A little bit of inspiration

Following the cold, miserable weather that brought me to a halt through February and March, how nice April has been.

A complete absence of motivation in the form of planned races has kept the month sensible, re-building my mileage from near nothing to nearer 15 per week as the weeks have worn on. Last week saw a trip to Wales to thrash the mountainbike which saw a missed longer run but kept fun levels high and fitness possibly higher.

But yesterday saw a new form of motivation entirely. The marvelous girlfriend who is JogBlog wafted a book under my nose just as I was finishing the Telegraph Book Of Unpublished Letters but before I started the Telegraph Book of Obituaries (I love the absurd nature of a correspondent who takes the time to write something so abstruse just for the sake of personal entertainment but which is enjoyable to all, alongside an occasional write-up on a war veteran who undoubtedly carried out his service with unbelievable enthusiasm, often having been captured, escaped, been injured, recovered only to get captured again before settling down to a life as head gardener of a nursery. Or the simply unbelievable obit of the man who almost single-handedly perfected the lobotomy process, having been offered “troublesome children” by the aristocracy to quieten them down to avoid embarrassment at social functions for practice. I can read them forever, it seems). Not sure if I’d like it (but having trudged on through one “classic” title in the recent past, only to give up at page 273 having decided I’d given it enough chance to warm up by then if it was going to – if you haven’t read “On The Road” by Jack Kerouac, don’t. It’s impenetrable shit. And that’s coming from the author of this blog, so it must be really, really bad by my reckoning. There, that’s a review for you!), I gave it a go by skipping the introduction. After about two paragraphs I decided it was good. After the first chapter I was hooked. The style and passion in the writing and the content are superb – I can honestly say I love it. And it’s the direct reason for today’s run.

“Feet in the Clouds” by Richard Askwith. It’s an old book but has aged superbly. About fell running, basically, and while a certain paper once wrote (completely wrongly, I might add) about a fellow runner’s blog that it “Simply made you want to tie up a pair of laces and go running”, I’ll repeat the quote about the book with the assurance that it indeed does make you want to get up, get out and get amongst it. Tales of endurance, adversity, ridiculous accomplishments, camaraderie, mishap, recklessness…superb reading.

There are no fells near Ashford. The hills I run around between Hawkinge (aka the shittest place in the universe) and Folkestone are steep but short and will be thrashed off-road before long again. But are also 15 miles away. The Greensand Way is flat but at least off-road and goes past my front gate. I decided to run 7 miles today, slowly and off-road, in the style of an out and back. The decision was entirely attributable to the book. I even turned my ankle around the 2.5 mile mark in a track made rough by countless horseshoes. The discomfort was deemed mild in fell-runner’s law because there were no bones or claret visible so I continued to run away from home without breaking stride. It hurts a bit now, but not enough interfere with anything in life beyond being something to comment about.

I think I particularly love the attitude of the athletes to injury, following my ability to hurt myself in everything I do (incidentally, I didn’t even fall off the bike in Wales. Following my broken ribs last year I think I either took it a lot easier, practiced a bit more or had better luck. Superb fun). I now have confirmation that there are lots of others out there who will finish a race on broken limbs, who will run on through torn ligaments and who thrive on finding a way around injury. I think I have a new calling.

Until the novelty wears off, at least. And I hope it does wear off. Travelling to find fells to practice on and then race around might be beyond my wallet or diary. But until then I’ll carry on reading. And being inspired. And hopefully carry on enjoying my runs and staying fit through the year.

Fastest mile of the month was a 6.06. Fastest overall run the Maidstone parkrun at (what felt gentle, honest.) 6.45/mile average (well it’s a run, not a race apparently, I just loved the scenery what with it being along the banks of the river Medway and got a little carried away running and chatting to a couple of experienced parkrunners in their 50 and 100 run tops – before I knew it the run was over). Not going to break any records at that pace but it makes the 7 minute pace that much more enjoyable and the month average pace of 7.22 for all runs is equally encouraging. A few more miles alongside a few more longer runs and I might get race fit before Christmas.

Too much, too little

It seems wrong to post about not having enough time to blog lately, but that’s been my biggest problem! Trying to cram in window construction, sorting out the bits that keep breaking on the house as well as getting the veg plot and greenhouse ready for spring, at work getting a housing estate close to handover – it’s all enough in itself.

Having said that, I have increased my running again after a lull through early February, so fitness isn’t suffering too much for all of it, even if updating on here has – even uploading the Garmin to SportTracks has suffered!

Runs have included an 8 mile day while getting the motorbike serviced, a return to my hill run, my favourite 6 mile Gill Lane loop a few times, the odd 7 mile outing and a couple of jogs to town to pick up JogBlog’s bike from the station followed of course by the return cycle. One of those in jeans and jacket, not being bothered to put on running kit for two miles (and a 7.28/mile average pace for the jog made me happy, considering the weight and restriction of movement offered by the jeans alone!).

Cycling has increased as well. Mainly short-ish outings making sure the mountainbike is ok ready for a trip to Wales (Afan Argoed for the new pump track amongst other things and CwmCarn for the downhill – uplift van all booked already! Yay!) and the following outing to Morzine in July for some really serious downhilling, chairlifts the lot (and since it’s been 5 years since my last trip there, I need plenty of practice for the inevitable jumps, drops, roots, braking bumps and physical demands of 10 minute downhills rather than the 2 minute affairs we get over here. To say nothing of the horse steak I’m already looking forward to assuming we pop over to Switzerland on one of the days).

Today has seen the South East of the country see a spectularly small amount of snow ruin us. Getting home last night, despite only around an inch of white stuff falling, was “interesting” (including sitting on a hill with the handbrake on only for a gust of wind to start the car sliding down the hill, necessitating the footbrake to lock all four wheels to stop progress on the ice. It was serious!). The radio this morning announced that the motorway and following road I needed were blocked and that Hawkinge was cut off.

Best thing for it short of a small nuclear device, I reckon.

Have I mentioned I hate Hawkinge? No? Maybe I will one day. It’s shit there. Before anyone moans about where they live, I insist they visit Hawkinge. It’s shit. Have I mentioned this…?!?

But I decided I’d try to cycle in, anyway. All went ok (apart from being in 4th gear out of 27 on the flat into the wind on two sections), drifting snow through Sellindge made things interesting and Swan Lane was almost impassable (the worst snow to cycle in – semi compacted, around three inches deep, little traction and a front wheel going all directions except straight. Makes sand seem straightforward), but only when I got to the top of the Downs at Farthing Common did I get stuck.

A monster of a drift (around 6ft tall, my bike in the picture as I wedged it into the drift here is on hard-pack snow about two feet above the road – the hedge to the right is a typical country-lane affair, for scale!) was completely blocking access. I climbed onto it and got about 300yards until i was a) exhausted, b) cold and wet and c) worried that by using my bike as a snow-shoe as I was (the wheels stopping me sinking past waist deep into the snow), the 10 miles home from that point might become an awful long, cold walk. Knowing the same was in store on the top of Etchinghill, I turned around, phoned work to say I couldn’t make it an pedalled home (at twice the speed I went out in – nothing smaller than big ring, 6th gear despite the ice and snow…the wind suddenly became the best thing in the world!

So now I have an afternoon to make windows and enjoy the day, hopefully with an easing wind so I can go for a jog later (won’t go if I don’t enjoy it, I’m actually living through my romise from two years ago! The joy of running with no pressure of races, simply run when it feels right to do so) with a return to work tomorrow. Fingers crossed.

End of the year

It seems fitting to carry out something of a round-up.

Again a year dogged by injury (only a few broken ribs and something amiss with my shins, but just as the year was going well it knocked a good start on the head and made me wonder why I bother for a little while).

Only a few races, too. And one of them in injury recovery so with mates, not as a competitive outing.

And very few cycled miles. I blame the lack of summer combined with the ribs when I should have got going. But a site with no power and only a few days when a soaking couldn’t be all but guaranteed? Cycling to work wasn’t really ever going to happen.

Hopefully this coming year things will be different. And better, at that.

I’m not planning entering any races. If I do it’ll be for a social activity and to see how my ”fitness” is tailored to goals – can I put in a dedcent pace despite not having specifically ramped activity up to meet a goal in the shorter outings and, if I attempt a longer run, simply can I extend distance through slowing down a bit? I’m curious to find out.

Janathon is a seperate entity. I prefer Juneathon, it being a little drier and warmer, but Janathon has my mileage record. I’ll have another bash at decent distance this season, I think, but I’m making windows for the house so there’ll be no obsessing and ruining the year!

I’m planning on mountainbiking more as well as focusing harder on off-road runs, barely having explored the Greensand Way which runs along the end of the drive on the way to HamStreet in the 3 years I’ve lived here, as well as failing to explore all but a quarter of the Hythe Canal which got me excited as I recovered from my ribs.

I’ll not mention intentions to avoid injury. I’ll follow Colin McRae’s mantra “If in doubt, flat out!” whenever I can. If I get away with it, superb. If not? At least I’ll be satisfied I tried.

With any luck I’ll meet a few more decent folk along the way, too. Maybe mixing up my activities will assist there. Who knows?

Wishing all a very happy and healthy new year.

Janathon beckons! See you on the Janathon group of RunningFreeOnline!

Mildly broken still

So following my last update and a spot of hope that my wellbeing would improve I happened upon last Monday.

Which brought with it the feeling that I was going to fall apart. From the inside.

I don’t like accepting defeat to my bodily woes but I had to give in. My back felt swollen (right against the spine was worrying me), my chest felt full of fire and my internal bits felt all jumbled up. A day for doing nothing, basically.

And the next three days saw mild improvement but with the experience that far too much was moving around far too much.

So Thursday broke my resolve and I booked to see the doctor. Well, I phoned him first to discuss whether my self diagnosis was about correct regarding healing, they being ribs and constantly on the move etc, before I explained that the pain wasn’t entirely rib based and things were moving around, it seemed. So an appointment was arranged for the same afternoon.

At which I lay on his couch after a bit of poking and prodding for a bit more poking, prodding and tapping before I spent about 20 minutes trying to get myself upright without splitting in two (getting upright from prone is the hardest thing each day still).

Whereupon he poked and prodded and got me to bend and stretch before booking me in for an ultra-sound abdominal scan because he’s intrigued as to whether I might have shifted some internal organs around. Most concerningly my liver, apparently. He assured me that, while confident I had two ribs in tatters, they’d be fine given 8 weeks to fix themselves. So some hope, then!

So next Thursday is the next opportunity for an update after they’ve had a look inside me, as it were.

As is usual I feel lots better at the moment, having been unable to do anything much for a while, so I’m hopeful all will be ok and I’ll just have to be patient until my ribs are knitted enough to gently jog and pedal a bit more enthusiastically (when I say a bit more…I am sneaking out on the mountainbike for a gentle, upright, not getting out of breath at all since I can’t pedal around the lanes…I can’t simply do nothing, I’ll go insane!)

So, no running, no exercise, no Juneathon…what a rubbish summer!

A little bit broken. Again.

My plans for the year were changing but coming along nicely. Last weekend was an interlude to enjoy some mountainbiking in Welsh Wales with a few lads from work. A day at Afan Argoed indulging in a spot of cross country (pedalling up the hills and around the tops before enjoying the well earned descents, in basic terms. Normal off road cycling.) followed by a day at CwmCarn where an uplift ticket had been purchased to allow a spot of downhill (basically using a van to travel a mile up a hill to allow a pedal-less experience in plumetting down a pre-made course as rapidly as possible as many times in the day as considered decent).

Setting off at 4.30 Friday morning saw me arrive at the trail centre in good time to assemble my bike and enjoy a cup of strong coffee before the boys who’d arrived the day before met me for us to set off.

Now the others all being young and full of enthusiasm the ride went along the line of 5 idiots setting off shouting “ready” in sequence before pedalling away, much banter about how the climbs were wearing on, much grinding and gnashing of teeth (including mine, it should be said!) about how Mark was so unfit, so hungover and so incapable at riding that he wasn’t going to get much out of the day except to slow us considerably! But plenty of stops saw us reach the first downhill bit where I threw out the challenge to the others that we were to adopt a no pedalling, no braking policy. It seemed to fall on deaf ears as I eased away from the others by staying smooth and loving the rolling, rocky then smooth, predicatable then tricky descent. Mark, predictably enough, said it was a bit short, a bit steep, a bit rough and not what he hoped for. A nasty climb past a wind farm then saw another ace spot of fun. Through woods this time, a made trail of shale between timbers meant I had to dab the brakes a few times where roll-outs weren’t available but generally it was superb and again made the next climb worthwhile. Apparently Mark found it a bit tricky, the surface too lose and the drops a bit large…can’t say I noticed them and the shouts of joy from the other 3 matched my hollers of “Lush” (particular fun bits) and “Cock” (each time I braked) and “Chain” (each time I pedalled). But boy did the climb go on.

A diversion to the normal trail, it went on.

And on.

Up an exposed fireroad.

And on.

The top saw a bit of advice sought from a local before the best descent of the day. It’s called the Skyline Descent and it is to be recommended. A mix of rocks, roots, smooth hard-packed mud, drops, waterfalls, everything a trail can be for around 2 miles of descent, averaging 19.8mph on my Garmin. Following Dave through the lot for a change (we were well matched for speed and ability on this type of terrain – his pedalling made up for my lack of braking perfectly), he had a collision with a rock that split his chain (a quick repair after a shout of “Chain” to let the others know!) and a root that made him exit his bike “via the front doors” (landing on a rare soft bit of hedge!) and finishing with a set of 2 foot step-downs through water that forced smoothness and made me want a helmet all of a sudden!

A great ride…shame Mark thought it was too hard on his brake hands, too steep, too big…nothing suited him. I think he needs to stick to cars.

Which lead to day two at CwmCarn. A hiccup first thing when tightening my wheels saw my front axle snap (glad it wasn’t last thing Saturday!) before my first run of the day which was a cautious affair following the others to see how the course was.

Gorgeous was the answer. It’s a great downhill track with nothing too big to roll if you don’t want to but massive opportunity for air/drops/scares if you wish to hit things hard. So first run I caught Liam and waited for him to get away again, having a chat to Steve as I did so before having a hiccup when mis-reading a hairpin and nearly t-boning him. “Crash” was shouted…alerting the photographer that I needed a photo. Which he took. Bugger!

Run two was more flowing and fun. I hit the bigger side of the drops, dropped over the road gap slowly after Dave had flown it previous run, landing so far down the hill he used the bushes as a brake at the bottom, and loved the outing. 3rd run saw more speed, more flow and a hard launch of the gap to hit the tiny gully at the bottom at the right angle, giving me loads of speed for the next section.

Lots of crashes were befalling the others (and punctures…3 for Chris until we sorted his rear shock) but I was rolling through well within my abilities. Oops.

Next run was the one where all sections came together. I wasn’t fast compared to the other serious downhillers with massive suspension and full body armour but all but the lines clicked. Overrunning the entry to the road drop allowed speed to be maintained and the bottom (albeit small) berm to slingshot me into the next right hander. It felt ace. A superb rear wheel-locked slide into the bridge entry near the bottom felt ace. I was loving the day.

But Ben and Liam wouldn’t drop the road section, taking the side run each time. So I lead them down and stopped them before it to try and show them how easy it could be. They’re well able to do it, so I showed how easy it was to drop in and roll out, hoping they’d follow. Unfortunately I also wanted to hit the next bend as hard as before.

So I straighlined the descent to gain speed…and messed up my line for the corner and the small berm…and flew out of the top of the berm…and had the bike lead me into a fence…and didn’t quite get rid of the bike…and ended up with a fence pole right in my chest.

Laying there shouting “Crash”, followed by Ben and Liam asking if I was ok illicited and answer along the lines of “I’m breathing”. I felt bad.

A system check revealed a very painful chest. A few prods allowed me to convince myself I was just winded despite the surging stabs of pain that accompanied them so, before I could decide otherwise, I begged them to try the drop, saw them refuse, so flowed down the rest of the track to the bottom to see if the others were waiting.

They weren’t, but a van was. So, being stupid, I climbed on, thinking I’d see how bad I felt at the top. Ah.

Bad.

Still…only one way down. And loads of adrenaline along with a few boys who wanted to follow me (my protestations that I didn’t know where I’d have to stop were ignored!) so they didn’t hold me up saw my smoothest run yet. It had to be…I was, to be fair, in a world of pain but loving the drops!

Every big line was used, the road drop was hit again to make sure it wasn’t going to worry me for years…all I sacrificed were the jumps at the bottom where I checked my back brake on entry to keep the wheels low, level, smooth but probably as fast as when hit high. Shame that’s the run the photographer got me again! Still, at least I look smooth.

And this run all the others were at the bottom. And somehow I talked myself into another run. Chasing was fun again. Dave had another off but his line through the big berm at  the bottom was hilarious! He was fuming at nearly falling just before it and losing his flow and speed (hence why I was an inch from his wheel) and he went right up the side, pulling back on the bars to manual (a wheely with no pedalling) all the way around. Fantastic!

Unfortunately, by now, I couldn’t do any more. Still better than Mark, who didn’t even get his bike out!

I simply broke my bike down, packed it up, headed for the accmodation, showered and joined in for a subdued pint and a meal (Chinese in Wales…to be recommended!) before aching for the rest of the evening!

An uncomfortable night lead to a sore morning; a late arising, some of the boys heading for a cross-country loop, us others popping into Cardiff for a look at it, a bit of lunch and then the drive home.

Where my ribs came into their own.

Unfortunately I have in fact broken them. I can now breathe properly (couldn’t walk without hurtng on each intake of air until Wednesday) at normal activity levels and can raise my arms and go about life almost normally. But I can’t pull doors open; steering the car is a left handed affair. An outing for a paper on the bike today revealed I still can’t get puffed out or breathing hurts. Sleeping is ok…getting up is impossible. I can’t sit straight up (stomach muscle usage brings a world of pain); I can’t roll out of bed (Cathy won’t swap sides and I can’t roll over them!), so a shuffle until I fall off the edge is all I can manage. It’s like being 300 years old, I swear!

So Juneathon is a little on hold.

I’ll do all I can when I can but, really, recovery is the focus now. Shame I’ll miss Crisis and the Hamstreet 10k as a minimum of hoped-for events.

But at least the weekend was the best for years. And we might well have a further go nearer the autumn.

But with fewer broken bits.

A spot of mis-placed rage

I’m getting slow in my old age.

Since the run around the hills on Thursday I’ve been mostly complaining that my left leg is hurting again. All below the knee, all a bit bloody frustrating. The run was fine and the recovery seemed reasonable but a pain each time I put my foot down isn’t something I can put up with for long.

So running took a back seat. Each morning the pain has stayed away slightly longer – from putting my sock on it eased out until I got in the car. But it’s always present.

Today was the day to get my motorbike serviced, however. Which meant either a load of faffing about driving there, cycling back, riding there, driving back and then doing the same again (it’s just over 4 miles away) to collect it. Or simply wearing a pair of shorts under my leathers and carrying some trainers in a rucksack and running home, leaving leathers helmet and boots at the workshop.

But that’s not an option on damaged legs.

So with some caution I left there this morning with dreams of a run, knowing I might have to stop if pain revealed itself.

So I kept the pace down (good job, since I’m a tad unfit after not enough running lately combined with floorlaying and gardening instead of cycling as a fitness offset) and eased out onto the road. And felt ok. I opted for the flat direct route which brought me onto the Greensand Way for about a mile of footpath through fields. A splash of rain last night softened the top but hasn’t begun to make puddles or close cracks in the soil (in April. We need rain. Lots of it. And fewer new houses to increase our demands on the resource. But there you go….hypocrisy at peak…maybe I should stop building them!) so a low impact mile was experienced. And very pleasant, too. Many stiles, a farmer fertilising his crop but not another soul for a few minutes made me feel good to be out.

And all too soon I was back home.

A continuation on making my floor trims was interrupted by JB demanding we go and see lambs so the closer lamb field was chosen just in case it had a few. They’re late around here, though – 10 miles away there are millions of them – all our local fields are sheep free areas at the moment. Probably waiting to build houses on them.

We saw a few far-away lambs and then returned. Whereupon my knowledge of road construction and traffic control technology demanded to be shared by a fellow who wasn’t too keen on the option. Arriving at the newly placed lights erected on a corner to allow more houses to mess up the countryside, I proceeded through a red light. Very bad, admittedly, but fair. The lights are controlled for priority by strips which detect metal; basically a detector recognises a lump of metal passing over it and lets the light control know there’s something waiting. Only a largely alloy pedal cycle doesn’t contain enough metallic element to trigger the system so common sense prevails and encourages caution to head around the corner and hope drivers can. Drive, that is. The road wasn’t light controlled until a few years ago, so all used to be fine. But today a prick in an 02 reg dark blue Rover 75 (I’ll probably find it next time I head into the new estate where he clearly came from) decided we were an obstacle he couldn’t avoid, so he chose to use his horn (to let us know he was there as is the horn’s use as identified by the highway code? I feel not since I made eye contact to make sure he was aware of me..and yes, I am aware of slight irony referencing the highway coed when I’ve run a red light!), then slowed and shouted at Cathy before swerving in towards me and shouting that I need to learn to obey the lights.

I am getting slow.

I opted for sensible-ness for a millisecond which was a millisecond too long with hindsight. I should have reacted as I used to in such a situation and eased right as he slewed left, placing my pedal through his door (DMR V12′s are great, pointy objects for such a purpose). Or reached into his open window as he passed amd shouted. Instead, having decided to avoid the risk of injury, I simply shouted for him to pull over. My intention was to educate him as to the vagaries of the traffic light detection system and ask if the delay he didn’t experience on a road plenty wide enough for a car to pass a pedal cycle justified being a knob. But instead he chose to speed off. Despite my best efforts my fully suspended knobbly tyred cycle wasn’t going to catch him without traffic intervention and he got onto the bypass before I could catch him. I’ll have to find his house and leave a note under his windscreen wiper.

And some dogshit all around his doorhandles and filler cap.

Upon returning home I headed back for the return leg of the 4 miler to collect my bike.

A little apprehensive with a slight ache in my shin, I once again took it easy. A gentle plod along the off-road bit again tied in well with my lack of fitness and keeping things steady was great for morale as the traffic of rush hour kept me diving for the verge to avoid vans and trucks.

Home again after a quick ride around and my legs feel fresher than I feared. A lawnmowing session has hopefully kept things free. I’ll see for sure tomorrow when a haircut might be the highlight of my activities.

Birthdays aren’t what they used to be!

Running Free?

I’ve just added myself to Running Free Online and tried an update in preparation for Janathon.

With a little time, it’s a superbly slick site. Easy to navigate and use, it’s just a shame the snow is damping my enthusiasm to run. Well, not my enthusiasm as such, more my desire to head out in below zero temperatures with ice everywhere and no marathon to train for.

The snow forced me into a cycle, however. The full suspension mountainbike, seat right down (it’s only a 14″ frame, so much like a toy in this state), old narrow tyres pumped right up to cut through the snow and most of the air out of the shock to allow it to search for grip. And grip it found! Almost too much for fun…but only almost.

Few cars, compact snow and ice everywhere plus a need to keep going to keep warm meant the stops to stunt were short and brief. I demonstrated a rusty ability to just about ride backwards for a bit, proved that manuals and wheelies are possible for short periods as long as the bars are un-crossed cleanly before landing and also that it really isn’t a crash as long as one foot stays on a pedal and both hands are on the bars.

What do you mean, the higher pedal shouldn’t be on the road surface? Ah, bugger!

Immense fun, though. It’s now time for a stroll to the shops.

Roll on the thaw.

Too

Everything seems to be exaggerated in the present scheme of things.

The winter had snow and ice and silly low temeratures for far longer than I can remember. I have heating bills and memories of outside meetings every morning at 9 o’clock to prove it.

Spring seemed to skip a beat. The marathon training was cold throughout – I think I blogged 4 runs of a neutral temperature when shorts and top (either long or short sleeve) weren’t in question. Things then seemed to change to dry, dryer and driest in an instant. Not a personal problem since my new site is reliant on lack of rain while we divert over a mile of highway drainage and re-route 29 acres of land drainage through a new ditch, but shortages seem inevitable in the near future.

The wind blew from the start of this site until 2 weeks ago, always predominantly from the East. Now there isn’t a breeze.

And despite promises during the winter that I wouldn’t say it, I have properly struggled today with the heat. Went out on the mountainbike for the proposed hack about Bedgebury Pinetum at 9AM and it was still massively warm. My boxers had the white sweat stains to prove it.

The good news is that, despite being swollen this evening, the leg pain hasn’t hindered me at all. I rolled the jumps and decided against a drop off or two as a leg protection measure, but generally the pain was at a minimum whilst enjoyment was still high. Very encouraging. I just need to find out why it keeps swelling so much.

The odd news is that while I had hoped for empty roads while a football match kept everyone indoors, my ride in black leathers in ridiculous heat wasn’t as lonely as hoped for. Traffic was lighter but still too heavy for absolute hooliganism to ensue. I had a good tussle with a Renaultsport  Megane on a road section I don’t know very well, put in 60 pleasant miles, had some squirrelly tank slappy moments on some rougher roads but generally, things were no better than an early weekend morning. I guess the advantage of the heat was to give me confidence to get my knee down on even the oddest corners (tyre temperature is a constant niggle on cooler days, diesel a worry on the rest!). The disadvantage was getting in, changing and having a proper dizzy spell as I went from cool garage to hot drive to put the bike away.

I simply can’t drink enough to replace sweaty losses.

Still, could be worse. I could be running through the heat like some of the other Juneathoners!

Now, I must remember to remind myself that it’ll never be too cold in the winter and that I shouldn’t moan about the weather!

Ride

Got home after the most productive day at work for a fair while and decided not to waste such an evening inside on the rowing machine, so instead got out the mountainbike and went for a trip around the block.

The leg feels good for many things now but walking still isn’t one of the better things. I’ve dispensed with the crutch and am keeping things slow in an attempt to straighten my gait out where i’ve been leaning off the bad side for 8 weeks. The result is, at all but the slowest grandad pace, a wince of achy pain with each step. Not good, but bearable. And at least the direction feels ok.

Not being sure if it would be ok for pedal pressure, the mountainbike was chosen over the BMX and my 8 mile loop was my target. It was fine in most respects and certainly better than Cathy’s route home which went up every hill on the downs without seemingly going down much, ending with her lost-ish 6 miles from home and in need of the train. I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as her despite 16.4 average mph, which is reasonable for me with the knobbly tyres and soft suspension I was pulling and a good workout was had.

I wouldn’t fancy much more at the moment, though, as aches are setting in as I write. Hopefully i’m moving things up at about the right pace.

Fingers crossed it won’t be too long before I run but the 30th is looking very remote at the minute.

Cycle

Tonight I fancied something different.

So I got out the pedal powered two wheeled transport with full suspension and slow tyres and spent 20 minutes trying to make it go as fast as possible.

I know I failed because, all things being equal (that’s if equal meant not having moved house in December or changed job in March and thus had money and holiday time), i’d be going to the alps in two weeks for some proper mountainbiking – the sort where the bike goes up the mountain on the same chairlift you’re on, then gravity does it’s thing and catapults you (via several crashes and hilarity) back into whichever valley you fancy. Repeat to fade; one happy week.

But if I was going and had this injury, I wouldn’t be going I guess. So it’s lucky I gave Gordon Brown £10,000 tax to move and thus didn’t waste £250 on chalet and train ticket.

Ho hum.

Still. Tonight was ok. 20 minutes got me well sweaty, my leg feels ok on the pedals (no hopping or wheelies or jumps, but normal riding along felt reasonably fine) and lots of flexing in a low pressure state can only be good. And the suspension, soft as it was set, means no jarring on the rough bits.

Nice.

Watching Crisis tomorrow. Maybe i’ll follow Audiofule’s urban gym example for some city based exercise while I wait for Fitartist, RunningAmok and Jogblog to finish.

Blog on Friday. Be good while i’m away!