks like the frame may be too much of a stretch for her to ride comfortably.
Anyway, I went for my first test ride of this bike last week.
"Did the saddle impress you?", I hear you ask eagerly.
"Yes, I was deeply impressed by the saddle." I respond with a wry smile (or is that a grimace). That saddle felt like a smooth stone; a piece of sedimentary rock, sea-washed for centuries, until all the sharp corners had been smoothed out. Honestly, that is exactly how it felt. Perhaps this is what inspired Sheldon Brown in the following piece of whimsy:
http://www.sheldonbrown.com/real-man.html
Then I came home. Further verdict on the Brooks saddle in due course.
Monday 23rd April 2007
St.George's day. Usually associated with bright spring-like weather. Grey, breeze from SW. Lots of birdsong in village, disappearing as I head into the low cloud which wreathes the Big Hill.
Where are the Curlews and Lapwings this morning? Several larks are heard twittering overhead on my journey. Perhaps they are in blue sky, while I am in grey down below, feeling very Monday morning blue-ish. Put my front light on. That song from Lindisfarne has mutated into "Do you believe the Blue-ish LED light is going to guide us on?"
Twittering bird regular peep peep always starts about this point of the journey, but only on damp mornings. It’s only the inside edge of my trainers rubbing the face of the crank. Try shifting feet slightly outwards on the pedal and the bird has flown. I may talk about my brief flirtation with clipless pedals at a later date, when the painful memories have faded a little more.
Can't stop thinking of Rapunzel 2, and how I am going to break the news to her sister when I get to work.
Sure enough, when I finish stabling my steed, I am confronted by Rapunzel waiting for me on floor 0, and an empty space where you might expect to see Rapunzel 2. (So she HAS made her escape...) Will Rapunzel succumb to the loneliness? Should I tell her, or will it make the situation worse? Might the ogre hear and exact terrible retribution? I remain silent, paralysed by indecision.
After my shower, I head for the lift again, and summon Rapunzel. Imagine my suprise when, entirely unannounced, her twin arrives. My mind reeling, I consider the possibilities: the Rapunzel 3 theory (long lost triplet, snatched away at birth by some evil witch). The weekend release scheme whereby the ogre grants temporary absolution from the spell for good behaviour? (- stranger things have been known in H.M. Prison Service). It’s a mystery.
Time out 1:00
I have, over the duration of my training, been sampling various energy-snack-bar-type confections, to establish their suitability for the ride. The ideal I seek would be slightly crunchy, slightly moist, slightly fruity, perhaps a hint of salty-bitterness, obviously packed with 'goodness'(whatever that is), relatively low in fat, some sugars, but mainly slow-burn carbs for endurance. My personal ideal would of course be a solid version of Timothy Taylor's Landlord (regrettably sans alcohol). Perhaps an idea for their products division? By the way, I'm not just mentioning Taylors because they have sponsored us. Landlord is up there with the greatest beers of all time.
My quest for such a fuel (Landlord in a Bar) has so far met without success. Instead I have experienced a range of textures from breeze block through chipboard to MDF, seemingly made from budgy seed, granite chippings, or wind-blown chaff. We will draw a discreet veil over the effects of the pre-biotic ones, though not before making a cheap joke on jet propulsion.
Anyway, I tried malt loaf tonight. You cannot eat it in a hurry, but it seemed to give me a pretty good boost.
The spring lambs are beginning to look too heavy to levitate. However the government's recent relaxation of the gambolling laws may give them some outlet for their remaining energy.
Time return 0:56 (a bit rainy, slight wind assistance in places)
Tuesday 24th April 2007
Damp after early morning rain. Small noise in hedgerow on big hill, heard it yesterday in roughly the same place. Like an electric fence short-circuiting in the rain, except it's no longer raining. Mammal? Insect? Previously undiscovered species of tiny flightless humming-bird indigenous to South Pennines? Can't really stop to investigate.
Count the pedal strokes up the Big Hill - 365. Significant number? Days in year. Height (in feet) of St.Paul's cathedral. (N.B. only counted the left leg. Presumably the right leg did a similar number).
At the top, a dead frog, squashed flat. 100 yards further on another one, similarly mutilated. How can they meet such a cruel fate on such a remote country lane?
The curlews are vociferous today. Where were they all yesterday? Still in bed? What's that all about?
Oh god, another one (dead frog). (You go all year without seeing one, then three come along at once). Call homicide (amphibicide?)
A curlew gives a fine display of landing technique, wings quivering, facing downwind. (I thought you had to land into the wind – not this cocky devil).
Then a huge pile of discarded tyres dumped in the ditch. Depressing. Calderdale Services have only just cleaned their end up last week ago. Now some antisocial s*d has done this. One day all the squashed frogs will rise up and exact their revenge on you, whoever you are.
Love Shack by the B52's this morning. It's a song about being young, American and care-free (regrettably not car-free).
Time out 0:59
Time return 0:59 (via Flappit - humid, tailwind. Malt loaf slices = 1)
Wednesday 25th April 2007
Fallen tree on Hebden Bridge Road. Been lying on the ground measuring its length (60 foot or so) these last four months. This morning it’s covered in buds and leaves! Nobody told it it was dead. I’ll warrant a good tree surgeon could have it back on its feet in no time.
Pedal strokes on the Big Hill came to 400 this morning - started counting slightly early, also more wiggling? I demand a recount.
The terminally banal theme from "Are You being served" invades my head, and refuses to be displaced ("Going Up"). Whoever wrote that was an evil genius, bent on world domination. The only other piece of music to feature a cash register that I can think of is "Money" by Pink Floyd. I'm not to keen on that one either. The cash register in popular music - discuss.
Pipits a-plenty this morning. Small bird seen on fence post, going "chuck-chuck-chuck". Looks larger than a pipit. Flies away, displaying white rump. Curlew lands on the tarmac 50 yards ahead, but moves on before I get close.
Time out 1:02 (Stiff SW)
More malt loaf coming home. (Can’t waste it - bought two on special offer).
Wind seems to have come round more to the North, consequently hard going at times.
Time return 1:07 (Today, oy ‘ave ‘ad bad wind at both ends, so to speak).
I know this is not strictly relevant to the training log, but there have been Rapunzel developments which I must relate. Rapunzel 2 has broken free. She has slipped the clutch of the imprisoning ogre (someone should report that slipping clutch to maintenance) She is now working in the White Rose Centre, in Primark no less. I know this because I heard her today with my own ears. That unmistakable voice with her "Pleathe thelect your floor", "Doorth clothing", "Going Down" I'm almost certain it was her. I was not alone in the lift, so I didn't dare speak, for fear of ridicule.
Wonder how she regained her freedom. Stole away when the ogre was asleep? (at dead of knight, of course). Doubtless, like all young things, she'll have aspirations to put herself through college and go up in the world. Ah well, it could be worse, she could have ended up as one of those pole-dancing types.
Anyways up, it's good to see she's carving a niche for herself. The pay may not be much, but she has her independence.
Sunday 22nd April 2007
The tale of the Brooks saddle.
As you know, I've been building some bikes up which hopefully will be up to the task of carrying Georgina and me the 1000 or so miles reliably and in relative comfort.
On the comfort front, one of the main considerations has been choice of saddle. To this end, I invested in a Brooks saddle with Titanium rails, (which cost a pretty penny), way back in January. This has been fitted to an Orbit Expedition frame, which is now nearing completion.
I had entertained the idea that this bike would be suitable for Georgina, but it looks like the frame may be too much of a stretch for her to ride comfortably.
Anyway, I went for my first test ride of this bike last week.
"Did the saddle impress you?", I hear you ask eagerly.
"Yes, I was deeply impressed by the saddle." I respond with a wry smile (or is that a grimace). That saddle felt like a smooth stone; a piece of sedimentary rock, sea-washed for centuries, until all the sharp corners had been smoothed out. Honestly, that is exactly how it felt. Perhaps this is what inspired Sheldon Brown in the following piece of whimsy:
http://www.sheldonbrown.com/real-man.html
Then I came home. Further verdict on the Brooks saddle in due course.
Monday 23rd April 2007
St.George's day. Usually associated with bright spring-like weather. Grey, breeze from SW. Lots of birdsong in village, disappearing as I head into the low cloud which wreathes the Big Hill.
Where are the Curlews and Lapwings this morning? Several larks are heard twittering overhead on my journey. Perhaps they are in blue sky, while I am in grey down below, feeling very Monday morning blue-ish. Put my front light on. That song from Lindisfarne has mutated into "Do you believe the Blue-ish LED light is going to guide us on?"
Twittering bird regular peep peep always starts about this point of the journey, but only on damp mornings. It’s only the inside edge of my trainers rubbing the face of the crank. Try shifting feet slightly outwards on the pedal and the bird has flown. I may talk about my brief flirtation with clipless pedals at a later date, when the painful memories have faded a little more.
Can't stop thinking of Rapunzel 2, and how I am going to break the news to her sister when I get to work.
Sure enough, when I finish stabling my steed, I am confronted by Rapunzel waiting for me on floor 0, and an empty space where you might expect to see Rapunzel 2. (So she HAS made her escape...) Will Rapunzel succumb to the loneliness? Should I tell her, or will it make the situation worse? Might the ogre hear and exact terrible retribution? I remain silent, paralysed by indecision.
After my shower, I head for the lift again, and summon Rapunzel. Imagine my suprise when, entirely unannounced, her twin arrives. My mind reeling, I consider the possibilities: the Rapunzel 3 theory (long lost triplet, snatched away at birth by some evil witch). The weekend release scheme whereby the ogre grants temporary absolution from the spell for good behaviour? (- stranger things have been known in H.M. Prison Service). It’s a mystery.
Time out 1:00
I have, over the duration of my training, been sampling various energy-snack-bar-type confections, to establish their suitability for the ride. The ideal I seek would be slightly crunchy, slightly moist, slightly fruity, perhaps a hint of salty-bitterness, obviously packed with 'goodness'(whatever that is), relatively low in fat, some sugars, but mainly slow-burn carbs for endurance. My personal ideal would of course be a solid version of Timothy Taylor's Landlord (regrettably sans alcohol). Perhaps an idea for their products division? By the way, I'm not just mentioning Taylors because they have sponsored us. Landlord is up there with the greatest beers of all time.
My quest for such a fuel (Landlord in a Bar) has so far met without success. Instead I have experienced a range of textures from breeze block through chipboard to MDF, seemingly made from budgy seed, granite chippings, or wind-blown chaff. We will draw a discreet veil over the effects of the pre-biotic ones, though not before making a cheap joke on jet propulsion.
Anyway, I tried malt loaf tonight. You cannot eat it in a hurry, but it seemed to give me a pretty good boost.
The spring lambs are beginning to look too heavy to levitate. However the government's recent relaxation of the gambolling laws may give them some outlet for their remaining energy.
Time return 0:56 (a bit rainy, slight wind assistance in places)
Tuesday 24th April 2007
Damp after early morning rain. Small noise in hedgerow on big hill, heard it yesterday in roughly the same place. Like an electric fence short-circuiting in the rain, except it's no longer raining. Mammal? Insect? Previously undiscovered species of tiny flightless humming-bird indigenous to South Pennines? Can't really stop to investigate.
Count the pedal strokes up the Big Hill - 365. Significant number? Days in year. Height (in feet) of St.Paul's cathedral. (N.B. only counted the left leg. Presumably the right leg did a similar number).
At the top, a dead frog, squashed flat. 100 yards further on another one, similarly mutilated. How can they meet such a cruel fate on such a remote country lane?
The curlews are vociferous today. Where were they all yesterday? Still in bed? What's that all about?
Oh god, another one (dead frog). (You go all year without seeing one, then three come along at once). Call homicide (amphibicide?)
A curlew gives a fine display of landing technique, wings quivering, facing downwind. (I thought you had to land into the wind – not this cocky devil).
Then a huge pile of discarded tyres dumped in the ditch. Depressing. Calderdale Services have only just cleaned their end up last week ago. Now some antisocial s*d has done this. One day all the squashed frogs will rise up and exact their revenge on you, whoever you are.
Love Shack by the B52's this morning. It's a song about being young, American and care-free (regrettably not car-free).
Time out 0:59
Time return 0:59 (via Flappit - humid, tailwind. Malt loaf slices = 1)
Wednesday 25th April 2007
Fallen tree on Hebden Bridge Road. Been lying on the ground measuring its length (60 foot or so) these last four months. This morning it’s covered in buds and leaves! Nobody told it it was dead. I’ll warrant a good tree surgeon could have it back on its feet in no time.
Pedal strokes on the Big Hill came to 400 this morning - started counting slightly early, also more wiggling? I demand a recount.
The terminally banal theme from "Are You being served" invades my head, and refuses to be displaced ("Going Up"). Whoever wrote that was an evil genius, bent on world domination. The only other piece of music to feature a cash register that I can think of is "Money" by Pink Floyd. I'm not to keen on that one either. The cash register in popular music - discuss.
Pipits a-plenty this morning. Small bird seen on fence post, going "chuck-chuck-chuck". Looks larger than a pipit. Flies away, displaying white rump. Curlew lands on the tarmac 50 yards ahead, but moves on before I get close.
Time out 1:02 (Stiff SW)
More malt loaf coming home. (Can’t waste it - bought two on special offer).
Wind seems to have come round more to the North, consequently hard going at times.
Time return 1:07 (Today, oy ‘ave ‘ad bad wind at both ends, so to speak).
