JRA – Just Resting Along

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.
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.

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.

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.

“Oh my god I’m riding, up a hill!”
“Wow, it is beautiful today”
“Hmmmmmm long fingered gloves are hot”
“I wish my bike computer was working”
“This bit in the trees seems longer”
“My legs are doing well”
“My sit-bones hate me”
“My *censored* hates me more, flippin ow”
“Don’t think about the pain, you’re riding”
“Hmmmmm my back aches”
“Wow my lungs don’t ache”
“Gosh it’s peaceful”
“My front rotor is rubbing a tiny bit”
“These gloves are really hot”
“Shut up thigh and keep pedalling this is awesome”

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.

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.

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.

This is what being hit by a car is like

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 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.

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.

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.

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.
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.

Owie from hitting the road.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Nightly meds - the liquid is particularly traumatic

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

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.
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.

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.

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.

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.

Urban Gorilla Art and Innerspace Photography

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. 

I spent a lovely 2 hours riding around the city setting up and photographing my tiny tableaus and have created a website – CBD Exiles – 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.

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 Chumly Pogward injured his delicate back. Ahhh well, it’s probably for the best.

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.

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.

Bad streaming trendils

Bad lump of meniscus that was causing my knee to lock

Very old cartilage tear causing some locking

Random floating bits

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. 

Scoring in the cartilage

The top right is just bare bone now - rather bad news

Nasty ulcer in the cartilage

Luckily with the help of the lovely Bastian I’ve healed up quickly from my surgery and am riding to work already.

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!

The L’Esprit – Complete

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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. 

No photos of my beloved Bastoolio this week, just lots of the L’Esprit. Enjoy. 

Just to remind my dear, tolerant readers of how it looked before...

... and now like new after

Drive train is running great

Blinging cable guides

Cloth bar tape and some spray and wipe applied to the hoods and the cockpit is looking fine

Hub stripped, cleaned, regreased and polished. Looking like new

Mid Rowdiness at Smash Palace. Great fun was had by all

Further down the Rabbit Hole

Well 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.

I shall name her Emmeline

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.

Having little in the way of electrical knowledge I suspect it is unlikely that I shall be able to get this working again

The narrow, high bars make for an "interesting" ride

Original pin striping is still clearly visible

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.

This is the head tube badge on a mean's frame

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.

As you can see Em has no rivet holes, but plenty of pin striping

 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.

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.

Moeraki boulders on a stunning day

This awesome skull is actually the viewing mechanism for a kaleidoscopic moving picture display

40 times !?! I  must have one. Oh, wait...

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.

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.

6hr Super D Enduro - an old woman in a young man's game

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.

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 Oliver Whalley. 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.

Photo Caleb Smith: Ollie flying into second place

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.

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.

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 my colleague Bob 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).

Oh Bob, why did you jinx yourself by worrying about my skills so much?

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.

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.

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.

Spot the crack

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.

Photo Caleb Smith - once more making me look like a talented rider rather than a concussed muppet

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Photo Caleb Smith - Michelle showing her awesome steez and just generally blowing my mind

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.

Omarama pump track, worth stopping for

And here's my Bastian monster being cute outside.

Finding my lungs

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.

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.

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.
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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

Freshly cleaned graze looks fairly minor

Two days later is looking pretty rough and is still owie

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).

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.

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!