And now we return to your regularly scheduled programme

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 s – 1, especially since spur of the moment bike buying is not something that makes for a completely harmonious evening with one’s partner or spouse. n + 1 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.

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.

You can almost make out the little gold sparkles in the black paint. Love!

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.

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.

I also love the black and white colour scheme and the nice wide bars

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 Hub Cycles 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.

Big hoops are big. Do my legs look short in this?

Racing? Sort of.

On Sunday I did my first "race" in 18 months. It was the final of the CSC's Short Track series and it was so fun. Held on Siberia Flat on Kennedy's Bush it was 20 minutes of lung searing, leg smashing awesome and I was super stoked with how I went. And when I say how I went I don't mean where I got in the race (I was lapped by a child), but how my body felt during and after. This was the first time in aaaagggeesss that I really pushed my body as hard as I could and on the start line I didn't really know what would happen. In fact I was quite prepared to pull the pin if things felt bad. I certainly didn't want to send myself back to being bed ridden.
I had a great ride at Bottlelake with a mate on Saturday and that gave me the confidence to push during the race. Saturday was a great blast with lots of hard out sprints and then some skills practice on the skinnies. It seems that my loss of fitness has meant that I'm now riding inside my skillset so that I'm actually feeling more confident on the bike than ever before. I feel I have control over what my bike is doing now, rather than just being along for the ride some of the time. And that's how it was on Sunday at the race.
The singletrack flew by. Andre at Hub Cycles has recently tuned up my suspension and my bike was running like a dream. It was super responsive through the singletrack, flowed down the bumpy down hill (even when I was blasting brake-free) and pedalled great back up the hill. I was aiming for 3 laps in my 20 mins so was really happy to easily get 4. In fact I think I might have almost squeezed 5 in if I hadn't stopped to help a fallen rider at the start for a couple of minutes.
And now I'm off to Hanmer to ride sweet sweet singletrack for 3 days, weather permitting. I have to say, looking out at the storm that's raging right now, there may be a lot of sitting in hot pools and doing homework and less riding than I would like.

Mid winter creativity

Hello my lovely readers! I am in a very cheerful moodas I have just finished creating my magnum opus, a short film about Ground Effect's wonderful clothes and just how many items from their catelogue I have. What inspired this burst of film making? Well one of the lovely Ground Effect employees got in touch with me and asked if they could us my stop motion of the jacket and pants packing themselves on their soon to be released youtube site. They also liked this very blog so in the future you may find some of my previous posts gracing the Ground Effect stalkbook page. If you haven't visit that page, go here and 'Like' them. I could waffle on further about the riding I've been doing and how Aspire is still going well, although I am a bit bored of it right now and would like some chocolate, but instead I'll just put my video up. Thanks Ground Effect for making Oarsum clothing that gets me out in all weather.

Quality time in the pain box

I would like to begin this post by reminding my lovely readers of this other post that I wrote less than a month ago in which I detailed my failed attempt to ride 12kms. That’s right, less than a month ago I couldn’t do a lap of Bottlelake without collapsing. Keep that in mind as you read about my day yesterday, The Shortest Day.

As I said in my previous post I was doing this event for the challenge, that challenge being to see how far and how long I could ride for with no real training to speak of. On Saturday I took the advice of my Aspire dietician and had some extra servings of grain and I also added an extra serving of protein. I woke early on Sunday and had a bigish breakfast, not sure if the event was even going to be happening with all the rain that had fallen over night. Driving over to Sumner the sunrise was glorious and I arrived just in time to make a few notes on the points values of a few tracks and head off just after all the others. I made some quick calculations about what I thought I could achieve and decided to head to Bottlelake (10pts). It was a nice cruise in the morning sun and I arrived at the sandpit feeling pretty good. I sifted a lap and felt sorry for my poor drive train as there were some extremely muddy bits on the new sections of track. I made sure to keep my intensity under control and didn’t worry when I got passed. All these other riders were out for a Sunday lap of the forest, I had bigger fish to fry. Once I’d finished my lap I had 33kms under my belt and had been going for just over 2 hours. I had some delicious OSM (gah, I hate them) and got back on the road to head to McLean’s Island.



Not sure of exactly which roads were the best to take I followed my instincts and made pretty good choices. The rain came down for a while as I cruised along Prestons Rd and soon I reached Main North Rd. Having never been on Prestons Rd before it took me a couple of seconds to orient myself at the intersection, before turning left and heading down to Sawyers Arms Rd. I knew where I was now and headed for Johns Rd (after a brief stop sheltering under someone’s tree to eat more OSM). Soon I was on Johns Rd and my legs were telling me that they were not happy. I found heading out to McLean’s to be a rather painful and unpleasant experience and when I finally got there I headed straight for the tuck shop and grabbed an Ems Power Cookie Bar (om nom nom!). The guy in shop asked if I was doing “that crazy mountain bike marathon” and I said yes. Then he proceeded to tell me how fit and fast the other riders looked. I agreed with him, because all my fellow mad people were indeed skinny whippety sorts (even Slim!). I told him I was representing the overweight, unfit people of the world and he wished me luck. I stopped to have a decent feed of Powercookie Bar, banana, chilli and lime nut bar (OMG, Nice and Natural’s savoury nut bars are the shizzle) and handful of sour snakes before heading out on the big loop.


I had entertained thoughts during the week of bringing the roadie on this ride and swapping after McLeans, thank god I didn’t. The track was very wet and super muddy and the roadie would have just sunk in it. I cruised along, tucked nicely inside the pain box, riding in that brainless dream you sometimes get into. Many previous laps of this track mean that riding brainless was no problem and I was soon out in the dreaded new back section that I loathe. My legs was really telling me that they were not impressed with the treatment I was giving them and when I got back to the new overbridge I had a wee rest and consumed more snakes. 3kms to go back to the carpark and I grovelled back there, dreading the ride back into town.


I got back to the carpark and I’d done almost 75kms in 4hrs and my original plan for the day was fast going out the window. I had been planning on heading to Halswell from here, calling in at home for more drink and dry clothes and then going up Kennedys. As I lay in the bandstand at McLeans covered in mud I knew there was no way I was going to get up a hill now. I guessed it was 30ish kms back to Sumner and that felt like more than I was capable off. I rang hubby and told him I was going to take the most direct route back to Sumner I could and that I was planning on stopping off at C1 on the way for a decent fed and a long rest. I scoffed down half a Cookie Time cookie and got back on the road. I was very happy to note that heading away from McLeans was much easier and with the calls of monkeys and howls of African dogs ringing in my ears I headed to Harewood Rd.


At this point I was really feeling unable to go on. As I passed St James church on the outskirts of town I knew I had to lie down. I pulled into their driveway and saw to my great delight that they had a pew under the veranda of their community centre. Yes! As I lay on that pew with my feet up my mind was completely empty. Even the pain receded as I relaxed. It was bliss. After 10 minutes I felt rejuvenated and got back on my bike and headed into town.

The ride into the centre of town seemed to fly by. I think it was the thought of hot foot and a hot chocolate. Soon I was attaching my bike to the bike stands outside C1 with my helmet and perusing their food cabinet. I’d been dreaming about macaroni cheese on my ride into town, but I was thwarted and settled for beef rogan josh with ginger rice, which was even better than mac cheese. I felt a bit guilty as I slipped my mud covered self in the movie stall seat by the window so I could watch over my not very securely locked bike. The food was heaven, the warmth was heaven, the hot chocolate was heaven and watching all the trendily dressed hipsters stare at the muddy creature by the window was very amusing.


As I sat in the warmth looking at pictures in magazines (I couldn’t read words because I’d lost my brain, even ordering food had been an effort of mammoth proportions) my feet thawed out and the circulation returned and I knew I had just the right amount of time to get back to Sumner for the 4:59pm cutoff. I called into the Mobil on Madras St to grab some sports water as I’d run out of fluids and some Panadol extra to stave off my impending migraine. As I left the shop a nice fella came up to me and asked how my ride was. I said it was pretty good and he asked how far I’d been and when I replied that I’d end up doing over 100kms he was gobsmacked. The look on his face was priceless and it was actually hard to leave because he wanted to ask me loads of questions and he kept wishing me luck. I do rather enjoy smashing people’s preconceptions of someone my size.

The grovel back to Sumner was just a mist of pain. At one point Dean Hamilton came barrelling past me with a horribly cheerful wahoo! which urged a little more speed out of the weird white pudding-like substance that was masquerading as my legs. The esplanade in Sumner seemed to stretch on forever and then I was finally at the clock tower. 106kms under my belt with 6hrs 24mins of riding. Sure I hadn’t got anywhere near the hills like all the other loonies doing this ride, but I had achieved more than I thought I could. I had underestimated the distances involved in traversing the city, which was probably a good thing or I might not have even gone out at all, but I had learnt that I have more mental and physical toughness than I knew. I feel like with training I can achieve even more. Being in the painbox for 3.5hrs, with no training, was a great experience. Now I just need to find where I left my brain.

Playing about and healing

After the Wee McGregor I was feeling rather spent, very satisfied and really sore. My elbow didn’t like the 22km bumpy descent and was absolute agony after the race. My chest/shoulders/neck (csn) injury, which just keeps persisting, wasn’t much better. My physio ordered me off the bike and I begrudgingly complied. After a few rest days both elbow and csn had settled down to being annoying rather than horribly painful and I felt happy enough with them to head out to the Vulcaniser open day.

The Vulcaniser in North Canterbury is a loop of gorgeous hand sculpted singletrack made up of evilly steep climbs and twisty fun descents. I had entered the Vulcaniser race which was cancelled because of rain so this ride day would let me know what I missed out on. And what I missed out on was pain. I am not fit enough to race that course, and I don’t think I’ll ever be unless I can drop 15 to 20kgs (which I have no plans to do in the near or distant future). It was fun, but I did a lot of pushing up some of the steeper bits. The descents were great and I rode all of them except the one rooty steep bit in the “Boars Nest”. Unfortunately my hubby had mechanical issues which meant only doing one lap, but to be honest it was so cold that I was happy to leave. Now I know that I’m destined to marshal at the Vulcaniser, not race it.

Following that I did some more resting of my injuries, with just some sifty road rides thrown in to keep my fitness from completely disappearing. With the return of my regular physio and his evil fingers of pain and neck/back cracking torture I was soon back in the forest and checking out how the Bottlelake trails are riding after all the logging that has gone on. The loops are all joined up again and most of the track is pretty sweet. There are a few nasty little sandy bits, but all in all it’s looking mint for when night racing starts up again. Unfortunately I learnt that a couple of laps on the singlespeed straight after painful physio treatment makes for feeling pretty crap so that was that for riding for another few days.

Of course I’ve also been playing on my fantastic BMX. I’ve ridden at both North Avon and Hornby tracks and while both are really fun I think I like North Avon’s better. This is unfortunate given it is on the other side of town, while the Hornby track is just up the road. Oh well, I’ll just have to get better at the Hornby track. I’m starting to get a feel for the bike and can do very small manuals. I spent an hour on Easter Monday practising wheelies and lifting my back wheel in the back garden and have improved a tiny amount. My arms are telling me what hard work that was. I’m looking forward to the time in the very distant future when I can roll along the footpath on my back wheel and do bunny hops over the curb.

I took a friend for a ride up Rapaki on Monday, which I thought might be tough given I’d done a couple of hours around the forest on Sunday but I was surprised how well it went. It’s the first time I’ve been up Rapaki since my tour and my legs just ate the hill up. It helped that it was the first time my friend had been up Rapaki and I got to just cruise along, but I was still surprised at the gear I maintained and how fresh I felt at the top. I can’t wait to hammer it up there soon and try and get a new personal best.

In the final bit of news I’m off to Hanmer this weekend to do a 4hr solo race. I’m very excited about it, and not just because of the racing, which I’m aiming to do in a more laid back fashion. Heaps of my great friends are coming up to race and support too so it’s going to be a fantastic weekend away. I’m looking forward to seeing how many laps I can do in my 4 hours without blowing up, but I’m mainly looking forward to hanging out with loads and loads of cool people. Bring on Friday!

CONTROVERSY!!!

Unknowingly I have opened up a can of worms with my request for a name for my touring mascot. As I am not inflicted with little children I was not aware that my mascot is in fact something called a Wot Wot and her name is Dotty Wot. Many a parent was outraged my intention to rename her. However I am still keen to run my poll however and I have 3 submissions. Obviously Dotty is one option. The second option is Murphy and Murphy looks like this.

Image curtesy of the artist talents of Craig Tregurtha

My own suggestion is Gypsy because that’s what she is, roaming the roads of the West Coast, without a care in the world. She also knows a trick or two (like clothes herding).
So the poll is up and will remain up until Wednesday evening. Get voting, exercise your democratic right to feel you have the power to influence things you don’t really care about!

In Further News
Map reading is a skill that will come in handy for touring and I thought I’d give mine a bit of a brush up by trying out MTB orienteering for the first time. The even t was held on Sunday at Bottlelake and was heaps of fun. I only got lostish a couple of times and hubby and I had great fun sprinting our singlespeeds all over the place. We got all the points and I’d definitely be keen to do it again. Luckily there’s not much chance of me getting lost on the West Coast since I’ll be sticking to the main road 90% of the time. Only 3 days till I leave and I’m getting very excited!

Sometimes DFL doesn’t hurt

Last night was rather cold, but there was still a huge turn out to night racing. Unfortunately during the previous week those little imps the loggers had been at work installing massive fences and cutting down trees and there were changes afoot to the course. These changes were not suited to those of us rocking one gear as there was a lot more flat 4wd track in the second lap. In fact the second lap was predominantly 4wd track and it wasn’t really much fun. The course was also longer so it’s difficult to compare times.

Despite this I really enjoyed the race, my legs feel good and I had fun on the slippy wet singletrack. My strategy from last week let me down somewhat with the addition of more flat 4wd track and I wasn’t able to catch up with people in the last lap at all. However I did have company throughout these boring flat sections and it was most welcome. Firstly, because riding with someone else made me push harder, and secondly, because my companion was most amusing. Being a gentleman I insisted he finish before me as I was mentally prepared for the DFL (Dead Freakin Last) I received.
I was quite happy with it for a number of reasons.

Why last doesn’t hurt
Reason 1.
It is expected. Last night was the coldest night we’ve had so far and often the colder nights are the ones that whittle out the slower riders. There were about 20 less people there last night and some of those would be from my end of the field. Also with the change to the course I knew I would be fighting a loosing battle. Much like during the Hammerhead race, having a realistic expectation of getting last serves to blunten the trauma that may otherwise be felt.

Reason 2.
The race was successful in other ways. Last night I felt really strong throughout the race, and even better, I was able to push harder for longer when riding with my companion. I conquered nasty pinch climbs stronger, ran up Tip Hill faster, helped someone whose lights had failed and felt like I had definitely improved over the week. I finished the race exhausted and muddy and grinning.

Reason 3.
Fear of getting last can keep you off your bike. Last year, when I was fitter, I was terrified of getting last. It seemed like the worse thing in the world. This year I know I’m slower and that there’s a risk I’ll get last. If I let getting last be something I must avoid at all costs I’ll have to stop racing. I don’t want to stop racing. I find it one of the most enjoyable, satisfying, motivational and challenging things I do. Someone has to get last at every race and if that person is me occasionally I don’t mind.

Reason 4.
You stay warmer. On cold nights being the last one in means you don’t have to wait around for the prize giving. It’s sometimes underway when you get there. You stay warm from your efforts and then its time to go home with your bacon sandwich and dry change of clothes.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I’ll always be satisfied with last. In a couple of month’s time I hope to be getting back towards being fit again and then I’ll be expecting to avoid getting last like you avoid ebola (I was going to say swine flu, but apparently some people don’t want to avoid that). For now though I can read the situation well. On warmer nights when there are more people racing I don’t expect to get last, when there’s more singletrack and less 4wd track I don’t expect to get last and when there’s a new course I don’t expect to get last (I’m gifted with track brain). Next week I’ll see what the race gods throw before me and adjust my expectations accordingly and then I’ll ride my bike as hard as I can and be happy to be out doing something I love with a huge group crazies who like racing around in the dark.

Singlespeed to the rescue, with a little help from Iggy

This is not a face to inspire cycling:

Unless it’s biking away from it as fast as possible. And these lyrics are perhaps not the most cycling friendly lyrics either:
I am the passenger
And I ride and I ride
I ride through the city’s backside
I see the stars come out of the sky
Yeah, they’re bright in a hollow sky
You know it looks so good tonight
I am the passenger
I stay under glass
I look through my window so bright
I see the stars come out tonight
I see the bright and hollow sky
Over the city’s a rip in the sky
And everything looks good tonight
Singin la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la

So when this was the last song I heard before pulling into the car park at Bottlelake I wasn’t feeling very inspired to race. Given that my last 2 races were utter misery and subsequent rides around the sand puddle haven’t been significantly better I wasn’t holding out great hopes for a triumphant comeback this week.
I did have a new plan though. The bouncy bike has been horrible so I brought the SS Betty in the hope that being forced to go a constant speed would be better than the pitiful gear dropping efforts of previous evenings. Betty was ready for action with a lovely new color coordinated, and, more importantly, super cheap chain for her duties in the sand.

After signing up and meeting up with others of a like mind I noticed the TVNZ One news van. Fantastic! I always look my best while cycling and with a ghetto light strapped to my head. Oh well, it was dark and even though I did manage to be in the front row for the race briefing I’m hoping not to appear on the news in any way shape or form, unless it’s a shot of my wheels and ankles “zooming” past.

As usual I stationed myself at the rear of the field for the start, there’s no point in being run over. After blowing up at the start in the previous race I resolved to just go at my own pace from the start and soon I was at the back of the field, but not dropping away from those in front of me. I managed to keep up with these other tail-enders along the 4wd track and catch up through the singletrack, but was slightly thwarted by tip hill where I got halfway up and couldn’t get round them and ended up running up the hill. Urgh, I loathe running, especially with my bike, but it wasn’t for long and soon I was flying down the other side. The sand up the dunes got me again, but as I whizzed along into the headwind on the track I realised that I was actually whizzing along and I didn’t feel like dying. In fact, I felt fantastic! At this point The Passenger by Iggy Pop entered my head as I thought it would. His morose voice became my internal monologue, but fortunately I could only remember a few words, so what was going through my head was:
I am a passenger, and I ride and I ride,
Singin la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la

This, it turns out, is a fantastic riding refrain. I kicked the tempo of the tune up to match my spinning legs and it was fantastic. I was flying through the singletrack before I knew it, loving every second. And then something amazing happened. I passed someone! And then another, and then two more! This was fantastic. I reached the cross-over and the cones were still out and I didn’t have to wait. Through the rough track past the logging was awful leg sapping, bumpy yuckiness, but then I was out on the singletrack again and catching and passing another person. Tip hill was never going to happen the second time round, but as I ran up it I noticed that I was going faster than I had riding my geared bike so life was good.

By now I knew I was heading for a greatly improved time and I pushed a bit harder along the beach and the 4wd track. Through the singletrack again and I passed one more person and then I was out and actually sprinting for the finish. It was good and when I looked at my speedo I realised I’d gone 10 minutes faster than the last race. Fantastic! Obviously I haven’t got 10 minutes faster in the last couple of weeks, although it would be brilliant if I had. Betty is made for this race, even though she’s ghetto and cheap. Being on a hardtail makes keeping the speed up so much easier and having these extra 4 pairs of wings helps too:

Today, I’m destroyed, which is great. I gave it everything last night and for the first time since my break it felt really good. I really felt like I was racing and I will be back for more for the next 4 weeks, even though the horrid course isn’t being changed. I love my singlespeed.
Singin la la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la
La la la la la-la-la la la-la

A triumph of sorts

Last night was the first night race back after the terrible DNF. I was determined to get to the end last night no matter what. The course was slightly changed as there’s lots of logging going on at the moment. This meant that the road sprint was on the 4wd track and then the sealed road. This was where I made my third mistake for the night. I was feeling very keen having had quite a few good training rides and feeling strong at the weekend. I was back on the squishy bike because I didn’t think I could handle the singlespeed yet. Off we went and I lost my mind. Instead of racing at my pace and pushing within my limits I let my keen legs get the better of me and tore down the sealed road, completely exploding my fufu valve. Fool. By the time I got to the landfill hill I was still struggling to regain composure and by the top of the hill I was spat out the back of the entire field. Stink.

Ah well, I thought, I’ll just get my heart rate and breathing under control and then push on to the end. This was easier said than done, but luckily the weather was nice and I wasn’t cold. My bouncy bike felt like it was absorbing all my feeble power on the little pinches and I was getting a bit grumpy. At the cross over the marshal kindly suggested I go straight to the finish line, but there was no way I was going to do that. I continued on my second lap, partially driven by anger, but mainly driven by stubbornness. I came across another racer who’d got lost and felt a bit better having someone behind me for a while. I pushed harder and struggled up that horrible hill a second time. At the top of the sand dunes I gave the rider directions to the finish and he slowly pulled away from me.

Feelings were mixed as I crossed the finish line. Yes, I’d finished this time, an improvement, at least on paper, over last time, but I felt I’d ridden worse. I didn’t really enjoy any part of the race this time, and hated the feeling of riding the squishy bike. Next time, I think there will be a next time, I’ll take the singlespeed, I’ll ride within my abilities at the start and I’ll try and enjoy it. The bonus about being last is your number is on top of the pile for spot prizes so the evening was a complete write-off. Bring on next week?

Edit: I've just seen the results and I wasn't last! Yay.

Hmmmm, it’s wet and cold outside, what should I do?

The obvious answer is of course, ride your bike! I managed to do this on both Saturday and Sunday, despite nasty sou-westerly winds whipping off Antarctica, constant drizzle or rain and generally freezing temperatures. You see the thing about riding in winter is that if you let the miserable conditions get the best of you there will be little or no bicycle riding fun. The key to winter riding is preparedness, and I’m not just talking about the correct attire (although this is probably the most important aspect). I’ve already regaled you with my cold weather commuting attire for frosty mornings (thanks Ground Effect). My “disgusting, wet, windy, cold” riding gear isn’t too different. I’ll start from the bottom up and keep it brief, thick knee high merino socks, under leg warms under either lycra shorts with my downhill (water resistant) shorts or my GE baggies. Both these options give you 3 layers of coverage on the thighs which is most welcome in the wet and cold. Bottom half sorted, top half can be a bit trickier depending on the riding you are doing. Saturday we headed to Bottlelake – land of uber puddles, for a high intensity singlespeed blast. I knew I’d be working hard and sheltered by the trees most of the time so I went for a long sleeved merino only under my She Shell with pit zips fully opened (and the water resistant downhill short combo). This worked perfectly.

It was fairly wet, some showers interspersed with lovely Scottish mist (drizzle for those not of Celtic heritage) and the puddles were wide and in some cases much deeper than expected (crikey, my hubs seem to be under water!). We took off through the trees and headed towards the beach and on the way there I achieved a goal I’d set myself last weekend. I got all the way up the tip hill on my singlespeed. Yes. My first attempt a month ago saw me get a feeble third of the way up and last weekend I struggled three quarters of the way up. I was determined to conquer it on Saturday and managed to with much explosions of lungs and hauling on handle bars. It certainly wasn’t pretty, but I was happy once all the shiny stars went away. The rest of the ride was a hammerfest and by the end we were back in the carpark buggered and wet. My feet and lower legs were soaked most of the ride, but my feet didn’t get cold at all.

This is the point in the ride where the extra preparations are important. Always take dry socks and shoes, or in my case woolly slippers, when you know you’ll be driving home with wet feet. Also a layer of dry wool will be greatly appreciated and your upholstery will thank you for the provision of a towel. I myself carry a very lovely Singapore Airlines purple and blue tartan knee rug which is great for wrapping around cold legs and keeping mud off the seats.
On Saturday I was very happy to discover that once I removed my lovely Loeka shorts (as seen in this fabulous safety announcement) my bike shorts beneath were still dry. Another good idea is to start your car and crank the heater right up as soon as you arrive so that once you’ve loaded your bike, divested yourself of the wet, muddy clothes and applied dry warm clothes you can leap into a toasty vehicle and turn the demister on. Finally I discovered that leaving one’s spouse at home by the fire has the great benefit of being able to walk into a toasty warm house upon you’re arrival. These are the things that make winter riding bearable.

Sunday was a slightly different kettle of fish. I actually wasn’t at all keen for a ride, the weather was worse and I was snuggled up on the couch when I received an “encouraging” text for a ride up Kennedy’s. Brrrrrrr. Oh well, I’ve always been a sucker for a bit of peer pressure. This ride would require more attention to detail for the top half of my body. The usual winter attire for the bottom half would be fine. The Kennedy’s ride would be exposed to the wind, however much of it would be climbing so it is more difficult to work out the optimal layering. I went for sleeveless but hi-necked merino under my GE long sleeved Starfish and topped off by the fantastic She-Shell. I also threw a long sleeved merino in my backpack just in case. The climb up the road was fantastic (who would have thought) and I was the perfect temperature by the time I got to the base of the 4wd track. This would have set me up well for the climb in the wind except I had to wait for the other mad buggers I was riding with and got ever so slightly chilled in the 15 minutes between my arrival and theirs. Up on the hill things got worse for me pretty quickly. The wind was howling into our faces as we climbed the wet paddock and my legs were complaining that I’d already hammered them the day before. Up the 4wd track and the little stream that had babbled to me on Thursday was bigger and more talkative and line selection was the key to keeping traction. We crested the rise and dropped down a bit into the lee of the windbreak and could actually talk. It was nasty, but there were other mad people out on the hill. We continued down and at the bottom met a lake at the stile and the wind returned. I was feeling pretty cold now and my legs were pretty much toast, but pig-headedness drove me on and up the next climb. It was bad. I was right in that black place you go when all you can do is turn your legs and keep your weight in the right place to keep going up. The wind was sucking the energy right out of me and my breath was coming in huge wheezing gasps. Not a pretty sight. Finally we made it to where it levelled off and I knew I was completely toasted. I really couldn’t go up into that wind anymore so I was extremely grateful when scatter gave me a get out of jail free card and I could bail. It felt sucky leaving everyone else on the hill to go up, but they are all significantly fitter than I am and I’d pushed all I could.

It was then I made my big mistake for the day. If I hadn’t been so tired and focussed on getting down the hill I would have taken the time to quickly add my extra layer of wool under my jacket and zip up my pit-zips. But I didn’t and I froze on the descent in the howling wind. Having said that it was still pretty fun sliding down the hill in the mud. I was soon coated from head to foot in mud and at times had some difficulty seeing. I struggled lifting my bike over the fence in the wind and then remembered to zip up those pit zips. That helped a bit and I got a bit of warmth back climbing back up the 4wd, but then down the other side it was exposed and cold and I went down pretty slow as I just couldn’t keep the mud out of my eyes. The fast trip down the road left me struggling to get my legs moving at the bottom, but did clean most of the mud off my face as sheets of water sprayed into my eyes. Yuck. I got home in a bit of a state, but managed to take the time to clean my mud coated bike and apply lashings of lube to my freshly cleaned chain. All the while my lovely husband ran me a bath and then helped me remove my mud crusted layers as my hands and brain weren’t really talking to each other. After a soak I returned to semi-human but was completely wasted energy wise.

So the lessons I learnt from the ride were:
i Don’t arrive first and have to wait in the cold
ii If you’re body is telling you something, listen to it
iii Always add another layer before descending in the cold

Both were great rides and I’m really glad I got out and did them. Hopefully both will pay dividends on Wednesday for the night race.

Motivation

Last night I found out, the hard way, fear of failure drives me. I’m not out to win when I race, I’m more realistic than that. I would like to not get last, but sometimes I put myself in situations where that’s just the way it’s going to be because I’m pushing far beyond my comfort zone, like at the Hammerhead, and last night. However last night, at my first actual attempt at a competitive race post elbow snapping, I got worse than last, and believe me this is hard to write, I got the big DNF. I could say I got lost, lots of people did. I could say I got a flat tyre, there were plenty of those. I could even say a marauding gang of possums forced me off the track and stole my bike pump, but that would obviously be a lie, or a delusion. The fact was I was just too slow. So slow that I was very aware that even if I finished, and I know I could have, I would have had over a hundred people standing around in the cold waiting for me to cross the line so the prize giving could start, trying to prevent frostbite in their various extremities. I did not want to be that person. My initial reaction, which might have had something to do with low blood sugar, was that I never wanted to go near my bike for anything more competitive than the commute to work. However this morning I feel very different. I feel very, very motivated. I will not let this race beat me. I will finish it without those at the front of the pack getting hypothermia waiting for me. I will get my legs back.

Enough of that, now a more prosaic vision of the night race…..

Sea of night

In the sea of the night the strong gather. Lights on heads, angler fish of the darkness. They race off, fast, faster than me, legs pumping, hard, strong through the mist and chill. A shoal of the strong, zig-zag around the weak, flashing past a hair’s breadth away, streaming by on all sides in waves of brief colour. We dive into the trees, the darkness parts before me, a tunnel of light filled with the fog of my breath, the sounds of laboured breathing, and the feeling of pursuit. Off in the distance a chinese dragon fights through the trees, burning the nocturnal creatures with its stare. They flee and I chase onwards, knowing that behind me others come and I must hold them off. Soon the flight reaches the ocean and the sounds of my heart and lungs, duel beat of exertion, join with the rhythmic crash of the waves. Pockets of chill night air seep into my airways and leave me gasping, the salt on the wind stings my eyes and they weep.

The dragon is lost in the distance and I am alone in my pool. My pool follows my gaze and finds those holes that could trip me in my pursuit, in my bid to escape from those that follow. My pool is a strange place, where menacing shapes lurk on the periphery, dark fingers stretch out, figures dart from tree to tree. The creatures that creep and sneak and shock are in there, but my pool keeps them at bay. Alone in the pool, I drag it with me faster, to catch the dragon and escape those behind. They mustn’t catch me. Then back into the forest, the burning of lungs, the tunnel of light spurs me on. Through labyrinth corners I pull away from those lights that are catching me, dragging me in mercilessly. This is a playground, with traps for the unwary, this is where I have a chance to escape. No light in front, that dragon long gone, but from behind me I sense them come on. Each hill brings them closer, each corner pushes them back, I feel they have unseen cables reeling me in. The straights are their strengths and I struggle to hold on, till the forest embraces me and gives me a chance. Then the forest is over and I must push more than ever. Not far to go, but they are behind me, hot breath at my shoulder, as determined as I am.

The first of the season is special

The days are very much shorter now than when I was riding regularly before Christmas, which may seem like a cruel blow, but maybe it’s not that bad. Last night I went on my first night ride for the year, and for added lung and leg burning goodness it was on the singlespeed. It was so good. There is something extra special about the first night ride. It’s been at least 8 months since I was last out in the dark, 7kgs of battery strapped to my back, and light blazing from my helmet. The first night ride is special because it’s by choice. The weather is warm (otherwise you wouldn’t bother because winter hasn’t hit yet), and the tracks more fun. Over 8 months you tend to forget about the added excitement for riding at night. You can’t see so far ahead of you, you can’t really see holes or bumps until you’re on top of them and you have a strange tunnel vision that heightens the sense of speed and the proximity of trees. After a few night rides these sensations diminish into the routine. Then as the darkness of winter stretches on night riding isn’t really a choice anymore, it’s the only way to get in a ride during the week. And of course it gets colder the further into winter it gets. Often the lure of a warm blanket on the couch is enough for the helmet with its light to stay under the table. Riding when there’s a bit of mist about and the temperature is near freezing isn’t as pleasant as it sounds.

But the first ride isn’t like that. The first ride is about grinning, and whooping, and skidding and racing. The first ride makes me feel like a child with a new toy. And that’s how I felt last night on my singlespeed. Whizzing up the little hills and wheezing down the other side, chasing possums and rabbits and hideous big spiders off the track. And the best thing about it was riding with really cool chicks who always make me want to ride more and more and more. Ok, it hurt lots on the singlespeed, but a week ago I didn’t think I could even get round on my singlespeed. The fact that I can bodes well for me being ready to for the Bicycle Business World Champ Night Racing Series starting on the 13th of May. I’ve got three weeks to get used to pushing my legs to the limit for an hour on the singlespeed, I don’t want to finish last. The series looks to be fantastically long this year, with the final race no the 1st of July. Brrrrrr, there are going to be some very cold races this year. I can’t wait.

P.S. I almost forgot. This morning I had physio on my elbow for (hopefully) the last time. Yay! A huge thanks to Lee at the hospital physio for getting my elbow working so well again and to Dr Dalzell for pinning it back together.

A stock-take for Easter

For many many years Easter has been a bit of a non-event for me in the traditional scoffing of stupid amounts of chocolate bunnies and eggs way. This is because of an initial traumatic Easter experience when I was about 6 and then a conclusively horrific Cadbury’s factory incident in 5th Form (when I was 15 for those of you who don’t understand old school). This Incident involved a bus load of 15 year olds let loose in the reject egg room and told we could eat as much as we liked, but couldn’t take any chocolate out of the room with us. Add to this a 3 hour bus ride on very windy roads and I think you can guess the result. This one Incident scarred my tastebuds and stomach so comprehensively that to this very day I can’t eat Cadbury’s chocolate. In fact until last year I didn’t eat chocolate very often at all. Say once or twice a year! “My god, that’s unnatural!” I hear you say. Well maybe. But since marrying my beloved husband that has changed. He is a lolly monster and is capable of ingesting amounts of sweets and chocolates that would make mere mortals vomit. Copiously. Because of this there are often chocolates in the house. Early on in the relationship this was fine. I didn’t like chocolate after all. And then came the fateful day when the block of Whittakers Dark Chococlate with Orange came into the house. It even smelt good. It all came crumbling down. Over fifteen years of freedom from the tyranny of chocolate undone by that delicious dark goodness. Still I tried to tell myself that I still didn’t like chocolate, but there is no going back. So this Easter has been the first in many years when I have enjoyed the ample supply of chocolate eggs and bunnies that I’ve been missing out on. With this high calorie chocolate diet I decided it was important to do some biking and to really try and work out where I’m at now, both confidence and fitness wise.

My first goal, a hill climb. I haven’t been on a hill since I broke my elbow so I was feeling quite apprehensive. I decided on Rapaki as I knew it was freshly graded and should be a nice smooth start for someone as unfit as me. My goal was to get to the top, and hopefully only stop once or twice. Admittedly we cheated a bit by parking halfway up Rapaki Rd. Still I dropped into my granny ring and spun up and things felt pretty good. OK. This will be doable. I was a little concerned about the burning in my thighs by the first cattlestop, but decided that was just my lazy legs trying to get out of it. The 4wd track was S-M-O-O-T-H, no bumps whatsoever. This did mean there was a new hazard to be avoided. In addition to the usual runners and walkers there were now a large number of tiny dogs. Riding near tiny dogs is always slightly worrying as you never know what they’re going to do, and when you’re crawling up a hill at 4.5kph there’s not much you can do to avoid falling off if they take it into their crazy little heads to run under your wheels. Fortunately there were no small dog acting crazy situations and I spun up to where the climb plateaus out feeling really surprisingly good.

In fact I was feeling so good I re-evaluated of my goals for the ride. Now I wanted to get to the top without stopping and get there in under 45 minutes. My fastest recorded time up there last year was 32min 35sec so that seemed a realistic goal. Also the first few times I’d gone up there it took over 50 mins so it would be good to be better than that. Down the wee descent before the big final climb and I headed to the only rough bits on the track just to see how the bike felt with a bit of speed over the rough stuff. It felt pretty good. A bit weird, but good. Then I was into the last bit of the climb. Bleurgh. I wasn’t really up to chatting with my ever patient husband who had cruised up with me to this point so I told him to go for it and I’d spin up as best I could. And I was very pleasantly surprised with how well it went. In fact with the end in sight I decided I wanted to get to the top in under 42 mins and put a burst of speed on! I made it to the top in 42mins and 4secs (but that included some time on the road) and was stoked. I was definitely puffed, but I felt really good and for a first ride up a hill it couldn’t have gone better. Then came the descent. Oh yes, it was good. I was even popping little hucks of the few rocks in the track. It felt so good to go fast again. I felt balanced on the bike and completely in control. It made me want to head back to Vic Park and play on Sesame St, but common sense will prevail and I will wait till I’m stronger.

Easter goal number one – hill climb. Check

My other goal was endurance. I’m definitely doing the recreational race at Mt Somer’s next weekend. Its 20kms long and the furthest I’ve managed to ride so far is 16km on the road and 13km on the dirt. I wanted to make sure I could actually still ride 20km. So hubby and I headed to the sandpit for 2 laps. Last time I was there I couldn’t even do a full lap of the inner loop so doing over twice that was going to be a challenge. Hubby set off on his singlespeed with the agreement that he’d ride with me when he lapped me. I tried to start more conservatively than my usual all or nothing starts that leave me gasping after one small section. I sort of managed it. I’m definitely getting the hang of my new arm position and felt more balanced on the bike and was able to push the bike through the corners more. Also I did a few more jumps and they all went well.

I feel an aside is important here, just to reassure those of you who are currently reading this and thinking I’m insane to be doing any sort of jump after Christmas. Well, the “jumps” in Bottlelake are very very small, the kind of thing you’d be happy let your small child play on. The ones I broke my elbow on were proper, bigger jumps that required some skill (which I obviously didn’t have) to do well. I will not be trying to do that sort of jumping in the near future, please be reassured.

Where was I? Oh yes, little jumps. The little jumps actually felt better than they had before my crash. I felt really balanced and loose on the bike and seemed to hit them perfectly. This did my confidence the world of good. By the end of the first lap, yes I managed to do a whole lap, I was hurting, particularly in the legs. I decided that I might have to do a reduced length second lap, but I’d see when hubby caught up (which should be soon) before deciding. I was using my gears a lot more in the second lap, but I kept going and even managed to get up the nasty nasty pinch in the middle (just) and just kept going. No short lap for me. I came here to do 2 laps and I would do 2 laps. By the end my legs felt completely spent, but I did it. 26kms and my hubby didn’t lap me. He did manage to do 3 laps in only a little more time than it took me to do 2, but hey, I’ve got a broken arm. Despite feeling physically ill I was stoked to have ridden more than double the distance I managed last time and now feel quite happy that I can at least complete the race next weekend before the prize giving starts.

Easter goal number two – endurance. Check

All in all, a very satisfying regaining of much confidence. Now I’ve just got to get my outfit for the race sewed up and it’ll be all go for next Sunday. I can’t wait.

Recovery, not just a frolic through the daisies

As I write this I have a little voice sitting in the back of my head reminding me that it could be worse, after all it is only my elbow that causing me difficulties. To see a real injury, go get the latest issue of NZMTBR and check out Sheryl McLeod’s xray! She is one lucky lady! I have good friends who have had much worse injuries than my elbow and have come back fighting fit and strong and more determined.

Despite this knowledge that I’m actually very lucky, I’m struggling at the moment, both physically and mentally. I love being back on my bike, it still brings a huge smile to my face, but it also makes me a bit sad. You see, it’s really hard to ride at the moment. I’m so unfit that riding to work is a struggle. Last night we went for a ride at Bottlelake. Yay! I sensibly took my bouncy bike, even though I hate taking it there because the sand is so bad for the bike. I’m glad I did, I needed my gears. And even with my gears it hurt my lungs a lot and I couldn’t do a full lap. That made me sad, I used to be able to 2 or 3 laps on my singlespeed and still hold a conversation at the end. The most disturbing part was that later in the evening I realised it wasn’t just surface tiredness (if you know what I mean) I was really deep down tired. My legs hurt like they used to after a race. Logically, I know this is normal, but mentally it’s actually quite hard to get my head around. Three months ago: fit, strong, confident, balanced; I could ride for a long as I wanted, where I wanted. Today: unfit, weak, regaining confidence, wobbly; I struggle to ride for 40 minutes and know I can’t ride in the hills yet.

This recovery is much harder mentally than last year when I made the decision to try and get fitter and better. Every bit of progress I made felt like a huge leap forward. Every ride seemed to hold new challenges and milestones. And while its true that every ride is full of challenges and milestones for me now, they are all old challenges and milestones and I really don’t get the same fantastic (and addictive) feeling of conquering something new.

Relearning to ride my bikes isn’t actually much fun. With my currently bung arm not really straightening much I’m very lop-sided on the bike. The more I try to straighten it, the more it hurts and then I start unconsciously dropping my right shoulder. From there everything is out of whack. I am getting better at focusing on keep my arms and shoulders more balanced, but it is pretty disconcerting how loose the front end of the bike feels at the moment with my uneven position. The jury is still out on the road bike, my first ride this morning was not the most successful ride I’ve had recently. Nice and fast, but very painful. Need more core strength and a different stem I think.

It’s not all bad news though. Last night I did a tiny little huck, but a huck all the same. It felt good. Real good. Riding through the rough stuff and letting my bike float through it felt good. Pushing the bike through the corners felt good. Being out with friends in the setting sun on my bike felt good. Not feeling my sit bones felt good (every ride has been rather uncomfortable recently as my butt has got soft in more ways than one). So my confidence hasn’t gone, which is a huge positive. When I’m riding I hardly ever think "Oh no, what if I fall off", which is good because once you start thinking like that you tend to fall off. I just need to be less impatient I guess. Of course it will take time to get back to where I was before the crash, but dam it!, I don’t want it to. I’m prescribing my self more regular sandpit rides, more bike maintenance (I’d forgotten how much I enjoy working on my bikes) and more swimming. I’m doing a recreational race on the 19th of April and I do not want to be last!

Skillz Practise

A bit of a change of pace today. Last night I went for a short ride up the Crocodile. Managed to get halfway up before I was lying on the side of the track panting and dying. Turns out I was a bit tired. My climbing up the tight turns was pretty good, my descent down the nasty rutty steep section was great and my return down the switchbacks was really good too, thanks Vegas. I have to say though, after the wide flowing trails of Rotorua, man, the track seemed narrow. I played the whole way home, jumping off gutters and practising pumping. Once home I decided to try doing wheelies on the back lawn. That didn’t go very well. And because of that my lovely husband and I headed over to Bottlelake to play in the skills area for a while today.
Things started off well with me riding the whole length of the easiest low skinny and heading up the see-saw for the first time. Things quickly went wrong from there. This see-saw took longer to tip than I expected and I didn’t have enough speed and did a fairly ungraceful dismount from my bike and the see-saw, unfortunately whacking my knee on the way down and getting myself a nice lump and bruise. This didn’t deter me and on my second attempt I was successful and got all the way across the see-saw. When my next attempt again ended with me jumping off the bike I decided it was time to start learning how to do wheelies. Pete was fantastic at showing me what to do, extremely patient and didn’t laugh too much at my pathetic attempts. After many many many goes I was getting my front wheel 5 or 6 inches off the ground regularly, I know, I’ll never be a styling trick rider at this rate. After that we moved onto skids. Weeeeee. That was fun. Soon I had my back wheel sliding back and forward across the “grass” and I was getting the hang of doing a big skid to come to a halt with my foot down. Nice.

A bit more playing on the skinnies and then Pete went off to practise jumping. He got pretty good at the table top by the end. I gave it a couple of goes, but on the hardtail it wasn’t really much fun. Instead I went for a very quick blast in the forest. I focussed on keeping my upper body low over the handlebars and I flew round. I also did a couple of very good hucks in the middle of the forest. It was fun. Back at the skills area I videoed Pete doing some more jumps and did a bit more skinnies riding, including the high one that Pete doesn’t like me riding, and we headed home before the weather turned nasty. It was a really fun wee ride and just what I needed after a lot of roadie riding during the week. I’ll be heading off on a long roadie ride tomorrow morning, my last big ride before the Molesworth Muster. I’m really looking forward to it and I’m looking forward to having a wee break from riding after it (only a couple of days).

Legs of damp string

My training is taking a bit of a hammering with this darn cold. Saturday we headed out to the sandpit. I got Betty's bars cut down last week and so keen to try out her handling skillz now. It was so exciting to be back on a bike. We got to the sandpit and I ripped off into the forest at top speed. It felt so good flying between the trees. The narrower bars felt heaps better and I was hitting the corners hard and fast. Sweet. For the first 10 minutes. Then my body realised what I was doing to it. By the end of the first shot section I was ready to vomit or pass out or both. Man my lungs hurt. Silly girl. I shouldn't have gone out so hard. Needless to say the rest of the ride was more of a cruise than a blast. But crikey it was still fun. Especially when we stopped in the middle so I could practise jumping on a wee jump. Weeeeee.

Special! I had a wee play on the skinnies before we left and all in all it was a pretty good ride. Considering my body obviously isn't recovered from the virus of doom.
Later that day I went out Kaiapoi to visit my lovely friend Nici and her beautiful wee daughter. I've been painting them a painting for the nursery for about 8 months and I finished it a couple of weeks ago, finally. Biking seems to get in the way of my artistic endeavours. I'm pretty happy with it and I'm now starting a new one for other friends. Hopefully it won't take so long!I rode to work in the cold today. Man, my legs are gone. Horrid head wind on the way to work, but I still decided that I should go for a ride at lunchtime. Painful, slow, weak, string legs. Not good. I'm hoping my legs come back soon as Pete and I are racing in a fortnight and I'll need to be a lot fitter feeling than I am now.