tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2013288695879962032024-03-05T23:36:43.699+13:00From Blob to Enduring Love of VeloUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger194125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-47751823446790781222014-08-18T21:25:00.003+12:002014-08-18T21:25:54.962+12:00JRA – Just Resting Along<div style="text-align: justify;">
Wow! It’s been two years. I really couldn’t have imagined after my last post that I would be gone for so long. In fact a mere 4 months after being run over I got back to riding and was so happy. However mere weeks after that I was so close to being squished by a bus that didn’t give way at a roundabout that slowly riding slipped away from me. And this was compounded by ongoing issues with my back. <br />Anyway, I am not here to dwell on the past, but to share with any of you who might still be interested after all this time that I’m back on my bikes and I love them so much. However this being back on the bikes a very very recent thing and getting back into writing about it is part of my plan for ensuring the addiction takes hold again. </div>
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<br />Today I did something I wasn’t sure was possible. I rode up Rapaki. Now riding up a great big hill when you are unfit after being fit is very different from doing it when you are unfit and only just starting out riding. In some ways it’s easier and in others harder. For example when you start out it’s actually pretty intimidating and scary and you’re not even sure you can do it at all. My first ride up Rapaki included at least 2 lying down crying tantrums. However once you’ve been fit you know that all you have to do is just ride slow and keep going. However the other side of the coin is that there’s a voice in the back of your mind that likes to remind you that you used to be so much faster, it didn’t use to hurt, walkers didn’t use to pass you (runners yes) and the litany goes on. </div>
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<br />Luckily for me (I guess) I’ve been so injured and through so much in the last couple of years that that voice didn’t really have a chance over the voice of complete and utter joy at being in the hills in the sun on my beloved bike. Joyous voice had a lot to say. </div>
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<br />“Oh my god I’m riding, up a hill!”<br />“Wow, it is beautiful today”<br />“Hmmmmmm long fingered gloves are hot”<br />“I wish my bike computer was working”<br />“This bit in the trees seems longer”<br />“My legs are doing well”<br />“My sit-bones hate me”<br />“My *censored* hates me more, flippin ow”<br />“Don’t think about the pain, you’re riding”<br />“Hmmmmm my back aches”<br />“Wow my lungs don’t ache”<br />“Gosh it’s peaceful”<br />“My front rotor is rubbing a tiny bit”<br />“These gloves are really hot”<br />“Shut up thigh and keep pedalling this is awesome”</div>
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<br />You get the idea. A litany of thoughts tumbling over each other in the excitement of being on my bike. And over them all “You should write in your blog again”, which is how this is happening. Out of that incomplete list of brain babble there were a couple of thoughts that I did need to pay attention to, my back and my lungs. This can be difficult when you have sit-bones screaming that you are an evil witch, but they are the two things I need to really look after now that I’m a battered old woman. So while the cacophony of thoughts raged I quietly monitored my back, which ached a little by the end, and my lungs which were really good all things considered. Of course if my bike computer had been working then this whole head noise situation wouldn’t have occurred as I would have been pleasantly preoccupied with speed/time/distance maths. Off to get a battery tomorrow. </div>
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<br />And finally I would like to share that I have at last been able to achieve Just Resting Along. This is when you reach a portion of the ride that is a little easier than the rest (or ideally a lot easier) and instead of pushing your speed up you relax. Just spin along slowly, not worrying what anyone else thinks. Relaxing, dropping your heart rate, cruising. Just Relaxing Along is freeing. Sure others may blast past as if you are standing still, but hey, you’re not. You are still moving and your Just Relaxing Along means you can ride longer than you would have been able to if you slammed yourself. JRA allows you to achieve things you didn’t think possible. Like riding to the top of a bloody big hill after no riding at all for a year. </div>
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<br />So I’m back. Hi! I can’t wait to see where my wheels take me. I’m like a child in a candy store, but at the moment I don’t have much fitness currency. <br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-30917745597421445092012-06-28T18:01:00.001+12:002012-06-28T18:02:03.340+12:00This is what being hit by a car is like<br />
<i>Warning: the following account of my recent incident with a car is long and may be upsetting for some people. I've written it in the hopes of getting people to think about the consequences of their actions. Please pass this onto your friends and family, please be safe on the roads.</i><br />
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I was riding home from work mid-afternoon on Friday the 15th of June. It was rainy and cold so I had my fluro orange and wonderfully water-proof Ground Effect She Shell on. I was riding my lovely Linus duchess so I wasn’t zooming along. Just gracefully cruising home as I usually do. I got to the intersection of Collins and Brougham St where the intersection is currently blocked to cars going through to Simeon. However the workmen had left a space for pedestrians and cyclists to cross. I waited on the road on the right side of the car that was turning left (not wanting to get run over you understand) and when the lights went green I checked to make sure that no one was running the red before heading off. <br />
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I do this check every time I’m stopped at a red since the February earthquakes; there seems to be an epidemic of red light running in Christchurch. I safely made it to the gap where the crossing is in the middle of the road and observed a red car that was pretty much stationary at the lights. Of course I thought it was safe to continue, I was on a green, the red car seemed to be stopping, the car beside it in the further lane was stopped and had been for a while so I pedalled on. And the woman in the red car put her foot down.<br />
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She hit me when I was right in the middle of her bumper and everything becomes a blur of images for me here. I remember seeing the sky and feeling the bonnet give as I landed on it. I remember feeling shocked that this was happening, disbelieving that someone could be so stupid. I remember the back of my head striking the road and feeling my helmet do its job (I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been wearing my helmet I'd be dead or a vegetable), and then the rest of me hit the road on my right side. Then I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a couple of seconds as everything was blurry and fuzzy, but as my senses came back the first thing I did was wiggle my toes. Thank God they were moving.<br />
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Then I realised I couldn’t breathe and there was a woman standing over me saying “Sorry” and “Are you ok” over and over. As I gasped for air the pain hit and I began to make the most horrible wounded animal sound. I didn’t want to make this noise, it wasn’t me making it, it was the pain. I managed to roll into the recovery position on my left side and when I stayed still the noise stopped. <br />
I gasped to the woman, still not believing what had happened, “Did you run a red light?” and she started explaining that she did, but she thought that it was blocked off so no one could cross. She even said she didn’t check because she didn’t think it was necessary. This made me so angry that I started sobbing and I pointed out to her that children cross here all the time and if it had been a child she would have probably killed it. She is lucky she only hit me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Owie from hitting the road.</td></tr>
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Lots of people appeared and told me not to move, which wasn’t a problem because my world became pain if I so much as flinched. A really lovely lady brought me a pillow and covered me in a blanket. I lay there on the road, curled in the recovery position, feeling the cold rain falling on me, being so grateful for the my Ground Effect jacket that was stopping the water from soaking me, and my new thick long Chalkydigits jersey that was keeping me warm. I told everyone I was ok, that I was warm enough and listened as they called the ambulance. I stared at the bumper of the red car and noticed a dent in the middle of it. I thought of how upset my husband was going to be. Once the ambulance and police had been called I got one of the lovely women looking after me to call my husband. I could tell he was so shocked and I yelled out to him that I was ok, hoping to calm him down. Then I had to wait. <br />
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I lay on the road in the cold rain with trucks and cars whizzing past me, looking at the grey sky. That grey sky is what I see when I try and sleep at night. That and the shape of the red car suddenly moving forward and there’s nothing I can do to stop from being hit.<br />
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The ambulance arrived really quickly and stabilised my neck before putting me on the backboard. Oh the pain. I was now lying on all my really sore bits and trying not to blubber. They lifted me up and got me in the ambulance and just then my poor husband arrived. He looked so scared. And seeing me in the ambulance didn’t seem to make it any better. I tried to tell him it wasn’t serious, I hadn’t broken my back, that I was ok, but it didn’t make a difference.<br />
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Then the ambo’s had to cut my clothes off me to get the collar on. I cried when they cut into my ChalkyDigits jersey, I’d just bought it the night before and I was so happy with the way it had protected me from the cold road. Then the horrible collar was on and it was time to cut the rest of the jersey and my She Shell off me. The ambo’s laughed at this to cheer me up. They were really wonderful.<br />
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Finally I was covered in electrodes and being fed orange flavoured panadol liquid. It did nothing for the pain. Then they gave me NOS. I sucked the canister dry and it did nothing for the pain. The ride to the hospital seemed to go on forever and then when we got there it felt like another eternity till they gave me more pain meds. Even that wasn’t getting rid of it, just winding the volume down. When I finally went for my x-rays it was pretty rough going for me and for the young trainee techs. Every little movement I made would be agony and when it was over I was relieved. <br />
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After the xrays I got more meds and finally the pain was bearable. I just couldn’t stop crying though, I was so very angry. Eventually the doctors came and told me I hold some damage to my pelvis, but that it looked minor and that I could go home. They got me to stand up and I almost passed out from the pain. I had to give a urine sample to make sure my kidneys weren’t damaged, but I couldn’t walk so I had to have crutches. It was agony using them, but my kidneys were fine and my lovely mum in-law arrived to take us home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nightly meds - the liquid is particularly traumatic</td></tr>
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Now the final indignity was upon me as I had no clothes so I had to wear disgusting lost and found clothes home. I ate pizza and ice cream and codeine when I got home, but I couldn’t sleep at all and ended up awake till 5 in the morning. I managed to sleep till 7 when the cat woke me. Sigh<br />
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Saturday things weren’t so bad. I could move about with only a walking stick and managed to sleep better that night, although I had to listen to a podcast of Through the Looking Glass to stop my brain seeing the grey sky and the red car. The next day, Sunday, everything went wrong. I woke up sore and when I moved I screamed. My back ribs on the right popped out of place and the pain for shocking. <br />
We managed to get me dressed and back to ER we went. I stood in line for 10 minutes holding my ribs in place and finally got triaged as a high priority. Another set of painful xrays and there were no punctured lungs so I was sent home with horrible strong pain killers and instructions to see my GP on Wednesday. The next few days were pretty rough. The pain was really bad a lot of the time and I couldn’t sit up or stand up without my husband helping me. I was completely helpless. I could only lie on my back.<br />
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My awesome GP turned all that around with a great routine of drugs. Now I say great because it has completely got my pain under control, but I hate it. I don’t like taking drugs at the best of times and now it feels like I’m taking great handfuls.<br />
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So almost two weeks on I’ve got one or two broken ribs, a bruised lung and a damaged pelvis. I’m pretty much stoned out of my mind all the time and can’t really move round much. I can sit now and can get myself up and down if I’m very careful. I’ve missed a week of work that ACC doesn’t cover so I’m a grand down just on wages. I’m lonely at home by myself, and I have no idea when I’ll be able to ride again. The woman who hit me is being charged with Careless Driving Causing Injury and the policeman I’m dealing with is really good.<br />
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So there you have it. That is what it is like to be hit by a car. Please try and avoid it and most of all try and avoid doing it. Maybe send a link to this onto your friends and ask them to avoid doing it too. Cars hurt a lot. Way more than crashing into a trees or gateposts or the ground. I am very very lucky to be alive, and pretty much intact, but I’d be fine if the woman had obeyed the road rules. Please please please don’t run red lights, Ever. On your bike or in your car, and if you are in a car and see a bike run a red light, remember that your car is deadly if it hits a pedestrian or cyclist, just because someone else breaks the law doesn’t mean you can. Please obey the road rules. It could happen to you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-37026873410472796812012-06-07T22:39:00.000+12:002012-06-08T12:30:42.721+12:00I’m turning into Nancy Drew<div style="text-align: justify;">
I’ve begun work on the lovely Empire in earnest now. At the weekend I stripped her of all her parts, with the help of Bob. This meant a visit to his magic shed where I got to drool over his Facile’s divinely pin-striped rear wheel and see progress on the forks. It was very exciting. Bob helped me extract the extremely stubborn stem, but the drive-side cup on it was beyond both of us. My cheap cup removing tool was apparently made of cheese and bent like a wire coat-hanger when I applied all of my brute strength to it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what 60 year old grease and bearings look like, yummy!</td></tr>
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This meant a trip to see Keith at Cycle Traders and the purchase of a new tool, very similar to the cheese one, but made of actual metal. I also meant to buy some bearings for the headset and one of the pedals but I forgot them. Duh! The pedal needs a lot of love, so much so that I was able to remove it without a tool, it was so badly seized up. Luckily Bob and his vice and expertise came to the rescue and he was able to remove the cap that covers the axle. Phew, I wasn’t keen on having to track down more pedals.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A present was waiting for me when I got home on Tuesday</td></tr>
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After my visit to the shed of wonders I made the big decision that I am going to get the frame cleaned down and powder coated. Although it has a lot of lovely pin striping on it, someone has touched up the damage to the paint with some sort of fence paint and it just looked rough. My plan is to redo the pin striping by hand once I get it back from the powder coaters. I’ve very carefully photographed all the original lines and I’ve also drawn them up with measurements on distances from lugs and depth and so forth. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carefully draw pin striping plans</td></tr>
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This weekend I shall start practicing on the frame I have left over from the path racer build. While drawing her up I made an interesting discovery of an old grease port in the bottom bracket. Unfortunately it is not threaded and will function as a very efficient water delivery system into the bottom bracket. Not so good. The lovely Bob has kindly offered to help my remedy this problem when he has a moment spare. These moments are rather elusive with his vast project tying him to his lathe and his expert pin striping skills meaning he is in high demand by many. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhRVm5IHE4gwCtS9vjHZE4hLxPlAOZ1t7SfddTEJ3TdZcrw7ybrMx47XY-p64ux8QfMBEd9mNEI1abUJx4DmmWiUoCouXURLUz8-IMAxwXW2mhCUFwZsFvkjVDfClhLsfkIeE48YhSsDe/s1600/WP_000950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrhRVm5IHE4gwCtS9vjHZE4hLxPlAOZ1t7SfddTEJ3TdZcrw7ybrMx47XY-p64ux8QfMBEd9mNEI1abUJx4DmmWiUoCouXURLUz8-IMAxwXW2mhCUFwZsFvkjVDfClhLsfkIeE48YhSsDe/s320/WP_000950.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't notice this until I saw red paint inside the bottom bracket, handy oil port</td></tr>
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I’ve also discovered that the cranks, stem and seat post are all nickel plated, rather than chromed. This is quite an exciting discovery and has had me scouring the internet for more information on my lovely lady in an effort to put an age on her.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gold paint on the left, nickel ready for polishing on the right</td></tr>
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Believe or not, the internet does not know everything and I’ve been unable find anything on her. Today however, I caught a lucky break. I decided that after yesterday’s snow fall I should get out and enjoy the gorgeous sun and also get my bearings in preparation for a weekend of fettling. Once more I ventured into Cycle Trading and this time Keith had a treat for me. He’d found an old Empire catalogue and in it was my girl. She is the Empire Lady’s Sport. Probably dating from the early 50’s. Unfortunately she is bereft of her chain guard so I’ll have to keep an eye out for one. (Or if any of you dear readers have a spare chain guard for a 1950s women’s bike, I would be willing to buy it off you). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2pE0S0CvHUXEYm4vLcSvWb_FJ_ULzZL2GcautDZHeABarOsHNI-L5sxmDjeXJzfrgNqaCOLY313a2Ndp_Y12e3UN22dgzvwxGIF6Um6swijGxP4Ez2UrxgYORM7FLHBU2PdcGoaKf2NRw/s1600/IMG_7561.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2pE0S0CvHUXEYm4vLcSvWb_FJ_ULzZL2GcautDZHeABarOsHNI-L5sxmDjeXJzfrgNqaCOLY313a2Ndp_Y12e3UN22dgzvwxGIF6Um6swijGxP4Ez2UrxgYORM7FLHBU2PdcGoaKf2NRw/s320/IMG_7561.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I spent the rest of the afternoon cruising around on my Duchess, enjoying the sun and the stunning snowy scenery. My knee is still quite niggley since the operation and I'm not up to much more than pootling. Although I did finally manage to ride one of my mountain bikes yesterday, braving the snowy conditions to get to work, only to be sent home again. Unfortunately the snow had become more treacherous on my return journey and I managed to fall off. Ouch.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUb4eeNPwJ53HfpIG34WGLEY1Kt6D1c2hEcXRy0jSkkeJif5sKCtliPjMfnpizqjk7S_wZgucWSU0ZpzrCWW0w3MDmSy7244Z6mwAJZgWoxOmYq_-w5qhbw1k_PkAnKytaWm2jSQTAGOQI/s1600/IMG_7555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUb4eeNPwJ53HfpIG34WGLEY1Kt6D1c2hEcXRy0jSkkeJif5sKCtliPjMfnpizqjk7S_wZgucWSU0ZpzrCWW0w3MDmSy7244Z6mwAJZgWoxOmYq_-w5qhbw1k_PkAnKytaWm2jSQTAGOQI/s320/IMG_7555.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mandatory snowy tree shot</td></tr>
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Tomorrow I must remember to get myself some plastic wire wool to start polishing up my chain ring and cranks. I’ve stripped the gold paint (strange!) from the chain ring and now foresee many many hours of gentle polishing to bring the nickel up to a nice rust-free finish.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNESsUAdImeUNHDsxUFTAUF9BV5bpIkMkaxUWbtVgQGJhgwBwhmxQYhtjEUug04GSzZ93psiXm0S8uqC_Gkv7DANIh5X3KiXKDJlLf8yTQ-Yn3w5JcY6tbawBZYV7Jo1AfmevnKCxbG-2/s1600/Snow+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNESsUAdImeUNHDsxUFTAUF9BV5bpIkMkaxUWbtVgQGJhgwBwhmxQYhtjEUug04GSzZ93psiXm0S8uqC_Gkv7DANIh5X3KiXKDJlLf8yTQ-Yn3w5JcY6tbawBZYV7Jo1AfmevnKCxbG-2/s320/Snow+cat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Meanwhile Bastian has not been enjoying the snow and has had a bit of cabin fever as he has been pretty unwilling to get his dainty paws cold and wet. I’ve included, for your amusement, this action shot from last year’s snow when he decided it was fun to attack the snow. Hover cat – deploy!!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-273679007755027022012-06-02T18:26:00.000+12:002012-06-02T18:26:57.794+12:00Urban Gorilla Art and Innerspace Photography<div style="text-align: justify;">
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It seems that since I tidied the garage and hung up my mountain bikes I’ve only been riding my Duchess, with a brief interlude with my path racer. The Duchess is really the perfect vehicle for exploring the quake ravaged heart of Christchurch as little by little we can get further into the city. This shrinking of the cordon has inspired me to create an installation of pieces which reflect my frustration at the loss of the city to demolition companies and the army, and also make me feel a little bit more like I am taking my city back. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaYpK6vpiFYNc2bn_027TXeQak6fSMdqxeR909amP3L8hqB7xVlwjBNa4go7C3KoBL4v8J_br6MM1h38k7mJG4n0aNAbADXApK_yWDaouReLOPiGunzeIbCz4jNLYH4n3p8PuQLq5Yfv-/s1600/The+Kong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaYpK6vpiFYNc2bn_027TXeQak6fSMdqxeR909amP3L8hqB7xVlwjBNa4go7C3KoBL4v8J_br6MM1h38k7mJG4n0aNAbADXApK_yWDaouReLOPiGunzeIbCz4jNLYH4n3p8PuQLq5Yfv-/s320/The+Kong.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I spent a lovely 2 hours riding around the city setting up and photographing my tiny tableaus and have created a website – <span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://cbdexiles.blogspot.co.nz/" target="_blank">CBD Exiles</a></b></span> – to celebrate their existence. It’s been a couple of weeks now and many of them are still in situ. I’m interested to see how long they last as more and more people return to the city.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtsn5hT00BCKNeB3KTY9HpToAOe0v023fga79BiyUC52DLIcMxdrkhDn-_8tga8kc2tHt6k2DthDW3LDN8qH4WKNsLzWYQjlKp0XrbG9k0DhKg8LElT9LiIJQoPl-NZ1_pWyxWUYyhKb6/s1600/WP_000924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtsn5hT00BCKNeB3KTY9HpToAOe0v023fga79BiyUC52DLIcMxdrkhDn-_8tga8kc2tHt6k2DthDW3LDN8qH4WKNsLzWYQjlKp0XrbG9k0DhKg8LElT9LiIJQoPl-NZ1_pWyxWUYyhKb6/s320/WP_000924.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I’ve also been Tweeding again. An epic 20km tweed ride along the Heathcote River, with plenty of pubbery and a little crazy BMX tracking. Unfortunately no racing took place as the evil <a href="http://pogwardbicycleindustries.blogspot.co.nz/" target="_blank">Chumly Pogward</a> injured his delicate back. Ahhh well, it’s probably for the best.</div>
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And in the biggest news of the last couple of weeks I headed in for arthroscopic knee surgery last Thursday, to tidy up some long existing meniscal tears and floaty bits of cartilage. The operation went well, but resulted in a very disappointing prognosis for my knee. I went back to the surgeon yesterday for my follow up appointment and was informed that my knee is “Munted”. This is NOT a work you want to have associated with anything you care about, your city, bike, house, sewer system, but especially not with a part of your body.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtlEopeZn1Zq8O9I2kzxeuwVUjF_aOOEoWgy2xEF0uTg_-oYMb43glbPldIDNaSbqD_IBN8OZ2HjYR7JqzYJgFHd6BtYX1tZLw3G6TOYZRWpqTGCCC7dQTSBpCZg9qoP7V_jgnCtPjHLWp/s1600/IMG_7543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtlEopeZn1Zq8O9I2kzxeuwVUjF_aOOEoWgy2xEF0uTg_-oYMb43glbPldIDNaSbqD_IBN8OZ2HjYR7JqzYJgFHd6BtYX1tZLw3G6TOYZRWpqTGCCC7dQTSBpCZg9qoP7V_jgnCtPjHLWp/s320/IMG_7543.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Then the lovely Mr Penny told me that it may not be a problem for a long time due to the fact I’m not fat (his words – he is truly a lovely man) and because I ride my bikes lots. Unfortunately he then went on to explain the baffling photo’s I’d received after my surgery (the squeamish should look away now). While they look like pictures of faraway planets (or to the more filthy minded something else) they are interior views of my knee showing the damage removed and the damage that means my knee is basically a ticking time bomb of falling apartness.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigKbW4RMGUMgtofz0Cg7xiIKUlFjAyMdqIsYmLPBkCyfoee0KoSCdOQRzFcaJ7GPFqtk_bqrHxaPc3C2jQkiG350nkona1H6LThtB22R80S3wdEesndyXEs_Wnk6Xmg-EyraVfNnXZ-AoL/s1600/Knee4+Bad+floaties.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigKbW4RMGUMgtofz0Cg7xiIKUlFjAyMdqIsYmLPBkCyfoee0KoSCdOQRzFcaJ7GPFqtk_bqrHxaPc3C2jQkiG350nkona1H6LThtB22R80S3wdEesndyXEs_Wnk6Xmg-EyraVfNnXZ-AoL/s200/Knee4+Bad+floaties.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bad streaming trendils</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitn3ogVzVhPEky5z8jT-CvZkCrJIba16sl3bsS3MUavm-Lh7WtxL7lisaKDDR2SpoA7KX3QDNaG9eGEoh_N1t4BhM7xW9RYGSTdgMKkMpxlcNy3-hhoIYufHKJ_7qkUs5geBsP7skUwLCa/s1600/Knee3+big+tear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitn3ogVzVhPEky5z8jT-CvZkCrJIba16sl3bsS3MUavm-Lh7WtxL7lisaKDDR2SpoA7KX3QDNaG9eGEoh_N1t4BhM7xW9RYGSTdgMKkMpxlcNy3-hhoIYufHKJ_7qkUs5geBsP7skUwLCa/s200/Knee3+big+tear.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bad lump of meniscus that was causing my knee to lock</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIa16uZQdukq1Ijaa4cmONOAmIXRzyL9GAE8TN1bnK0vUB9_XjeHI9PjOrwo1HFuHfwuwOLJfiY8AiFglmaND72oQL62vPgrKt5G-uD3daMwm9s5qOmZjYdNqxNyP1A2egnLYSKsYB0c-R/s1600/Knee2+cartilage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIa16uZQdukq1Ijaa4cmONOAmIXRzyL9GAE8TN1bnK0vUB9_XjeHI9PjOrwo1HFuHfwuwOLJfiY8AiFglmaND72oQL62vPgrKt5G-uD3daMwm9s5qOmZjYdNqxNyP1A2egnLYSKsYB0c-R/s200/Knee2+cartilage.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very old cartilage tear causing some locking</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2G6Omp-I7XAq5oCFA9tR0RGri-2t00hOkKI9lzD7Jv_CWVkGgd2rvvf0cJmIS1FKQztn0j_aYiSUoX9ajVMgc6OS7a1w4tKS1wuTHgYADIoB5OOthljt0ivgXprRDEKpfC28JEwHBcDM/s1600/Knee1+floaty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2G6Omp-I7XAq5oCFA9tR0RGri-2t00hOkKI9lzD7Jv_CWVkGgd2rvvf0cJmIS1FKQztn0j_aYiSUoX9ajVMgc6OS7a1w4tKS1wuTHgYADIoB5OOthljt0ivgXprRDEKpfC28JEwHBcDM/s200/Knee1+floaty.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Random floating bits</td></tr>
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What it boils down to is the cartilage inside my knee is so damaged that in places it is non-existent and that’s bad. To be honest, I’m kinda meh about the whole prognosis, I’ve had trouble with my knee since I was 14 now, it’s just a normal part of my life so I’m not too concerned. I’ll just ride my bikes lots and lots, stay strong and fit, and hopefully get 15 years out of it before I need a whole new knee. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXmkNiWdj0i9MXhzygHHXRmWy-XIH2Et_YiLfpzX7B0pMXYX-0jntzIjneBRPQfywUHHzH_pE1fQ8jdcYWiQK3WskLbg3fQfW0cLgUr-DxThU8ZAmrzYBNh25IIG2_M-SxERZ5z3M1VSX/s1600/Knee5+scoring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXmkNiWdj0i9MXhzygHHXRmWy-XIH2Et_YiLfpzX7B0pMXYX-0jntzIjneBRPQfywUHHzH_pE1fQ8jdcYWiQK3WskLbg3fQfW0cLgUr-DxThU8ZAmrzYBNh25IIG2_M-SxERZ5z3M1VSX/s200/Knee5+scoring.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scoring in the cartilage</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCiQ4AH-QKqqVi9xRfCCE-oAoAlSjPGhsa-yQdn_KHJLv_JYikWJAstlJq3EXC5tchOtUg1t3JTNLnJ13PjbrEFgUhSytCWfj6i6D8C7noNZs4YCq4QiQ5xsJfAval5IUX9u0AK4784kd0/s1600/Knee+7+bone+on+bone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCiQ4AH-QKqqVi9xRfCCE-oAoAlSjPGhsa-yQdn_KHJLv_JYikWJAstlJq3EXC5tchOtUg1t3JTNLnJ13PjbrEFgUhSytCWfj6i6D8C7noNZs4YCq4QiQ5xsJfAval5IUX9u0AK4784kd0/s200/Knee+7+bone+on+bone.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The top right is just bare bone now - rather bad news</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2ptD3oCAZ8bHemCr67_JcciS0hP77kSdWOAR_C2htyDtz8WMjbk9soCWz5v1pT643Cgc7MR9F4uYZg4bC_kFTy_oV_3PALfA1EjowqeFdt0yZI0epiMy3o3w8mHJ0Wzd8nH97z22pOfk/s1600/Knee+6+ulcer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA2ptD3oCAZ8bHemCr67_JcciS0hP77kSdWOAR_C2htyDtz8WMjbk9soCWz5v1pT643Cgc7MR9F4uYZg4bC_kFTy_oV_3PALfA1EjowqeFdt0yZI0epiMy3o3w8mHJ0Wzd8nH97z22pOfk/s200/Knee+6+ulcer.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nasty ulcer in the cartilage</td></tr>
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Luckily with the help of the lovely Bastian I’ve healed up quickly from my surgery and am riding to work already.</div>
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I just need to get rid of this man-flu I currently have and I’ll be hitting the road and the trail again to build up for an epic ride on the Longest Day. In the meantime I’m going to start work on my lovely Empire for the Great Poms and Cassels Tweed Run in July. You should come along to it, it is going to be brilliant! </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-29573724404987947432012-05-14T22:36:00.000+12:002012-05-14T22:42:39.324+12:00The L’Esprit – Complete<br />
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Sometimes fettling with old bikes is not all bread and roses. Sometimes it’s bruised and skinned knuckles, stripped threads and damaged, hard to replace parts. The L’Esprit has been all of these things. On Thursday morning (day off work) I began what I hoped was the final assembly process, but at lunchtime was called into the office. Being a diligent employee I downed tools and headed in.</div>
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Once work was over things just didn’t go well with the reassembly process. The thread had stripped off the tiny screw that attached the derailleur to the frame and my tired brain also struggled to remember how to attach it once a replacement was stolen off an old brake. Then I couldn’t get the newly rebuilt rear hub to the correct degree of tightness and I had a tube explode while I was polishing up a rim. All in all I became a little irritable with the bike and went to bed.</div>
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Unfortunately Friday was not much better with a hideous day in the office leaving me rather grumpy and impatient. Chain dramas were enough to send me to bed for an early night, knowing I had to be up bright and early to work on Saturday.</div>
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The problem was, Saturday was D-day. I needed to have the bike finished as a Rowdy Tweed Ride was planned for the evening and I really wanted my hubby to accompany me on this. In the end I bit the bullet and replaced the chain, which made me happy as everything was looking shiny and I wasn’t overly excited about attaching the rusty old thing back on the now beautiful bike. </div>
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Built up it looked great and after a few tweaks and a couple of test rides and more tweaks it was ready for its night out. I felt so proud as my lovely hubby zoomed through Hagley Park, the bike looked great and so did he. I have only the Red Empire left to fettle, however I think I may leave her be for a while and perhaps tackle the creation of a Victorian Woman’s Cycling costume. You know, something a little less greasy. </div>
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No photos of my beloved Bastoolio this week, just lots of the L’Esprit. Enjoy. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWjcmJX6TG9qtym6BE9V8O2ph1j-nZ-3IoFaa7iTnQyp8qumMVFwuTA7X4rr-UkEEgDi9BTIn2nf95v5ny4U8S_RrULcEg5cEQy6YjLvKXFljgt9mDxNKz9rz-cMMqb_BdXXZHPF-tWqX/s1600/IMG_7348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIWjcmJX6TG9qtym6BE9V8O2ph1j-nZ-3IoFaa7iTnQyp8qumMVFwuTA7X4rr-UkEEgDi9BTIn2nf95v5ny4U8S_RrULcEg5cEQy6YjLvKXFljgt9mDxNKz9rz-cMMqb_BdXXZHPF-tWqX/s320/IMG_7348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just to remind my dear, tolerant readers of how it looked before...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKdrbiMhHXIxqs3mSttxoPa9Z2AnIkbF_vsf8bO-3AerFJm8uXWsvIFuDFYEsWtV97G6wkPnJppAvK80B_uPPlDX1Hd-sBdgKCAMt0rucRvT4E_XGpRHfPSKSdBGN70NlRBk0-Ssq_sVS/s1600/IMG_7389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsKdrbiMhHXIxqs3mSttxoPa9Z2AnIkbF_vsf8bO-3AerFJm8uXWsvIFuDFYEsWtV97G6wkPnJppAvK80B_uPPlDX1Hd-sBdgKCAMt0rucRvT4E_XGpRHfPSKSdBGN70NlRBk0-Ssq_sVS/s320/IMG_7389.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and now like new after</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXce39Ca_lPk_tMNbR7avBe_0M6FVQ07lnfjDckuhk6BHxu8UmBvhdwjzT4dGsYWIY8xaytD5U14_hZg05ZfNg7I1xw6nR1HJyLaTdqaLGJLMU3biEfgoklyMLTyKsfYxZFHDG7FI6GRW/s1600/IMG_7390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXce39Ca_lPk_tMNbR7avBe_0M6FVQ07lnfjDckuhk6BHxu8UmBvhdwjzT4dGsYWIY8xaytD5U14_hZg05ZfNg7I1xw6nR1HJyLaTdqaLGJLMU3biEfgoklyMLTyKsfYxZFHDG7FI6GRW/s320/IMG_7390.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drive train is running great</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDBam32t4iPGOu5GLokcUujmQQu97-PljvSofVh2Ku9Lqd86vCZ4I5Izh_lazeHbQzCfd8MV34w3l4n6S2VWKsITyD24RWrEj-5WyVnwPiq-E4DL0xjVLZ4I9XdWxztF1en6Gk5UvJpZA/s1600/IMG_7392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDBam32t4iPGOu5GLokcUujmQQu97-PljvSofVh2Ku9Lqd86vCZ4I5Izh_lazeHbQzCfd8MV34w3l4n6S2VWKsITyD24RWrEj-5WyVnwPiq-E4DL0xjVLZ4I9XdWxztF1en6Gk5UvJpZA/s320/IMG_7392.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blinging cable guides</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjareJyZY_H-AL7E_NZYqQVXsxKelgrndsDeGuhlQGSdin_fVj_jhUdEPxhPwyo7Odstf1tYMHtwpV1ESq_jpltk5PjSeFFBV503H0f4dkY9Z5K52cVu24Dxv9AkFTuaYit0Fp4NbHtdIsz/s1600/IMG_7393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjareJyZY_H-AL7E_NZYqQVXsxKelgrndsDeGuhlQGSdin_fVj_jhUdEPxhPwyo7Odstf1tYMHtwpV1ESq_jpltk5PjSeFFBV503H0f4dkY9Z5K52cVu24Dxv9AkFTuaYit0Fp4NbHtdIsz/s320/IMG_7393.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cloth bar tape and some spray and wipe applied to the hoods and the cockpit is looking fine</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGV0MTXNRtSR9z954SWG0-TPh0VSwYgjFLCEgct-RhTanbtmf3E01JIwU0AMb9dLuGy-IHKYkxAvYONVb8rqzoJfJEoXFM7APh8ijc5puH5ZAewJUAJu4SCh8gdJwpl2A63hykORV4k7Hh/s1600/IMG_7394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGV0MTXNRtSR9z954SWG0-TPh0VSwYgjFLCEgct-RhTanbtmf3E01JIwU0AMb9dLuGy-IHKYkxAvYONVb8rqzoJfJEoXFM7APh8ijc5puH5ZAewJUAJu4SCh8gdJwpl2A63hykORV4k7Hh/s320/IMG_7394.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqY3t0PGtoMDXZMxOqyz0EJlpYIGcXCQfcyBDTAbR9tHjdKXS-TwtiWgpsswVYQ5G1owwx23OGNesexKNo7eJPguRbv9toHUqUD4aZjFpq12A7Xvld_SbQ21gcYF_3OtrT2bKGxd3fA04l/s1600/IMG_7398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqY3t0PGtoMDXZMxOqyz0EJlpYIGcXCQfcyBDTAbR9tHjdKXS-TwtiWgpsswVYQ5G1owwx23OGNesexKNo7eJPguRbv9toHUqUD4aZjFpq12A7Xvld_SbQ21gcYF_3OtrT2bKGxd3fA04l/s320/IMG_7398.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hub stripped, cleaned, regreased and polished. Looking like new</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7Bn_avNh8Cjm_g6af4D8WReRkt_pthf9Jp4n2jV39zrFVRLtpxhAhjFwyeAPcIyPyYR735DDqZEL4fFJRO43b1_97EyANJ-fu1VxZUS1KE5YGxjoUqGjnrx47lSacyIPItabcUhAkcDJ/s1600/WP_000767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe7Bn_avNh8Cjm_g6af4D8WReRkt_pthf9Jp4n2jV39zrFVRLtpxhAhjFwyeAPcIyPyYR735DDqZEL4fFJRO43b1_97EyANJ-fu1VxZUS1KE5YGxjoUqGjnrx47lSacyIPItabcUhAkcDJ/s320/WP_000767.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mid Rowdiness at Smash Palace. Great fun was had by all</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-63943601425231411222012-05-08T22:51:00.000+12:002012-05-08T22:51:41.275+12:00Further down the Rabbit HoleWell the last week has mainly been spent cleaning and polishing. Polishing chain rings and cranks, cable guides, handle bars, and a seat post. Now it’s time to move onto the really grimey stuff, bearings, cups, axles, cassette, hubs and rims. I’ve realised I actually don’t love cleaning and polishing rims. It is a big messy job that often batters one’s knuckles into submission. In the meantime I’ve been procrastinating by taking a trip to Dunedin with my lovely friend Rachel and picking up my new acquisition from my lovely friend Celia. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1Fr2EtzW171Pduh8N_UPKDm73zdKuN40xJ6OXXkZeTlycMhbqovtSivIhIJ9SI05tF7IBMm37WH1QRIoYEMKIGuM3X5P1JFEdrsqe33ivgEHD4CAGMoOkJlkXERUBYQ_CrzlUGLhcPpx/s1600/IMG_7369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1Fr2EtzW171Pduh8N_UPKDm73zdKuN40xJ6OXXkZeTlycMhbqovtSivIhIJ9SI05tF7IBMm37WH1QRIoYEMKIGuM3X5P1JFEdrsqe33ivgEHD4CAGMoOkJlkXERUBYQ_CrzlUGLhcPpx/s320/IMG_7369.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I shall name her Emmeline</td></tr>
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The red Empire is even more stunning in real life than she was on the interwebs. Her narrow steeply upswept bars are jaunty and a little odd. Her fenders are shapely with chrome detailing and a built in rear light. Her carrier is like a freaking crocodile with the strength of its grip. And most surprisingly and endearingly she is still festooned with beautiful hand painted pin striping. Not bad for a girl who’s most likely in her 60’s.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBA2hlRpe09uM_vIVv-j2fO0DSmllO7fIEmZkkdCbozhCOpTaUJJdOrhUh5aTBqZiJhUISojpbm0eAj2b8LYU51o7cWBD2otATusMqGuwNwJjal89pIMEt-6mmhKHejWnJhAxPBEiqoXl/s1600/IMG_7367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBA2hlRpe09uM_vIVv-j2fO0DSmllO7fIEmZkkdCbozhCOpTaUJJdOrhUh5aTBqZiJhUISojpbm0eAj2b8LYU51o7cWBD2otATusMqGuwNwJjal89pIMEt-6mmhKHejWnJhAxPBEiqoXl/s320/IMG_7367.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72vTrFSu2Y7uDcZFhRyKvtizpe0aHFg_xXaJSK-EhT6BCklSLjczbr9kol0vUTjrGTATVSK506sZgxeu4k_zYujKpao6jTP9R29mp5_pbX_Cvs5EQYXq7h3ZDoRlNx06muEq9FSxdNLap/s1600/IMG_7368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72vTrFSu2Y7uDcZFhRyKvtizpe0aHFg_xXaJSK-EhT6BCklSLjczbr9kol0vUTjrGTATVSK506sZgxeu4k_zYujKpao6jTP9R29mp5_pbX_Cvs5EQYXq7h3ZDoRlNx06muEq9FSxdNLap/s320/IMG_7368.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having little in the way of electrical knowledge I suspect it is unlikely that I shall be able to get this working again</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDPg9EWvHUR6tgLR6QvpZLz4eoedb0NG2Ihs8-i9o2NcEa08PfKZMa0RGnTwUuFwidl3ZmVjaOVWX8txb6ylMLwAXaQ6jW0y8HAOBCrYHM_N8g3W7QwOaCOdO4er9IWhNyt010ZYfN9kM/s1600/IMG_7375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDPg9EWvHUR6tgLR6QvpZLz4eoedb0NG2Ihs8-i9o2NcEa08PfKZMa0RGnTwUuFwidl3ZmVjaOVWX8txb6ylMLwAXaQ6jW0y8HAOBCrYHM_N8g3W7QwOaCOdO4er9IWhNyt010ZYfN9kM/s320/IMG_7375.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The narrow, high bars make for an "interesting" ride</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBZuG-ipcnEMRxHHF4OGncXMQPWHzZJu9ybCoTAN_ZcIcjYj7WR9jSx-R0qYvlalSc5sznAXWVZsft2wM5iaEL6WhfA0gcVB8qwumlDdYRivnEpxPuy3CDRtcULavOx2SNLF_EWh1KJjv/s1600/IMG_7373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwBZuG-ipcnEMRxHHF4OGncXMQPWHzZJu9ybCoTAN_ZcIcjYj7WR9jSx-R0qYvlalSc5sznAXWVZsft2wM5iaEL6WhfA0gcVB8qwumlDdYRivnEpxPuy3CDRtcULavOx2SNLF_EWh1KJjv/s320/IMG_7373.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original pin striping is still clearly visible </td></tr>
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The discovery of the pin striping has led me to the realisation that she’ll be receiving a genteel restoration. The frame will be carefully polished, not stripped and repainted as planned. I rode her to work today and she runs beautifully, although it is going to take me a while to get used to riding with a coaster brake again. I’m itching to finish the L’Sprit so I can start work on the Empire and hopefully in the process put an age to her. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg52ucyTEl0ahEsv7PX5VG1KZbfAm42e-m5x1M2pHwK2mQSVYOZ6Y1wdfC4qIxNui74ZbgdZGOifwLpURO7pZetGGS4p3Wtq-oiJ-anfQtv8-5oKc-wbUED-cWGQMMeEMmPbTAO1DdB3c7_/s1600/216077561_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg52ucyTEl0ahEsv7PX5VG1KZbfAm42e-m5x1M2pHwK2mQSVYOZ6Y1wdfC4qIxNui74ZbgdZGOifwLpURO7pZetGGS4p3Wtq-oiJ-anfQtv8-5oKc-wbUED-cWGQMMeEMmPbTAO1DdB3c7_/s320/216077561_full.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the head tube badge on a mean's frame</td></tr>
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She’s lead me to become somewhat of a detective. She came without a headtube badge and my original thought was that it had been lost. However on closer examination I see that she probably never had one, given the clearly visible pin striping and lack of rivet holes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvabZlOU-kMJrwd0MlFjd-mizLy8kYJ1GDTAA_8awNJrW3xDOi5ZOTR7iFaguNBIDKuQYUV3rxGvlwO06m5iJyUxZX9uqcgL9M8bzOvdXca4R9hK4-9xhu-eyo6Cen8rB3DhH-cPM0udS/s1600/IMG_7365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvabZlOU-kMJrwd0MlFjd-mizLy8kYJ1GDTAA_8awNJrW3xDOi5ZOTR7iFaguNBIDKuQYUV3rxGvlwO06m5iJyUxZX9uqcgL9M8bzOvdXca4R9hK4-9xhu-eyo6Cen8rB3DhH-cPM0udS/s320/IMG_7365.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can see Em has no rivet holes, but plenty of pin striping</td></tr>
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In my search to discover her age I’ve found she was made in Wellington at the Summit Cycle factory run by Hope Gibbons. A chat to the amazing Keith Guthrie at Cycle Trading turned up some gems of knowledge, mainly that Empires were produced from about 1930 to 1950, predominantly ladies’ and gentlemen’s cruiser style bikes, but with a few high quality racing bike models. I have various sources out looking for more information on the brand for me, but I suspect any further tid-bits will just be a repeat of what I learned from Keith.<br />
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The journey of the red Empire back to Christchurch was a lovely one with an extremely pleasant stop in Oamaru to investigate the historic precinct, which I hadn’t previously visited. Needless to say I highly recommend anyone with a vintage or steampunk fascination make a point of stopping, especially if you are passing through on the weekend. It is really magical.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU1XRQOA-0vSPsV8UvzBUk7iL9cGZoFKt5I8ab9VCSLuKzAf5Ve2-BtY-_Dr1d46UtcRphMQUy-uKzKgs8EIJGvEXVQDx75hWfSxmBoMtOclePu9XEfHB0CLuoEgkZVyj-GU00594q3Zqz/s1600/PANO_20120507_125554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU1XRQOA-0vSPsV8UvzBUk7iL9cGZoFKt5I8ab9VCSLuKzAf5Ve2-BtY-_Dr1d46UtcRphMQUy-uKzKgs8EIJGvEXVQDx75hWfSxmBoMtOclePu9XEfHB0CLuoEgkZVyj-GU00594q3Zqz/s640/PANO_20120507_125554.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moeraki boulders on a stunning day</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This awesome skull is actually the viewing mechanism for a kaleidoscopic moving picture display </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">40 times !?! I must have one. Oh, wait...</td></tr>
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In actual bike riding news I have actually been out riding, but not a lot. I’ve been taking the path racer out on “training” rides over the Cashmere Pyrenees. Knee shattering good fun. I’ve been cajoled into a bit of a race and at this stage I struggle to push the big gear up the little bumps, let alone sprint along. I suspect the race is going to be a fiasco, but great fun.<br />
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And, of course, here is my lovely Stoon deciding the not only am I a great and warm cushion, but also that the camera strap is just the right sort of toy for a lazy, happy cat.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-26489540486259536662012-04-30T22:23:00.003+12:002012-04-30T22:45:29.325+12:00The Path Racer rides; and more grease under the finger nails.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last week I put the finishing touches on the path racer. You know, mere aesthetic details like working brakes, repainted lugs and a head tube badge. A big thanks to Dave and Aaron at <span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://velo-ideale.com/" target="_blank">Velo Ideale</a></b></span> for fettling my brakes in submission so that they actually work now.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She looks right at home in the forest</td></tr>
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Today was a momentous day. After a few frankly vigorous rides to work, she’s got a big gear on her my lovely lady, I took her out to where she belongs, the dirt paths of McLeans Island for a blat. To be honest I was slightly concerned that my knees would explode riding up the stop banks but all went well and it was actually my wrists which gave me the most gip. I will be tweaking my cockpit for a better level of bar and perhaps discussing with Bob further shimming options.</div>
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Anyway, being a lovely day I took a few shots to showcase Jimmima’s beauty in the setting sun. I couldn’t quite believe how well she handled and she railed the berms out there like none of my other bikes. I think she shall become my official McLean’s bike.<br />
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In other news my new found obsession with fettling continues and I have started work on my hubby’s bike from his school days. It is a large framed L'Espirit ten speed, which had unfortunately been covered in hideous Yak stickers. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is a front wheel, it's just in the shed.</td></tr>
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Despite these glaring horrors I was able to see that under the years of grime and dust there is a rather lovely old bike waiting to come out. </div>
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Progress has been good so far. Working with just one bike rather than bits from one and a frame from another, is much easier. The bike has been fully stripped of all parts and the laborious cleaning and polishing process has begun. I find it so satisfying to take a dirty rusty piece of bicycle and transform it into a sparkling piece of bling.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely detailed little tab off the gear change levers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old, crusty Suntour rear derailleur </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shiny bling one</td></tr>
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I suspect I’ll have this boy ready to ride by the end of the week. Then I’ll just have to persuade my lovely man to join me on a Tweed Ride (the next one being Sunday the 13th of May which I highly recommend all Quake dwellers with steel framed bikes and a penchant for dressing up all fancy like, join us for – see the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/269995986376200/" target="_blank">Stalkbook group</a>).</div>
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Finally both Bastian and I have been enjoying the glorious autumnal weather. I’ve been exploring the fringes of the red zone and have discovered that the central city is being reclaimed by nature and it is lovely. <br />
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I’m not sure where Bastian has been exploring, but wherever it is there are a lot of grasshoppers there as he’s been bringing us at least one or two grasshoppers every night for the past few nights. Mostly they survive and are released but I suspect when we move the furniture around next there will be a number of little green surprises waiting for us. Bless him.<br />
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PS - I have purposely included an error in this blog somewhere, the first person to guess right will receive a much coveted "I want to ride my bike" sticker made by the lovely Mel at <a href="http://www.blackswandesigns.co.nz/" target="_blank">Black Swan Designs</a>. If they want it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-62175039837452922672012-04-22T22:30:00.000+12:002012-04-22T22:30:23.212+12:00The Path Racer is Born<div style="text-align: justify;">
After last weekend’s exertions I suffered rather badly from the sleeping sickness last week, with most 24 hour periods having 15 hours of sleep in them. This makes for very short days and it is very lucky I work flexible hours and have an understanding husband and boss. In my waking hours I spent a lot of my time scrubbing rust of old bike parts, but I did manage today to get out for a lovely ride at McLeans Island with an awesome group of girls. </div>
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The time spent scrubbing was well worth it. Almost all the parts I stripped off in the “Born fettler” post have the majority of their rust removed and a shiny finish buffed up.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkCcnstg1O1TVVJBKhivrjCeu1th1CNw5at7U8PY_1nfa0oGSEYxcOmBMqqHei5Ughdm9ActQfOLIJtV-05IXcWWJd4Sk0_lmy6AqMS_IQgpXEOf8B4EwYm1-U1X4A7xltj-VZ0cnqETF/s1600/IMG_7319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkCcnstg1O1TVVJBKhivrjCeu1th1CNw5at7U8PY_1nfa0oGSEYxcOmBMqqHei5Ughdm9ActQfOLIJtV-05IXcWWJd4Sk0_lmy6AqMS_IQgpXEOf8B4EwYm1-U1X4A7xltj-VZ0cnqETF/s320/IMG_7319.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Christchurch term for this bearing face is munted. Luckily the wonderful Bob was able to supply me with a replacement part</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The brake levers came up well</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rather proud of disassembling the pedals and removing the rust</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The faux Raleigh chain ring came up very well</td></tr>
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I got rather bored of polishing the fully laced rims and only did the back wheel. In the loooong process of cleaning up the back wheel I discovered the inner tube was now bonded eternally with the cotton rim tape and the rim itself. I scrubbed as much rust out of the inside of the rims as possible and then got some heavy duty plastic rim tape applied and now things are looking happier. The rims exteriors came up wonderfully shiny so I was happy with that. Yay coke!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cleaned up rear hub, luckily all the bearing faces here were in good shape</td></tr>
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Then today came the big exciting day. The visit to Bob’s legendary shed to build it up. It was just as I dreamed. An Aladdin’s Cave of wonderful tools and beautiful bikes. I feel deeply privileged to not only have visited Bob in his natural environment, but to have his extensive knowledge and generous nature to help me build up my path racer. Not only did he assembly the beast for me, he provided parts, refaced the bottom bracket and cleaned up the treads on the frame. Legend. I cannot say enough good things about Bob and I won’t go on much more lest he blush.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLxCv2wZVJiDuhunW3rvY34yfNJ2sKty7WmIRODJH9pFvNe7MhaDuH8uRBw99XAD1Yvzt4PNIf7uDxB5w_ymQ7eQt47GnbN5OO_hSC7bsCTP6fKbHVCxjNN5CL_iL8uQkWKUD6r6003sM/s1600/IMG_7331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLxCv2wZVJiDuhunW3rvY34yfNJ2sKty7WmIRODJH9pFvNe7MhaDuH8uRBw99XAD1Yvzt4PNIf7uDxB5w_ymQ7eQt47GnbN5OO_hSC7bsCTP6fKbHVCxjNN5CL_iL8uQkWKUD6r6003sM/s320/IMG_7331.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entrance to the "magic cupboard" where Bob is build his amazing bike from scratch</td></tr>
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After a number of exciting and brilliantly informative hours I was wheeling my brakeless stead from the magic shed of wonderment with the biggest grin on my face. She is a beauty and after a brief ride up the street I discovered she rides wonderfully and smoothly. All that degreasing of hubs was worth it. Tonight I spent a certain amount of time attaching a front brake to it so I can ride it to work tomorrow.<br />
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Jobs left to be done. Get a correct diameter seat post. Get correct inner tubes. Remove hideously pink decals. Attach polished up brass head tube badge from the Mayam. Reattach the other grip and attach the back brake. Finally, and if I have the funds for it, replace the seat with something a little more fitting. Perhaps this.<br />
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And finally tonight I give you Bastian doing his best Superman impression in his sleep and at the same time inflicting that common disease cat paralysis on my beloved and patient husband.<br />
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I say patient because in addition to this beautiful path racer I managed to purchase a rather lovely old Empire cycle on tardme on Friday. It’s staying in Dunedin till I can get down there, which is a good thing for our marriage.<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-83588066107376155962012-04-16T20:46:00.000+12:002012-04-16T21:32:50.898+12:00A Weekend of Two Halves<div style="text-align: justify;">
Despite my recent all-consuming preoccupation with old bikes I actually managed to do a race at the weekend! Even better it was a team race and my lovely hubby joined me on the team. We were entered as a team of 4 in the Krank 8hr race at Hanmer Springs with the effervescent Anna Ross and newbie to racing Greer Swinard. It was a horribly early start as we decided to go up the day of the race which meant a pre- 6am wake up call. Bastian provided us a distinctly unwelcome one just before 5am and I couldn’t get back to sleep after that. Bloody cat!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monster alarm clock enjoys fresh washing</td></tr>
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The drive to Hanmer was uneventful and the setting up and registered chaotic as I thought the race started at 9:30, but it started at 9. Lining up on the start line I was feeling flat as a pancake so when the gun went I was very glad to have Michelle to ride with and push me to go a little bit faster on the first deceptive climb. I’d taken the 9er with me for this race and as soon as we got into the singletrack I realised this was a mistake. I couldn’t corner to save my life and wasn’t carrying speed which meant I was on the brakes and working harder than I should have been after most corners. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSmdypi2AF9Mqcb20gxN1eZYM81DqhY2tzuNbnP8QgJHac-fxXWvix-P0AvgXuZg1zLjclHpSSW9epLrKF69GvfRjIjdi3XAG_4A8_B460Vhtn0itS2ktqHpdlgTn6XTWk95MPideziO7/s1600/8hr+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSmdypi2AF9Mqcb20gxN1eZYM81DqhY2tzuNbnP8QgJHac-fxXWvix-P0AvgXuZg1zLjclHpSSW9epLrKF69GvfRjIjdi3XAG_4A8_B460Vhtn0itS2ktqHpdlgTn6XTWk95MPideziO7/s320/8hr+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sooooo glad the first lap is over</td></tr>
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There was then a rather unfortunate organisational breakdown with no marshal being stationed at the most ambiguous corner of the start loop, which was meant longer than all the other laps. Luckily a local directed Michelle and myself back onto the right track and soon we were all alone in the autumnal forest as half the field had gone the wrong way. I had more troubles with the big hoops in here and found it to be a slog. Then we were finally under the bridge and the climbing began in earnest. Up the biggest climb of the day I was impressed I managed to ride all the way to the top, but blasting down the other side I just couldn’t trust the cornering and was much slower than I would have liked. A gentle (read slog) climb back up Dog Stream and then onto Mach 1 which was a mixture of climb and descent, then another longish fireroad climb and back to the camp. The lap seemed to go on forever and I was an extremely grumpy and underfed bunnie after an hour 16mins of riding.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greer coming in after her first ever lap in a race! Great work</td></tr>
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Luckily I had 3 hours to recover and by my second lap felt surprisingly better, plus much shorter than the first monster long one. Bike control was a little better, but I missed my Anthem still, especially since Anna had her shiny new one with her.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michelle being epic again</td></tr>
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Despite the course being in the opposite direction to the way I like it was still a fun day out and was great hanging out with my awesome teammates and heckling/cheering for people.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiex3lph9Jnm9fjwPPU5YJVSDImuROQpvzbh5UsDOH_FTku3pdSI11BqsUUpbYsblxiU5g1jBYdr0xtkVeRWm241cdI3rYDjXnFvvQwGX8q2Xy7_nP_18ydazRYoc992r2UhvcUqdtpdAOT/s1600/8hr+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiex3lph9Jnm9fjwPPU5YJVSDImuROQpvzbh5UsDOH_FTku3pdSI11BqsUUpbYsblxiU5g1jBYdr0xtkVeRWm241cdI3rYDjXnFvvQwGX8q2Xy7_nP_18ydazRYoc992r2UhvcUqdtpdAOT/s320/8hr+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anna and Pete enjoying the comforts of our pit site between laps</td></tr>
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For a recovery ride I was lucky enough to have a tweed ride to go to the next day. This one was to convene in Sumner, so I gave myself plenty of time to ride there. Along the way I met up with the divine Lady Andrea and her husband Kevin and we braved the causeway in a fierce headwind together. Andrea was riding a lovely old bike from 1914 and did an amazing job powering into the wind while I made use of my gears to spin along. Unfortunately a fit of optimism had seen me strap a pentenque set to my rack and with every bump the heavy metal balls would crash about making not only an awful racket, but making the bike feel quite unstable. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoiF4OD9rn9CICtnYUS-puWiOlk-0AOPxibdkPMD_FA9GNlcxRIgorBG3OtmsZSbPUzftSXXV3HTYsu64xqoZ14pVGNpxWtcMo5ekyZYkfsCO2IKBBbZz1aPIkllAFrmtm1BDlBMnXc_-9/s1600/April+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoiF4OD9rn9CICtnYUS-puWiOlk-0AOPxibdkPMD_FA9GNlcxRIgorBG3OtmsZSbPUzftSXXV3HTYsu64xqoZ14pVGNpxWtcMo5ekyZYkfsCO2IKBBbZz1aPIkllAFrmtm1BDlBMnXc_-9/s320/April+9.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and Lady Andrea looking very spiffing</td></tr>
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Luckily we made it to the carpark in Sumner in once piece and joined the rest of our finely dressed compatriots with their array of lovely bicycles. Cruising pleasantly along the esplanade we drew many an admiring glance and at the end a challenge was laid down about riding up the Taylor’s Mistake hill. I was initially apprehensive, having smashed myself the previous day and frankly struggled in the headwind on the causeway. Plus having about 10kgs of metal balls strapped to the arse end of my bike didn’t make the idea a pleasing prospect. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyciEXPzZfhMHBl0VV6XM9niVOtmdxmHYRo3N4CwlHzyJhAPAaQTrucnQ1PbxCccrF5BsFnMaxx8_6JIAZgyiom8oRCTWE8WAhqGFcBVVfW7HxElQkvhJVMDpK2aYb_k7yFpqq3oZg-Bj/s1600/April+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyciEXPzZfhMHBl0VV6XM9niVOtmdxmHYRo3N4CwlHzyJhAPAaQTrucnQ1PbxCccrF5BsFnMaxx8_6JIAZgyiom8oRCTWE8WAhqGFcBVVfW7HxElQkvhJVMDpK2aYb_k7yFpqq3oZg-Bj/s320/April+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half the group.....</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKBrkRIV5wWFaBh15QiBgBujWU0sAwc84TDYH64z7eVexh7MuhFzwWpn9Mb0TTkH7Y9LjKMYLocJY04CGMteWhto0RlR75GhqF8s8m3Sg51jxLS_cm4lBegmiYXknn3O58cDfshQc_SuU/s1600/April+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKBrkRIV5wWFaBh15QiBgBujWU0sAwc84TDYH64z7eVexh7MuhFzwWpn9Mb0TTkH7Y9LjKMYLocJY04CGMteWhto0RlR75GhqF8s8m3Sg51jxLS_cm4lBegmiYXknn3O58cDfshQc_SuU/s320/April+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">.....and the other half</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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After making excuses about tiredness, high heels and weight on the back of the bike I was provoked into a duel. It would have been a fairly uneven match without the heels and the petenque set on my bike as I have the luxury of 3 modern gears, whereas Chumly had only his strength and the size of his chainring to power him up the hill. He took off like a bat out of hell, lithely bunny hopping off the curb and streaking up the hill. I had to find a driveway to go down so didn’t manage to get a sprint on at all. Halfway to the first bend and my legs were demanding I drop a gear and suddenly life was much better. I found Chumly doing the chivalrous thing and waiting for me at the head of the corner, but I continued onwards for this was a race of endurance. Halfway to the next corner I decided I had made my point and hurtled back down the hill. It was awesome fun. I’m almost tempted to take the Duchess to Halswell and see how far I can get up Kennedy’s Bush Rd on it!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqgujb_EqJqkABX-L4rrPjPltl0ONaaniVsx9QnVZdIH4p-oFYjnS5mE5AKEEV1E3JZn9DVlCNu7b0tHxtyiaPqJB0opcUzS-yV_7XYY99iY2ppKyNkqlCtKVt5XikP59rCR4RtfihdXhE/s1600/April+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqgujb_EqJqkABX-L4rrPjPltl0ONaaniVsx9QnVZdIH4p-oFYjnS5mE5AKEEV1E3JZn9DVlCNu7b0tHxtyiaPqJB0opcUzS-yV_7XYY99iY2ppKyNkqlCtKVt5XikP59rCR4RtfihdXhE/s320/April+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victory was mine!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtF4x6t2YOzf9YJ_GEuJovYSHqixHGMwlQ2iZVVBb7dqkw-4KBct27UnBvJuUVZ_b8UAQFi8AhgjXoMh_9GqIpZcJbWt9dRduVKxanOYLabGqlipXfJN1cFiXLRGtHr9cdZB5cpJfjbV8c/s1600/April+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtF4x6t2YOzf9YJ_GEuJovYSHqixHGMwlQ2iZVVBb7dqkw-4KBct27UnBvJuUVZ_b8UAQFi8AhgjXoMh_9GqIpZcJbWt9dRduVKxanOYLabGqlipXfJN1cFiXLRGtHr9cdZB5cpJfjbV8c/s320/April+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More riders venture forth encouraged by Chumley and my sterling efforts. Note Chumley's excellent cornering form in the background</td></tr>
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We then toured around the back streets and containers of Sumner for a while before settling in at the Thirsty Mariner for well-earned drinks and a staggering and sometimes unidentifiable array of deep fried snacks. There a plan (ill-fated for me as it turns out) was hatched to head to the Brewery. Andrea, Kevin and I headed off with a now gentle (soooo typical) tailwind speeding us across the causeway, while the others drove down to Ferry Rd to park up and join us by cycle for the rest of the ride.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxOYkkTPODNGxF2MbvtBDJIxMDChTK76APvtZAFVqaAAX3MxPxfUnhaey0IIN_UOqNddy_hyphenhyphen6CbFDIR04qLPFUo4D8Bb37GciWYBY_yU6L4g01h5s1cWfl9_7Khjxnd7dFUYQsfwT7a-b/s1600/April+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxOYkkTPODNGxF2MbvtBDJIxMDChTK76APvtZAFVqaAAX3MxPxfUnhaey0IIN_UOqNddy_hyphenhyphen6CbFDIR04qLPFUo4D8Bb37GciWYBY_yU6L4g01h5s1cWfl9_7Khjxnd7dFUYQsfwT7a-b/s320/April+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful delivery bike</td></tr>
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In no time at all we were enjoying the live music, fine beverages and witty banter at the Brewery. However dark clouds of impending doom (well deep embarrassment) were fast forming on my horizon. As we were leaving to partake of the path beside the Heathcote I came a cropper due to a combination of a sudden stop, a weighty rear end (of my bicycle) and my stylish high heels. I found myself sprawled on the ground, one shoe arching gracefully over my head and the contents of my basket strewn about me. It was incredibly mortifying. I still feel a bit sick about it today. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6Ls4nzJ2UC-KWFE0kEk3Dg0XL01LSGuygMcKYFTQqpLU7K6jNg4I28BDiJwlpb4Fzn6mW77qGsMXfk1edVwCMivXtv1kkMmu7Zo0JNYwTRl7XYwWOs2Qi-6OSP-kaC5rzfVXKJ1ReId5/s1600/April+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6Ls4nzJ2UC-KWFE0kEk3Dg0XL01LSGuygMcKYFTQqpLU7K6jNg4I28BDiJwlpb4Fzn6mW77qGsMXfk1edVwCMivXtv1kkMmu7Zo0JNYwTRl7XYwWOs2Qi-6OSP-kaC5rzfVXKJ1ReId5/s320/April+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pipe smoking is a very serious Tweed past time</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I gathered my things and the tatters of my dignity and off we set along the Heathcote. This bit was brilliant and very challenging with gapping cracks everywhere and tight turns to catch out the unwary or those with a limited turning circle. After much hilarity we were back at the others’ cars and I was, for the third time, heading along Ferry Rd, this time with home in my sights. It was a truly marvellous day out and I can’t wait for the next one. In the meantime I have plenty of rusty bike parts to polish and hopefully a visit to Bob’s mythical shed to look forward to.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6lQs7pagkIf3UW71C7qN77rBteswGiAGMLYAK5n0upe3ydaIQIHHBkRYz_MQRADevRvay5Kt9baB9sNi6EoLE4w8Fu4U4WpO8sD1SFCrp3ibmU8qdlU0gdhPj3omwctJm9iKPmVTV1MN-/s1600/April+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6lQs7pagkIf3UW71C7qN77rBteswGiAGMLYAK5n0upe3ydaIQIHHBkRYz_MQRADevRvay5Kt9baB9sNi6EoLE4w8Fu4U4WpO8sD1SFCrp3ibmU8qdlU0gdhPj3omwctJm9iKPmVTV1MN-/s320/April+10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The joy of the Tweed Ride clearly evident</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-53151665104459778082012-04-13T22:25:00.000+12:002012-04-13T22:25:41.760+12:00I’m a born fettler<div style="text-align: justify;">
Something has stirred within me. It has been slowly awakening over the weeks and months as I’ve watched the progress of the Geared Facile. Something that has always been in me. And then I joined a Tweed Riding group and the monster that has lain dormant since I owned a 1975 Facelift Capri has awakened. The urge to tinker, to fettle, to play with bits of machinery and get grease under my nails. <br />
So I’ve got myself a little project, I’ve been donated a small old roadie frame from, and I quote, “an Adonis of Tweed” and I bought a Japanese copy of an old Raleigh off tardme for donor parts. Both have been sitting in the garage for weeks, whispering their siren song to me every time I go in there. And finally last night the magic began. </div>
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The slow, incredibly fun process of stripping the old Jap of its parts. I had so much fun with my spanners, screw drivers and socket wrenches. Coaxing each rusty nut from its equally rusty bolt. Removing the old horn, the brake levers, the calipers and then moving on bravely to the cranks. I used the official Bob approved method of removing the non-drive side cotter pin: a socket and an F clamp (although a G clamp would have been preferable I did not have one of those available). Unfortunately my current state of feeble strength was not enough to free the beastie, but with the mighty arms of my husband we had the bugger out in a jiffy.</div>
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The drive side crank turned out to be an entirely different matter and with the light fading we decided to leave the bugger clamped tight under pressure overnight and I would take it to the maestro himself on the morrow. I felt I had achieved a lot in my 2 hours of fettling and spent the remainder of my evening polishing my horn (oooo missus!).</div>
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Today, after a trip to Mitre 10 and Repco for various stripping and polishing things I called into the office where the still lightly scarred Bob employed his G-Clamp on my resistant cotter pin. But to no avail. The little bugger would not budge. Bob now informed me there was nothing for it but to bash it stoutly with a hammer, while employing a steel rule as a guide to the hammer. Back at home I was quick to try this out and with three resounding whacks the cotter pin was out and not too badly damaged in the process.</div>
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My next task was to remove one of the grips so I could free the bars from the stem. A bucket of boiling water was employed as I fiddled about with the headset and forks. They are beyond salvage, but fortunately young Bob says he can “hook a burva up”* with a headset. After a decent amount of soaking the grip was worked off and the bars were free! I was very happy not to damage the grip in the process they are rather nice and in good nick.</div>
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Now the only task left to me was to remove the axle. I had no idea how to do it, but the lovely lads on Vorb provided awesome advice and before you could say “My, what a big wrench you have!” my hands were covered in ancient, disgusting grease and the axle and bearing cups were free. I also discovered why the axle felt so grindy, it’s missing 3 bearing in the drive side cup.</div>
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Now I have all my parts off the donor and the fun of rust removal and polishing has begun. I’ve started with the worst affected part, the bars. To be honest I thought these were a right off, but am pretty impressed with how well they’ve come up so far. Unfortunately my hands are much worse for wear. While long fingernails may be great and convenient for removing hardened grease, hardened grease seems to be impossible to remove from under fingernails. And my fingers are now tinged a “lovely” rust colour, as if I’m a French hobo in my late 60’s with a 3 pack a day smoking habit. There’s only one thing for it. I’ll have to get some swarfega! Yay.</div>
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And this evening I give you Bastian doing the “I’ll get you strange black thing behind me!” dance. He’s soooo silly. </div>
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*I believe Bob has never said the words “Hook a bruva up”, that is just my interpretation. <br />
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-22135088810716740682012-04-10T20:45:00.000+12:002012-04-10T20:48:55.262+12:006hr Super D Enduro - an old woman in a young man's game<br />
I didn’t quite get round to writing up my last day of my Vegas adventure before heading down south for my next adventure. Brief synopsis, the tracks were dry, I was tired, Corners had a punga stump that tried to cause my death by impalement on a fallen tree, B Rude Not 2 was awesome and so was Mad if you Don’t. All in all Rotorua was brilliant and just the break we needed from Christchurch.<br />
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And after a brief trip home to snuggle the cat and wash a vast array of stinky mountain bike clothes it was into the car with me and down to Queenstown in the company of legendary hard man and epic ride enthusiast <a href="http://mountainpedalernz.blogspot.co.nz/" target="_blank">Oliver Whalley</a>. The trip down to Q’town flew by as we discovered that we both liked to sing the guitar riffs of songs. Entering Q’town we got our boy racer trousers on and got the bass pumping and the windows down. I got in touch will my inner teenager by hanging out with someone over ten years younger than me.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Caleb Smith: Ollie flying into second place</td></tr>
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After dumping Ollie and installing myself in my dorm room at Pinewood it was straight down to Ferg Burger with my lovely Pinewood companions for a feed before a rather early night. Driving for 5.5hours is knackering. Luckily I had very considerate dorm mates and slept well, sneaking out in the early dawn hours for breakfast at Ferg Bakery, and preparing my gear for the day. A quick pedal through the school and we were soon setting up our site in a primo position and registering. I caught up with a lot of people I hadn’t seen in a while, which was great, but I also started to feel quite sick with nerves.</div>
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After talking to a number of people I got the feeling I had really bitten off more than I could chew and when I discovered we were starting in numerical order and I was number 22 it’s safe to say I was freaking out a bit. I chatted nervously with the guy I shared the gondola ride to the top with and then we were off. My plan was for a conservative, stay alive approach to the race, however adrenalin got the best of me and after about 2 minutes of riding I was coming in too fast to a steep rooty corner and heading straight over the bars onto my head. In front of a marshall. Which I suppose was a good thing, but was very embarrassing and I raced to reassure him I was alright and to clear the track. I let a number of riders pass and got back on my stead and immediately noticed that my helmet kept dropping over my eyes. Not good. In fact so not good that very soon after I was on my head again and beginning to think that this was the end of my race. </div>
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At this stage I was pretty sure I had a leeeeetttle concussion as I had a big wiggly blind line in my left eye and I was positive my helmet had seen better days. Not to mention a headache. I continued down the hill, the words of <a href="http://geared-facile.blogspot.co.nz/" target="_blank">my colleague Bob</a> warning me that I was going to axe myself in this race, floating around my head. (Turns out he’s one to talk, below is a photo of him following Le Race when adrenalin got the better of him in the final corner. He’s a much harder man than I, but he’ll never admit it, and still finished the race looking like a cross between a mugging victim and a mummy).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh Bob, why did you jinx yourself by worrying about my skills so much?</td></tr>
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Into the first climb and I decided if I was still have vision problems or if my headache was worse than the slightly dull ache it was at that point when I got to the bottom I’d pull the pin. This thought made me feel sick and very disappointed in myself for being such a muppet. As people streamed past on the climb that seemed to go on forever I had time to adjust my helmet ensuring I could at least see better on the next downhill bits. The nice singletrack climb (yes I did think it was nice at this stage of the race) dropped into Hammy’s with a rather nasty tight rooty and hastily cut steep corner that I wasn’t alone in not being able to ride.</div>
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I eased down Hammy’s and into the weird messy little bit above Singletrack Sandwich then it was back into Hammy’s before a nasty poorly formed switch back climb which almost everyone was running or pushing. From there it was a nice drop into lower Singletrack Sandwich and out to a steep pinch up to a slow grassy section of corners that I just couldn’t find flow on. From there it was all pretty much downhill and by the bottom I knew I was going to keep going. </div>
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I had a brief stop at the pits to get the super amazing Jo to fix my bike as the front gear cable had become dislodged in one of my crashes and I was stuck in the little ring. While she did that I removed my visor from my helmet and got it fitting right again. Yes it did have a crack in it and yes, I probably should have stopped riding once I discovered that, but I just couldn’t face only having one lap next to my name.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spot the crack</td></tr>
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Up the gondola again and this time I had great flow on the track, no crashes or near misses, the climbing wasn’t too bad and I was grinning again. I really enjoyed that second lap. Another short stop at the bottom to let Jo know I was ok and then back up again. Now I was really loving the steep sections in Thingamajig and couldn’t work out how I’d managed to crash so spectacularly. The climbs however were taking their toll. And pain I had felt from the crashes was completely obliterated by the screaming of my legs on the climb and I knew I needed to stop after this lap and eat something substantial. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Caleb Smith - once more making me look like a talented rider rather than a concussed muppet</td></tr>
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At the bottom I eased into a chair and hoed into an astoundingly good ham and cheese croissant and gulped some V. Then some sour snakes for dessert and I was off again. I was still loving the downhill stuff, but the uphill was really hurting and some of the freshly cut transitions from one track to another were becoming quite scary. I used a tree to brake once to stop from going over a bank after I corner I’d ridden easily earlier had started to blow out and I couldn’t find traction. </div>
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There was more walking on the uphill singletrack section, under the guise of being polite and letting the fast riders past, and I also took the opportunity to stop and help a young grom who was experiencing cramp for the first time and was rather distressed. After helping him stretch a bit I gave him a handful of snakes and was on my way again. On the way down the blown out stuff was getting more blown out and I was getting more fatigued. I looked at the time and realised that I could fit a couple more laps in, even if I had ten minute breaks in the pits to recharge.</div>
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At the bottom I settled back in my chair and started on my second ham and cheese croissant. As I sat talking to Jo and my other friends coming in for food my stomach began to get tight. As the others headed off for more laps I sat thinking about the near misses I’d had in the last lap, and weigh them against the fun I was having getting air in places I’d been too scared to earlier. If I’d gotten up and ridden to the gondola just then things might have been different, but I sat a little longer and the fear took firm hold of me. </div>
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I was riding with a cracked helmet. I was very very tired. I ached all over. I had pretty decent headache. These thoughts wound through my brain and I decided that was it. 4 laps was enough. I walked back through the timing tent and turned my transponder in. </div>
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The rest of the afternoon was awesome, just hanging out, talking to cool peeps, cheering my amazing friend Michelle who was also soloing it and was just a machine. I dished out snakes to people in need and cheered for skids. It was great.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Caleb Smith - Michelle showing her awesome steez and just generally blowing my mind</td></tr>
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Later that evening I stood on the step of a podium for the first, and probably only time in my life. I’d got third in the hotly contested Veteran Woman’s solo section and I felt great as people clapped and I was handed a great pair of Specialized gloves as a prize. It was an awesome fun scary race that challenged me more than any other event I’ve ever done. And it wasn’t until the next day on the drive home (where I found an amazing pump track in Omarama, but only had legs for one feeble lap) that the regret hit and I wished I’d gone out for at least one more lap. You see I may have got third in my category, but I also got DFL and that kinda sucks. I’d like to say I’ll be back to do that race again, but with ongoing bouts of chronic fatigue I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put the training in to make it a less painful experience. But I’ve done it once and I’m rather proud of that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Omarama pump track, worth stopping for</td></tr>
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And here's my Bastian monster being cute outside.<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-60556850885889392732012-03-29T20:44:00.001+13:002012-03-29T20:44:33.830+13:00Crossmarks – Not the Ideal Wet Riding Tyre<div style="text-align: justify;">
In our shed at home we have a stock of tyres, bought when they were on sale. They are all Maxxis Crossmarks. That’s because we live in Christchurch and in Christchurch when it rains the tracks close. This means that I don’t do a lot of riding on wet tracks, maybe a splash about Bottlelake or McLeans Island, but nothing technical and certainly nothing rooty and rutty in the wet (ew eeeerr!). </div>
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Yesterday, after an evening of heavy rain, I ventured back into Redwoods to see if my legs were feeling any better after their run the previous day. I knew the tracks would be wet, but I felt hopeful that it wouldn’t be too bad after a sunny morning. Being the lazy beast I am I caught the shuttle up to the drop off point on Tawa Rd and headed straight into Huckleberry Hound. It was pretty dry and I had fun hucking my way down. Then I made the Best Decision Eva and decided to go down Corners rather than Little Red Riding Huck. Cornering is one of my favourite things so I felt I couldn’t go wrong with a track called Corners. It was absolutely fantastic. For Canterbury locals think Yankee Zephyr to the power of 10, without that horrid climb to get there (if you’re shuttling). Corner after perfectly formed corner caught my skittish tyres and guided them safely onto the next one. The track was a little wet (as it was my first run I actually thought it was pretty wet, but was proved wrong by my later explorations of the forest). All I could think on the way down was how great this track is and how I want to ride it in the dry. If it is the only thing I ride today when I drag myself out of bed I’ll be happy.</div>
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Corners conveniently drops you back at the shuttle pick up and I caught the last shuttle of the day back up to the top. I asked some Aussies who’d ridden the top tracks earlier what they were like and they assured me I’d “be fine” on them. Which was a nice compliment considering they’d never seen me ride. Spinning up to the start of Billy T my legs and lungs actually felt pretty damn good, and soon I was into the track and sliding all over the place. It was wet. I had zero traction. But it was still super fun. Sure I was going a lot slower than the previous day, but because control was tentative at best it was still thrilling. There were a few dabs and unplanned stops, but no crashes so all in all it was a success. I quickly decided that riding the tracks in the wet on Crossmarks adds 1 to the grading of the tracks. </div>
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Now I was off into unfamiliar territory and into G Rock. It was plenty wet, with large soak holes and deep wet chutes. It was in one of these chutes that I had a very minor crash where my front wheel clipped one wall of the chute and then wedged itself firmly in the opposite wall, forming a wheel dam in the chute. I gracefully tumbled onto the bank and thought I had just applied an extra layer of mud to my leg. I had forgotten about the cheese-grater nature of the Rotorua’s volcanic dirt and soon the mud was leaking red. ALWAYS wear your knee high socks when riding in the wet.</div>
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Soon after this little mishap I was out of G Rock and taking the relatively straightforward Chesnut Link into Rollercoaster, riding an upper section I hadn’t ridden before. All started well and then I came to a wide section that was a deadly looking rut fest to the left and what appeared to be a smooth line to the right. I rolled slowly into the right and saw that my smooth line dropped straight down before levelling out a bit. It dropped away so quickly that I couldn’t bail and ended up riding down it, sure I was going to die at any second. When I safely reached the bottom I was shouting and giggling like a mad person amazed I’d escaped serious injury and stoked to have ridden something so full on in the wet. </div>
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The rest of Rollercoast was a slippy slidey mess, but I found the little pinches way easier, which pleased me greatly. </div>
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Then it was onto Old Chevy. This is a great track, lots of climbing, rewarded with fun fast descents (well they would be in the dry), choices between challenging and less challenging lines in places, and long. Very very long. Everythime I thought I was getting close to the end I’d find myself climbing back over a ridge and heading deeper into the forest again. I began to wonder if I was lost. On I pedalled, loving how well my legs were responding to this challenge and then came my second crash of the day. Down a steep and unusually rocky section into a tight wet right hander. Unfortunately there was a bloody great stone in the middle of the track and I chose the wrong side of the stone to head down, straight into a wet patch and slidey slide slide. A tiny amount more gravel rash and I was kicking myself for not taking the rocky high line, after all, I know how to ride rocks. Finally Old Chevy popped me out at the entrance to Yellow Brick Road and I couldn’t resist heading into it. Mellow and windy, it had gentle climbs and descents and a back ground soundtrack from the Wizard of Oz provided by my slightly energy starved brain. Good times. </div>
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It was a great ride and restored my severely dented faith in my fitness and then to top off a great day’s riding, and an awesome 7 years since my wonderful husband and I got together, we found a fantastic Mexican restaurant and I got to quench my hunger on an epic burrito, and drink delicious cocktails. The burrito was so huge that I had to share it much to my hubby’s delight. And now today it is sunny. Oh yeah. <br />
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And here is the view of my monster getting a little snuggly on our return.<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-60271971435998564662012-03-24T20:33:00.000+13:002012-03-29T20:33:37.209+13:00After the Storm<div style="text-align: justify;">
Apparently there was a significant storm in Rotorua last Wednesday. Hubby and I first noticed signs of apocalyptic style destruction on our 11km ride from the Airport to the completely awesome Rotorua Thermal Holiday Park. You may wonder why I’m noting the distance of the ride when it seems so short. Well it turns out riding that far with over 17kgs on your back in a big pack which forces your helmet forward and completely precludes you from turning your head to check for traffic while turning is something of a mission. Even more so when it is 20 degrees and muggy and you’re wearing jeans. Then having that amount of weight on your back feels like it is all being directly transferred to your seat via the hard raised seam in your jean’s crotch. I’ve put that as delicately as I can, I hope no one was offended. Needless to say I will not be volunteering to carry the heavy pack again.</div>
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<br />I was pretty knackered after this effort and subsequent trips into town for a Zippy’s feed and crucial supplies that upon returning to our quaint log cabin I fell asleep while hubby went out to “suss out the trails”. Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, he met up with a group of Aussies and ended up doing an epic 3 hour ride and returning back to the cabin a babbling hypoglycaemic mess. Lucky beer and lollies soon remedied this and we later took the lazy option of taxi-ing into town for a massive fed at the Pig and Whistle where we caught up with the Aussies again and chatted till the early hours of the evening. I say early hours because we headed back to the camp around nine and after a very enjoyable soak in the complementary thermal pools enjoyed a rather good sleep.</div>
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<br />Today we woke bright and early-ish and I was able to convince my hubby to take his first ever shuttle. Soon we were most of the way up the hill and warming up by grovelling up the steep little bit of fireroad that leads to Billy T where we met up with the Aussies again. Oh such heaven, the track, not the Aussies. It’s been a long time since I was in Rotorua and now I felt completely comfortable attacking the trail rather than tentatively inching along. After plenty of drops, roots, ruts and bermed corners I was at the bottom, to meet the boys who weren’t far ahead. We went our seperate ways here as I was desperate to ride Split Enz again (one of my favs) and they were hitting up G Rock. </div>
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<br />Split Enz was just as I remembered it, fast, flowing and bermed to perfection, from there it was down the steps on Pondy Downhill, which then became a descent down a fireroad due to logging, and then popping into the fantastic Pondy New. At this point my trail descriptions get a bit blurred, there was climbing and swooping down through the forest, drops and bridges, challenging rut/root combinations and just generally awesomeness. Then it was into the second half of Rollercoaster, aptly named for its up and down nature and then with the help of some awesome local knowledge onto a new track called Moonshine. This is a slightly technical wee beastie with a number of slippery off-camber roots that test your line selection and commitment. I loved it and came out the bottom with my traditional grinning like an idiot face on. </div>
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<br />After failing to play on Pump because of downed trees, we cruised down the road to Spring Roll where we began to encounter more and more fallen trees blocking the track. It was a fun little track and then we were on Sweet N Sour, which was a climb (and therefore not my favourite), with little challenge other than the portaging of bikes over the recently fallen. This track seemed to go on forever and I was feeling quite fatigued by the halfway point. On I ground and after what felt like an eternity (who says I exaggerate) we were out on the road and ready to tackle Dragon’s Tail. Here we encountered some slightly lost riders and with the combination of our two different maps managed to get them heading on the right track. We must have seemed like we knew what we were talking about as they thanked us with a hearty “Thank you friendly locals”. Funny. Dragon’s Trail was brilliant (apart from one particularly annoying fallen tree which required some bush bashing to get around as over really wasn’t an option). Lots of little pinches were rewarded with tight fast corners and a few drops, and just a few bits of techy rooty goodness thrown in to keep you on your toes. </div>
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<br />From the end of this trail it was a blast down Red Tank Rd, to hook into Mad if You Don’t, where we had a brief conversation with a rider who’d spent almost an hour lost in the logged area and was quite frustrated at not being able to find any tracks. I suggested that a shuttle ride would immediately place you on the correct side of the forest to avoid all the logging mayhem and he seemed quite keen.<br />Mad if You Don’t flew by and I was feeling great on the bike, if completely knackered, I rode the track hard and fast and even managed a rather nice jump at one point. At the bottom it was back down to the base for some greatly needed food and delicious cold chocolate. Heaven.</div>
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<br />Right now it’s raining outside, so hopefully it will stop sometime in the night and tomorrow will be good for riding. I’m very keen to hit up the two Huck tracks and maybe even slog my way to the top of Hot X Buns. I love it here. </div>
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PS - That night we had the most epic pizza eva, so delicious and vast that we couldn't even eat the whole thing. If you're staying at the Rotorua Thermal Holiday Park I highly recommend ordering from the Pizza Library, or even walking around the corner and eating in. Ordering is better though because then you get to see the crazy delivery vehicle. </div>
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And finally here is the cute camp cat. <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-49442282219805293012012-03-20T22:46:00.005+13:002012-03-20T22:54:47.832+13:00Look! Up there on the Trails…….. It’s some Chicks! Doing hucks! It’s Suuuuuuppppeeerrr V!<div style="text-align: justify;">
With such a dramatic entrance I feel I’ll need to write a rather good entry to do justice to the brilliantness of the Super V in Wellytown last weekend. My lovely friend Michelle provided me with a much coveted GE Bodybag to transport my bike (and to be honest also taught me the skills to ride the Super V), so much thanks to her. </div>
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I got up at the abominable hour of 5:50am on Saturday and loaded bags into car and bike onto rack and we were off to the airport. It was the work of moments once there to remove the front wheel, insert the fork and brake spacers, put the bike into the bag, carefully insert the front wheel and then pack my shopping bag of clothes etc inside. Want one of these rather badly.</div>
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The flight to Wellington was nice, with some gorgeous ground fog adding a mystical element to the sunrise. Soon it was a smooth landing in Wellington and in no time I was meeting the lovely Jo (thanks for picking me up so early) and we were on our way to her house.</div>
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We had time to spare so plenty of chillaxing and catching up (and cat snuggling) went on. Then it was on with my rather stunning (read hideous) interpretation of a skin suit and off to rego. The weather in Welly was perfect and after checking in we were soon loading our bikes onto the shuttle and heading up the hill with a mad Irishman driving. Unfortunately there was a little holdup as the road we were using was also being used for a longboard race.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbbaOBX8lpIf0fE_akMTJ2P_n0Cbugwz6pbekDVGHltLHyyPVpdsXnesxyp1Vxj4oJ7duFEdEeyUufiZ1weO0_JvFrCuQGy7UGNgRcOyY99ydr9nzzWZv31mgBR8Epk4xVmRbfrGJPwJW/s1600/WP_000524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbbaOBX8lpIf0fE_akMTJ2P_n0Cbugwz6pbekDVGHltLHyyPVpdsXnesxyp1Vxj4oJ7duFEdEeyUufiZ1weO0_JvFrCuQGy7UGNgRcOyY99ydr9nzzWZv31mgBR8Epk4xVmRbfrGJPwJW/s320/WP_000524.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chick shuttlez</td></tr>
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These crazy boys, men and a couple of hardcore chicks barrel downhill, round corners and over bumps on brakeless death machines. Crazy! It was actually pretty fun to watch and gave me the chance to introduce myself to my sometime boss, and superlative photographer – Caleb from Spoke.<br />
When we finally made it to the top we were all soon off down the hill on the extremely long course. The first few hundred metres were by far the most technical and I quickly discovered my front brakes weren’t quite bedded in yet as I skidded and slalomed down the damp steep grass. My first run down the hill was pretty tentative, I’ve never ridden these trails before and there is plenty of exposure on the right hand side of most of the track so all the blind left hand corners were taken at quite low speed.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj77dE581VGg6nDTmTtZPy9_RNYOwS_ZvHdt3ugcaF5I4nAXYhy1FyLGcHqD6T7AA2UDRPINmFuFJQA9f1ga6Wic6IlpDeBHJQ5mRdIkjYxHOhmSBTYW4RujVqshNJK_G_o2mPLEBOI1rwu/s1600/Super+V+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj77dE581VGg6nDTmTtZPy9_RNYOwS_ZvHdt3ugcaF5I4nAXYhy1FyLGcHqD6T7AA2UDRPINmFuFJQA9f1ga6Wic6IlpDeBHJQ5mRdIkjYxHOhmSBTYW4RujVqshNJK_G_o2mPLEBOI1rwu/s320/Super+V+Me.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Shane Wetzel. The less said about this the better</td></tr>
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After the first stretch of down we were soon into the rather unwelcome climbing section. It just seemed to go on and on and a couple of the pinches were so steep I couldn’t ride them. Oh well. The lower section was bliss, really fast and swoopy, weaving through tightly spaced trees, some fast flowing corners, some tight slow switchbacks and lots and lots of down. By the bottom my back was killing me, but I was grinning and I’d come down in about 43 minutes, fairly standard for the majority of the field. </div>
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With the course being that long Jo and I agreed that one practice run was enough so we sat down to some lunch and chatting. I met loads of cool chicks and we talked on and on about bikes for the next hour while enjoying the sun. My idea of bliss.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrZeNE9Gt4G9OUtf4uWWOFLNxWcChWhmzLdV_Moo-5QBlJToGoW7sXM-6uCpVe93ALssqK9VMTHFKcElMiwFfBasMM0a9bmWKkshwdKbUflrcVptBYHuNrJ6-SlnP179mpnaEQuhV65-U/s1600/Super-v-2012-0745-960x640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCrZeNE9Gt4G9OUtf4uWWOFLNxWcChWhmzLdV_Moo-5QBlJToGoW7sXM-6uCpVe93ALssqK9VMTHFKcElMiwFfBasMM0a9bmWKkshwdKbUflrcVptBYHuNrJ6-SlnP179mpnaEQuhV65-U/s320/Super-v-2012-0745-960x640.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Caleb Smith</td></tr>
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Then it was race briefing time, numbers were allocated, toilet stops were made in the bushes and shuttles were loaded. Up the top the views were stunning, but a rather biting breeze had us cowering in the lee of a large concrete structure till it was our turn to go. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A stunning Wellington day to be riding in the hills</td></tr>
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As I rolled off the line onto the dreaded slippy grass I immediately knew my front brake was working perfectly now and actually felt in control. Confidence up I gathered speed and felt that amazing feeling you get when you’re one with the bike. I could tell I was going much faster and did my best to power up the climbs. I still had to run a couple, but I knew I was giving it everything so that’s ok. Down the stretch called Rollercoaster I was flying, not literally, no jumps for me, but as on the first run I overcooked the speed into the turn and ended up track standing millimetres from the turn arrow. Bugger.</div>
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At this point I could hear the brakes of the woman behind me and I knew she was reeling me in on the ups so I really dug deep. Not deep enough though and I was gutted when she called to pass just as the climby bits were nearly over. As I struggled up the last bit she put a small gap in and I thought to myself “You better be fast on the downs lady or I’m going to have to repass you.” And as it turned out that’s exactly what happened. Once all the climbing was over I was completely in the zone and riding right at the edge of my comfort zone. It felt awesome. I made a muppety repass and soon I was reeling in the woman in front and passing her. By the time I got to the bottom I wanted more. I’d taken about 3 minutes off my time and was a stoked little chicken. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Caleb Smith, thanks for making me look comparatively good! You truly have the madcore photo skillz</td></tr>
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As the final riders came in Jo and I loaded our bikes into the car for a quick post-prize giving get away and I was glad to get out of my not very flattering, but fun outfit. Note however that bike shorts under jeans are not really very comfortable. The prizing giving was amusing and I was very pleased to come away with a souvenir bottle of home brew for travelling the further to attend. </div>
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I was shattered, it’s the first time I’ve raced that hard for that long in a couple of years and I loved it. That evening was spent catching up with the lovely Jude and Shane, and snuggling with Cinti. In fact today’s cute kitteh pic(s) are of the lapnapper himself. Cinti is a super friendly, playful, purring machine and I loved spending time with him. Jo is lucky to have such an awesome man in the house.<br />
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-23144625980980984202012-03-13T11:39:00.000+13:002012-03-13T12:48:25.933+13:00Tribes<div style="text-align: justify;">
Being a member of an active NZ Cycling Forum I’ve noticed that cyclists tend towards rather tribal behaviour. The roadies flock together in great bunches, and have secret and esoteric rules that must be obeyed. Their legs and machines are smooth and glistening and many will have a stable a different road bikes for different occasions.</div>
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Even more complicated is the mountain biker, whose tribe seems to fracture into more sub tribes with each passing year. There are the XC racers, sneered at by others as weight weenies and jeiboys. The trail and backcountry adventurers. The freeriders and their cousins the Downhillers, which contain within their ranks the infinitely mockable grommies. The jumpers and the urban trials riders. The relatively new tribe of 29ers.<br />
Then there are those that fall into what I’ll call the hipster tribe. The singlespeeders, with their flair for the insane. The fixie riders. The tweed riders. The frocks on bikes women. The whole vintage/retro brigade, including the loonies on Penny Farthings.</div>
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Of course amongst all these tribes there are the crossover tribes, the cyclo-cross riders, the cycle tourers, the BMXers and of course the singlespeeders must be mentioned here.</div>
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Then finally lowest on the pecking order the recumbent riders. </div>
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Often the bicycles in your shed define your tribes and (sweeping and unfounded generalisation warning here) most cyclists will only have one or two types of bikes, even if their total number of bicycles numbers in the double digits. For some, their personality becomes an expression of their collection of bikes, for other their bicycles are an expression of their personality. I believe the last is true of me.</div>
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My shed contains 6 bicycles, all different, all ridden regularly and all make me grin. I have my BMX which makes me feel like a kid again and is stupidly fun. I have my singlespeed mountain bike which has taught me how to ride better and made me stronger. I love its simplicity. I have my road bike, which to be honest is more of a winter bike, although I do love the feeling of speed and power I get from riding it. I have my full sus XC bike which is still my favourite. It climbs like a dream, is awesome on the singletrack and can handle the downhill stuff too. I have my newest acquisition, my hardtail 29er. This bike handles completely differently from all my other bikes, it is insanely fast and a challenge to ride. And finally I have my Duchess, my shopping bike. It is this bike that I ride the most. It is my car. It makes me feel free, happy and something none of my other bikes do, attractive. Strange I know. It is this bike that is leading me down a path which will mean my statement that I have attained s-1 is wrong, but more on that later.</div>
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Firstly a quick replay of the awesome ride I had on Friday at Greenwood Park before the blasting and earthquake remediation on the road up there closes it for easy access. (It is open Sundays and in the evening from 6pm). My first lap was a bit of a muppet fest to be honest, but it was great fun and by the bottom of the track I was keen for another lap. The ride up the Summit Rd is both lovely, with no traffic, and in one place quite scary, with a badly cracked rock face looming above – waiting to deposit a boulder or two on the slow rider’s head.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj24a0ZVj5YsGEcOnOrlArBdq40T_sH9zwVzby67767GGAhE36IjKDIHT_JC-7TJp_XVQjHyH4sK6Ly6w9BT8eE8mmRtO-LEwFfYZ6OEBzqDnXAu2dIbGzUtzU0p7ATto3Z7Tg5-Rf6pBWk/s1600/PANO_20120309_150043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj24a0ZVj5YsGEcOnOrlArBdq40T_sH9zwVzby67767GGAhE36IjKDIHT_JC-7TJp_XVQjHyH4sK6Ly6w9BT8eE8mmRtO-LEwFfYZ6OEBzqDnXAu2dIbGzUtzU0p7ATto3Z7Tg5-Rf6pBWk/s400/PANO_20120309_150043.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not only does Greenwood Park have outstanding singletrack, the views are exceptional</td></tr>
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The second lap was much better. The thing about Greenwood Park is that it is a lovely combination of flowing stuff and really rocky technical stuff. Only recently have I gotten good enough to ride it, previously I freaked out about the rocks instead of just keeping pedalling. I’ve discovered Greenwood Park is a mind game, everything (well apart from one rocky uphill pinch at the end that I have no idea how to ride) is rideable.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu6KwqnrO-c4ds5MUU8Z0NAIfABjla4gyKwABr6RfAvC520p5lAyjFAoVAddk0UjftUeckO99TAs9ofmEWvoxNXsS6toZ-PsgVHHsH5fKANn6Dy01z7K_4YfaBqPcdEEKm6-GwYXQUQRZ/s1600/WP_000452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu6KwqnrO-c4ds5MUU8Z0NAIfABjla4gyKwABr6RfAvC520p5lAyjFAoVAddk0UjftUeckO99TAs9ofmEWvoxNXsS6toZ-PsgVHHsH5fKANn6Dy01z7K_4YfaBqPcdEEKm6-GwYXQUQRZ/s320/WP_000452.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the beginning there was a climb</td></tr>
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After my second lap I was getting cold and having pushing my legs harder up the road my tummy was grumbling. It was just what I needed.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhg0aRQTYJfT-VHeJ2I5GxXUg_ATUp6a241UkX9xlDS7apK1M3myUSUYiIUkmWYrzWhd1rlNn71YgxzDTmYFJhVOtKqpf8bTf4DfGjZJ1O1G8FTXtrAlsUJ_Q2Fe5QziM4F3hpoIhEPIh/s1600/WP_000456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhg0aRQTYJfT-VHeJ2I5GxXUg_ATUp6a241UkX9xlDS7apK1M3myUSUYiIUkmWYrzWhd1rlNn71YgxzDTmYFJhVOtKqpf8bTf4DfGjZJ1O1G8FTXtrAlsUJ_Q2Fe5QziM4F3hpoIhEPIh/s320/WP_000456.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhh, tricksy narrow rocks, you won't catch me again!</td></tr>
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Then on Sunday, I crossed a line. On Friday, when not riding, I spent most of the day in various op-shops (pining for the quality ones in Dunedin), sussing out an outfit for a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/269995986376200/" target="_blank">Tweed Ride</a>. I was in two minds about going on this ride, firstly I didn’t know anyone else in this group of velocipedes (velococycsts? velotweeds?) , I always find new people intimidating; and secondly I’d been warning that joining this ride could well be a slippery slope to further bike ownership. Putting these worries aside I donned what I hoped was an appropriately period styled if not entirely tweedish outfit and cycled off on my lovely Duchess to the nearby meeting place.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1R4WXJkzJHRRnS0MPwxwMr4v-GCN4Pl10o6zjH0aRQIAeneZB9R3g_v9lbVQDJ3VcOQsVtbUAJqk9KFiA9nqT2yHzKoHKRuaN9KtYuffMuIEONq9P4TFgLXio6Pyj00PRcuF02e8B6lP/s1600/WP_000482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1R4WXJkzJHRRnS0MPwxwMr4v-GCN4Pl10o6zjH0aRQIAeneZB9R3g_v9lbVQDJ3VcOQsVtbUAJqk9KFiA9nqT2yHzKoHKRuaN9KtYuffMuIEONq9P4TFgLXio6Pyj00PRcuF02e8B6lP/s320/WP_000482.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Cheesecutter is the equivilent of a helmet</td></tr>
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I was immediately welcomed into <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/269995986376200/" target="_blank">the group</a>, and I really shouldn’t have worried. After all I had in common with these people a love of bicycles, a love of dressing up and a love of things from a bygone area. After chatting and drooling over the many simply beautiful and sometimes amusing bicycles, we were off. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4pWGs9LgiEutwue5Jbw1bMGgbyCpgVKTcaQy_wRIC911rkI82o0ekwgR5mrETf_Q7NUfto3lEyL1A7ZTJ09MXO-onN23I_FIa93YUpn4VzQlYkX7U1P-sAWvXmtXSiV-3KhmPaDAgo2t/s1600/WP_000485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4pWGs9LgiEutwue5Jbw1bMGgbyCpgVKTcaQy_wRIC911rkI82o0ekwgR5mrETf_Q7NUfto3lEyL1A7ZTJ09MXO-onN23I_FIa93YUpn4VzQlYkX7U1P-sAWvXmtXSiV-3KhmPaDAgo2t/s320/WP_000485.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I lusted muchly over these two bikes in particular, with the one on the right being my favourite by a nose</td></tr>
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It was a wonderfully leisurely ride through the park, with the crowds entering the Ellerslie Flower Show seeming to appreciate our dapper appearance and glorious machines. On through town we were momentarily halted by the ever shifting road closures and then it was onto Pomeroy’s via the broken riverside roads for some well earned refreshments. I took mine in the form of Pimms, a most civilised drink before noon on a Sunday. Revitalised it was back onto the bikes and onto the Pegasus Arms for yet more refreshment and then off to Hagley Park for a brief, but energetic turn of speed in the form of a sprint race round the outside. I have to say my Duchess performed admirably, and was only really hampered by my need to hold my skirt down while pedalling vigorously. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83NrqW6ROlX5KYamE1vHN1P5im94LW8gQNUIWOp8TaatxFUuLK1AeQxrmNfuJ7iW6vJHjWU9jogrCkM3yirq1nbbArlm5aTzc_-pIdFcs6ySEt4KH2lLxdCNwP6CIl5QDrcvHOZLDJApQ/s1600/WP_000493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83NrqW6ROlX5KYamE1vHN1P5im94LW8gQNUIWOp8TaatxFUuLK1AeQxrmNfuJ7iW6vJHjWU9jogrCkM3yirq1nbbArlm5aTzc_-pIdFcs6ySEt4KH2lLxdCNwP6CIl5QDrcvHOZLDJApQ/s320/WP_000493.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Tweed riders collection is quite diverse..</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59khzEkxkQyBJEIFmIRludONWMXEX8vZxdXMx_AgkdE0NTgnCXwC401PSlmBGVipouA_VZ56mh34xL8dDd9mVd9KU-YUHev-2Z_X8oLTH7XXdj3EBCDa171U-60vfHDe6wUZb5RK-S5J1/s1600/WP_000494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59khzEkxkQyBJEIFmIRludONWMXEX8vZxdXMx_AgkdE0NTgnCXwC401PSlmBGVipouA_VZ56mh34xL8dDd9mVd9KU-YUHev-2Z_X8oLTH7XXdj3EBCDa171U-60vfHDe6wUZb5RK-S5J1/s320/WP_000494.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and lust provoking</td></tr>
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After such exertions it was back to our starting spot for the obligatory photos and more talking of the cod shite. I enjoyed this ride immensely and can say that I have been fully converted to the joy of the Tweed Ride by this single outing. In fact I have been trawling the pages of Trademe seeking an appropriate old bike to turn into a singlespeed to race at the velodrome for the next ride. Thanks so much to the Tweed Riders for welcoming me into your group. Such Fun! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEyVhRM3n9Fn51X8lvwvxp0pN8aFysu9hWpuwjs4YwKIhvw2PTD_1BsHqOyNQvGtLZ1tdZX3nbG2o-p4A_b9Pb8Zvt0oIi-MHawU7mmi54ACrpOGWPV5CDEcQs2O40Dh2UFuWfHsBCqyZS/s1600/WP_000487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEyVhRM3n9Fn51X8lvwvxp0pN8aFysu9hWpuwjs4YwKIhvw2PTD_1BsHqOyNQvGtLZ1tdZX3nbG2o-p4A_b9Pb8Zvt0oIi-MHawU7mmi54ACrpOGWPV5CDEcQs2O40Dh2UFuWfHsBCqyZS/s320/WP_000487.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Racing time!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9ZhWA8zqRV9IpYo90nAMJdk16WNAqpFc7ontd5SFNM_31yYijhV4PKoQMo1lyHE9Y5IHAbwokjD8_UkhNTvMds4gOneF_VAm53MGRFNY0mUzkteh8LBnFiW24c_ypBomw6gGGHN-NH3G/s1600/WP_000498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN9ZhWA8zqRV9IpYo90nAMJdk16WNAqpFc7ontd5SFNM_31yYijhV4PKoQMo1lyHE9Y5IHAbwokjD8_UkhNTvMds4gOneF_VAm53MGRFNY0mUzkteh8LBnFiW24c_ypBomw6gGGHN-NH3G/s320/WP_000498.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refueled and ready to ride</td></tr>
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And to round off this rather lengthy diatribe here is a gorgeous photo of my monster’s black jelly bean feets. I just want to nom them. </div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-49181892854221024902012-03-05T22:16:00.000+13:002012-03-05T22:16:08.345+13:00Big Wheels go Up and Little Wheels do Hucks<div style="text-align: justify;">
The weather has been “interesting” of late and so on Friday when it was merely overcast I decided it was time to see how the big wheels went up a hill. For some strange reason I decided that Huntsbury should be the climb I tested them on, not the gentler and less covered in tar seal Rapaki. I think I had delusions of Mt Vernon the fun way and then back up for the Traverse. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7u1f0iqd078aHIhWG8Jxx61GTB_5Vdyrrv-M6EhE_0ltHcRS92HRRArd0aelHjwDBInTbLZyOyHS1dnPyiSnAf9SAOLj7lPUxrOAaNkN6ePNmV9lXOWCVvbDM4gfg68oq0YBeO8Zz9Twb/s1600/WP_000408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7u1f0iqd078aHIhWG8Jxx61GTB_5Vdyrrv-M6EhE_0ltHcRS92HRRArd0aelHjwDBInTbLZyOyHS1dnPyiSnAf9SAOLj7lPUxrOAaNkN6ePNmV9lXOWCVvbDM4gfg68oq0YBeO8Zz9Twb/s320/WP_000408.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I may have spent extra time on the lower slopes taking photos for strategic reasons</td></tr>
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The lower slopes of Huntsbury went well on the big wheels, but once the gradient pitched up on the section by the water reservoir on Huntsbury Ave I started to struggle. Now I have to admit I’m not sure if my difficulties were due to the bigger wheels or my new found lack of fitness, but by halfway up I had to find a convenient side road and do a couple of circles on the flat to get my heart rate under control and stop the little dancing dots in front of my eyes. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7m2gCD3ygnMZ6ce0F4mtTSOfFHNIP2YMW9SqTN5dgpHP5woedPRVrjY4YrNYZcaqmhYvR8UVhhgotXt2tbdtcSCeSOpSqE6zC9vlgc1ZxU0BjCRKk7CgCXR2E4kTKXVAeMfnr7FV4v3e/s1600/WP_000410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7m2gCD3ygnMZ6ce0F4mtTSOfFHNIP2YMW9SqTN5dgpHP5woedPRVrjY4YrNYZcaqmhYvR8UVhhgotXt2tbdtcSCeSOpSqE6zC9vlgc1ZxU0BjCRKk7CgCXR2E4kTKXVAeMfnr7FV4v3e/s320/WP_000410.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearly at the top, time for another photo</td></tr>
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The uber steep pinch near the top of the seal nearly did me in and the subsequent three steep pinches on the 4wd track left me gasping and my legs shaking. It was not pretty. Finally I made it to the top and cruised across the road to take in the view, safe in the knowledge that with legs like damp noodles I would not be taking on Mt Vernon. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvlMCucR85364kj6-SPaTPi2-MM6B7sRF7ACHeAqtfckcajxwn5spkMoJUGmQTDQcFAOFMm_o3PQ8GDDALREX2FOWioClmGNw3Q0lJhuHzSNDdQZ7gMBE7BuRbENo_EY4lTBgMiZUcmLS/s1600/WP_000411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpvlMCucR85364kj6-SPaTPi2-MM6B7sRF7ACHeAqtfckcajxwn5spkMoJUGmQTDQcFAOFMm_o3PQ8GDDALREX2FOWioClmGNw3Q0lJhuHzSNDdQZ7gMBE7BuRbENo_EY4lTBgMiZUcmLS/s320/WP_000411.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awwww, she looks right at home up here. </td></tr>
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After the obligatory photo stop it was back on the bike and onto the fun singletrack of the Traverse. This was the first time I’d ever ridden the Traverse on a hardtail, let alone with big wheels, so I took it fairly easy. I loved the way the Trek cleared the rocky section where I usually dab and where I’ve had more than a few offs. Through the fast flowy, twisty bits I didn’t feel at home yet. A combination of brakes I’m not used to - must adjust reach on levers - and the way the wheels ride the corners meant I was pretty tentative. </div>
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<br />This didn’t stop me dropping down to Brake Free and then onto Sesame St. The big wheels loved the bermed goodness of Sesame St and although it was a little bit rougher than my Anthem it was still great fun. Thumbs up on the downhill.</div>
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<br />So the first really good test of my Trek is done and I’ve learnt a couple of things. This bike is going to make me fitter going uphill. I really need to sort out the brakes. 29ers eat rocky sections for breakfast. It’s fair to say I’m in love.</div>
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<br />Then today I went to the other extreme. I had to make a trip out to Hornby so I threw my tiny bike on the back of the car and headed to the BMX track. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Hornby track and I really loved it. 10 laps had me almost passing out and my legs completely destroyed, but man it was fun. </div>
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<br />My pumping skills have definitely improved and slowly but surely I’m getting more air over the jumps at the start. Now I just need way more cardio. Must ride my BMX at least once a week. It is stupidly fun and great interval work. I recommend that everyone gets one. </div>
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Oh by the way, I've decided to reward you, my lucky loyal readers with the most precious treat available on the interwebs, cute cat photo's. They will all be of my black monster Bastian (known variously as Bastoolio, Bastaloon, Stoon, Stool and some hideous baby talk names that will not be mentioned here). Today I give you Zombie Paws</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT7vfqvr6hopiRV6hIAAmXuR2Q9ecSj9_TYMqRxX657efKnVNtCYsCyuMsm4TIhnU__aPwn0F22FbAzSBi5EzvdVMY5RQuIY8XmvyBGm4bSIpNnpTEtXTE2LhhZ3Vo7l0R2v0Km-QqgiH/s1600/WP_000009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT7vfqvr6hopiRV6hIAAmXuR2Q9ecSj9_TYMqRxX657efKnVNtCYsCyuMsm4TIhnU__aPwn0F22FbAzSBi5EzvdVMY5RQuIY8XmvyBGm4bSIpNnpTEtXTE2LhhZ3Vo7l0R2v0Km-QqgiH/s640/WP_000009.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />You're welcome</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-55606664191314477592012-02-23T21:21:00.000+13:002012-02-23T21:21:54.641+13:00And now we return to your regularly scheduled programme<div style="text-align: justify;">
And by that I mean talking about bikes. Because yesterday, when I was feeling so sad only one thing could make me feel better. That’s right dear listeners; I have bought another bike! And now I believe my number of bikes is the coveted <i><a href="http://www.velominati.com/the-rules/#12" target="_blank">s – 1</a></i>, especially since spur of the moment bike buying is not something that makes for a completely harmonious evening with one’s partner or spouse. <i><a href="http://www.velominati.com/the-rules/#12" target="_blank">n + 1</a></i> is not an option. Luckily I have an amazingly wonderful and understanding husband who, while rather annoyed that I just bought a bike without discussing it with him (I am a terrible wife), is glad that I have cheered up and enjoy this new bike so much.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPueoW1UvTYMvQPcd9z4-Xnu5hHwUjITyWgke342o6NTiZAmI8nG3TegaizRcHgRa7f5TWnFzxVqLmXnOc1su6MzTMK4YO7hmFA4sCBZe3m_UMghGlauGB9FVcb_i2W2nFKLMoCr0vXqT/s1600/IMG_7266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPueoW1UvTYMvQPcd9z4-Xnu5hHwUjITyWgke342o6NTiZAmI8nG3TegaizRcHgRa7f5TWnFzxVqLmXnOc1su6MzTMK4YO7hmFA4sCBZe3m_UMghGlauGB9FVcb_i2W2nFKLMoCr0vXqT/s320/IMG_7266.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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So what is this wondrous creature that has lifted my spirits from their quake ravaged low? Well it’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a long time now, a hardtail 29er. To be more specific it’s a women’s Trek Mamba and it is hot. While not specced with high-end components everything on it is adequate for my needs and will be replaced as things wear out. The frame is lovely and is the same one they use of their racing model and the geometry fits me perfectly. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiurrVAXN_Yefzi47saBhafeybPFwcACrFh7Vf1yHwzUvMLgnGbRqiTUdaQFYXbQXtHVfHvThDl68OLpWoZVcLV1u-wmi3wZbjp3fTWIR88whN823ETzczPzDodN98495CNgPCdtg_WILJB/s1600/IMG_7269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiurrVAXN_Yefzi47saBhafeybPFwcACrFh7Vf1yHwzUvMLgnGbRqiTUdaQFYXbQXtHVfHvThDl68OLpWoZVcLV1u-wmi3wZbjp3fTWIR88whN823ETzczPzDodN98495CNgPCdtg_WILJB/s320/IMG_7269.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can almost make out the little gold sparkles in the black paint. Love!</td></tr>
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I took it for a blast around Bottlelake last night and I was quite blown away by it. The big hoops felt strange initially and the front wheel appears to stretch off into the distance for miles, but it didn’t take long for it to feel quite normal. The first thing I noticed was how well it carried it’s speed, and the second thing I noticed was that I didn’t really know how to go round corners on this thing. Luckily the big wheels smoothed out the ride greatly as I occasionally popped off the side of a corner. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3Q5vkd-m-msAbP0_4OXib3fInEbs86JcZMSTZJcuGmWDGR5nmrSLf1YYM_zkUYkhd29DeII2ZYD5vizCBWzWG78EzNjj_nNFs4t1TN4DvZMPyjsqM6X6BK9zjFHM0E_8DESExwnnu_v5/s1600/IMG_7270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3Q5vkd-m-msAbP0_4OXib3fInEbs86JcZMSTZJcuGmWDGR5nmrSLf1YYM_zkUYkhd29DeII2ZYD5vizCBWzWG78EzNjj_nNFs4t1TN4DvZMPyjsqM6X6BK9zjFHM0E_8DESExwnnu_v5/s320/IMG_7270.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This bike urged me to smash myself and I ended up pretty much singlespeeding the whole ride as it was a pleasure to get out of the saddle and power up the pinches (something I never thought I’d say). As we got towards the end of the lap I finally got the hang of cornering, realising I had to aggressively weight the front wheel and then the bike handled like a dream. Down the final straight I decided to sprint after my extremely fast friend and I ended up laughing with joy as the acceleration of this bike took me by complete surprise. It was like every pedal stroke I made in the sprint was magnified. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDiZ3LC0OoEx7JIwyOUijgEnHEqf8I_nMfCAtapi2pkRUApgis0eJ_xWjhud-FpVxA0AKkLONxE5ahWQwe7gU_9ZzkWtk9Yzk9iBFy42veBCQcH1efm-vFhgiQuZ7CzpY1Rx4EdH96jcI/s1600/IMG_7271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDiZ3LC0OoEx7JIwyOUijgEnHEqf8I_nMfCAtapi2pkRUApgis0eJ_xWjhud-FpVxA0AKkLONxE5ahWQwe7gU_9ZzkWtk9Yzk9iBFy42veBCQcH1efm-vFhgiQuZ7CzpY1Rx4EdH96jcI/s320/IMG_7271.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I also love the black and white colour scheme and the nice wide bars</td></tr>
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By the end of the ride my legs were happily aching and I knew I’d made the right decision. The Trek Mamba is wonderful, and I know it’s going to make an amazing touring bike. I might even take it up the hills this weekend and see how it climbs. I have to thank the great guys at <a href="http://www.hubcycles.co.nz/" target="_blank">Hub Cycles</a> for hooking me up with such a great bike. I love those guys and that shop, they look after me and my fleet (yes that is the appropriate word) so well.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zrLZQmSgajVB1992f3XLwmZKT_cdp7n3eEVc5k2Q5DJu5P-puNi7vdKu9SRb7xLOIeBqi5kpicdjVsen5bPZPxbveRpJiCO9Xliwrm9ZzXU36-IybL_gzA693huRnNbldgKMQowOu2KY/s1600/IMG_7272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zrLZQmSgajVB1992f3XLwmZKT_cdp7n3eEVc5k2Q5DJu5P-puNi7vdKu9SRb7xLOIeBqi5kpicdjVsen5bPZPxbveRpJiCO9Xliwrm9ZzXU36-IybL_gzA693huRnNbldgKMQowOu2KY/s320/IMG_7272.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big hoops are big. Do my legs look short in this?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-55805106557540433262012-02-22T09:13:00.000+13:002012-02-22T09:13:00.492+13:00This day in History<div style="text-align: justify;">
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This isn’t a post about biking. This is a post about me and
about my city. A year ago today this city I live in was felled by a 6.3
earthquake which made the 7.1 we had the previous year seem like a gentle
nudge. This quake threw down buildings, from heritage icons, to old shops and
facades, through to so-called modern buildings. 185 people were killed,
thousands injured, hundreds trapped. All of us changed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I know I have changed. Today, on the anniversary I’m still
struggling to come to terms with what has happened to this city. I struggle
with the guilt I have about my difficulties with coping when my friends and
family came through unscathed and our property, which was in a state of chaos
anyway, was undamaged. I can’t help but think sometimes, what have I got to be
upset about, there are so many who really have to struggle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And that is the problem. There are just so many who are
struggling, fighting the bureaucracy, fighting the insurance companies,
fighting EQC, my heart goes out to them all. I’ve biked all over this city and
I’ve seen the outskirts of the ghost suburbs and my heart breaks for these
families. I see the houses teetering on the cliffs above Sumner and I think of
all the treasured possessions that will never be recovered from them. I hear
the stories of the looters, the arsonists and I feel sick.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Worst of all I think of that first night, I think of those
people trapped in the CTV and PGC buildings, the ones on their phones to loved
ones. The ones who were trapped and begging for help. The ones who were so very
brave, but who were not saved. No one was pulled from the wreckage of CTV
alive, and the thought of that night in the rubble haunts me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And as time has gone on the fear has crept in. Only in
Christchurch does your neighbour opening a sliding door with a rumble, a truck
or train going past or the sound of your house expanding and contracting in the
heat and cool cause your heart rate to shoot sky high. It’s hard for me to
remember a time when there were no shakes. There was even a time when the
little shakes didn’t bother me. But as the year has passed and the aftershocks
mounted up to over 10,000 my resilience to them has gone. My mind jumps to what
ifs. I feel like a rabbit in the headlights, waiting for the next big one to
mow me down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The scars of this disaster are every where and seem to touch
everything. The central city is unrecognisable, so much of it is vacant lots
filled with weeds and gravel. All the places that I treasured about this city
are gone, the spaces that were defined by the buildings all join into a huge
vacant lot. Everywhere you go there are these tall weeds which tell the story
of a city that is wounded. The roads are scarred. In places by the monsters
that have devoured the buildings, but mainly by the grey ooze that compounded
the misery of us all, filling homes, streets and back yards. Fresh crisp
squares of seal mark the spots where the roads were dug up to get to the sewer
lines twisted and buckled by the shaking and the ooze. In back yards throughout
the city there are covered over latrines, but there is always the thought that
they’ll have to be reopened.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Even biking in Christchurch has changed. Half the
singletrack in the Port Hills is either closed due to rock fall or destroyed.
No longer can you head out for a glorious day riding from Halswell to Taylors
Mistake on sweet challenging tracks, enjoying stunning views. Now there is a
short loop and Greenwood Park is isolated and alone. Road riding has suffered
similarly. With Evan’s Pass and the Lyttelton to Sumner road closed
indefinitely not to mention long sections of the Summit Rd, many popular loops
are gone. And for those riding on the flat there is of course the bumps, holes,
cracks and constant road works to contend with. BMXing hasn’t escaped either
with the awesome North Avon track at Bexley Park badly damaged and closed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Everything reminds me of that day. It is still fresh in my
mind. The fear when the ground threw me about, the sick worry for everyone I
knew. The horror as we listened to the radio and cried as the extent of the
disaster slowly became clearer. In that week and the months that followed it
felt like we were living in a war zone. There was the constant thump of
helicopters over head. The streets were filled with army vehicles. There is
something so surreal about driving out of your street and giving way to a LAV. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It is only now, a year on that I’ve realised I need help to
come to terms with all this. And that if I can’t I don’t know if I can stay in
Christchurch. I need to get past my guilt, my feeling of helplessness and my
anger. I know my story and my feelings are ordinary, this is what life is in
Christchurch. Some people are coping well, some people are not. I hope that we
can all heal, that Christchurch will be a great place to live again, but for
now we have to wait and the future is uncertain. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-55811517249079533532012-02-14T11:15:00.001+13:002012-02-14T11:15:55.052+13:00Diagnosis: Fanatic<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>fa•nat•i•cal </b> <i>/fəˈnatikəl/</i><br /><i>Adjective: </i></div>
<ol>
<li><i> Filled with excessive and single-minded zeal.</i></li>
<li><i> Obsessively concerned with something.</i></li>
</ol>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />This is a strong word, and one which has many negative connotations. However when I recently went to the doctor and had to see a locum this word came up. I was at the doctor’s to get a referral to a therapist for my decreasing ability to cope with even the smallest after shock. We had a quick chat, there was some discussion of my Chronic Fatigue diagnosis and a very brief chat about how I’ve coped with it. From this the Dr gleaned enough about me to write in his referral letter to the therapist “Fortunately she is an enthusiastic, if not fanatical cyclist…” He gave me a copy of the letter and I laughed rather loudly at this description. He was of course worried he’d offended me, which he hadn’t. I am proudly fanatical. I dream about biking, I do it almost every day in one form or another. It is my medication and currently my salvation. And I know I’m not alone in this.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiydVlTj4hNjgMoWy-lvokGkuEX7Xsmd-_JHPpVrKu6cF5E1OEB0DdksSSX6nz0mlkESyuOEChj23o1ZkYXCIlwnQjtdyqmdjFKBHDoXXWmZ8TkpIkIWOkx5XPMm3gSml_MLke-jtNfE16j/s1600/IMG_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiydVlTj4hNjgMoWy-lvokGkuEX7Xsmd-_JHPpVrKu6cF5E1OEB0DdksSSX6nz0mlkESyuOEChj23o1ZkYXCIlwnQjtdyqmdjFKBHDoXXWmZ8TkpIkIWOkx5XPMm3gSml_MLke-jtNfE16j/s320/IMG_0063.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I was as cold as it looks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I’ve recently been enjoying more cycling in Central Otago with a day spent riding the gondola at Bob’s Peak again, for my birthday. It was brilliant. I even rode another black diamond track, Thingamagig, which was super steep, swoopy and incredibly fun. I really wanted to ride the Majestic Thingamagig in the middle, but the risk vs. reward equation wasn’t quite right for me. After another stunning day riding my bike down a hill (with one little burst of up hill – OMG steep! – to see what the uphill in the Super D Enduro will be like) I finished my ride with a brief and shocking plunge into New Zealand’s deepest and coldest lake. It felt great. <br />It was a couple of days later when my legs had stopped hurting sufficiently to ride again that I discovered why my brakes seemed a little off by the end of the day. Ooops.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3vRrnHp7xw9pVRqNtcUVHt7K7qY12kC8NvEBLsHj-4Yu8JEez0XKbflYhGIQDzjdjXa9MnMNP64BPTNV0_s0oWcz5I_VGTeu-gvR7UBGnbOWRGeEdBD0BUsCrRmd-e772zqqEQzEX1Zt/s1600/WP_000331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3vRrnHp7xw9pVRqNtcUVHt7K7qY12kC8NvEBLsHj-4Yu8JEez0XKbflYhGIQDzjdjXa9MnMNP64BPTNV0_s0oWcz5I_VGTeu-gvR7UBGnbOWRGeEdBD0BUsCrRmd-e772zqqEQzEX1Zt/s320/WP_000331.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surely those holes mean they'll work better? Oh wait!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Since returning to Shakey Town I haven’t managed to do a much riding, but I’m rectifying that now. I had a great ride with ma chickas on Sunday, which inspired me to get out yesterday and tackle Kennedy’s Bush. It was a grey day, which a front menacing throughout the climb. My legs were strong and I couldn’t help but test them to their fullest by pushing the biggest gear I’ve managed yet up the steep road. I continued this theme up the front of the hill and then the 4wd track. After a rather sedate, cow avoiding run down Siberia Flats I discovered that my legs were not going to put up with this treatment for much longer. Up the next climb it was a bit of a struggle and I took the opportunity where it levels briefly to socialise with the Belted Galloways. I almost ended having to modestly turn away as the frisky bull decided to take his mating rights. Fortunately Mrs Cow wasn’t having a bar of it and shoved him away before continuing grazing. He wasn’t put out, grass must be damn good. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebfjJIK-gniIQZaTpUgM5kJ-hVQci8uizuq9l10JmuWrdoD_IBc3dqiDPq-gJHKzMdqjtmFsIwrEjT3MjIY7oLsvvWDRhcZJQyTWmXAIaBGJUwKF3214nPCVOiwg-R2QbHnLmxyKoho4g/s1600/WP_000375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjebfjJIK-gniIQZaTpUgM5kJ-hVQci8uizuq9l10JmuWrdoD_IBc3dqiDPq-gJHKzMdqjtmFsIwrEjT3MjIY7oLsvvWDRhcZJQyTWmXAIaBGJUwKF3214nPCVOiwg-R2QbHnLmxyKoho4g/s320/WP_000375.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy family pastoral scene</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After almost reaching the top I decided the approaching front was getting a little too close and I was woefully unprepared for cold weather and rain so headed back down. Time to book the bike in to get my brakes bled, as my front lever kept journeying to my grip on the trip down. Oooops again. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDQwgnMczujQAlffNU89lpDyv114VScW4lQXB3zJ9LdRgZ4MNgmhdUqUrT948BabirAafo0xcEIM02QZ1JcfKETLwE-h93iGRatSvUbVHTn-de4mTvRrl7cwg6mZ7I586wbAHXITGPQ3f/s1600/PANO_20120213_113926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDQwgnMczujQAlffNU89lpDyv114VScW4lQXB3zJ9LdRgZ4MNgmhdUqUrT948BabirAafo0xcEIM02QZ1JcfKETLwE-h93iGRatSvUbVHTn-de4mTvRrl7cwg6mZ7I586wbAHXITGPQ3f/s320/PANO_20120213_113926.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from Kennedy's Bush is why it's my favourite climb</td></tr>
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<br />The ride down the Crocodile was very fun with the corners having been widened, but many of them had large holes in the apex which made for a bit of a challenge. I managed to get home just as the rain came with legs feeling happily toasted. I definitely need to do more of this! <br />
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<br />In other news, I’ve managed to get roped into helping with the rather awesome Lyttelton Urban DH race that’s happening on the 24th of March. I’m really enjoying been involved with such an exciting race and entries are coming in now. Wyn Masters has signed up, as has local favourite Nathan Rennie. It should be amazing to spectate with huge jumps and gaps, and all sorts of crazy stuff. Check out the blog I’m writing for more info. <a href="http://lytteltonurbandh.blogspot.co.nz/">http://lytteltonurbandh.blogspot.co.nz/</a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbepEQs8SSSjd8by_134N5dAFsX3AxAWviy7N2RwppaduhxUI2TvHQQIE4Qm3nFijAGBLaYe7mP9tF63yJK8shgrvtclM4FKhV2qyne7fL0X_Z6P70H_z3fAIuBCm10wjL7kTirhLF-j9/s1600/WP_000344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbepEQs8SSSjd8by_134N5dAFsX3AxAWviy7N2RwppaduhxUI2TvHQQIE4Qm3nFijAGBLaYe7mP9tF63yJK8shgrvtclM4FKhV2qyne7fL0X_Z6P70H_z3fAIuBCm10wjL7kTirhLF-j9/s320/WP_000344.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gross, that is all! </td></tr>
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And finally, for those of you who read <a href="http://www.bikesnobnyc.blogspot.co.nz/2012/01/hard-and-soft-let-them-eat-ice-cream.html" target="_blank">Bike Snob's</a> brilliant blog, you'll know that he often refers to pants yabbies. If you've never been aquainted with the creature we colloquially call a yabbie here in NZ, here is one I caught while fishing on the Poolburn Dam. I think you'll agree that if your pants yabbies looked anything like this hideous thing you'd be off to the doctors and definitely still a virgin! <br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-68626623433583789682012-01-30T11:49:00.000+13:002012-01-30T11:49:43.476+13:00Finding my lungs<div style="text-align: justify;">
Somewhere on the Longest Day Ride I dropped my lungs. Or it might have been the next day evacuating the airport during the earthquakes, maybe I left them on the floor when I tried to crawl under a chair because I thought the light fittings were going to bounce out of the ceiling and onto me. All I know is that since then I’ve been really struggling with having any lung capacity.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi005ZxyfjVVbbYZdlR6l94W4TA4R2pX2OKl3DkeVSH03sHFn_kbYtR8k3J7-WjeuMcxYoU1hDLydspWIrDACgSsgqnX_4dDQVxFG1E-85TT1o2h4MGxo5wyYsvh7pxr0iESdap6v2O0z6J/s1600/WP_000290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi005ZxyfjVVbbYZdlR6l94W4TA4R2pX2OKl3DkeVSH03sHFn_kbYtR8k3J7-WjeuMcxYoU1hDLydspWIrDACgSsgqnX_4dDQVxFG1E-85TT1o2h4MGxo5wyYsvh7pxr0iESdap6v2O0z6J/s320/WP_000290.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />This was shown to me clearly when I ventured up Rapaki for the first time in a year. The geotechs and blasters have finished their work and the track is now officially open, although users are warned to “Stay away!” if they are uncomfortable with the ever present risk of rocks bouncing down on their noggins. I chuckled to see my old friend Danger Officer Commander employing his mighty forearms to repel the deadly rocks and then headed up the track in the sun.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMW3qcg5XSwO_6rOCflCik1TAbH1HdygzFbA15o858sLTS8NqN-5m5hrpxJqg4fqnx6sguRHGniRa1qxheHCQju4IPp0aDwv-d-Dq4QMv3_KRBfZOwUdZK8be0LRLKbRjUyDP1mTsR4Sg/s1600/Danger+Officer+Commander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMW3qcg5XSwO_6rOCflCik1TAbH1HdygzFbA15o858sLTS8NqN-5m5hrpxJqg4fqnx6sguRHGniRa1qxheHCQju4IPp0aDwv-d-Dq4QMv3_KRBfZOwUdZK8be0LRLKbRjUyDP1mTsR4Sg/s320/Danger+Officer+Commander.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />Rapaki is as it ever was, wide and smooth, although a couple of ruts have opened up and filled with deep gravel which could make descending slightly perilsome. As the hot sun beat down on me I was passed by a runner like I was standing still, which I almost was. I was really struggling. In fact I was going almost as slow as the first time I ever rode up Rapaki. My lack of breath was shown to me all to clearly when not too far from the top I had to stop! I just couldn’t catch my breath. Not good. <br />At the top I lay in the tussocks and enjoyed the stunning view while learning to breathe again. Finally I slowly drifted up the road and across the traverse and then down Sesame St and Dyers Rd. Back to bed with me after that ride. </div>
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<br />Last Thursday my hubby and I took a day trip to Hanmer and I was hoping my lungs would be feeling much improved so I could enjoy the flowing tracks. Unfortunately this was not to be and at the halfway point of the climb up Mach 1 I was already struggling. Mach 1 was in mint condition and riding great so even though I wasn’t riding well I still loved it. We very naughtily decided to investigate the progress on reinstating Bigfoot. I ground slowly up the road while hubby took the more difficult option of heading up the Joliffe Track. At the carpark at the top hubby headed into the reinstated Fir Trail while I began the slow process of climbing the 17 switchbacks up Bigfoot. </div>
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<br />This section of track hasn’t really been effected by the logging and was mint, although I found that I really struggled with right hand switchbacks and lost my front wheel twice resulting in tree-hugging to save myself. I had to stop a few times on the climb, which was no surprise and hubby caught up with me. Then the descent began. I should really title this naughty ride Blood, Sweat and Fears, because after sweating my way up to the top I was completely freaked out riding down. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBV5YkxPQMhvZhRLK4GeLso0P1QOWTsu_YJemM49W-Yqv3Yglqv2kd2hvGapatlZPC_zjR0BZNQWucBo-Xfq5GE89rKEDbfpw4HxTlT-nQ8jDSqg2vdjhlKTdRtfX83mvlkYJ-M2TCit8-/s1600/055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBV5YkxPQMhvZhRLK4GeLso0P1QOWTsu_YJemM49W-Yqv3Yglqv2kd2hvGapatlZPC_zjR0BZNQWucBo-Xfq5GE89rKEDbfpw4HxTlT-nQ8jDSqg2vdjhlKTdRtfX83mvlkYJ-M2TCit8-/s320/055.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />Of course this was our own fault for riding a track that isn’t open and ready to be riding yet. With the trees gone and the sharp stones the lie beneath the surface exposed and loose it was nerve jangling riding down. The track is narrower and falls away quickly down the steep banks and what were once fun grippy corners now felt like loose death traps. Finally I came to grief in a steep tight turn where my bike got into the loose stuff and I just couldn’t get it to turn. Skin on knees be gone! After this I ended up walking a couple more of the corners and decided that I probably deserved to lose some skin for riding a closed track. BAD GIRL! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKEYpQl2ewQqR_oCJoyUGBYSo31d2NwXvaG7ejwBAmXDMm20Te5uy9-g72PEBoPxscsmCSIrIgf3jDHd5fEq21dfAcZ6NEIJu3IIZpfGMFQgClbW7c2fyeLtuLsIsUOOqN017UVm7H17nU/s1600/Bloody+knees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKEYpQl2ewQqR_oCJoyUGBYSo31d2NwXvaG7ejwBAmXDMm20Te5uy9-g72PEBoPxscsmCSIrIgf3jDHd5fEq21dfAcZ6NEIJu3IIZpfGMFQgClbW7c2fyeLtuLsIsUOOqN017UVm7H17nU/s320/Bloody+knees.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />After this we headed up Detox which was in great condition, but I’d lost my bottle and failed to ride the little rock drop. By the bottom I was spent and riding like a complete muppet so I headed back to the car while hubby went out to ride Red Rocks, Swoop, Swamp Track and Yankee Zypher. He came back to the car with bleeding forearms after being attacked by brambles on the more over grown tracks. </div>
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<br />So not my best ride in Hanmer and I was feeling a little dejected about my lack of fitness after this adventure. I was also feeling intense burning pain when I applied the liquid plaster to my grazes. Wow that stuff hurts!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjad26GFAXmxXtntZirMZJ73Mch36HLaj4vOLJGlWDtB0WtV-0ryLe1gVbjO5FFIXvJyLskMS-kCG95D78o5p3nYUKG0XCDR1iZglc-KHj-aaOayKBPhFFS596FjKBfjd3wBoXTtqAVmTO_/s1600/WP_000293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjad26GFAXmxXtntZirMZJ73Mch36HLaj4vOLJGlWDtB0WtV-0ryLe1gVbjO5FFIXvJyLskMS-kCG95D78o5p3nYUKG0XCDR1iZglc-KHj-aaOayKBPhFFS596FjKBfjd3wBoXTtqAVmTO_/s320/WP_000293.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshly cleaned graze looks fairly minor</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZErKEpSXp_3hEy9Z6SX79K5QwQZ8K9vBUxRTJ2scG31gTGa1M4rmrItEarxXhZYaA7GvGOuZKPKgbPbXiKOKuB3AMjyVCWDUM6XtzW70de22fHHZXxEWTJ59PaLOJSPPplVd4B7Jn2l9b/s1600/WP_000316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZErKEpSXp_3hEy9Z6SX79K5QwQZ8K9vBUxRTJ2scG31gTGa1M4rmrItEarxXhZYaA7GvGOuZKPKgbPbXiKOKuB3AMjyVCWDUM6XtzW70de22fHHZXxEWTJ59PaLOJSPPplVd4B7Jn2l9b/s320/WP_000316.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two days later is looking pretty rough and is still owie</td></tr>
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<br />So I was a little apprehensive about heading to Living Springs yesterday. The 4wd track climb here is not my friend, I’ve only managed to ride up it a few times and usually I’m ready to pass out by the top. Yesterday I actually rode up it with relative ease. I say relative because to a normal fit person it would have looked like a struggle, but for me it was really good. We sifted around the rest of the tracks, my lovely friend Michelle showing her friend how to ride the lovely tight corners of Zanes. I had my flow on and it was a brilliant ride. But the end of the lap I was feeling so confident we decided to take a look at the Canyon Drop. A very steep pinch climb leads you into a big rollover down a rock into a canyon (surprisingly enough). </div>
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<br />As I rolled in to have a look at it I lost my bottle, that thing is steep and a long way down. The lovely Michelle showed me how it was done and then I was rolling in and committed. WEeeeeeee! My forks bottomed out as I hit the bottom and then I was safely zooming out. Awesome. </div>
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<br />After that we drove up to Brake Free and sessioned that for a while and I’ve start to get some confidence over jumps again. Then in a fit a madness I decided I wanted to ride down Sesame St and bike back up the hideous steep 4wd track. I was pretty impressed that I managed to ride most of it and only lost my front wheel once! Then an out and back along the Traverse and I was grinning ear to ear. By far the best ride I’ve had in ages. I was really flowing well and rode the Traverse cleaner than I ever have before. I’m really looking forward to heading back down for more time on the Queenstown tracks this week. Come on fitness, I know you’re there somewhere! <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-87102255118361853942012-01-23T22:39:00.000+13:002012-01-23T22:41:42.008+13:00New bling and encounters with greatness<div style="text-align: justify;">
After my adventures on Bob’s Peak (no it doesn’t belong to the <a href="http://geared-facile.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">slightly mad Geared Facile builder who I work with</a>), I realised that I would need to be equipped with a new toy for Queenstown 6hr Super D Enduro. As luck would have it, a quick trip to my lovely LBS, Hub Cycles, and I discovered the Joplin seat post was currently on special. Great news for me and my bank account, and it also meant I didn’t earn any stern looks from my better half for squandering our precious earnings on toys.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JMwXeZl1_Gz4SwV0lhu9n-mHMSAbNmsR2APyUEilY8ZD_U0uW09jYouIG-qEShJKwuB5YEJeYHUJB3B_Irc2_EaeRA_2k5nKaHbULiBgTvAjS0ql0BxT5ds64bYBK-Yf8RxqjKamFab2/s1600/Joplin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JMwXeZl1_Gz4SwV0lhu9n-mHMSAbNmsR2APyUEilY8ZD_U0uW09jYouIG-qEShJKwuB5YEJeYHUJB3B_Irc2_EaeRA_2k5nKaHbULiBgTvAjS0ql0BxT5ds64bYBK-Yf8RxqjKamFab2/s320/Joplin.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crank Bros Joplin 4 - bring on the Crank Bros hate you haters</td></tr>
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In next to no time the post arrived at the shop and I soon had it in my hot little hands (this is actually a literal statement, my hands are pretty much always hot and are rather small, but perfectly formed). Unfortunately a weekend full of many tasks meant my lovely new post stayed in its box till today. Fortunately one of those tasks was spending all of yesterday at Round 2 of the NZ MTB nationals at Living Springs. </div>
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The day started out quite bleak and I was mighty glad to spend the morning in the timing tent with Dunedin track building impresario Hamish Seaton, after working a stretch on the registration desk. The age group racers battled rain and freezing winds and I was glad I had a blanket to wrap my legs in.</div>
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After lunch, and a brief drool over Anton Cooper’s gorgeous new Trek, I grabbed my fluro vest and radio and headed up the hill to marshal the Elite and U19 race. And what a pleasure it was. My spot had good sightlines uphill through some tight switch backs and then down through the forest across a couple of slippery bridges. Watching the Elite guys and girls race was really inspirational, but watching Anton was a real highlight. I’ve seen him race quite a few times, but usually not through technical tight stuff. He rode my section much faster than any of the other riders on the course and seemed to move his bike with almost inhuman skill. The boy is fast. It was a great afternoon cheering young Disco Slippers and all the other awesome riders on, so I wasn’t regretting not being able to ride myself.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOXjOV4ocDCSIabGzdyKbUHZNn87e34npBWxpeVc6aPJdFNLbzhxfd0sSf8Vid7q1wAPGbkl5qUNQjcOp-rWcOTOnKJLJ_TK6_uysS9mk-bdbvkUDSy6Tu0BmWvVEHpxJCu_J4P9YiVyJ/s1600/Anton+Cooper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikOXjOV4ocDCSIabGzdyKbUHZNn87e34npBWxpeVc6aPJdFNLbzhxfd0sSf8Vid7q1wAPGbkl5qUNQjcOp-rWcOTOnKJLJ_TK6_uysS9mk-bdbvkUDSy6Tu0BmWvVEHpxJCu_J4P9YiVyJ/s320/Anton+Cooper.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anton Cooper pinning it at Living Springs - Photo Peter Ball</td></tr>
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Today I rectified the lack of weekend riding. The Joplin was super quick and easy to install as I decided not to go for the version with a remote as I don’t really want more cables and bar clutter on my bike. The under seat lever is easy to reach and works great. After a few circles of the driveway I was happy with my seat position and soon I was pedalling up to the start of the Nun. </div>
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Being able to just drop my seat fully and blast straight in was awesome, but felt a bit weird. I’m very much used to riding the Nun with my seat up. Having it right down made a huge difference. The back end behaved better, I hit more of the little jumps and got more air than I generally do and I would have had one of my best runs if I hadn’t gone through one of the two puddles and ended up with an eye full of mud. And I’m not exaggerating about that. I managed to ride down the rocky section I was half way through, then stopped and tried to rinse the mud out. The rest I blinked away and I’m still getting little lumps of mud coming out the corner of my eye now. Gross. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7WgCb5AlfwM0wBrKVuamj1h7mTrsnLyVqRY890B9ABw9gagz5vvQ-aLcf4aVCK5wNUc8B0io2cAPOlVrss3cbhxzVbdnNGY4KG09FeXSW5zRQmkh7pWK5v181Fda53iVZszO_fX8uLqO/s1600/Mel+through+the+rock+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="60" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7WgCb5AlfwM0wBrKVuamj1h7mTrsnLyVqRY890B9ABw9gagz5vvQ-aLcf4aVCK5wNUc8B0io2cAPOlVrss3cbhxzVbdnNGY4KG09FeXSW5zRQmkh7pWK5v181Fda53iVZszO_fX8uLqO/s320/Mel+through+the+rock+garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the section of track I was half blinded for. Not fun. </td></tr>
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Second run was even better. I found the optimum drop for my seat, right down just wasn’t quite right and by the third I was pinning it. It would be interesting to see if I can keep up with my husband on his big bike yet.</div>
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By the end of three runs my legs were jelly and my lungs gasping, but it was brilliant. The Joplin seat post was smooth and worked brilliantly. I love it. I really can’t wait for my birthday when I head down to Queenstown for more gondola shuttles.</div>
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And finally tonight I want to share this photo I took when I was in Alex of me and my Mum (or for grammar Nazis, my mother and I). We’re riding the River track that runs from Alex to Clyde and you can tell we’re loving it. My Mum is the reason I started riding bikes, she’d been doing races and endurance rides for years before I got my first bike since university. I love riding with my Mum, she’s always up for a challenge and she’s got great skills. I certainly hope I can still ride so well when I’m in my 60’s (sorry Mum, love you). </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-56204215712480874442012-01-13T10:41:00.000+13:002012-01-13T10:41:14.706+13:00Skyline Gondola Queenstown – 5,000 metres of descent<div style="text-align: justify;">
It is raining outside, which is good for Central Otago because they really need it and good for me because I’m knackered. I’ve been making the most of my time down here and on Wednesday hit the BMX track. That thing is loooooong. But fun. And very good for the skills as I found out yesterday when I drove through to Queenstown to hit up the Gondola on Bob’s Peak which now takes mountain bikes. </div>
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<br />Arriving at about 10:30 (the gondola opens to bikes at 10) I soon had my purple half day wrist band ($45) and was in line for the gondola with a lot of downhill bikes. My little anthem suddenly looked even smaller and I felt a little apprehensive about what I was letting myself in for. At the top I had a quick chat with the guy at the bike workshop (you can hire bikes from the top or bottom) and was on my way. First stop Hammy’s, the longest and easiest trail on the hill. I took it easy and tried to tune into my bike and by the halfway mark realised I was being an idiot with my seat still all the way up. After dropping it 5cm the second half flowed much better and I was looking forward to my second run of the track. Hammy’s has plenty of little jumps and rollers for pumping. The BMXing really paid off!</div>
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After a few more Hammy’s, with a bit of riding on the structures beside the track, I decided it was time to move onto Vertigo, a blue grade 3 track. This was brilliant. Because it’s a bit harder and perhaps because of the steep entry it doesn’t seem to get the traffic of Hammy’s and was in excellent condition. While Hammy’s has plenty of big bermed corners, a lot of them are loose and badly rutted as riders brake hard and they see a lot of traffic. On Vertigo most of the corners are smooth and super-fast and there are plenty of roots and little step down to challenge. There are some bigger jumps too, but all are rollable if you’re willing to drop your speed. I really need to work on my jumps as I managed a couple of exciting nose wheelies just before the descent to the halfway mark.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hairpin turn on Hammys one side...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... gorgeous view on the other</td></tr>
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<br />From the halfway mark I dropped into Original, which has plenty of steep sections, rooty blown out bits and in the later sections big wheel eating braking bumps and loose ruts. Plenty of challenges for someone on a steep angled cross country bike and halfway down it my brakes were singing the “I’m freaking hot” song. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As usual the camera doesn't do justice to the steepness</td></tr>
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<br />Each run down the hill I got more confident and learn a bit more about carrying speed and hitting the right lines. I was even starting to get a bit of air in places, on purpose too. Riding up in the gondola was the perfect opportunity to eat, drink and stretch the fingers. And on a number of occasions, chat to fellow riders. On my final ride up the hill I was sharing the gondola with a local chick on a downhill bike. I’d been wanting to ride Singletrack Sandwich, but as it is a black diamond grade 5 trail I was a little apprehensive about heading down it on the Anthem. She told me it was just steel and narrow, with one rollable drop and I decided to give it a go.</div>
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<br />Down Hammies to the halfway mark and then a wee rest to prepare myself. Entering Singletrack Sandwich you are slightly lulled into a false sense of security as it starts off level, twisting over roots, through trees. Then it drops. A lot. The first corner was really steep and badly rutted down the middle. I stopped to examine it before I rode it, found a line I liked and rode it no problem. The next corner was even steeper and super loose and powdery. It looked ok, but I soon discovered the my bike didn’t want to turn so I bailed gracefully and walked round it. I was glad I did because the drop was at the bottom of this corner and I don’t think my seat was down low enough to safely roll it. So I walked that too. Next time.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My little baby hanging out with the big kids</td></tr>
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<br />The rest of the track was fairly straight forward in comparison to those two corners. Lots of roots, ruts and narrow bits, but really fun and in no time I was back on Original and then whooshing onto Hammy’s for the last time. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh so good! </td></tr>
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<br />11 runs down the hill done and I had time for one more, but I was feeling pretty exhausted so I decided to call it a day while I was intact and headed into town for a gelato at Patagonia Chocolates. Just as I was finishing my well-earned treat the rain came down so I timed that perfectly. On the drive home I realised I was still very hungry despite the huge ice cream as I couldn’t stop fantasising about Jimmy’s pies. A quick stop in Cromwell remedied that and soon I was back at Mum’s and lying on the couch exhausted.</div>
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<br />I cannot wait to head back to Queenstown and do that again, but till then I think I need to get stronger hands and fitter legs and arms. Riding down the equivalent of 1.5 Mt Cooks really takes it out of you. <br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-28315950385888815732012-01-11T10:51:00.001+13:002012-01-11T10:51:20.653+13:00Maybe I should have listened to my architect<div style="text-align: justify;">
You may recall that just before the Longest Day ride I posted a query regarding <a href="http://www.ilovetobikelots.blogspot.com/2011/12/am-i-cursed.html" target="_blank">my state of cursedness and discoursed on my level of horrible sickness</a>. It so happened that that evening I was arranging a meeting with my architect, who happens to be a rather awesome singlespeed riding mad man, who had read my blog and gave me a well-meaning, but protracted lecture on looking after myself. Some of you may be aware that I have somewhat of a determined streak (be polite!) so I was sure I would ride, and I did and you have probably seen the results if you tune in regularly (it’s <a href="http://www.ilovetobikelots.blogspot.com/2011/12/longest-day-awesome.html" target="_blank">the previous post</a> if you don’t).</div>
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<br />Well, after that I didn’t feel too bad. Unfortunately the next day my lovely hubby and I were at the airport waiting for our delayed (oh the shock) Jetstar flight when a nice big earthquake hit. And then another bigger one. I am not embarrassed to say that I was really fricken scared during both of them. Seems my earthquake resilience is completely shot and now even minor wobbles freak me. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While in Auckland for chrimble I entered a different dimension.... ooooOOOOoooo</td></tr>
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<br />The upshot of all this was a Christmas break with me suffering from very CFSs like symptoms, including sleeping most of the time, being incoherent at times, terrible headaches and migraines, and feeling completely weak and feeble. Of course this freaked me out even more, and I began to actually regret my awesome longest day ride.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't the only thing feeling worse for wear after more earthquakes</td></tr>
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<br />However now I’m on the mend so I’m not feeling soooo bad, but yes Dayle you were probably right, don’t rub it in.</div>
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<br />To celebrate feeling slightly better I did a silly thing and decided that my first ride of the New Year should be the lung searing, technical grin-fest that is Living Springs. Hmmmm. When I got on my bike it felt weird under me. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced this, but usually when I’m riding the bike and I are kind of one thing moving together. This was not the case on Sunday. And hence I completely overcooked a corner in Zanes and slid out. My forearm and thigh came down heavily on a root and I immediately developed an alien baby to rival the one <a href="http://www.ilovetobikelots.blogspot.com/2009/08/girls-go-wild-on-singletrack.html" target="_blank">I got in Hanmer that time</a>. </div>
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<br />Needless to say when I caught up to my husband I was not a happy camper having decided I could no longer ride to save my life that I was obviously destined to spend the rest of summer in bed sleeping my life away. Yes, I can be a little melodramatic at times. Fortunately after lying in the grass for a while and being consoled by my man I decided to push on with another lap. And I quite literally did as I really couldn’t ride up the 4wd track, but I didn’t care. My climbing up the switchbacks in The Pines was still good and sooner than I thought was possible for me in my current state, I was at the top of Rhymes with Orange and ready for another attempt at Zanes (via Mississippi). And what do you know, it was brilliant. I was one with the bike and flowed up, over, around and down the track, getting to the bottom much much faster than the first lap. Yay! </div>
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After that awesome ride we headed to Lyttleton for a drink at the new container bar Port Hole on the site of my beloved Volcano. You can still see the cool garden bar, but everything else is gone. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frequent patrons of the Lava Bar will recognise these steps</td></tr>
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<br />Now I am in sunny, hot Alex and with me I have my Anthem, my bmx and my road bike. Fun times are ahead. I’ve already checked out the brilliant pump track, and in the process discovered how effective my grippy pedals are at removing cores of shin flesh. I’m planning on heading to Queenstown while I here for some gondola shuttlez as I’ve entered the <a href="http://www.queenstownbikefestival.co.nz/what-s-happening/festival-programme/saturday-31st-march/super-d-enduro/" target="_blank">Queenstown Bike Festival 6hr Super-D Enduro</a> at the end of March. So excited about that one. And as if that wasn’t enough fun I’m also heading to Wellington for the<a href="http://revolvecycling.co.nz/events/superv-2012/" target="_blank"> Revolve women’s Super V race</a>. Oh yeah, March madness for me this year (sorry about the alliteration, I couldn’t help it). </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Q_tnRBboHGQP68vOjFWbcKxPMHqcy__dKHZ22lDBzayJJWdIZVQ0cya3Nj_xS7sXJwEU7Kj7tmL3tM7Vw15HqWYYvgUWQy8vAt7F9-P9FNuPrDUbp_N1nBSo016f3kFtvI4UVVeHL5Gc/s1600/WP_000264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Q_tnRBboHGQP68vOjFWbcKxPMHqcy__dKHZ22lDBzayJJWdIZVQ0cya3Nj_xS7sXJwEU7Kj7tmL3tM7Vw15HqWYYvgUWQy8vAt7F9-P9FNuPrDUbp_N1nBSo016f3kFtvI4UVVeHL5Gc/s320/WP_000264.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artistically placed pedal garks</td></tr>
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<br /><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-50839093550522474682011-12-22T23:07:00.000+13:002011-12-22T23:07:13.362+13:00Longest day - awesomeWell I didn't get better, but I did ride my bike all day and it was brilliant. I'm shattered now and since a picture is worth a thousand words here's a link to all my pictures from the ride.<br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150540252517238.434735.744277237&type=1&l=3077c0f8fa">https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150540252517238.434735.744277237&type=1&l=3077c0f8fa</a><br />
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Thanks so much to everyone who donated, we raised almost $3500 for Arthritis NZ and that's fantastic. Have a merry chrimble.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-201328869587996203.post-424241558916083242011-12-21T16:11:00.000+13:002011-12-21T16:11:10.834+13:00Am I Cursed?<div style="text-align: justify;">
You may remember that at the start of the month I recounted my festive season mishaps and illness and boldly declared that this year would be different. Now, if you were me, and like me were writing this from your sick-bed after being laid low with a nasty summer cold, you might feel a little put out. Perhaps even feel like you were being punished for tempting fate? Well I kind of feel like that, but buggeration! I’m not going to let it stop me taking part in the Longest Day Ride tomorrow. </div>
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<br />Currently I’m trying every home remedy under the sun to get rid of my hideous germs. Garlic pills, Vitamin D, C, and B. An immune system boosting herbal remedy. Gaggling salt water. Drinking a mixture of fresh chillis, garlic, ginger, orange and honey, simmered and blended. Panadol. Sleep. Positive visualisation. Fresh fruit and veges. Plenty of fluids. So far I still feel like complete bollocks. </div>
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<br />So I have come up with two alternate plans for tomorrows ride. The I’m still feeling a bit rough and shouldn’t really smash myself plan (A); and The I felt like utter crap but I’m pigheaded and will not let down the people who have donated to me plan(B).</div>
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<br />Plan A involves no fun Port Hills action, but a sift between McLeans and Bottlelake (still with breakfast at the duck pond) and maybe an extended visit to Orana Park. I still intend to be out for the duration of the ride.</div>
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<br />Plan B involves not taking my MTB at all, but spending the whole day on my Duchess cruising around the central city and documenting the Gap Filler initiatives, and various other signs of our city’s recovery from the earthquakes. I hope to still be out for the duration of the ride but will pull the pin if a feel like fainting or anything silly like that.</div>
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<br />To say I’m gutted that my awesome ride is in jeopardy is an understatement. But it seems that this is my lot for the festival season so when I wake tomorrow at 5am and get ready to get on my bike at 5:45am I’m prepared for things not to be ideal. For now I’ll keep drinking my tonics and think positive and pack my dry bag tonight. Wish me luck. I really need it! <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0