Tag Archives: Rides

Inspired by Hoogerland and Greipel…

… I’m going to ride a pushbike 60 miles to Blackpool on Sunday.

 

Stick with me on this one.

At this time of year, I watch the Tour de France like a lot of you. Usually just the highlights because I have a job to do, but in our house we never miss a day’s viewing. What inspires me more than anything else is how hard these men are. No, Finabarr Saunders, I don’t mean like that: I mean that these guys are the fittest, most resilient, most inspiring athletes on the planet. In my opinion.

Except the drug-takers. They’re idiots. But let’s forget them for a moment.

Last year I watched this happen to Johnny Hoogerland:

Then only yesterday, I watched Tyler Farrar fall of his bike at speed when the guy he was leaning on moved. Andre Greipel, battering along like the bull of a man that he is, seemed to bunny-hop Farrar’s head to avoid him, then also managed to miraculously avoid Peter Sagan who was fired across his path by the snowballing crash.  Greipel had both feet out of the pedals as he swerved through the growing carnage. Impressive, no?

No.  What was most impressive was that Andre Greipel then clipped back into his bike, caught up his team-mates, accelerated  to about 40mph up a hill and won that day’s stage.  This is after riding around 130 miles.

Greipel is just one of 200 riders who plan to ride those 130 miles every day for 20 days, racing their hearts out with only 2 days off for a rest.

It’s easy for us to think about our favourtie riders but I thought I’d mention a couple who, for the UK fans at least, aren’t so much in the spotlight of adoration. Every one of those 200 guys is amazing (except the cheats).

What Does This Mean To Me?

I’ve booked to ride 60 miles from Manchester to Blackpool on Sunday, to raise much-needed funds for Springhill Hospice, where my Mum spent her last few days just before Christmas in 2009.

Around 3 weeks ago, I sprained my ankle playing football on a Wednesday evening after work.  I wasn’t best pleased.  Then this Wednesday, playing football again, I over-stretched my hip and pulled it somewhat.  Walking down stairs is a fair bit hurty right now.

But on Sunday I’m riding to Blackpool anyway.  I’m no athlete: I’ll take a couple of Ibuprofen and join a leisurely mass cycle with thousands of other people, into the forecast headwind and rain.

I’ll do it because a number of friends and colleagues, plus some wonderful strangers, have given money to the Hospice where my Mum ended her days and where countless others before and after her have been – and will be – given the dignity and care they deserve during a most important time.

I’ll just MTFU and get on with, because it’s the right thing to do.  I’m not Johnny Hoogerland, I’m not Andre Greipel, I’m just a slightly paunchy little man riding a pushbike to Blackpool and helping a Hospice to do fantastic things.

Can You Help?

There’s a little blue widget up on the right of this blog which links to my JustGiving page.  If you want to, you can offer a little support.  I’ve already pushed the limit upwards twice, which has been fantastic.

If you can’t, that’s absolutely fine.  Just get out on your bike, ignore the little hassles and the weather if you can, and enjoy it – then do something nice for someone else too.  Then you will have made the world a better place.

Thanks.

“Gumball for Fixies” – Trailer for Line Of Sight

Nutters on Fixies

I’m not trendy enough to have a fixie. I’m not skilful enough to ride one.  If I was to try it, I’d probably fall off and I know I’d need physio for weeks on my mashed tendons.

However, this movie looks like it’s going to be very, very cool.

I think you should think about watching it.

LINE OF SIGHT – Official Trailer from Zenga Bros on Vimeo.

Line Of Sight. A movie by Lucas Brunelle.

Mountain Biking, Exploration and Discovery: There’s Farms In Them Thar Hills.

Yesterday, I had a job to do.  The job was painting the base of our new trailer. The good news was that I needed to leave it for 4 hours between the primer and the top coat.  “What’s this got to do with Mountain Biking?” I hear you ask.

Well, those 4 hours gave me enough time to (1) Avoid a rain shower and (2) Explore the hills on my bike.

Exploration

I’ve got into a habit of riding up past Hollingworth Lake, under the M62 and over Tunshill then back home.  I love that ride but I fancied trying something new whilst I had the time and a lovely dry afternoon on a Bank Holiday (hurrah for leftover pagan holidays!).  Despite the stupid climb from the motorway bridge past Tunshill Golf Club up the top of Tunshill, that’s the way I chose to climb.  On foot.

On reaching Four Lane Ends, the easy option would be to head back towards t’Lake, so I decided not to do that.  The path towards Ogden and Piethorne reservoirs ambles gently downhill from the junction, so for the first time, I headed that way. Good decision!

The full route I took is on Gpsies here, it’s worth a look. A nice uppy-downy afternoon out 🙂

You can see from the old map extract that the farm buildings had fascinated me.  Some digging (on the internets, not in the ground) after I got home revealed that Rag Hole Farm had been a busy Rye and Barley farm in the 1850’s, before the reservoirs through the Piethorne valley were commissioned in 1878.

Presumably the farmer walked away from the property with a nice big cheque and lived happily ever after, leaving the rye and barley fields to be lost beneath the reservoirs and the farm buildings to be reclaimed by the land.

Isn’t it amazing how things change, and how the simple act of an afternoon’s bike ride can uncover new knowledge?

Learn a little more about Rag Hole Farm and the area here:
United Utilities information about Piethorne Valley
Rag Hole Farm photo on Geograph

I love my Mountain Bike!

 

Trail Dog – Should I Or Shouldn’t I?

I think you need a bit of background information on this one….

In The Oldham Days…

… I grew up with a dog. Shep was a corgi-jack russell cross – basically the fattest-looking jack russell you ever saw.  She was docile, friendly, the colour of beach sand and a wonderful companion on many walks.  A silent confidant through my teenage years and a great family member.  When she left us, cats took over the home and whilst I love cats, they never loved me back. They don’t, do they? Evil little sods that they are. 😉

My partner has also loved dogs and TrixieWixieWooWoo (I know) was also a much loved family member, before my time.

More Recently…

… We’ve been having conversations along the lines of:
“We should get a dog”
“But we both work”
“We should get a dog”
“But we like to go out”
“We should get a dog”
“But I don’t want to be tied to the house”
“I want a dog”
“But it’s not fair on the dog”
“I want this dog (shows picture of cute little handbag dog from the internet)”
… Then other family members joined in…
“I want a dog too”
“Why do you want a dog?”
“I want a schtizu”
“Isn’t that a zoo with no penguins? (Yes, clearly a diversionary tactic)”

… and so on and so forth, with no progress.

Then I read this blog post over my lunchtime sandwiches just now.  Then my heart and my will soften a little bit.  Then I googled “Best trail dog” and read this closed forum from Singletrack World.  If you don’t already know this, I’m a Singletrack subscriber like most MTB riders, especially ones from anywhere near Lancashire.  So I had to take it seriously.

Clearly Not A Trail Dog

Clearly, Not A Trail Dog

Now I’m thinking…. Now I need some help.

Help!

Should I take the leap or not?  What should I do? Where should I go? How much will I regret it? What kind of dog should I possibly maybe discuss the possibility of an idea of considering?

Please help me. I need to get some information before I go all mushy and make a bad decision, or before I go all stubborn and miss what might be a great opportunity.  Tell me what I should do, or what I need to know.

You know the drill, just fill in the little form below – thanks! 🙂

 

In Search Of My Mojo

I was born in 1969.  So, apart from the less-than-3 months in which I cried, poo’d and drank my way through the 60’s, I was a child of the 1970’s.

As soon as I was old enough to get weekly “spends” (10p a week) and be allowed to walk to the nearest shop, I learned that the greatest value for money that a 5 year-old could realise was to exchange 10p for a mixed bag of 3-per-penny chews.

Three-for-a-penny chews came in two varieties:

  1. Black Jacks:  Turned your tongue black. Tasted of an unidentifiable fruit-based chemical. Were vaguely racist.
  2. Mojos:  Were fruit coloured. Tasted of chemically-enhanced fruit. Weren’t socially questionable.

So, I spent my money on Mojos. Every week.

OK in the 1970's, but where's my Mojo now?

Where do you find YOUR Mojo?

Now I’m 42, I can’t buy Mojos at three for a penny.  As far as I’m aware, I can’t buy them anywhere.  So, on ride nights and every other Saturday, I have to look for my Mojo within myself.

Sometimes I find my Mojo. Sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes other people find it for me, and sometimes other people drag me out on my bike even when I can’t find my Mojo.  At these times I’m grateful.

At other times, when I can’t find my Mojo, I sit on the sofa in my riding gear, wondering where my Mojo is.  Those aren’t the good times.

Where do you find yours?

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