falling off bikes since 1975

Karrimor always used to name their stuff after places. Fleecy stuff was named after scottish islands. Outer layers after huge Himalayan mountains where they had no doubt kitted out some expedition of proper rugged wiry men with large beards.

Their top of the range stretch goretex mountain biking jacket was named after a 1990’s north-eastern race venue where the weak and slow were likely to be picked off by local youths careening round on stolen motocrossers taking pot shots with air rifles.

Despite such an inauspicious name the stealthy (BLACK!) stretchy Eston jacket was pretty damn good. Frankly it had to be to match up to it’s £200 price tag (and even then Karrimor reputedly made a loss on each one).

Now after many years faithful service both on and off the bike (it has proved to be a perfect horseriding jacket, even if it is the only jacket in the world with a cut that could make Guy kesteven look fat) mine is on it’s last legs. Hopefully the new Endura Stealth will prove a worthy successor. I’ll let you know in five years.

Although I’ve not lost any weight in the last six weeks I’ve knocked my BMI down to just 24.3, for my height my BMI is that of someone a full 20lbs lighter.

I am now officially ‘heavy’ rather than overweight.

Canada, Eh!

Not always for the better? Or do we just not have all perspectives* of the story.

Mike and Jessica have always been great to me, turning up at random on their doorstep while on a Canadian roadtrip and smuggling #50 back to the UK.

Frank Skurlock has always been perfectly pleasant when I’ve raced with him too.

Our three Spots are still lovely lovely bikes.

I already knew my next singlespeed won’t be a Spot (some of you know already what it will be).

I’ll still wear my Spot brand OFS t-shirt with pride.

* Deliberately avoiding the use of the word sides there.

Photo Copyright © and Courtesy Chris

Over to Calderdale to gatecrash Chipps’ 40th birthday I was pleasantly surprised by my fitness this weekend. Usually a trip to the valley is a chance to ride the latest Singletrack test bike. Last time I ended up on the very nice but wibbily-forked Kona Hei Hei. Nice, but I couldn’t help feeling that I preferred my own bike.

So this time I stuck to my own trusty Five Spot. A bike that despite it’s burly appearance weighs three pounds less than my 1993 XC race bike - meaning I have no excuse for being so laggardly up hills, sadly - and flatters my downhilling. I may be playing the soundtrack to an early Crusty Demons of Dirt in my head, but I know that if anything I’m one of the Bubba interludes.

The trails were frozen dry as a summers day and my traditional black wool proved suitably warm in the sun. Only multiple chain snappage - raw power, moi? - could spoil things, but even that not much as my riding companions were more than patient while I faffed.

Thanks are due to Blazing Saddles for sensible Sunday opening hours allowing me to ride home on a fresh chain, and my riding companions: Tim ‘Fingers’ Kershaw (route guiding), Chris (pictures and teacakes), and Rob from Felt (geared sympathies).

Woop!

Swimming - Not That Bad Really

Like millions of others I fell into the “must get rid of the Xmas bloat” trap this year.

After my lowest mileage year since records began** I was more than I’m a stone overweight, my BMI was up at 27, I’d had a dose of flu that has left my asthmatic lungs with a peak flow nearer to 400 than 450 - and let’s face it 450 is hardly good.

Something had to be done.

As is the way of things the contents of the garden shed have been breeding while I’ve not been looking and there was no way I could set up the turbo-trainer in there again. Dragging it into the house for a very hot, sweaty, and very noisy session made it clear that for the sake of the the carpets and our friendly relationship with the neighbours that this wasn’t an option. So I’ve joined a gym. Not one of these expensive lifestyle gyms, but the local Council Leisure Centre. I figure I already fund it through my council tax so I might as well get some benefit. One of which is that there are less poseurs than at the lifestyle gyms ;-o

Anyway, I now have access to X-Trainers, Recumbent and upright turbo trainers, rowing machines, treadmills – which you’ll never find me on ‘cos I hate the jarring, weights and a 25 m pool. All of which is less trouble than dragging the turbo-trainer out.

Despite my claims of poor fitness an - admittedly rough estimate - VO2 max test scored me at 42.7 - above average for my age. On my first go on the rowing machine, I set the fifth best time at the gym for 5000m at an ‘I could keep this up all day’ zoned out pace - well, so far as you can zone out listening to Ministry so loud that you can add deafness to my list of faults.

So if a fat unfit fucker like me is above average just how unfit do you have to be to merely average?

After a feww weeks of getting back into the exercise mode impromptu trials in the pool - attempts at U-Boat impersonations - have shown that my dord is increasing. It’s all good.

* Dord = D or d = density. Dig out your 1934 Meriam-Webster dictionary.

** 1990

This outburst from Flloyd Landis contains some interesting points.

FL: Look, I don’t know what Mayo did or didn’t do. All I know is that the reason you have protocol for anti-doping stuff is because anti-doping is based on science, and science is based on performing tests according to certain criteria. And if you don’t perform to the right criteria, you don’t get the right result, and when you don’t get the right result, the wrong person gets punished.

Let’s see if I understand what Floyd is trying to say here…

• Scientific tests give a black and white answer.
• You need to run your tests to a fixed, consistent method or the results are invalid.
• If you don’t get the answer you want, tough. You can’t change the rules or the scientific method to give you the answer you did want.

Seems fair enough to me.

So in his case he’s arguing that they didn’t do the tests correctly.

In Mayo’s case one result was negative, one result was non-negative. The rules are that you need two non-negative tests for a conviction. Here Floyd ’s saying that the anti-doping agencies can’t suddenly decide to do a third test and damn Mayo on the basis of best of three, or if that doesn’t come out the way they wanted, best of five or seven or…

Otherwise dope testing ends up like Bill and Ted’s challenge with Death and you might as well sort it all out by playing battleships.

WADA: A hit. You have sunk my battleship!
Dead Floyd, Dead Mayo: Excellent! Yes!
Dead Floyd: I totally knew he would put it in the J’s, dude!
Dead Mayo: Good thinking, Floyd.
WADA: You must play me again.
Dead Mayo: WHAT?
WADA: Um, best two out of three.
Dead Floyd, Dead Mayo: No way!
WADA: Yes way.

Actually, that might just be the neatest solution.

Thanks to dR j0N for the heads up to the original article.

Ben Wyvis at Strathpuffer 2006

Good luck to everyone racing in the Scottish darkness this weekend.

We’ll be thinking of you. Especially dRj0n whenever we have a coffee.

“A Scottish cycling champion has died after a collision with a van”

[BBC]

Maybe I’m being oversensitive but I think the media should wait to see if he hit the van, or the van hit him before coming out with phraseology that places the blame on the shoulders of the dead.

Title courtesy Big Johnny.

Stickers Are Available