Surly Cross Check and a change of life...

Ever since I built and started riding my lovely Robin's Egg Blue Surly Cross Check, life has changed. For a start, my cycling is much improved. I LOVE riding this bike in a way I've never experienced before. Someone on the Surly Owner's Group forum, discussing the technicalities of frame sizing, commented that he favoured a frame larger than he should theoretically have "because he felt like he was riding within the frame, rather than riding on it". This prompted me to comment that I didn't ride on or in my Surly, I just ride it.

My rear hub failed a few weeks ago. I had a pair of early 1980's Dura Ace large flange hubs which had been given to me, and I'd laced Mavic A719 rims onto them. The rear wheel flew badly out of true one day, and as I tried to rectify the proble, there was a loud bang and the flange had cracked and split. Game Over. Fortunately, I had a pair of Shimano XTR hubs which I had bought a couple of years ago, with the intention of building them into MTB wheels. I bought a Mavic Open Pro rim, as the hub is 28 hole. I still have the old wheel on the front, while I await a new rim, which has been on back order at the local bikeshop for the past couple of months. (they finally had it delivered today, but it's the wrong colour...)

I'm tweaking bits as I go, mainly due to finances. Having resigned from my job at Bluestone a couple of months ago, I don't have as much disposable or regular income as I had, but they did give a month's pay in lieu of notice, so I was able to get a few orders in for upgraded kit; winter cyclocross tyres, a rather nice (and fairly cheap) brown synthetic leather Charge "Spoon" saddle, brake levers which are actually designed to work with V-brakes, a very nice rack (sadly not a steel Surly rack, which was way too expensive!) I have new pedals on order, and when my brake levers are fitted, some lovely new blue bartape...

It's becoming a very well equipped and good-looking bike, and something people notice. It stands quietly out from the crowd. I've had several interesting conversations about the bike - one very memorable chat outside Tesco with a lovely man who was himself riding a vintage Moulton folding bike, but he was far more interested in talking about my bike than his! Around the time I built my bike, my friend Pete bought a Sabbath titanium frame and built up his "dream bike" - 11 speed Campag Record (my old Dura Ace hub had a 6 speed freewheel block!). We go out riding regularly, and he's talking about building up "something like mine...".

With such a bike comes responsibility though. I like trying new ideas out - for instance, I first had butterfly bars, rather than drop bars. I went in for downtube gear shifters because firstly, the bosses were there on the frame, and secondly, it meant I could change the handlebars from flats to drops with only brake cables to worry about. It also meant that when my hub broke, I could take a 6 speed wheel off and replace it with a spare 8 speed wheel with very minimal adjustment needed! However, I've found myself considering the aesthetics of each new idea before implementing them - if it's not going to look right, it's probably not going to get past the planning stage. For instance - I'd have happily put a crud-catcher type mudguard on the downtube of my old frame, road bike or not. I wouldn't entertain that idea now. Functionality still holds sway, but it has to look good.

Setting the record straight

Coming back from 3 weeks of interweb-and-mobile-phone-free camping can be quite traumatic. Thankfully sorting through my emails is a relatively easy task, just select some and hit del.

One email caught my attention with the subject line" surly bike", from Oliver at Tredz, who had read my somewhat negative blog post about trying to buy a frame from their shop (he did better than me,I can't find it!) and apologised for the negative experience I had had. Cool.

I've been back since, complete with 11-year-old cycling mad daughter, who was somewhat bowled over by the place. I was helped quite considerably by a chap for whom nothing was too much trouble and came away with pretty much everything I went for, which just doesn't happen locally - our local shops are so cash strapped they don't carry anything but a minimal stocklist, and the standard andswer to any request is "I can order one for you..."

So folks, if you're anywhere nesar Swansea Or Cardiff, go to Tredz! It's ace.

Crumbly decals

Even before I'd started work on building the bike, before I'd even raised a hex key with determination, I noticed some of the rather lovely decals had started to flake off, like skin from a sunburned shoulder. I could have cried.

In the grand scheme of things, what's a decal? It won't stop the bike from working! However, I'd like the world to know that I'm riding a Surly, and I'd like my Surly to look its best.

Only one decal has crumbled - the left-hand (and therefore less visible clean side) "Cross Check" on the crossbar (I assume that crossbars became toptubes when they ceased to be horizontal. My Surly has a horizontal toptube, which makes it a crossbar), but it fell off with such ease that I do fear for the rest of them, particularly the lovely little letters going down the back of each seatstay and down each fork.

I sent an email to Surly in America via the website on Monday evening. (I really didn't think it would be good to contact Tredz, my retailer, about such a minor niggle, as it clearly wasn't their fault)

I received a reply this very day, 48 hours later, asking for a shipping address to send replacement decals, and offering apologies. 

Surly, I am impressed!

Test Flight

Not quite race-fit, as the front tyre punctured on the way home from the test flight.

Hardly anything of substance made it across from the old bike apart from the wheels, so it feels very very different.

Have to get used to operating downtube shifters again, feels very strange after so many years. New, smaller chainset means all my gearing feels different too. I was so used to the old gears I'd know exactly how many gears I had in reserve while climbing, and how near to top I was while descending. I'll have to re-learn all that.

The jury's out on the butterfly bars. I'm sure they'll be cool, but it's hard to know where to put them for best results. Where they go dictates length of brake cable, so it's important to get it right.

Awesome colour!

Schoolboy Error

Building the Surly, I left off around 9pm last night with "just" the cables to connect, watched a bit of telly, went to bed, and was awake again around 5am, so I got stuck in.

I turned the stem upside down to raise the bars and turned the bars around. This could account for it.

I connected both brakes, adjusted tension, clipped and crimped cables, and was admiring my handiwork when the phrase I teach the kids in Safe Cycling whispered into my ear "Don't get left behind!"

I'd connected the brake levers to the wrong brakes! (Right lever to rear brake, left lever to front; very continental!)

The bike is now built (just giving the wheels a polish) and that, I am pleased to say, is the only error to report, and fairly easily fixed.

work in progress...

The Surly is almost built! Just the chain and the cables and we're there.

It's been a good day. All has gone well.

Up early tomorrow for the few final things, then out for a ride, hopefully.

Surly

My Surly Cross Check frame arrived today. I was at work. My friend Pete had just texted me "is it here yet?" when Mrs H phoned to tell me it had indeed arrived. I really wanted to go straight home!

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When I did eventually get home, unwrapping it was a joy. Beautiful colour - "Robin's Egg Blue" - bit like Bianchi but bluer. and nice bold fun graphics.

Tomorrow I need to borrow a headset press.

A friend in need...

My dear friend Carole Edrich is following in my tyre tracks (in reverse, if it's possible to follow someone backwards) and cycling from London to Pembrokeshire (and on via the ferry from here to Ireland) in a couple of days. I made the journey from here to London a couple of years ago, not long after Carole had been diagnosed with cancer. I cycled there to take part in the Breakthrough sponsored ride from London to Cambridge. A 290 mile ride to get to the start of a 50 miler... nice warmup!

Carole is doing to raise money for Cyclists Fighting Cancer. I have advised on the route, and how far I think she should try and ride, and will hopefully get to ride some of the welsh stages with her, work and weather permitting.

Please consider sponsoring Carole; her justgiving page is here. "Every Little Helps" may be the nauseating tagline of one of the most unethical retailers on the planet, but every little does indeed help causes like this. You all know how passionate I am about cycling, not so many of you will know that I lost my Dad to cancer when I was 12 years old. There was no cure back then. It's a different story these days, thankfully, and it's charities like this which are at the forefront of providing care for cancer sufferers. They really do need every penny they can get. I have worked for a charity which provides adapted cycles for disabled riders, and know only too well how expensive some of these machines can be. I also know what joy and independence they can bring, and that is priceless.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE, dig deep in your pockets, piggy banks, search down the back of the settee... any penny you can spare will be very well used.

 

Changing of the seasons

Today was my last day of Cycle Safety training, for this academic year.

Tomorrow we have the annual meeting at County Hall to decide who's doing what where next year.

I was hoping that by now I'd have landed either the Bike It Officer's job or the Project manager's job with Pedal Power, but not having been granted an interview for either, it was obviously not meant to be. Shucks.

I'm not too bothered (though I would like to know why) - I'm quite happy as I am. I can pick up some extra hours at Bluestone over the summer, and I can go back to teaching cycle safety next year. I can also get some much needed time to myself and time with my family. Win win win.

I've had solid work through may, June and July. Some weeks I've been commuting 25 miles a day for the whole 5 days - that's 125 miles a week just travelling to and from work. It makes the nearer jobs seem much much easier! In the midst of all that I threw in the Tour of Pembrokeshire, 60 miles of abject misery in relentless rain and driving wind.

Looking back on my first year as a cycle safety trainer - I love it. Deeply.

I have worked in 5 very different schools.

2 very small village schools.

1 very large school with a very wide mix of pupils.

2 schools with "bad" reputations (for different reasons).

I can't say I've found any of it "easy".

I have found it all deeply satisfying, very enjoyable and ultimately rewarding.

I now wish to train to teach National Standards, and extend my school base. Bring it on!

Paying attention

I gave the man in Tredz my email address:

"it's jimboharwood, all one word, all lower case..."

he wrote down Jimbo Harwood.

"No spaces..."

he wrote down JimboHarwood.

"There are no capitals..."

"Yeah, I know, that's just the way I write."

No email received so far.

Carpe Tedium

Phone message from Tredz picked up yesterday (Tuesday):

New frame ordered from supplier and will be delivered to Tredz (not here) by the "end of the week" (Not Wednesday then, as stated in the shop.)

When it arrives it will be shipped to me "as soon as possible" and SHOULD be with me "sometime next week" (Not this Thursday then, as stated in the shop.)

Life gets tedious, don't it...

Coincidence?

I think not!

I was reading the conditions of entry for the Three Peaks Cyclocross, a race I have always wanted to enter.

Rule 5 states:

• Only competitors riding cyclo-cross bikes with drop handlebars will be allowed to take part. Mountain bikes (or any other type of two-wheeled transport) are not permitted and anyone who appears (in the opinion of the race officials) to contravene this rule will be disqualified and/or prevented from taking part in the race.

Now, I bought some "butterfly" or "figure 8" handlebars when I was last in the local shop, as my wrists are getting painfully bored with "flat" bars, and the limited hand positions they offer. I do have a pair of drop bars, but don't really use them.

On closer examination of my new frame, I discovered that it has braze-ons for downtube shifters, and decided instantly that it would be a crime not to use them. It then occurred to me that, by taking the gear controls off the handlebars and onto the frame, I have opened up a whole set of possibilities for interchangeable handlebars.

Inadvertently, I have also opened up a whole new can of worms vis-a-vis the rear wheel! Because the downtube shifters are non-indexed, it matters not a jot whether my rear wheel has 6,7,8,9,10 or even 11 gears! As long as the chain is adequate for the cassette, the shifter will cope with any number of gears!

I cannot believe how this new venture is panning out! I had planned to buy a Surly frame during my 50th year, and build a bike up from the ground, but lost my job at the wrong moment. Luckily my friend gave me a frame in return for work done for him, and my bike got built anyway, with, most importantly, handbuilt wheels. Now, that frame has died (stripped threads in the bottom bracket) and a new phoenix must arise from the ashes.

How hard can it be?

Last week the bottom bracket of my tourer started making with the horrible creaks clunks and groans which imply a new one might be in order. I decided to use the opportunity to upgrade to Hollowtech 2, which involves the purchasing of a whole new chainset with integrated bottom bracket. When it came to fitting, it became clear that the threads inside the bottom bracket shell were worn beyond redemption, and the left hand bearing is left just turning on itself with no hope of ever tightening. Condition: fatal.

Having scoured the interwebs for ferrous frames, it quickly becomes apparent that the only viable option for replacement steel frames is American company Surly. I've long lusted after a Surly Cross Check, and discovered that they can be ordered through local Welsh company Tredz, and decided to pursue this further.

On their website, they state that delivery is free, but that you can ensure "next working day delivery" for an extra tenner. I tried contacting them to check whether they had Surly frames in stock, to no avail - you just can't get through on the phone.

I decided to take a chance and travel to their Swansea shop on spec.

Not a Surly frame in sight, but an alarming number of red-shirted surly shop assistants, of varying degrees of cluelessness. The first one led me to a computer, typed in "Serley" and announced that they do not stock anything by that maker.

I instructed him as to the correct spelling, and he found the frame I was after. "We don't have stuff like that here though, we'd have to order it in for you, and you could come back for it, but you'd have to pay for it up front, 'cos it's expensive, like." Then he disappeared.

I found another chap at the checkout, who was a little more polite but equally unhelpful and disinterested, so I just left the shop, which is on an enormous business park with nothing else nearby save for bathroom showrooms and car dealerships. I watched the one bus per hour cruise past on its way back to town.

After a couple of ranting texts to my wife, I decided the best thing to do was go back into the store (whatever they say, it's not a bike shop, and definitely not a "bike lovers dream and a great place to spend time regardless of whether you're looking to buy or browse.". It's like Tesco without the groceries.) and try and salvage something from a so-far wasted journey.

I singled out an older looking guy, and stood in front of him till he noticed me. I patiently explained my dilemma. I asked if they could get a Surly frame delivered to my home as soon as possible. There were a few too many ifs and buts to make his answer entirely convincing, but I decided to order and pay for the frame, as it was preferable to the alternative, which would be to return home empty handed, transfer money to my wife's debit card and order online. We'll see if it turns up before the end of the week. I have my doubts.

I did manage to buy the brakes I wanted.

Coming home on the train, I wondered what state the world has come to, when you can't just go to your local bike shop and buy something as fundamental as a frame. Bikes are sold as bikes, fully built. In the bike shop I worked in, the owner would usually refuse to customise a bike in any way, and would only sell it as it came in the box.

Locally, almost anything I ask for has to be "ordered in". I can get the basics - cables, chains, brakeblocks, but anything like a chainset will not be kept in stock by any of our local dealers. It will invariably take longer for them to get it than it would for me if I ordered it online. Don't they realise they have to be competitive with time as well as price? I don't mind paying a little over the odds to support my local bike shop, but having to wait 10 days instead of the usual 3 is pushing it a bit.

Buying a frame has been much harder than I imagined.

Random

Random is a fashionable word, innit?

I don't ordinarily use it myself. I've even had occasion to argue its suitability. Can something be, like, totally random, fairly random, randomly random? I see random as an absolute - something is either random, or it's not.

This is:

As I was cycling my merry way to work this sunny morning at around 7.30am, I passed through the eternally sleepy village of Jeffreyston, Pembrokeshire. On the edge of the village is a bench. Not a very pretty or appealing bench, made from recycled burger boxes by the look of it, and it doesn't offer a splendid view or anything, it just faces a tangle of trees on the other side of the road. This morning, as you can see in the photo, it had a crumpled vinyl copy of Abba's Super Trouper album on it (which wasn't there when I came back that way this evening). How random is that?

Midsummer's Day

It was a dark, dingy, dismal morning. I could not rush around getting my stuff together, as I simply did not have the energy. The children were being hassled, harrassed and shouted at to get dressed as usual, and you can't swing merrily from room to room gathering stuff together as there is a child in every doorway moaning about something and getting under the feet.

So, I was ended up setting off for my commute to Haverfordwest about 15 minutes later than I would have liked.

It was raining. Again. A mere drizzle at first, but it grew in heaviness and wetness once over the water. It was a hard ride. I got drenched.

My group of schoolchildren were sat outside their classroom like a group of refugees when I arrived, raring to go. I hate being late for anything, but when you're late for children, it's worse. It had stopped raining, but was still overcast.

As the day wore on the sun did appear briefly, and it stayed mercifully dry for us. My cycle home was quite humid, though with quite a strong breeze.

It's evening now. Raining again.

Dad's Day

Father's Day.

Handmade cards, a cup of tea in bed (after being woken up far too early by an overexcited No.1 son showing me a spider he'd collared), some chocolate, and a couple of DVDs. What more could the heart of man desire?

I had a church service to lead, but it was a late one, starting at 11am. No rush.

My wife was working in the local park in a craft tent most of the day, so she took the kids with her after church, while I came home to prepare dinner (roast chicken, mmm), after which I watched one of my new DVDs, (Paul) to see if it might be OK for the kids to watch (it isn't). Very funny though.

Made the most of the solitude and got stuck into some knitting. I'm knitting a hooded cardigan for No.1 daughter and have just started on the sleeves. I'm knitting them simultaneously on the advice of more experienced knitters, and it's proving to be sound advice. I will also try and knit the two front panels simultaneously, so there. 

So, what does the craft of knitting have to do with the sport of cycling?

Well, it's good exercise for the hands. After a ride my hands and wrists are usually quite painful, or completely numb, neither of which is a comfortable state of affairs. Squeezing brake levers, twisting gear shifters, and taking my weight is all my hands do on a ride. When I get to work I have to wait a while before my fingers can manage a spanner or a hex key, so anything which gets the blood circulating and articulates the joints is a good thing. 

I'm not sure who's proudest when I see my children wearing something I've knitted them. Mammy knits them much better things, but if they can tell their friends their Daddy knitted this for them, well, it's a bit special, innit?

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Not cycling

Today is a not cycling day.

All week I've been commuting to work in fair weather and foul, averaging around 25 miles per day.

Today is a "rest" day.

The family are out for the day manning a stall on a craft fair (not my idea of fun at all).

I've just done the shopping for the weekend - walked to the supermarket with my rucksack and hauled it back full of heavy stuff - half a dozen tins, a chicken for tomorrow, various vegetables and potatoes etc. My legs just don't notice the extra weight.

I need to spend time in the house; cooking dinner, tidying up etc, and getting myself and the living room ready for our moment of peace between 8pm and 9pm this evening. The weather outside is bordering between sun and rain with no telling which way it'll go. Quite a blustery wind blowing in from the west, so not ideal cycling weather anyway, but I really would like to go for a "pleasure ride" (ie climb some hills that I don't have to!). I know I'll start to get edgy if I don't!

My older brother has spent his entire life running. Oh, he works as well, but running is "what he does". Not just around the park, either - he's a FELL runner. Up and down some of the biggest hills in Britain. In his 60's now, he's been told to stop. He's had surgery on his knee, and the condition is not about to improve if he carries on pounding the hills like he does. A friend has loaned him a bike, but he hasn't been out on it once. He used to cycle loads as a teenager, but gave it up in favour of running (the daft lad). I wish I could lure him onto the bike. I've tried, but to no avail. He doesn't think it would be the same.

I agree. I don't run. It hurts. I'm fairly tireless when I walk, and can cover some distance, but where I could walk around 20 miles in a day comfortably, I could cycle 5 times that distance, with a comparable amount of effort.

There's also the joy, for me, of knowing that I'm riding on a bike I've set up myself. I know where every nut and bolt is and how tight it is. I know how much tension is in the spokes, even, because I built the wheels myself. I know how hard the tyres are.

All you do before a walk is put your shoes on - where's the skill in that? Most of my children can manage that most days!

But, today is not a cycling day.

Midsummer Blues

I know I'm not on my own, because even though my best friends told me I was completely maaaad for turning out at 6.30am on a very rainy Sunday morning for the Tour of Pembrokeshire last week, hundreds of other friends did exactly the same thing.

However, you'd think that working in the bike hire department of a holiday resort, I'd be among sympathetic people when it comes to cycling to work. Not so.

It was fairly clear they didn't believe I'd cycled 60 miles that wet day. Thankfully there are photos aplenty here (my number was 431) to prove that I was there, but why did I need to prove it?

This morning, it was fairly cold, with a bit of light drizzle which had soaked me through by the time I got to work. It rained all day but I still worked outside (because that's where I like to be). It was raining heavily when I cycled home. Wetness is a fact of life in Wales.

So, why are people amazed that I cycle in such weather?

Best job in the world?

It's not everyone's cup of tea, and a few years ago I would NEVER have imagined myself doing it, but being a Cycle Safety Trainer has to be one of the best jobs I have ever had.

On Monday, at lunchtime, I bumped into Dave, a fellow trainer with whom I worked last year, a retired fireman. We were discussing the job over a Tesco lunch, and Dave said "I never go home from this job feeling I've had a bad day".

I thought about that a lot afterwards, the words echoing around my head like a mantra.

I thought back to a couple of weeks ago, when I was at quite a difficult school. The first two days I arrived home a seething mass of stress and tension, because the children, many of them from gipsy families, were very demanding, and I didn't feel the work I was doing with them would add up to anything. The last day, though, everything clicked. They all did really well in their assessments and written tests. I was on Cloud 9, and I can't wait to get back there again next year.

My current school is similar. A big school, I'm there for 3 weeks. It's a 12.5 mile cycle there, then I have to walk a mile or so carrying heavy road signs to mark out my territory, then back to school, then walk out again with my groups. It's physically very demanding and the children are mentally demanding. The local traffic is insane, to say the least, but we have to work with what's there.

The kids get stuck in, and they cope with whatever I, or circumstances, throw at them. They're ace.

The LSAs who have to come out with me usually start off quite diffident. They don't want to be there and have obviously drawn the short straw or they've done something wrong for which this is their punishment. I try to involve them in any way I can, and they invariably come back having enjoyed the experience, and wanting to come out again.

At the end of six hours, I'm completely drained of energy and emotion, and I still have to get the kids safely back to school and put my signs away. I still have to cycle 12.5 miles home.

Today, I could have sang all the way, and I still have a week and a half to go.

The Tour of Pembrokeshire 2011

Yesterday (Saturday) I cycled 25 miles or so in absolutely perfect conditions - bright sunshine and a quiet but refreshing breeze - to and from Saundersfoot, Pembrokeshire, to register myself for the Tour of Pembrokeshire. My bike was rolling very nicely with a fresh new chain and brakeblocks and a general cleanup and I was feeling good. My speed averaged at just over 14mph for the trip, pretty good considering the steepness of a couple of hills.

Today (Sunday, obviously) I woke at 5.30am, had a hot breakfast of fried eggs and beans on toast, packed a saddlebag with food and tools and set out for the start line. It was raining, and I soon discovered it was also windy. I'd nikwaxed my windproof top, and the rain was rolling nicely off and my armwarmers were keeping the chills at bay. My legs, however, were soon completely numb from the knees down (no exaggeration). I got to Saundersfoot later than expected due to a 9mph average speed, and only had a couple of minutes to get in line for the first bunch to go. I'd met my friend Paul at the line, who was acting as a motorcycle marshall. He thought I was bonkers to even turn up.

Carbon-framed bike straddled by lithe-limbed and callow youths streamed past me up the very steep climb out of Saundersfoot, and continued to do so for the rest of the morning, though not quite as frequently.

My original intent was to beat my previous long-distance record of 95 miles in a day, and complete the 117 mile long course. I didn't care what time I did it in. However, it was now patently obvious that conditions were about as unfavourable as it gets, and that there was going to be no letup within the forseeable future. I had the option of shorter 80 mile or 60 mile courses, but they all ran together for the first 10 or 15 miles, when the longer course split off to go up and around the Preseli Hills. When we came to the junction I had no hesitation in selecting the easier option.

When I say "easier", I of course mean "shorter". There was nothing easy about it. There is no word for flat in Pembrokeshire.

After around 40 miles, we reached the first Feeding Station. I'd already stopped for a snack about 5 miles back, but was ready for a little rest, and further fillage. Free food is free food.

I think I'd decided then that as the route passed within a few hundred yards of my house I wouldn't be going any further than that. There didn't seem to be much point. When I reached Pembroke Dock I'd covered just over 60 miles, in 6.5 hours, with a couple of lengthy stops, in terrible conditions. I'm happy with that, for now. 

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Ligaments

I don't think I've done anything to them before, though quite how I've gone so long without hurting one of them I don't know. I got some pain in both my knees during and after the ride on Thursday evening, but nothing extreme, so i thought it best just to "ride on through it". I couldn't stand afterwards.

The next day my knees seemed OK so I went on a ride with a friend, during which my left knee was giving me twinges, but again, nothing so bad i had to stop or even ease off. Some of the hills on the homeward leg were a bit painful but I coped.

Yesterday I was in pain from the moment I woke. I was only going for a short ride anyway, so I applied the ibuprofen gel liberally and set out. I was in pain the whole time. I could apply no pressure to it whatsoever. I was limping badly uphill, practically riding one-legged, and had to cut my short ride even shorter.

I applied a bag of frozen peas as soon as I got home, and more gel. I did take a slow walk on it, just to keep it moving, but even that was sore.

Today I rest.

I'm applying icepacks for a couple of minutes every hour or so. There was no pain first thing this morning which is an improvement on yesterday, but there is soreness now. I'm just sitting around with my leg either flat or up, and I'm going nowhere.

The Tour of Pembrokeshire

Le Tour de Pembrokeshire is on 12th June 2011.

There are 3 distances: 63, 82 and 117 miles.

The most I have ridden in one day is around 95 miles, so I've decided to go the whole hog and do the big one. What's the point if it's not a challenge? It would also seem that the older I get, the bigger the challenge I'm ready to face. Two rides of between 40 and 50 miles have started my preparations. I have a nagging pain in my left knee which is a worry, it only hampers me on steep hills, when I have to overuse my right leg, which is not ideal. I'm trying a painkilling gel today, and may resort to a support bandage, but that will be a very last resort.

Next week I plan to be back at Bluestone on Monday and Friday, and I will lengthen my commutes both ways.

Tuesday to Thursday I will be at Fenton School in Haverfordwest, a fairly easy commute along the wonderful Brunel Cycle Trail. There are some nice variations I can take.

My plan is just to keep riding, so that by next Sunday my legs are just turning automatically. My stamina is fine, but I need to do some work on speed.

I'm raising money for Pedal Power in Cardiff while I do this, please feel free to donate whatever you can on my justgiving page, every penny donated will make a difference!

Friday Morning Blues

I phoned work at 5.30am to tell them I wouldn't be in today. I thought it was 6.30, and was wondering why the guy in Security was sounding so sleepy and surprised, bless him.

I haven't had enough sleep. Not just last night, but all week. That's what Post Traumatic Stress does. It robs you of things like sleep, of confidence, of faith.

Interestingly, we visited a church last week where the pastor spoke (at bum-numbing length) on faith, and how we keep it when we're "blindsided" by something (his word) which threatens to knock us off our perch. Before this I'd seen my faith as quite strong.

I'm tired. I'm not thinking rationally.

I had a meeting at work earlier this week about these problems, but nothing is as yet resolved.
I told them that some days, I just dread coming to work.
They nodded.
I explained that, having to cycle 12 miles with a heart full of dread was massively different to a 15 minute car ride with the radio on.
They looked nonplussed.

How can someone who has never cycled to work have the slightest clue what I'm on about?

I've gone on at length in previous posts about what a joy and a privilege it is to have that hour first thing in the morning when it's just me and the bike, but just now, I'm finding it impossible to even get on my bike to start the journey.

As far from happy as it gets...

I have gone from quite substantially content to dismally unhappy in the space of a week.

Something I don't want to go into has caused a MASSIVE resurgence of Post Traumatic Stress, and I am finding it very difficult to cope, mentally, emotionally, and physically.

It's work-related, so it's not something I can avoid or dodge around without serious rearrangement of my affairs.

In short, it's something I HAVE to face up to, whether I want to or not.

And I just don't know how to, or if I can. 

an audio podcast test post...

weary_blues.m4a Listen on Posterous

This is a podcast I've literally just recorded.

It's something I've been meaning to try out for a long time but for one reason or another I just haven't got round to it.

Then today, my facebook friend and haiku writer John Tiong Chunghoo posted a haiku he had written for the great poet Langston Hughes, which reminded me that I used to perform this poem as part of my live set.

I don't think a recording of it exists anywhere, and if it does, it won't be very good, or at least I won't be happy with it.

I recorded it straight into my macbook. No messing around with levels and gain and impedance and all the jiggery pokery of the previous recordings I've done, no flickering needles or green and red LEDs, no cueing up tapes and demanding silence in the room, just one quick take and the job's done. I was just sitting on my bed with the macbook in front of me, using the tiny built-in microphone.

I even managed to listen back to it without shouting at myself (something I just don't do normally, but I had to make sure you could hear it).

My first thought was to post it on youtube, but it isn't video. I hastily gathered some images of first-generation bluesmen such as Lightnin' Hopkins, Howlin' Wolf etc and messed around with imovie to make it acceptable for youtube, then I remembered that some of my electronically musical friends use soundcloud to share their work, and posted it there. I then discovered that I can post it here too!

My deep and sincere thanks to John for prompting this, it could be the beginning of a whole new chapter for me.

A long week.

Last week was the first week of Cycle Safety. I've done a couple of bike checks, but last week was the first school, and a trial to see if my rather tight schedule allowed enough room and time for the children to learn the things they needed to.

Monday and Friday as usual were taken up with my work as Mechanic at Bluestone, and there were unexpected problems here which added to my workload.

On Tuesday morning the bridge of my specs broke, for around the 4th time. Fortunately my optician is just up the road from where I was working, and I was able to get them repaired quite quickly. My spare is a pair that Specsavers got completely wrong - I can just about see through them for distance, but any reading or writing is out of the question.

That did add a few extra miles onto my commute though, and meant that I didn't get the rest I was looking forward to on Wednesday morning. My total mileage for the week (Monday to Friday) was 136 miles, much of it quite heavily laden with the equipment I need for Cycle Safety - 2 full panniers and a rucksack. Every day of work, either at Bluestone or at school, I was on my feet the entire time.

I have to say that my ride to and from Bluestone on Friday was hard. In previous posts I have crowed about how easy it can be. Not so this day. My bike felt like the brakes were rubbing on the rims, like the chain had become one solid lump, like the frame had been filled with lead. The backs of my knees hurt with every ounce of extra pressure. Every way I went was uphill. My breathing was all wrong, and my lungs felt as though they had been sealed off from the rest of me, lined with clingfilm, so that although they were still gasping air, none of it was getting through to my bloodstream. My nose was constantly clogged with snot and my eyes streaming with tears from the wind, which was constantly in my face.

Thursday at the school, when I handed out certificates, received a thankyou card and an excellent feedback form, was just a heaven-sent day from beginning to end, capped off when a young girl who had recently moved from busy Essex to sleepy Pembrokeshire, came and told me that I had "removed her fear of roads".
Friday was the day from hell, in many ways.

On the way home on Friday, an hour later than usual, I really didn't think that I was going to make it. The prevailing wind in Pembrokeshire is a sou'wester, which shapes the trees, and it was strong, and in my face the whole way. The last 5 miles from Carew to Pembroke Dock is not pleasant at the best of times, pounding along the trunk road amid heavy fast moving traffic, but with the wind in your face and the sun in your eyes (better than rain I suppose) it can be hellish. I really felt like stopping at the Carew Inn and texting a friend to come and pick me up while I enjoyed a leisurely pint, but the chances were my friend's car wouldn't be available, and I'd have to restart the horrible journey after a pint and a rest. Maybe I should have.

I'd love to be able to tell you that despite all this I still cycled home with a song in my heart and a prayer on my lips, but I didn't. To make matters worse, my ipod wasn't charged up in the morning. I couldn't shut the world out. I cursed every car which sped past me, sometimes silently sometimes loudly, particularly those which blared horns. I cursed every hill I climbed, and there are many.

Sometimes, there's just no easy way.

 

Day Off!

Today is my last day off in what looks like a long time! (By "day off", I mean a weekday when my children are at school, and I have no work to do, paid or otherwise). Tomorrow, I do my first cycle safety checks of the season at Monkton and Hook schools, and then next week Cycle Safety Training begins. For a couple of months it will mean I'm working Mondays and Fridays at Bluestone, and Tuesday to Thursday I will be in various schools around Pembrokeshire teaching years 5 and 6 how to cycle safely on our roads. The furthest school is Fenton School in Haverfordwest, a 12 mile commute along the lovely Brunel Cycle trail, so almost completely traffic free. It will mean that for 3 solid weeks I will be cycling over 25 miles per day, 5 days a week, which totals, er, 375 miles. Niiice. Of course, most of the time spent between commutes is spent on my feet, shouting at children. Hopefully no children will be harmed or lost during these exercises.

I will map my progress on my GPS and post regular updates on how far (and how high!) I've cycled.

 

Ten feet down continued

When I'd posted the last blog, "Ten feet down", I suddenly wondered why I'd posted a blog exclusively about prayer on my cycling blog, and re-posted it on my prayer blog. Then, thinking about it later, I realised how the 'ten feet under' idea fits in with cycling, particularly hill climbing. That's the state of mind you need to conquer those hills. Ride them as if you're riding on the level. The hills are just like waves, only they don't move as much. They're just ripples on the landscape. Ride downhill just like you were on the level too. I suppose on solid ground, the "ten feet under' analogy doesn't work so well - we could invert and say ten feet up above the highest hill on your route is where you need to be cycling.

Ten feet down

I showed great restraint in Emmanuel Christian Bookshop on Thursday; I didn't buy anything for myself! (You have no idea how hard that is!) I was looking through the prayer section, where there are always books without which my life is incomplete. I became aware that I bought a rather substantial book on prayer some weeks ago, which I haven't yet delved into; "Taste and See - adventuring into prayer" by Margaret Silf.

That book "appeared" on the floor at the foot of my bed this morning, peeping out from under some clothes.

I picked it up and opened it "at random".

The first sentence to leap towards me contained the phrase "ten feet down", in quotations, obviously referring to an earlier mention.

Riffling back through the pages (none of this consciously thought about) I came upon a section titled Ten Feet Down and read:

"A friend once told me an interesting fact that if you can imagine yourself in a stormy sea, and then imagine yourself ten feet below the trough of the highest wave, the water would be perfectly calm. The picture appealed to me, and helps me come to prayer.
Like most people, I live my life on the 'surface' of myself..." 

That was enough to cause a lightbulb moment. I'm just noting this now so I can return to it later.

It's hard road (dead or alive)

My ride to work yesterday made me think I was starting to make it all sound a bit too easy in my posts on here. It's never easy.

There was no noticeable difference between yesterday and any other day. It was a non-skeddo bank holiday, so there wouldn't be much traffic around, if any (something to relish). I'd had around the same amount of sleep I usually have (ie not quite enough). It was a bright, fresh morning, not a hint of the wet stuff anywhere.

My wife brought me a cup of tea as usual - she always wakes early, but today she'd woken a little later than usual, so everything was slightly more hurried. As I struggled through breakfast I noticed I was a bit snotty - certainly not a full-blown cold, or, God forbid, manflu, but my face was definitely a little bigger than hitherto, and my breathing more laborious, punctuated by the odd sneeze. A mild headache, nothing worth troubling the medicine cabinet with.

I eventually got myself out of the house over 10 minutes later than usual, and as I've tried to make clear in previous posts, every minute counts at that time of day. I couldn't rush around though. All my movements were slow and laboured, like I was moving underwater.

The gears on No.1 bike need a bit of adjustment - it's still rideable, but it's annoying. So, I took the Rockhopper. Bulkier, heftier, but on the plus side, lower geared.

It was hard work right from the gate. It felt like the back brake was stuck on, so hard was the pedalling (I actually checked!) I set off slowly as I always do, but this time I stayed slow. Every turn of the pedals was effort. It became clear along the route that I was going to be a couple of minutes late if I didn't put a spurt on. I couldn't put a spurt on if my life depended on it. I continued riding "within my means", and clocked in at 8.02am. The ride had taken 1 hour 22 minutes, and I hadn't stopped anywhere.

My lungs and sinuses were a little clearer for the ride, and I did generally feel marginally better for having done it. It took a couple of cups of tea before I was ready to lift the first bike into its stand, but despite the glory of the weather, work remained hard throughout the day.

The ride home was more of the same. I got changed out of my uniform with 10 minutes to spare, and sat and had a cup of tea before setting off as extra hydration when you have a cold is essential. The afternoon was also incredibly hot for the time of year. I still made it home in about an hour, spurred on along the trunk road by playing keepy up with a road bike for a while (it really annoys them when a mountain bike holds their wheel!)

I remember a phrase used in a letter to Cycling Weekly, back in the days when I actually took the time and effort to read it, when a reader said it felt like he'd "taken the wrong legs" on a ride one morning. It happens to the best of us (and I'm far from the best!). However fit we are, however accustomed we become to long rides and hill climbs, there will be days like this. Most peculiar, mama! 

 

How long is one hour?

I'm currently helping to promote The Moment of Peace.

The aim is to get a million people to be mindfully silent for one hour;

One Hour. How long is that, exactly?

Sixty minutes. How long is a minute? Sixty seconds.

3,600 seconds? Doesn't really mean much. You could sit and count up to 3,600, but then you wouldn't be being mindful. You'd be counting, and the chances are you'd speed up a bit to get to 3,600 quicker, so you wouldn't complete your hour.

Two thirds of a football match. I don't like football, so for me that sounds like a long and boring time.

It's being silent through Emmerdale and Coronation Street, and no getting up to make a brew halfway through! Imagine how many words of script are spoken in that one hour (and don't forget to include the adverts!)

The website suggests a time of 8pm on Saturday 18th June 2011, which, according to my hasty research, is when most of the nation will be watching Britain's got Bollocks or some such stuff - not something which would distract me or my family from an hour's quiet contemplation and meditation, but there are (sadly) many people out there who just wouldn't want to miss it. If they did, what on earth would they talk about at work the following day? "Did you see so-and-so sing such-and-such?" "No I was meditating." Instant conversation killer!

But I digress.

Do we have any real concept of how long one hour is?

It's the time it takes me to cycle to work, but remove the bike, the tired legs and the landmarks - how do I measure the hour then?

To sit in silence, eyes closed, mindfully (ie without distractions) for one whole hour is quite a task, really!

Of course, you can set an alarm to go off at the end of the hour, but who wouldn't sneak a peek to see how much time is remaining?

I helped organise a 24 hour prayer event last year, and spent the entire 24 hours in a church. I expected it to be an ordeal, a real marathon of endurance. It flew by. Time was immaterial. I only looked at my watch twice the whole time, and was utterly amazed to see how much time had passed. But that's me.

I was going to write about time seeming to drag and/or fly by depending on... what? I'll do that some other time. My hour's up.

 

Start from where you are...

not where you'd like to be.

I first encountered this phrase when I took part in the "Expert Patient Program" (EPP) - a self-help group for people with long term illnesses or disabilities.

I enrolled on it while I was recovering from a double hernia operation a few years ago.

Just so you know, I've had a lot of abdominal surgery over the past 16 years, for one reason and another. Most of my abdomen is now scar tissue, which makes exercising my "core" muscles nigh on impossible, hence my big belly. I try to lose weight, to "firm up", but all pretty much in vain. I don't like it, but it's something I have to live with, and yes, I do try and pretend it's not there.

That's where I am. Where are you?

You have to be realistic. You have to be honest. Brutally. You have to accept where you are, especially if it's not where you want to be, because it's the only way you'll ever get anywhere.

I've come a long way, baby.

Be Here Now

A working day today for me, very busy due to the bank holiday.

Out of the house at 6.30, and a cool and easy ride got me to work at 7.45, going a longish way around (but by far the easiest).

I had in mind yesterday's posts as I cycled, particularly going up Whitehill.

I found writing them quite difficult, and not very rewarding. I felt I'd missed a lot out.

I hit on the key to it on my way home, though. It had been a warm sunny day, which I'd spent working outside all day. I was very tired - could very easily have gone to sleep for a couple of hours after lunch!

At hometime I eased myself carefully out of the park onto the road, prepared to take it easy. My knees ached like they wouldn't stand for much in the way of pressure. It was a warm afternoon but there was a perfect breeze cooling things down to just the right heat.

The first half-mile or so on the road is gently downhill, so you can reach a quick zip with no effort at all, and once I was moving, I decided that I may as well "put the hammer down". I took the same route I'd taken this morning - mainly level for the first two miles, then a long fast downhill followed by a very long and winding gentle uphill through mixed countryside, then down Whitehill to the trunk road for the 5 mile grind home.

From the gates of Bluestone to The First and Last (would be my local pub if I ever drank there) took 45 minutes. If I'm counting, I usually count from inside the grounds right to my back door, but both the start and the finish have tricky bits like cattle grids and level crossings. From work to home had a previous best time of 58 minutes, and that was straight along the main road. 13 miles in 45 minutes I'm very happy with.

It wasn't much of an effort either.

I still had time to think and pray and stuff.

And I realised why I find it hard to write about.

It's because the key to it is that old chestnut, "living in the moment" "the eternal now" etc etc.

The post about climbing the hill - stare at a space just in front of you, don't look up... it's meditation on the here and the now. Don't waste energy wishing you were at the top of the hill, accept where you are. Don't look at and be daunted by the mountain, focus on each turn of the pedals. That's what I do, without even thinking about it, really.

Admittedly, it is much easier to do this on a sun dappled stretch of single-track lane snaking through the woodlands of Pembrokeshire than it would be weaving through the stinking angry traffic of any urban landscape, but the principle is the same.

Wild garlic is everywhere in the hedgerows. The lanes of Pembrokeshire smell like a french restaurant.

How to cycle uphill.

Let's deal with a hill we know, being as we're talking about cycling to work. There are three such beasts on my commute, in quick succession. Two of them I can delay or avoid by switching routes (and adding some miles to my journey) but the first one has to be done, the alternatives are just too long to be worth it.

My hill, from Carew to Whitehill is about 5 miles into my commute. The trunk road rolls over fairly easy terrain, and provides a good warmup, but the hill is still very daunting, and there is no easy way to start it, as it rises steeply straight after a long narrow bridge over a tidal millpond, on a righthand bend.

With no real runup, I select my second lowest gear just before the first incline. Low enough to keep me moving but with one still in reserve.

We won't concern ourselves with how big, or how long or steep it is. All hills are the same, and we're at the bottom. 

• RULE 1: Do NOT, under any circumstances, look up. As soon as you see the enormity of the task ahead of you, you've defeated yourself. This principle applies to any hill, whether you know it or not. Get your mind set on a mantra or prayer or a song lyric (see previous post). Fix your gaze on the road just ahead of your front wheel, and keep it there. 
• RULE 2: Ration your energy. We do not have an infinite supply of energy. It runs out. Do not start your hill like a greyhound from a trap. Use the minimum amount of effort to turn your pedals (this may still be quite a lot!). Keep your gears low, and try to stay in the saddle as long as you can. Don't worry about how slowly you seem to be travelling, as long as you're moving upwards, it's progress.
• RULE 3: Keep going, no matter what. Do not stop! Your lungs may feel as though they're about to burst. The chances are, they won't. Your thighs will burn with lactic acid. Pain will sear along your sciatic nerve. Ride through it. Do not stop. The pain in your thighs and chest is nothing compared to the pain in your soul at having been defeated by mere gravity.

 

Have a treat ready for when you get to the top. Chocolate is great for this, and will make you feel instantly euphoric, as will the feeling of conquering that hill. Have a drink. Replace some of the sweat you've lost. Look back. See how far you've come, it's a truly great feeling. Once you've conquered your hill, it gets less intimidating each time. Just grit your teeth and enjoy it!

How to cycle to work 2 getting out there.

My average commute to work is 12+ miles, quite hilly, and takes around an hour, sometimes more depending on the route and just how well my legs are turning. I don't own a car, so I don't have the option of saying "I'll drive to work today", my only option is cycling. I could get a train, which would take me to a station about 5 miles from my workplace, and when I started work, I considered this as an option for particularly wet mornings, though it hasn't yet occurred to me to do it. I'd have to set off around the same time anyway, and would probably get there later, so is it really worth the extra expense? I could walk, of course, but that would take around 3 hours, and as I start work at 8am, it would mean leaving the house at 5. Not practicable, really.

My wife usually wakes me up with a cup of tea around 5.30am, and has my cycling gear ready for me, so it's just a question of getting some breakfast, usually just a bowl of cereal and a second cup of tea, checking and packing my pannoier with tools, lunch, uniform etc and getting out there.

It's a little easier now it's light at 6.30am. It was quite an effort when it was still dark, but to watch the sunrise as I cycle along is a joy which makes it all worthwhile.

I take my ipod with me. I do not consider this dangerous, as I don't have it loud enough to cancel out any traffic noise. On the main road I usually pop out the right earpiece so I just have background music or spoken word in my left ear and traffic noise (if there is any) in my right. I don't always have it on, sometimes the silence and the birdsong is enough.

Attitude is a major factor first thing in the morning. I don't allow myself a single moment of negativity. I concentrate completely on the positive aspects of cycling to work, the fact that my body will be getting a good workout, the fact that I will be filling my lungs with fresh air, the fact that I will in all likelihood see a spectacular sunrise, the fact that I have a whole hour of complete and utter solitude - a rare and luxurious thing for the father of 4 young children!

Even though I know my journey time is about an hour, I try and set out as near to 6.30am as possible, 6.45 at the very latest, so I don't have to rush. If I'm half an hour earlier into work, that's 30 minutes of lovely peace and quiet with a cup of tea before the others arrive and it all kicks off.

I start slow. I have arthritis in my hips and knees, and they're a bit stiff and creaky first thing. Any attempts to get them to move faster than they want to results in quite serious pain, so I let them find their own comfort level.

I pray as I cycle. Cycling is a rhythmic exercise, and repetitive prayer mantras are ideally suited to the rhythm of cycling or walking.

I'm a Christian, and I use Christian prayers and chants, but we can all pray however we want. I start with The Lord's Prayer, simply because I know it so well, and repeat that a few times. Then the Jesus Prayer, which is another one ideally suited to repeating over and over:

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The Christian mantra "Maranatha", which is Aramaic for "Come, Lord", and is just 4 syllabes of equal length. After that I let the prayer go where it will.

As a follower of 24/7 prayer, I find filling up an hour with prayer quite easy, and it is easy when you do it regularly - like everything, it gets easier with practice.

For me the importance of the prayer aspect cannot be overstated. I need that time of prayer to start my day - were I working at home, I would still pray, though probably not for an hour - it's much more difficult at home to sit quietly for that amount of time. You may not need this to start your day, but what you do need is something to take your mind off those hills! Maybe a song to sing (either aloud or in your head) or a tune to whistle, anything to distract you from dreading that hard climb ahead!

I'll deal with tackling those hills in a separate post.

How to cycle to work: 1. clothing.

my friend posted this on facebook following my previous posts here:
"that blog about your cycle route on a daily basis.........how do you do such a distance?"
and it prompted me to think in detail about how I approach my commute to work.
The right clothing is essential.

• Footwear: I wear "proper" cycling shoes; SPD shoes which clip to my pedals and have a much stiffer sole than walking shoes. In cold weather these are coupled with sealskinz waterproof socks, though this has not prevented my toes from numbing up. I have found cycling shoes problematic in many ways - I think the problem lies in the fact that cycling shoes are made by cycling companies such as Shimano, Bontrager, Specialized etc and not by shoe manufacturers. Now, if Clarks made cycling shoes... I am seriously considering buying shoes with a Goretex lining next. Despite the prohibitive £130 price tag I suspect they will be a worthwhile investment.
• Trousers: I wear padded shorts, whatever the weather. I possess a pair of waterproof, breathable trousers, but have hardly ever worn them. My legs overheat. I have a pair of lycra bib tights which I wear for longer journeys, but I like my "baggy" shorts with detachable padded insert for my work trips. I work on the principle that if my legs get wet they will dry, and if they're cold at the start they'll soon warm up, whereas cooling down hot legs is a much trickier feat to accomplish.
• Shirt: I wear a cycling shirt for a number of reasons - the pockets at the back are good for carrying stuff (you don't want your trouser pockets cluttered with stuff, it soon becomes an uncomfortable burden when you're on the move). The high-cut collar is good for keeping the wind off the chest and neck, and the lightness of the fabric is good for "wicking" sweat away from the body and for drying quickly when wet.
• Jacket: I have a Paramo windproof cagoule - this is not cycle-specific, but does its job brilliantly. It's not waterproof, but is slightly water-resistant, and a wash in nikwax every few weeks keeps it that way.
• Gloves/Mitts: I always wear padded gloves or mitts. My wrists still hurt sometimes, my fingers still go numb, but it is minimised by good padding. I favour a thin glove so I can still feel what I'm doing with my fingers.
• Helmet: I wear one for added visibility, rather than protection. I favour the "skate" type helmet rather than the tradiotional road cycle helmet as I attach a couple of lights front and rear. I have never found a cycle helmet which is comfortable, but what I have now is the best of a bad job. The sponge padding doesn't dry out very quickly, so it's best to leave the helmet on rather than taking it off, letting the sweat cool down and putting your head back into a cold wet helmet. I wear a microfleece cap inside it in the winter.

Wear what works for you. Don't overdress, because you'll end up all hot and sweaty. Do wear cycle-specific clothing, it's designed to be comfortable on the bike and comfort is of far more importance than appearance. Be prepared to spend money - good cycling clobber doesn't come cheap!
My work clothes I leave at work, only taking them home when they need washing, and carry them to and fro in my panniers. I don't wear a rucksac on a journey of any length, they give me backache.
If you're a person who runs for the nearest doorway when the first spots of rain appear on the pavement, forget it. Get used to getting wet. It's going to happen a lot. Take a towel. Some enlightened workplaces now have showers for cyclists (mine doesn't).
Sort out your clothing the night before. There's nothing worse than being able to find only one mitt as you're heading out the door, and set off in plenty of time, there's nothing more likely to put you off commuting to work by bike than having to race against the clock every day. Some days, when you're in the mood for it, it's fun to try and set a new record, but if you're constantly having to push yourself to the max every morning, you'll soon give up. Ride your route to work when there's no pressure, and take your time. Allow for the odd catastrophe such as a puncture - carry a spare inner tube, a puncture repair kit and a pump, along with a good multitool which can cope with most minor eventualities. I find carrying a spare inner tube is the best way to prevent punctures - the day you don't have one with you is the day you'll get a puncture!

Commuting part 2

I've written about my commute to work in the previous post, and as I've said, it's all good whatever the weather and it sets me up for the day.

The ride home is a different beast.

I work hard. I find it the best way to get through the day.

We have a fleet of around 200 bikes which had never seen a service till I started work. There's a lot to do.

Now the weather is good, I drag a workstand outside and fix bikes in the fresh air all day. As I've said, the bikes were in a sorry state when I got there, most of them needing new chains, new brakeblocks and new cables. As soon as one bike's done, there's another to take its place.

When I commute to work, I travel to a different world. I'm surrounded by beautiful countryside - I have one of the best views of the Preseli hills anywhere. Apart from my work colleagues, I'm surrounded by people on holiday. It's a nice atmosphere to be in, and I don't have to think about anything. I can fix bikes in my sleep, I don't need to think about what I'm doing, in fact the less thought, the better.

I'm on my feet all day and the work can be strenuous.

When 4.00pm comes around, I've usually tired myself out.

But then I have to cycle at least 12 miles home.

Grim determination is the only way.

I start off slow. I try and take the path of least resisitance, but there aren't any, really. The hill on the north side of Creselly has to be avoided at all costs. It's a killer, with a nasty bend in the middle. Even though I'm dropping over 200 feet in altitude, it's all so up and down, you don't really notice. I try and maintain a steady pace, but really I just want the journey over. Invariably I start to push the pace. The A470 trunk road between Carew and the dock is very busy at that time of day, and traffic seems determined to run me off the road. It is no fun.

commuting

I started work as a cycle mechanic at Bluestone about three months ago, at the beginning of February 2011. I work on Mondays and Fridays, although it seems to make more sense to say Fridays and Mondays, though it's hard to tell which is which sometimes. I have been known to greet my colleagues on a Friday with "had a good weekend?".

I cycle to work (and of course back again). When I started my hours were 9.00am to 5.00pm, but this meant getting home after 6pm, so I requested to change my hours to 8am - 4pm. This means leaving the house at 6.30am to arrive before 8am.

My commute to work is just over 12 miles via the shortest route (two "busy" main roads), though there are numerous alternative routes, all of which add length to the journey, but add interest, or are less hilly.

According to my GPS, my workplace is 262 feet higher than where I live, so there are some serious climbs involved in my commute to work.

The first section, 5 miles east along the A470 trunk road from Pembroke Dock to Carew is fairly level with a few gentle inclines, and is a good, if boring, warmup. 

The second part heads north from Carew towards Canaston Bridge along the A4075 for about 7 miles. This road contains three serious climbs in quick succession, which is what prompted me to look for alternatives.

The first hill, from Carew to Whitehill, cannot be avoided without adding around 3 miles to the journey, and the alternative is almost as hilly, so is not worth the extra time and mileage. At Whitehill, I can turn west and drop down to Creswell Quay, a more picturesque route which replaces the second and third climb with one large one. This is a couple of miles longer, but much quieter and prettier. If I turn right (east) at Whitehill (a recent discovery) there is a fairly level route to Jeffreyston followed by quite a drag of a climb through Loveston.

Creselly, that's the place to avoid, sitting atop its own hill, smack in the middle of the journey.

Even with that extra hump in the journey though, that's the quickest route, and I don't always manage to set off in time to allow for diversions!

The journey takes around an hour, rarely less, often longer, so i try to allow 90 minutes travelling time. The hardest part is getting out of the house, particularly on a rainy morning, though I haven't had too many of those. A couple of months ago it was pitch black and freezing when I set out from home, now it's light and warm(ish).

It's a lovely hour, a prayerful hour. I take an ipod with me, but only iff I need to be jollied along. The birdsong at that hour is quite something, and I have regularly heard woodpeckers along the way (though never seen them). I have seen an owl returning home through the morning mist. The ride sets me up for the day. Whatever mood I leave home in, I'm usually in a better one by the time I get to work. I'm the first one there, in the Bike Hire shop, so I can mooch around getting changed and lingering over a cup of tea before the day gets started.

Blog reposted

I’ve rearranged things so I can post to “cycling back to happiness” from posterous.com.