Tag Archives: Resolutions

Snowy Sunday Slide #12×100

For too long, the UK rain has been keeping me off the bike. It’s a well-used quote that “there’s no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing”, and this is true, but rain is rubbish.

Rain has a way of removing heat from your body like no other weather. Rain finds a way of trickling down the back of your neck. Rain results in damp doormats and sodden shed floors.

I don’t like rain. As a bespectacled man, rain is also a complete pain in the backside when it comes to seeing ANYTHING.

So I’ve kinda got used to not doing many miles. Recently, though, there’s been no rain…

There’s Been Snow

Snow’s different. Snow’s pretty. Snow’s compliant. Snow’s even grippy when it’s not been squashed or refrozen into ice.

I like snow.

On Sunday I layered up: Aldi base layers (£9 each, top & bottoms); Endura top; Ron Hill running bottoms; Aldi mid layer; Altura jacket; two buffs; a beanie hat; big Sealskinz gloves.

I made up a flask and was ready to go. Incidentally, this should have been Bovril but I was devastated to discover that my beloved had spotted the Bovril was out of date and disposed of it. I wrote “BOVRIL” on the shopping list and made myself some coffee.

My ride wasn’t particularly adventurous. I tested the ground conditions with an outward leg along the canalside to discover that the snow was wet enough and (mostly) deep enough to offer lots of grip, so with a smile I headed up past Hollingworth Lake onto the Pennine Bridle Way.

I wasn’t going fast. It was a good workout, with the snow slowing me down, rendering everything a virtual uphill. I just selected the granny ring, modulated my breathing so I wouldn’t die and plodded along. Bliss!

As I passed through a gate at the bottom of the hill past the M62 viaduct, a pleasant bloke on a shiny Specialized Camber 29er came alongside and we chatted for a few minutes about our bikes and estimated his timing for his return loop back to his car in Littleborough. If that was you, I hope you got back in time and I should’ve asked your name!

Turning uphill on the PBW towards Piethorne Reservoir I spotted a dark shape smack bang in the middle of the trail. A toad, maybe two-thirds the size of my fist, was crouched there slowly getting covered in the still-falling snow. I’m still not sure whether he was motionless because he perceived me coming along the trail (as he’d usually be camouflaged on that ground, but the obvious whiteness rendered that option a bit foolish) or whether he was, in fact, frozen to death and had already met his amphibious maker.

The trail down from the top of the hill towards Piethorne was exposed to the wind and had turned, over a few days of thawing and refreezing, into a cascading sheet of ice. Thankfully I was looking well ahead so steered onto the grass and opted to walk that section. My non-bruised hips will thank me for that decision!

More snow covered the trail a little lower down, so I climbed back aboard down to the reservoir and took the path alongside the water, until it joined the service road. From there I (carefully, with one foot dangling for support just in case the patches of ice along the road caught me by surprise) rolled down through Ogden into Newhey and back home.

If you like, you can see the ride on Strava here.

Go Out, Folks

Staying at home in the warm would have been the easier option by far, but I’m so glad I ventured out. It was only a shade over 11 miles but by staying off the well-trodden path and keeping my eyes on the scenery, I was able to truly enjoy my snowy, slip-sliding shenanigens.

Don’t let the snow keep you indoors. As I read somewhere else recently “enjoy the weather – you can’t change it“.

Tell ’em Phill sent you! 🙂

12×100 Peer Pressure Priorities

January is passing me by. Before 2013 began, I resolved to write an inspirational “Start Of The Year” article, highlighting the wonderful things that cyclists had done in 2012. It was to be a work of gravitas, impact, empathy and skill. It was to draw on the wonderful successes of the London 2012 Olympics and it was going to apply some of those successes to the very real achievements of you, the readers and the 12×100 cyclists.

But I didn’t do it. It’s too late now. It’s mid-January and all the “New Year” blog posts have been done. Extremely well, in most cases.

So instead, you’re getting this. I’m hoping you’ll like it.

2012 In The 12×100

I’m based in the UK. The bulk of the 12×100 riders are, too. As a consequence we didn’t ride as many miles in 2012 as we did in 2011. The weather in the UK has been rubbish. Not biblical (unless you’re living in parts of Yorkshire or Dorset) but consistently rubbish: rainy, dark and cold. Not conducive to riding bikes.

With that said, the results have been amazing. A grand total of 63,640 miles cycled by the 34 people who logged miles in 2012. This is an average of 199 miles per month each for those cyclists who logged each month – most of those miles were for leisure. People having fun on bikes. This makes me smile. I hope it makes you smile, too.

A little surprisingly, the month with the highest miles logged was May, just before the rain began. The rain didn’t stop until late December.

If you’ve not taken part in the 12×100 Monthly Cycling Challenge yet, hit the link on the menu above. There’s a little form for you to fill in. Do it now. All you have to do is decide to ride your bike regularly. Try to ride 100 miles or more every month, but if you don’t do it, don’t worry too much.

I’ll share something with you which isn’t a secret – I don’t do the 100 most months. In 2012 I only actually cycled 624 miles. Not exactly a sparkling achievement. But it’s 624 miles more than the other 43 year-old bloke who spent all his evenings and free days watching TV and eating crisps.

My life will be longer as a result of those 624 miles. If I can do 100 miles a month in 2013, my life will even longer still.Will yours? I hope so. Ride your bikes. Tell ‘em Phill sent you 🙂

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.

Let’s Go And Play Out, Kids.

Remember Playing Out?

If this phrase makes you feel nostalgic, then shame on you.  Reluctant as I am to criticise anybody, even you: shame on you.

Playing out is important.  Failing to play out is one of the main reasons that the current generation is the fattest and most unhealthy one yet.  It’s also the reason that the generation we’re bringing up now – our own kids – will be even fatter and more unhealthy than our own.

Getting outdoors and playing is a simple, fun and largely unseen way to:

  • burn calories
  • get further away from the fridge
  • have loads of fun
  • make friends
  • become fitter
  • avoid obesity
  • reduce the likelihood of shedloads of diseases in later life

Do you need any more convincing?

In my opinion, we adults often go out and ride out bikes to get ourselves fit.  I’ve been quite vocal in the past that I prefer “playing out on bikes” to exercising any day of the week.  That’s why I prefer a Mountain Bike, but that’s just me.  Whatever you ride a bike, stop to think about the kids and please, please check out the links below.

So, What Do You Do?

Please add your support by contacting your MP. You don’t even have to know who he/she is, Sustrans have done all the work for you.  Just fill in the quick form by hitting this link.

More information about the Free Range Kids campaign can be found here, including some great ideas to get kids outdoors.

If you’re not in mainland UK, and I know a lot of you aren’t, do something in your own area. If you have an organisation doing similar things where you are, post a link in the comments below and lobby someone who can do something for your next generation.

Tell ’em Phill sent you. 🙂

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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