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.