I still haven't been out on my bike, at all, since October so it seems a bit cheeky calling myself any kind of cyclist at the moment, never mind a not-so-serious one! The weather's been rubbish, but that's only been recently and it just seems that the longer I stay off my bike the more reasons I come up with for not getting back on it. Which is kind of weird considering how much I've loved every single cycle I've been on since I first got hooked back in July.
I actually remember this feeling well from my running days; I knew how much I loved running, but if I didn't do it for a while I simply lost my motivation. No rhyme nor reason. Getting up off my butt to go for a run just seemed to take too much effort and I would make all sorts of excuses for not putting on my trainers and stepping out the front door. Then, when I actually couldn't run any more (for health reasons) I was absolutely gutted and I rued all those days that I should've been out pounding the roads when I had both the physical ability and the opportunity to do so.
So, I'm giving myself a good kick up the backside and reminding myself that I'm lucky to be able to cycle at all. I'm determined not to let myself fall any further into a state of 'cannae be bothered-ness' and I'm sure that, with a bit of an improvement in the weather, it won't be long till I'm happily back on my saddle.
And, considering the effort that Santa and his helpers went to with my Christmas presents this year, it would be extremely rude not to....
A combination of busy weekends and a lingering cold have been keeping me off my bike, but those are poor excuses for the absence of blog posts as there are still plenty of wee stories from the saddle to tell.
My last post referred to us being ordered off a military base while we were in the States. Now, that might have been a slight exaggeration...but we were stopped, searched, ID'd and told we could go no further on our bikes! Alex had read that there was an old lighthouse nearby, called Fort Story, that was worth a visit and we'd figured it wouldn't take us long to cycle there from our hotel. Sure enough, after a pleasant jaunt along the boardwalk and then on through the leafy suburbs of Virginia Beach, we arrived at a big set of gates on the road beside a sign saying 'Fort Story' However, instead of being met at the gates by your local friendly guardian of the lighthouse, we were met by your local not-quite-so-friendly gun-carrying guardians of a military base! Had we examined the guide book and map a wee bit closer, we would've realised that Fort Story is the name of the base, and not the lighthouse contained within its grounds. Undeterred, we pedaled to a halt at the gatehouse and smiled at the two soldiers walking towards us. For a tense few moments we thought we were going to be turned back but - after a bit of negotiation, close scrutiny of our ID (which, luckily, we carried with us everywhere) and the securing of our bikes to a lamp post outside the entrance - we were allowed to pass through. We had to leave our bikes behind as cyclists were only allowed on the base if they had a helmet on. There was, of course, a list of conditions attached to our permission to enter: don't step off the road, don't approach anyone, don't go past the fire station and, of course, don't dare take photographs or videos until you reach the lighthouse... The most exciting thing we saw on the walk through the base was, em, well, nothing really. A few buildings and an empty road. That was it really. So, we passed the time by concocting all sorts of crazy scenarios about what might happen if we dared to step off the road, or if we were spotted filming, or if we said the word 'b--b'. It was all a bit of an anti-climax when we finally - and uneventfully - reached the lighthouse.
Is that it...?!
There was a nice view from the top, especially of that busy, busy road that we'd walked along. Good job we didn't cycle along there without a helmet on, eh...?! Since there wasn't much else to do, we wandered back along the road and out of the base. I was really happy when we were back on civilian soil, and even happier to be back on my bike. And, as you can see, it looks like we weren't the only folk that day who'd been given their marching orders by the military!
We're in Virginia Beach at the moment on the first leg of a short trip to the States. We've not actually been on the beach as yet because we've been distracted by the first thing that we stumbled upon when we wandered down to the boardwalk:
So, for the past two days we've been sitting on a saddle rather than sitting on the sand, and what a comfy saddle it is too! Bonnie's bikes are a bit different from our bikes back home with the best thing about them being the big curly springs that attach the saddle to the bike frame. Not only do the rusty springs provide brilliant shock absorption, they also emit a nostalgic kind of squeaky noise as we pedal along. The thing I've found most difficult to get used to on Bonnie's bike is the brakes. You slow down, or brake, by pedalling backwards and there are no brake levers on the handlebars. I was doing pretty well with this system - or so I thought - until yesterday when we were cycling along a beautiful but bumpy forest trail.
I've still not had any punctures while we've been out cycling, but I have had my fair share of 'chain-off' incidents. Yesterday, unfortunately, was no exception. Fortunately I wasn't on a downhill stretch of the trail as there was no way of pedalling backwards once the chain was off the cog, i.e. I couldn't brake! The chain flew off and I couldn't figure out how to slow down. Letting my foot drag along the ground was out of the question as I was wearing thin-soled white gutties; I wasn't risking hurting my foot or wrecking the wee shoes that I'd like to last me for the rest of the holiday!
So, I had no choice but to free-wheel to an eventual stop. I stood sheepishly aside while my knight in shining armour (poor Alex) battled to hook the thick-with-oil chain back onto the cog (much of which was hidden under a big rusty metal guard). Oh dear. The air turned a delicate shade of blue, unfortunately not for the last time on our cycle along the forest trail as bumps and a not-so-serious-cyclist who loves hitting the bumps and a dodgy loose chain simply don't go too well together...
However, once we were off the trail and back onto the smooth cycle path, all was well again. Well, all was well with my chain and my braking system, but stumbling upon a military base and being ordered off our bikes was another matter altogether! But I think I'll keep that particular not-so-serious story for another time...
One of the things I love most about our cycling trips is that we're always moving along slowly enough to take in and appreciate the scenery round about us. And we're extremely lucky in that we don't have to travel very far to find some of the most scenic routes. Today we decided to leave from home and head into Stirling for breakfast (in a wee place called Toast, where Claudia - the lovely owner - and her staff make the best French toast with bacon and maple syrup I've ever tasted!) before deciding where to go from there. But before we'd even left the house, I was appreciating the view in front of me. We're very lucky to live in an ordinary house with an extraordinary view, and I never take it for granted:
After pulling on my gloves and pulling up my balaclava, we set off along one of the quiet back roads to Stirling, nestled in between the fields and the hills all the way:
After breakfast - did I mention that Toast make the best French toast with bacon and maple syrup I've ever tasted...
- we decided to cycle through the Riverside area of Stirling, across to Cambuskenneth then on towards Bridge of Allan. Looking resplendent as ever, The Wallace Monument sat on the crag ahead of us. I see the Wallace Monument most days and it's a sight I never grow tired of (the same could be said about the legs and the rear of the cyclist who's peddling along in front of me...):
From Bridge of Allan it was quite a hard cycle - uphill and in to the wind most of the way - on the main road to Dunblane. That road's also surrounded by lovely scenery, but I was panting like an old wifey with my head down all the way to Dunblane so, the view of the tarmac below me had to suffice for this wee section! Coming out of Dunblane, we carried on towards the village of Kinbuck. Fortunately for us cyclists (but not so much so for folks in their cars) this road's closed to vehicles at the moment as there are some stone repairs being carried out on the Kinbuck Bridge. It's a quiet road anyway, but it was lovely being able to cycle along without having to take the usual precautions for traffic. From Kinbuck we headed over the scaffolded bridge to head back towards Dunblane on another of the quiet back roads. Yet again, the surroundings were glorious:
I absolutely loved the downhill-most-of-the-way next few miles back to Bridge of Allan and the cows and sheep would've heard a fair few Wheee's and Woo Hoo's along the way! A welcome cup of coffee while sitting outside Jam Jar (al fresco style in almost mid-October!) set us up nicely for the last leg home. We took the quiet back road again and enjoyed being blown along it for most of the way.
We cycled about 37 miles today and we were enveloped in greenery and gorgeous scenery for almost every one of those miles. How very, very lucky we are to live where we do, and to have found the perfect way to soak up the scenery that's right on our doorstep. And, how very lucky we are to have had so much sunshine - even when it's baltic - since I became hooked on cycling! Yup, if you'd told me a few months ago that I'd be leaving my house - in full sight of my neighbours - wearing a balaclava to keep me warm whilst riding 37 miles on a road bike I'd have laughed out loud and told you not to be so silly! Three months on from our first cycle I'm still loving every trip as much as the last, and today was a brilliant reminder that we don't have to travel far from home to find the perfect way to spend a Sunday.
Alex, my husband, has been my right hand man since we were 15. We'd had the odd fling or two between the ages of 13 and 14, but we didn't get serious till we were the ripe old age of 15! He's my soul mate and I'd simply be lost without him. I mean, who would put my chain back on my bike, or lift it up on to the cycle rack or fix any of the punctures that I'm bound to start getting?! (Yup, still no punctures!!) And I would never have contemplated cycling around Arran that special day in July - the one that started it all - without his encouragement and his dogged determination to make the very most of things. He's just the pools.
So, after bemoaning the fact that I was struggling to figure out a way of including personalised basic maps of our rides on this wee blog - without having to worry about copyright and such things - it should've come as no surprise when I arrived home the other night to a kitchen table covered in hand drawings of map outlines. But it did! I was chuffed to bits with them and so grateful that Alex had spent so much time and effort (while I was out gallavanting) sketching them out for me. And I can't wait to start adding some details before figuring out the best way to incorporate them into the blog. I'm beginning to think this is all a bit much for a blog and maybe I should think about a website...
Before I get carried away with myself, I'll stick to bringing the maps of the routes we've already cycled up to date and figuring out the best way to utilise them here. In the meantime, here's a wee sample of the kind of thing that Alex, my wonderful Man of Many Talents, rustled up for me:
Yesterday was National Poetry Day and, after reading some lovely poems, I was inspired to jot down a ditty of my own. My new found passion for cycling - and my strong belief that the path to contentment lies in doing what feels right for you and not what other people tell you is right for you - provided the inspiration! I've recorded me reading it out loud as, like most of my ditties (I feel like a bit of a fraud calling them poems...), it's better heard than read. It's just a bit of fun really (just like my cycling) so I hope you enjoy it: Click here to listen to my ditty 'The Saddle'
The weather over these past few months has been incredible in Scotland and Autumn has started with a flourish of sunshine too. I went paddling on Sunday . Yup, paddling. In a loch. In Scotland. At the end of September. Brilliant!
I could write screeds about the fantastic time we had during our couple of days away, cycling around the Loch Lomond area, but I'm going to be lazy (yet again) and let my video clips do the talking. (I'll never be a published writer at this rate...!)
Day One:
We were based in Drymen for the weekend, a nice wee place frequented by West Highland Way walkers and very noisy Wedding Party guests. The latter kept me awake most of Friday night, but that didn't stop me getting on my bike on Saturday morning and setting off for the 22 mile round trip to Rowardennan and back. And, boy, am I glad I did:
Many moons ago, I studied Zoology at Glasgow University. The department regularly used Rowardennan's field station for student trips and, sitting supping my half-pint in the beer garden of the Rowardennan Hotel on Saturday, I had fond memories of the boozy nights spent in the hotel's pub. How we ever made it back to the field station - after a fair wee walk in the pitch dark and a paddle in the loch - I'll never know. I might be twenty odd years older now but some things never change...
I found the cycle back to Drymen pretty tough. Those pesky undulations! However, the beautiful surroundings definitely helped take my mind off how knackered I felt:
An ice cream stop, amongst the throng of the tourists in Balmaha, set us up nicely for the hilly few miles back to Drymen. I had some gear issues on one of the hills; I'm not great at judging which gear I should be in and, as a result, my chain often comes off - usually when we're half way up a particularly steep hill - because I'm faffing about trying to change gear and forgetting to keep peddling at a rate that'll allow the chain to jump from one cog to another. And, poor Alex sometimes has issues with my gear issues...
A lovely meal in the Drymen Inn finished the day off good style, and I slept like a baby that night. The undulations, the paddling, the fresh air and the good fun on our bikes made sure of that.
Day two:
After stuffing ourselves with buffet breakfast (mmm) we set off for a cycle in the opposite direction from the day before. Our intention was to cycle to Balloch, stop for coffee, then cycle on to Luss (basically following National Cycle Route 7 before joining the West Lomond Cycle Way), stop for lunch, then cycle back to Drymen. It was a lovely route, on quiet cycle paths nearly the whole way, and it was yet another gloriously sunny day:
Coffee in Balloch was followed by a wee detour to Cameron House, one of the really posh hotels on the banks of the loch. Our kids had bought us a voucher for a flight on the sea plane, which takes off and lands by Cameron House, and we'd booked our seats for the flight last Friday (and a room in one of the not-so-posh hotels in Drymen to make a weekend of it). However, Loch Lomond looked like this last Friday:
So, we've postponed the flight till next year (which is great really as it gives us the perfect excuse to have another weekend of cycling at Loch Lomond next June!) But, we couldn't resist cycling down to have a wee look at the plane during our Sunday cycle. As sheer good luck would have it, the flight came in to land just as we arrived:
I really struggled during the cycle from Cameron House to Luss. It's not that far, about 5 miles or so, and it's practically flat all the way. But the wind was in our faces and I think my legs were starting to give out from the day before's efforts. However, we did eventually make it and sat down to another sunny al fresco lunch in lovely Luss. The whole way through lunch I was thinking about the cycle back. And every now and again I'd say things like, "I wonder if there's a bus from here to Drymen...?" As luck would have it, we found something better than a bus:
So, there we go, another great weekend of cycling under my belt. I'm wondering if it's weird that I enjoy recording snippets of our wee trips just as much as I enjoy the actual cycling! Ocht, whether it's weird or not, I love having this wee record of our trips. And, hopefully these not-so-serious-stories and snippets might entice some of you, dear readers, to jump back on to your bikes too? You'll love it - I'm serious!
An email landed in my inbox inviting me to sign up for the 'Women V Cancer Ride The Night'. I couldn't possibly resist! Especially after I managed to persuade my daughter to take part with me! It involves cycling a circular route from Windsor Race Course then all around London all through the night. I love London, especially when it's lit up at night time, and seeing it from the saddle - with my daughter (who recently moved down to London and is, ahem, about to take up cycling...) riding along beside me - amongst hundreds of other women will, I think, be a pretty awesome experience! It's not till May next year, so we've got plenty of time to prepare for cycling the 100km (eek!!) route.
Another reason I'm excited about the event is that it's helping to raise awareness of (and funds for) three different cancer charities. I guess we've all been, or at the very least know someone who's been, affected by cancer. Over the course of this past year I've lost an aunt (one year ago today actually), an uncle and a good friend from choir, all to different forms of cancer. I've also worked with many lovely people - who are either living with cancer or have lost someone to cancer - through my voluntary work at a local hospice. So, it feels really worthwhile to be signing up for something that's raising awareness and raising money towards funding research and new treatments for this horrible disease.
Having said that, I've only just finished fundraising for the STV Appeal through taking part in Pedal for Scotland, so I think I'd better wait a wee while before I set up another Just Giving page for this particular cycling event! But, in a similar vein to the wee nod I was giving my Dad by taking part in Pedal for Scotland, it seems really appropriate to be giving a wee nod to my Aunt (my Dad's twin sister) tonight by deciding to take part in the Ride the Night event.
So, there we go, another cycling adventure to look forward to. But, not till May 2014. And I'm sure I'll have one or two more stories from the saddle to tell before then...
Deciding to head east for our Sunday cycle yesterday was such a good call. A bit of nostalgia, soaking up the sun, fighting the wind, mucking about on the sand, crossing the Tay Bridge and cycling past a guy taking his owl for a walk all contributed to what turned out to be another good fun day on the saddle.
We started off from St Andrews and it felt really good to be back there again - lowering the tone amongst the Toffs - following our daughter's graduation from St Andrews Uni earlier on this year. We didn't spend too much time in the town though and were soon out on the cycle path, battling our way through the really, really strong wind, on our way to Guardbridge and then Leuchars. The cycle path, that's part of the National Cycling Route 1, led onto a minor road in Leuchars and beyond, before we hit the trail path that took us through Tentsmuir Forest, which holds some pretty special memories for us. Our family have enjoyed a few running club trips to Tentsmuir in years gone by and it felt really good to be back in what was one of our favourite places to run and socialise with our Central Athletic Club friends.
Tentsmuir's gorgeous; it's a forest, with lots of trail paths and nice wee areas for picnics and barbeques, with the added attraction of being right beside the beach. Not only that, you come across the strangest things in Tentsmuir...
A man, taking his owl for a walk in the woods! Awesome!
After all that excitement, we couldn't resist a wee detour off the trail and down on to the beach:
And, of course, I couldn't resist a wee cycle on the sand too:
It was just as well that we'd opted for the 'old faithful' bikes and left our road bikes in the garage! One of my old pals from Uni has been suggesting that we try some 'real' off-road cycling and, well, yesterday it felt like we made a wee start on that! Forest trails, sand, rocks and general bumpiness made a good fun change from our usual smooth road, or cycle path, rides!
After Tentsmuir, still following Route 1, we cycled through Tayport. I've got some really fond memories of family holidays there in our wee touring caravan when I was little. I can't remember if we took my bike, but I like to think we did and that yesterday I was cycling along the same wee paths that I did as a child many moons ago! While I was reminiscing, Alex was admiring the boats:
After Tayport, it was a few miles further down the cycle path to the Tay Bridge. I can't begin to tell you how much I enjoyed cycling over the bridge. There was just something really brilliant about crossing the bridge (all mile and a third of it) on my bike. I've driven over it many, many times and always enjoy the views; yesterday was a perfect day to be sauntering across on two wheels (even though the wind was fierce!) and have time to really appreciate the scenery all around us.
And, just when I thought it couldn't get any more exciting, there was more fun to be had in the lift at the end...
We did indeed have lunch next to the Discovery (the last big wooden three-masted ship to be built in Britain) and very nice it was too:
The ride back to St Andrews was much less eventful and very much tougher than I'd expected. But, we eventually made it all the same:
I'm still knackered after cycling those 38 miles yesterday but I can't think of any other way I'd like to have spent that particular sunny September Sunday. It was simply made for another great fun and not-so-serious cycle.
One of the many things that crossed my mind while we were pedaling from Glasgow to Edinburgh last Sunday was that although I feel very much like a not-so-serious cyclist, I might not look like a not-so-serious cyclist to some folk. And I guess that's made me think about how it's all relative really.
Take the guy we passed somewhere between Dennistoun and Cranhill who was cycling along in the throng without a helmet on. I guess he might've thought I was pretty serious about cycling when he saw me and my shiny white helmet bobbing along. I just thought he was a bit of a numpty for not taking safety on his bike seriously. And, I guess, just because he's not wearing a helmet doesn't mean that he's not seriously passionate about cycling.
And then there was the elderly lady we passed somewhere between Coatbridge and Airdrie who was cycling steadily along on her vintage bike amongst what looked like a few generations of her family. I guess she might've thought I was pretty serious about cycling when she saw me and my shiny new road bike fly past (OK, that might be a slight exaggeration...). I just thought she was brilliant for managing to cycle 47 miles in her twilight years on a bike that she's maybe been riding since she was a wee girl! Oh what seriously interesting stories from the saddle she could probably tell! And, I guess, just because she's a lot slower than she used to be doesn't mean that she's not seriously passionate about cycling.
And what about all those people that we passed somewhere between Avonbridge and Linlithgow who were walking; pushing their bikes up the big so-and-so of a steep hill? I guess they might've thought I was pretty serious about cycling when they saw me managing to pedal past. I just thought of them as fellow cyclists who were either knackered or just couldn't find the right gear or the right amount of energy to take this particular part of the challenge on on their bike. I was also thinking that they could easily have been me; I might be managing the hills a wee bit easier than before, but it's still more than likely that there'll be times ahead when I have to jump off my bike and walk with it. And, I guess, just because they had to do that during this particular event doesn't mean that they're not seriously passionate about cycling.
But what about all of those cyclists somewhere between Glasgow and Edinburgh that passed me? For every one of those cyclists that I passed there were very many more who passed me. I guess I was thinking that they were the serious cyclists. When they passed me as I plodded up the hills, or when I was getting in their way (I'm not quite there with the cycling etiquette in a crowd yet!), or when I was falling off my bike in front of them, or when I was shouting - like a big kid - as I whizzed down the hills "Aw Man!!! This is SOO awesome!!", I wonder what they were thinking of me? Maybe they were thinking that just because I did all of those things, it doesn't mean that I'm not seriously passionate about cycling.
So, it's all relative really. I describe myself as a 'not-so-serious' cyclist because I'm not interested in sticking to any set training plan, or trying to break any records, or being really knowledgeable about some of the technicalities of cycling. But being not-so-serious about those things doesn't mean that I'm any less serious about enjoying cycling than anyone else. Yup, we might be bigger, smaller, older, younger, faster, slower, fitter or safer than our fellow cyclists but most of us have a shared serious passion; for simply getting on our bikes and going for a ride...
I've been on a high today after the excitement of completing yesterday's Pedal for Scotland challenge ride. I've also been on an ice pack after sustaining a few wee minor injuries in the process! I could write a big, long story about how amazing the whole day was; how much I thoroughly enjoyed the whole ride, how fantastic it was that the sun was shining, how chuffed I felt when I managed the big hills, how lucky I was not to get a puncture, how unlucky I was to have my chain come off half way up one of those big hills, how brilliant the munch stops were (especially the home baking at Avonbridge - mmmm!), how great the camaraderie was amongst our 8000 fellow riders, how good my butt felt at the end (Hooray! I think I've mastered the padding and saddle combination! Definitely sticking with my big, comfy Miss Marple saddle!), how grateful I am for every donation to the STV Appeal I received, how nice it felt to have a medal put round my neck for a sporting event again (it's been a long time!), how knackered I am today, how gorgeous the scenery was, how funny the wee guy at the side of the road in Glasgow was when he mimicked the supporters who were offering jelly babies or cups of water by shouting 'Ur ye's waant'n a draw o' ma fag..?', how daft I felt when I fell off my bike, how much like a proper cyclist I felt when I heard someone in the pelaton behind me shout 'Man Down!' when I fell off my bike (one of my favourite moments of the day!), how excited I was when I turned the last corner in Edinburgh and saw Murrayfield Stadium in the distance, how close to a mixture of happy and sad tears I was when I held Alex's hand as we crossed the finish line (just like you see in the pictures in all the papers after this kind of event!) and thought about how proud my Dad would've been that I'd risen to a wee challenge to raise money in his memory, and how glorious the cold beer tasted after saying 'Cheers!' to Alex at the end of yet another awesome day's cycling.
Yup, I could write a big, long story. Or, I could just let this wee video clip do the talking while I go off to nurse my injuries and polish my medal...
When you tell yourself that you can't do something it's more likely that you'll stop trying. It may well be that you really can't do it, but if you don't keep trying how will you ever really know for sure? This week I managed to do two things that I've been telling myself for years I couldn't do. Fortunately, I managed to stop listening to myself long enough to think it was possible to achieve these things and, aw man, were they worth the wait! One involves cycling and one involves singing (...bear with me...!)
1. Reaching the top (cycling)
I've always been rubbish at cycling up hills. At least, that's what I've always told myself. OK, maybe not always. When I was a kid out cycling round the ever-so-safe streets of Cumbernauld (one of Britain's 'new towns'), I wasn't rubbish at cycling up hills. Not that I remember anyway. What I do remember is the very moment when I decided that I was rubbish at hills. We were out for a family cycle along the path from Callander to Strathyre, many moons ago, when my kids were around the same age that I would've been when I was carefree cycling around the streets of Cumbernauld. We came to a big, steep hill. Off they went. All of them. Alex and the kids. Easy peasy. Off I went. Jeeso. I got about a third of the way up and everything stopped working. Not the bike, it was working fine. I just couldn't turn the pedals. So, I stopped. Alex and the kids were at the top, shouting and encouraging me on. 'Come on mum, you can do it!' But, I couldn't. I just couldn't do it. I tried a few times to get going again but it just wasn't happening. 'There must be something wrong with these gears!' I shouted up to Alex. So, he came down the hill and tried to help. Gears were fine. With a wee bit of a push and a big bit of encouragement I managed to get going again. For a few yards. Then I stopped. Everything stopped working again. Sod it. I can't do this. I'm a rubbish cyclist and I can't cycle up hills. So, I got off my bike and pushed it the rest of the way. And, ever since, I've believed that I'm rubbish at cycling up hills. Now, you might say, is that really such a big deal?! Well, no, I could definitely have got through the rest of my life without managing to comfortably cycle up a steep hill. But, aw man, what would I have been missing?!! During our cycle last Sunday, from Dunkeld to Perth and back (a few more details here) I managed to cycle up every hill without stopping and it felt totally awesome! Now, I don't think that's because I've become super-fit during these past few weeks; what I do think has changed is my attitude to trying to reach the top. Instead of starting at the bottom, looking up and thinking to myself 'I'm never going to manage this one...', I approached each of the hills on Sunday with the words of Rebecca Ramsay ringing in my ears 'Head out to the hills and enjoy their magic' (along with some of the more practical advice that I'd read on her site). And I guess this would've sounded ridiculous to me a few weeks ago - but it really was magic! I did it! And it felt great! I'm not rubbish at cycling up hills! OK, I'm still pretty rubbish at cycling up hills because a few walkers almost passed us on the way, but the point is that I can do it. I'm telling myself I can do it - or, I can at least keep trying to do it instead of keeping on saying 'nope, I'm rubbish at that, no point in even trying. Alex, gies a push..!' And that's how I'll continue to reach the top of big hills. Maybe not always quite managing it, but I'll be giving it a better go with a better attitude.
2. Reaching the top (singing)
First, I don't mean reaching the top in a talent competition or anything like that! No, I'm trying to be metaphorical here! Second, I should probably explain why there's stuff about singing on a cycling blog. Well, reference to singing's likely to crop up every now and again on this wee blog as it's something that I love and something that I do a lot of with my choir. And, the buzz that I'm getting from my cycling exploits is pretty similar to the buzz that I get from our choir exploits. I don't have a sore butt, or handle bar palsy after choir practice, but I do feel the buzz from the flow of endorphins in the exact same way as I do after a cycle. After a bad experience involving a Greek Island, a packed pub, copious amounts of alcohol, and taking the microphone to sing a very flat version of 'Oh Ye Cannae Shove Yer Granny Aff A Bus', I swore never to sing on my own in public again. I told myself that I couldn't sing solo. I thought I'd be rubbish at it and sing flat. But being a member of the Heart of Scotland Choir (no ordinary choir; more Madonna than Mendelssohn) gave me the confidence to try again and for the past year or so I've been able to walk to the microphone at the front of the choir (still pretty nervously) and sing a few solo parts. However, I still had another demon to conquer. One of my music teachers at school, many moons ago, told me that I should stick to singing low songs as I sounded 'screechy' when I hit the high notes. So, I stopped singing high notes. Because I was rubbish at it. My music teacher said so, so it must've been true. Even in the shower at home. I just didn't do the high notes. But, choir leaders Annie and Jane don't really do 'don't do', they do 'we're pretty sure you can do' and 'we'll help give you the confidence to do what we know you can do'. And, 'even if we don't know that you can do, we're going to give you a go if you'd like to have a go!' (Are you keeping up with this..?!) And so it was that last night I stood in front of the microphone in The Great Hall of Stirling Castle and sang some high notes. I thought I sounded screechy, because I've been telling myself for 30 years that I sound screechy when I sing high notes. But it seemed to go down well and, once I'd stopped shaking, I got such a buzz from reaching those top notes. Just like with the cycling, I might not always manage it, and sometimes I might sound a bit screechy or not quite make it all the way, but that doesn't mean I should stop trying.
So, there you go. Reaching the top with my saddle and a song. A great way to start the weekend!
I've mentioned our cycle round Arran a few times already, but I guess I wanted to record it properly as my first 'Ride to Remember'!
We had headed off to Arran because the sun was shining and we just fancied a wee break away from it all. Alex suggested taking the bikes and I, reluctantly, agreed. When we arrived off the ferry into Brodick I asked one of the locals which was the best way for a novice cyclist to go. ‘Well, if you head north, it’s flat for about 10 miles till you pass Sannox. And the scenery’s lovely. If you head south, you hit a really big steep hill straight away that goes on for miles and then it’s really steep up and down after that. I’d head north to Sannox and back again; that’s a good, easy route for a novice.’ So, that’s what we planned to do. However, Sannox came around ever so quickly and I heard myself saying to Alex, ‘Let’s carry on. I’m loving this and don’t want to head back the way!’ Hm, little did I know that just a few miles past Sannox we would hit two really steep hills (no, I mean it, REALLY steep hills), first through Glen Sannox and then through Glen Chalmadale. I just about had a fit when we turned the corner and I could see the long and winding road, the breathtaking scenery and a breathtakingly humongous hill stretching ahead of me. But, with head down, handle bars gripped and a few sweary words muttered I went for it. I didn’t do a very good job but - with a lot of pushing (quite literally) and fantastic encouragement from Alex – I did manage to cycle all the way to the top of the Glens. Catching my breath on the many occasions that I had to stop gave me plenty of time to take in the truly beautiful surrounding scenery, so going at dead slow/stop pace does have its advantages! The very best thing though about going uphill is going downhill on the other side. The child in me came well and truly out and I couldn’t resist a fair few ‘Woohoo’s’ as we free-wheeled at what felt like 70 but was actually closer to 30mph (according to Alex's Garmin!) down into Lochranza.
By this time we’d cycled around 15 miles and a very yummy sandwich and real ginger beer from The Sandwich Station went down a treat. We sat on a bench opposite this lovely wee take-away place, gazing into the beautifully clear water and thinking how nice it would be to go for a swim. But, the road was calling and soon we were off again!
I found it quite hard going between Lochranza and Blackwaterfoot, but was still thoroughly enjoying the ride. It was much more exposed than before; we’d cycled round the top of the island and were now travelling down the less sheltered side of Arran. There were a few more hills to tackle, though none compared to the challenge of the morning’s climbs. The last five miles or so before Blackwaterfoot were really tough; mostly because I was absolutely knackered, but also because some of my ‘bits’ were really sore. Like my hands, my calves, my thighs, my shoulders, my back, my back bottom, my front bottom, my ... basically, everything was sore. But, it was all well worth it. I’ll never forget how elated I felt when I spotted the ‘Blackwaterfoot’ sign and knew that I’d managed to cycle about 32 miles.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a beer quite as much as I did that day sitting outside Blackwaterfoot's Kinloch Hotel. I didn’t realise that beer could taste so good. To be honest, it could’ve been the rubbishiest beer on the planet, but it would still have tasted heavenly at that moment! Poor Alex then headed off over The String (the most evil road for cyclists on the whole of Arran) to collect the car so that me and my bike could be whisked back to Brodick the easy way. While he was away, I took myself into the water to help relieve my aching muscles (like a serious athlete!). The sea was icy cold, but I felt all warm and fuzzy inside just having a wee moment to think about how awesome the day had been.
The next morning we drove back to Blackwaterfoot with the bikes and took off again from where we’d stopped. This was a much, much tougher day for me. I was still running on adrenalin from the day before but my butt and my hands were particularly sore. I learned the hard way during our Tour d’Arran that gripping the handle bars really tightly won’t get me up the hills any easier and it’ll leave me with a common cycling injury (check me out!) called ‘handlebar palsy’. I’ll tell you more about that some other time. As for the sore butt, well, that’s a whole other issue that I still haven’t quite got to the bottom of. I’m sure my quest for the best saddle, best shorts, best padding, best position and any other multitude of things that can help soften the soreness of my down-below bits when I’m cycling will take up plenty of space in my not-so-serious stories to come. For now, it’s suffice to say that the second day of our ride around Arran was much tougher – even though it was a good bit shorter – than the first. The road from Blackwaterfoot to Brodick round the south of the island isn’t as nice a road as the north route. It’s full of potholes and it’s hilly. And I mean hilly. It was a different kind of hilly from the long slog of the scenic glens from the day before. Sharp, steep, unforgiving and way too many of them. I found it really tough and I was oh so close to giving up by the time we reached Whiting Bay. We’d cycled about 15 miles and I was absolutely knackered. Fantastic views, lots of encouragement and the thought of an ice cold beer kept me going.
Lunch sitting outside a wee cafe called Coast (which I’d recommend for the food, but not for the hospitality) provided a bit of a distraction before we set off on the last leg of our tour. Those last ten miles were so hard. I kept shouting at my bike; as if that was going to make it any easier! ‘Come ON you f****r’ (sorry Mum). Oh dear. At least it was only the clegs and Alex that could hear me. And then, the glorious last bit. Hooray! That massive uphill out of Brodick that the local woman had warned us about was, for us, a fantastic downhill and my shouting and swearing turned to shouting and cheering (along with a few wee tears...) as I whizzed down towards the ‘Brodick’ sign. Aw man, I can’t begin to explain how good that felt. The wee clip that I posted on Story 1 probably best sums it up.
So, that was it. My first proper cycle and the one that got me hooked. I may well be a not-so-serious cyclist, but I seriously enjoyed our Tour d’Arran; the first, I predict, of many special (but hopefully not quite so sore) experiences on my saddle.
A few weeks ago I googled 'cycling events in Scotland', just to see what was out there for not-so-serious cyclists. Top of the search was 'Pedal for Scotland' and, after a quick read through the details, I decided to sign up for it. The farthest I've cycled in one go so far is 32 miles, but that was during our Tour d'Arran and I think I was running on adrenalin for much of that day! The Pedal for Scotland event gives you a few different options, but the route that Alex and I have gone for is the 47 mile ride from Glasgow to Edinburgh. A few of our friends have done it in the past and I'm told that there's a great atmosphere, great camaraderie and a great sense of achievement - and I believe there are a few good munch and beer stops along the way. Sounds perfect!
I'm also going to combine the challenge of the cycle with the challenge of raising some dosh for the event's nominated charity; the STV Appeal. I'd decided a while ago that I'd like to organise, or take part in, some kind of fundraising event this year in memory of my Dad (who died twenty years ago in October) so when I discovered that this cycling event was supporting a charity that supports Scottish kids who are affected by the whole range of horrendous consequences of living in poverty, I knew I'd found the one. My dad would definitely have approved; he hated to see anyone struggling, let alone children, and strongly believed that everyone deserved a fair shot at life - and that seems to be just what the STV Appeal is all about. Ocht, and I just want to do something that'll feel special for me in memory of my very special Dad.
So, I'm now going to unashamedly plug my Just Giving page - click here! - in the hope that some of you lovely readers might be tempted to make a wee donation for something I consider to be a really worthwhile cause. (Jeeso, only seven stories in and I'm already asking for cash...!) I promise that I'll be doing my best to complete the 47 mile cycle good style and, with a little luck, will gather a few good stories to share with you along the way...!
I've only managed one wee cycle this week, partly because I've been suffering from an aching back but mainly because we were down in London over the weekend. For various reasons, it was an emotional few days so our lovely little nine mile pedal round the park, before we headed for home yesterday, was a nice way to finish our stay off.
We set off on one of Boris's Bikes for a leisurely trek round Hyde Park. The 'Barclays Bikes' is a great scheme (and I'm sure the idea didn't come from Boris Johnson, but his name will forever be associated with it following his launch of the initiative in 2010) that allows you to hire a bike from, then return it to, one of the many docking stations that are dotted around London. It's especially great if you're only going to be on the bike for 30 minutes as you don't pay a penny for the privilege. You are, of course, a free-wheeling advert for Barclays but I guess that's a small price to pay...
Once we'd figured out the system we were off and running:
Now, as you can see, I'm not wearing very sensible cycling attire. We hadn't been planning on cycling during our visit, so I had a choice of flip-flops or court shoes to wear on my feet. The flip-flops won the toss. We also didn't have helmets, but neither did anyone else cycling around the park and it did feel strangely liberating to ride our bikes just as we did when we were kids. We didn't venture anywhere near the main roads and didn't go anywhere near fast enough to sustain a major injury! Which was just as well...
The bikes only have three gears, but I couldn't quite master them! Every time I changed up or down, I had to fiddle about with the wee twirly bit on the handlebar till the chain stopped making a clicky noise (yup, this not-so-serious cyclist hasn't quite got to grips with the lingo yet...) My incompetence with the very simple gears also meant that sometimes I'd accidentally slip from third to first, but still be peddling hard, as if I was in third. The result of this, as an innocent young couple who were out for a leisurely morning stroll discovered, was that my feet - and hence my flip-flops - were liable to fly off the pedals. Said couple not only had to dodge roller-bladers, groups of joggers and Scottish cycling plodders in the park on Sunday morning; they also had a very near miss from a flying flip-flop! I'm happy to report that they escaped unharmed and that nothing was damaged except my own not-so-serious pride.
Apart from nearly decapitating a pedestrian, it was a really lovely wee cycle. Maybe next time I'll even venture out onto the roads on one of Boris's bikes - but very definitely only if I've remembered to pack my trainers and helmet...!
I'm not long back home from the first proper cycle on the new road bike (the trip from the bike shop doesn't really count!) and had another awesome time. I keep expecting the novelty to kind of wear off but, so far so good! I bought this wee book last week (see, I'm totally hooked! Buying books and everything!):
and today we decided to follow one of the suggested routes from Balloch to Bowling then back again. True to the book, it was a 'good and easy ride' and it really did feel like a pretty effortless 20 mile round trip! There wasn't one hill the whole way, we were mostly cycling along a 'path' (a disused rail line and a trail along the riverside), the sun was shining, lunch was good and the beer stop at the end was glorious! Oh, and I got my first cycling injury! It was just a wee cut to my hand from a spikey bit of sharp metal on one of the gates we had to open on the cycling path but Jeeso, did it bleed! Alex carries bits and bobs in his rucksack while we're out on our jaunts, but unfortunately hadn't packed any plasters. An old napkin from one of the lunch stops on a previous trip was all we could find to mop up the mess. However, a little bunch of seriously wrinkly Sunday cyclists came to the rescue! This little SAGA cycling crew just happened to be cycling towards us and as soon as they spotted my dripping hand the two lovely ladies at the front of the group sprang into action, both reaching into their wee bum bags and both pulling out a plaster for this not-so-seriously injured but seriously ill-prepared novice!
Needless to say, next time we set out we'll make sure there's a pack of plasters in the back pack. After all, we might just bump into some seriously unprepared new cyclist on our travels...
The offending gate, the skanky napkin and the seriously unprepared cyclist...
After telling Kenny (of Rock & Road Cycles) by text that I'd wallop him if he told me one more time to toughen up, he couldn't have been more helpful when I went back to see him yesterday. We tried a couple of different saddles in the shop, but it's kind of hard to tell which one's the best till I'm sat on them for any length of time on the road. So, Kenny very kindly gave me a few saddles to try at home.
First one I'm going to try is this:
My first reaction to this was, 'Are you having a laugh Kenny?! Apart from not being funky green and white, it doesn't look any different from this one!!':
But, Kenny assures me that although all of the saddles he's given me to try might look the same, they're subtly and ergonomically very different! And, I'll not really know which one's the best for me till I get out on the road and try them out. So, that's what I'll be doing, hopefully very soon. Just maybe need one more day for my nippy bits to recover from Wednesday's cycle back from the bike shop...
As you saw on my first post, Alex and I have been videoing some of our cycling exploits. It started just as a bit of fun, but I actually quite like that we're building up a wee diary of 'how it was at that very moment' snippets. Most of the recordings will remain private (mainly because they'd be pretty boring to anyone other than us!), but now and again I'd like to share some of them here.
I have a bit of a reputation for getting stuff discounted or for free - without really trying - and this wee clip shows just how tickled I am when that happens. It also goes some way to underlining my 'not-so-serious cyclist' label:
I should add that our maple syrup-less breakfast was still absolutely delicious! And, I would've been more than happy to pay for it! But I must admit that getting a feed for free definitely added to the pleasure of that particular Sunday morning cycle. Sometimes it's the simplest things...
Since being bitten by the cycling bug, I've only been on three jaunts: 56 miles round the perimeter of Arran over the course of two days taking in some lovely lunch and beer stops; a 20 mile round trip for breakfast in Bridge of Allan the following Sunday morning; and a 10 mile round trip for lunch in Kippen last Sunday. There clearly seems to be a theme involving food and beer which is, I'm sure, a contributing factor to how much pleasure I'm getting out of this cycling lark. But, tonight's 10 mile jaunt didn't involve any food or beer and I still really enjoyed it. Probably because I cycled out the way on this:
My old Specialized hybird bike. A big heavy beast!
And back the way on this!!!:
My shiny new Merida road bike. An elegant little number!
I'm so excited!! My first road bike! And what a difference! It's so much lighter; I felt like I was flying along the road (though, I'm sure all the car, bus and lorry drivers trying to get home during rush hour weren't thinking that when they were sitting behind me...). I keep thinking about how difficult I found the hills on the cycle around Arran - no bloody wonder!! My old Specialized hybrid weighs an absolute ton compared to my new toy. I can't wait to get back to Arran some time and try cycling round the island again - maybe Alex won't need to help push me up any of the hills next time!
I've only been on one wee trip on it, but so far I've only found one drawback to my new bike in comparison to my old one. On the way out tonight I was sitting on this:
And on the way back I was sitting on this:
It won't take much stretching of the imagination to guess which of my body parts was most painful when I arrived home... When I pointed out to Kenny, the owner of Rock and Road Cycles (where we bought the new bike from), that the saddle was a bit pointy and a bit hard he said 'Ocht, you just need to toughen up!' Hm, I think he needs to wisen up to the fact that us middle aged wifeys have had plenty of opportunities to toughen up over the years and that this particular middle aged wifey needs a little bit more padding where it counts...
Worse things happen than having to give up a sport or activity that you love. Having to give up running a few years ago certainly wasn't the most devastating thing I've ever had to deal with in my life – far from it – but it did have a pretty profound effect on me and, up until recently, I could still feel a bit down about it. Now, I totally appreciate that that might sound a bit ridiculous to some folk. I mean, it’s only running for goodness sake! No-one died - although, a little bit of me actually did at that time - and there are plenty of other folk that have to give up sports/hobbies/activities for a whole multitude of reasons and they don’t get down about it, do they?! Well, actually, they often do but I guess they don’t like to make too big a deal of it when it’s ‘only’ losing a thing they love to do, rather than losing the likes of a person, or a job, or their good health.
It’s hard to explain how it felt. I was never even a competitive runner; I really just ran for the fun of it. Not too seriously at all. I never ran all that far in one go and, although I was an active member – along with the rest of my family – of our local athletics club; the social aspect of group runs, training nights and club events was always much more attractive to me than winning a race or clocking a faster time than one of my running buddies. Having said that, I always got a massive buzz when I managed to run a bit farther or a bit faster than I’d managed before, so maybe there was a bit of a competitor in there somewhere, even if it was just with myself! Basically though, I just loved to run. And I loved that my family were all involved in the sport so it was something we could all participate in - at all different levels but still together - and I just loved being part of the running community. Albeit it as one of its very slow members!
The beginning of the end of my running days started in the summer of 2002 when I had the first of several operations for a series of long-standing health issues (the origins of which were nothing to do with the fact that I was a runner). After each operation I gave my body plenty of time to recover before running again however each time I started back it wouldn't be long before I had to stop. Running wasn't causing any of my issues, but it was exacerbating them. Further problems resulted in a full hysterectomy in 2004, when I was 39, followed by another series of minor operations (mostly to mop up the mess left by a particularly happy-go-lucky surgeon) which, in turn, left me with a bit of a pelvic bomb-site! I was advised that my insides would no longer be able to withstand any form of high-impact exercise, but by this time I couldn't run the length of myself anyway as the pain was so excruciating. Yup, my running and aerobics days were well and truly over!
So, I went into a bit of a huff: 'I'll never get that same kind of buzz from any other sport blah blah. Poor me, not being able to run anymore blah blah....' I didn't stop trying things though, and I did find one other activity that got the old adrenalin flowing again; I've always loved to sing - it's so very good for the soul - and joining our local 'Heart of Scotland Choir' was such a great tonic. I love it, and I usually feel brilliant when I'm at rehearsal or performing along with my choir buddies. But, I still kind of yearned for some kind of physical exercise that would also hit the mark so I kept on trying things (a wee bit half-heartedly as, of course, nothing was going to come close to running...).
I don’t really enjoy swimming. All that getting changed, getting wet, getting stuck behind some Sunday swimmer determined not to let you pass or stuck in front of some Mark Spitz wannabe determined to intimidate you out of your lane, getting clothes back on in a hot sticky tiny cubicle and getting home with hair that looks like it’s been dipped in a basin of chemicals (...em, because it sort of has...). Though, that last one doesn't really count as that’s what happens every time I go to the hairdressers...
I tried a Yoga class, but I got a bit irritated with the teacher spending more time telling us all about the origins of the exercises than showing us how to do them. And it was just too slow. I do like the idea of becoming more flexible though so maybe I should try Yoga again. But I know it’ll not give me the kind of buzz that I used to get from running.
I tried other forms of low-impact exercise routines, but they didn't have any impact.
And, I tried cycling. Quite a few times over the years. But, it just didn't do it for me. However, a few weeks ago Alex (my husband) took me and our bikes over to Arran and - at last, we get to the point of this wee blog! - I had an epiphany; I LOVE cycling! The buzz was back! I got the adrenalin rush! The fact that the weather was glorious and we were cycling round one of Scotland's loveliest little islands probably had a lot to do with it but, aw man, I was so chuffed and I felt so good: ‘Yay! Go me! That was brilliant! I can't believe I managed it!’ .... even though that ‘it’ would've been a walk in the park for a seasoned cyclist!
This wee video kind of sums up what it meant to me (and substantiates my earlier comment about my head being dipped in chemicals every time I go to the hairdressers...!):
I was a wee bit weepy at that moment - as you can see - and I was totally knackered! Ocht, some folk might think it's a wee bitty over the top. But, I like this wee clip. I like that I've recorded the raw emotion of how much it meant to me to have burst a gut on my bike and achieved something that I didn't think I could possibly manage. And I like that it shows just how much I'd have struggled without Alex's gentle support and encouragement (which is in parallel really to how it is with most of the other stuff in my life), and I love that we've found something new that we can enjoy. Well, not new because Alex's loved cycling for a long time and I've been able to cycle for a long time, but new in the sense that it's something that we can now both enjoy doing more of together as I've been well and truly bitten by the cycling bug!
So, I decided to start this wee blog as a kind of record of my cycling journey; the trials, the tribulations, the fun, the frolics, the gear, the bikes, the lunch stops, the beer stops and the ‘whatever else comes along’ with this new-found thing that’s making me feel great. I still have some of the same old reservations that I've always had about blogging; is it too self-indulgent, why would anyone want to read about some of the minutiae of my wee life? But, I do know how much I enjoy reading other people’s blogs, from all over the world, and don’t ever think of the sharing of their stories as self-indulgent. And, I know how much some other people have enjoyed reading, or related to, my other blog (which I've now closed down as it wasn't conducive to the counselling work I've started doing recently).
So, I’ll put these little doubts to the side again and see where this new venture takes me. I’m not sure how appealing a read it’ll be but, just as I said at the start of my last wee blog, I’ll write it in the hope that it encourages me to focus on what’s making me feel good, and hopefully helps some of you feel good along the way!
If there's some reason that you had to stop doing something you loved to do too, it's rubbish, I know. But maybe one day you'll find something else that gives you just as good - if not better - a feeling. Don't stop looking though, because if your eyes are shut you're never going to see it.
I’m really looking forward to sharing my ramblings here on this new wee blog but, for now, I’m off to ride my bike....
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