How many breakfasts?

On Sunday I rode to Westerham and when I got there I bought a large paper mug of tea and an almond croissant from Costa Coffee. I sat on the Green people watching and scoffing and then I got up and rode home. Earlier, if Andy is to be believed, I enjoyed three breakfasts. Not one, three. Now I would rather suggest that I had one big breakfast consisting of a bowl of Alpen with grapes, blueberries and sliced banana, a boiled egg and fingers, bread and marmalade and an orange cut into chunks. Andy thinks that the bowl of Alpen and a cup of tea would be one breakfast (and, indeed, it used to be for me); and that another breakfast would be the boiled egg and fingers. He would also suggest that I could (and should) pass on the bread and marmalade and he would be right. My take on all this is that my food intake has increased. There was a time, not long ago, when I did make do with a cup of tea and a bowl of Alpen and only occasionally having the boiled egg and fingers. There was a time when I gave up marmalade because of the sugar, I stopped, for a very very long time and, as a result, haven't had any fillings for some time. There was a time when I cut back on cakes and stopped eating them, but right now, for whatever reason, they've all decided to come back en masse. Alright, let's talk cake for a little while. I've always been partial to a slice of fruit cake, mainly round at mum's on a Sunday afternoon, but since lockdown that's been impossible. But hold on, I've also been partial to large chunks of coffee and walnut cake, mainly at National Trust cafes on a Sunday afternoon, and if I'm down on the South Coast, well, there's always the Lobster Pot where I might indulge my passion for buttered toasted teacakes. But Andy's right in a sense: I am eating a lot in the mornings before a ride and I suppose it could be argued that I'll burn it all off on the ride, but the fact remains that I'm eating more than I used to; even today I was handed another great passion of mine, a Waitrose cappuccino mousse, something I never knew existed this time last year. Fortunately, I cycle regularly (see last post for table of weekly mileages).

Longford Lake the last time I was there...

Why, you might ask, am I discussing all this? Well, it's simple really. Today, Bank Holiday Monday, 3rd May 2021, I cycled to the lakes, the best part of a 29-mile ride. We rarely visit the lakes together, Andy and I, in fact we normally go there alone. The last time I was there was during the first lockdown and I'm sure Andy's been there alone too; but today we agreed to meet there. I left the house around 0700hrs and I got there around 0810hrs and sat on a bench looking out across the lake. Is it Longford Lake or is it Chipstead Lake or Chevening Lake? I don't know. I think it's Longford Lake. But that's not the point. I reached the lake about 20 minutes before Andy did and sat there watching a man exercising with a personal trainer. There was a mat on the ground where he did various things, including 'the plank' and squat thrusts and there was a large black rope, which he later picked up and did various exhausting exercises. And what about the two bright yellow dumbells? He clasped one in each hand and pretended to box with them, apparently for one whole minute. The female personal trainer was clearly fit, unlike the man who had a protruding gut and was sweating profusely. I even wondered whether he might keel over, but he didn't, which was good. 

When Andy turned up around 0830hrs we both sat watching the spectacle of the man being basically bossed around by a woman in brightly-coloured and tight-fitting leggings. He was certainly getting his money's worth, we both thought, and eventually they both packed up and left, leaving Andy and I chatting about health and fitness; and this was when we got round to discussing my many breakfasts. I might have a try and not eating such a big breakfast, perhaps forgoing the marmalade or alternating between a boiled egg and fingers and the marmalade sandwich. You see, it's all about bread intake and mine has gone through the roof. I used to limit myself to three slices per day, which is roughly what my mammoth breakfasts allow: one slice for the fingers, two slices for the marmalade. But the problem is later in the day when I fancy another marmalade sandwich. I've even been known to have another bowl of Alpen, so things are getting out of hand and need to be reined in. Andy doesn't have a problem with the almond croissant on the green or the slice of coffee and walnut cake on the ride. Why? Because you burn off the calories, that's why.

It was time to head back home and as we made our way to the road a cavalcade rushed past, led by a police motorcyle outrider, followed by a huge, black Range Rover and another car and then more police motorcycles. Up the road is Chevening, which I think is the country retreat of the Foreign Secretary, so I'm guessing that Dominic Raab was on his way to Chevening House (if that's what it's called) for some peace and relaxation. Although it might not have been Raab, it might have been US Secretary of State Anthony Blinken who Raab was meeting yesterday. Perhaps he was being whisked from the airport to Chevening House to meet with Mr Raab. The motorcycle outrider leading the cavalcade was riding very fast for a small and sleepy village and I couldn't help but think: not another American involved in a fatal car crash on UK soil claiming diplomatic immunity. Well, all was fine and by the time we reached the end of the road there was just a solitary police car waiting there. 

Just a brief word about Pilgrim's Lane: it's wonderful on a pleasant day and a joy to ride along. Andy and I stuck together until we made the turn on to Sundridge Lane from Ovenden Road and then Andy decided to put his foot down, so to speak. He is now much fitter than I am, he's lost a load of weight and he rides a racing bike so I bade him farewell and continued on my merry way. Pilgrim's Lane is long and almost completely straight and this meant that I could see Andy's flourescent jacket far away in the distance until he eventually turned a corner and was gone. 

I reached home around 1045hrs and I was pretty tired. A cup of tea did the trick and then I found myself mowing the front and back lawns after which I made some pasta for myself as I was the only one in the house; but then, ironically considering what I was discussing earlier, I ended up having two lunches. A large tray of macaroni pie that I had made yesterday was being heated up and I wasn't going to miss out. I ate quite a lot if the truth be told and now, at 1914hrs I'm not in the slightest bit hungry, so that's a result. Today, then, if Andy's theory is right, I had something like three breakfasts and two lunches, but then I did ride the best part of 29 miles this morning and yesterday I rode 25 miles so I'm not doing too badly.

Last week was good, this week not so good...

Saturday morning was fantastic. Hardly a cloud in the sky, the sun was shining and it was warm as I headed out en route to Westerham to complete a good week of riding for yours truly. It was gone 1000hrs and I was running a little late, but the day was lazy enough to warrant a late start and I was looking forward to finishing the week. It was easily going to be around 80 miles, I thought, as I added up the week's mileage in my head. I decided that I'd ride 'the slow way' to Westerham, which means via Beddlestead Lane, and then the plan was to come back via Woldingham so I was hoping for a ride of over 23 miles and I wasn't to be disappointed. In the end it was 25.05 miles, perfect, bringing my total to over 83 miles for the week, not bad going.

Generally speaking my weekly mileage has varied, here's a look at the past six weeks:

20 March 2021 = 72.01 miles.

27 March 2021 = 43.39 miles.

3 April 2021 = 81.00 miles.

10 April 2021 = 22 miles.

17 April 2021 = 68.20 miles.

24 April 2021 = 83.15 miles.

1 May 2021 = 60.18 mles

I'm trying to keep every week above 70 miles so there's a few dud weeks, but I'm pretty happy with what I've achieved.

When I reached Westerham I went into Costa Coffee and ordered a large tea and an almond croissant and then sat on the green people watching. With the sun shining the landlord of the Grasshopper was getting the chairs and tables ready for a busy day as I contemplated nothing in particular apart from the ride home, which I never look forward to because it's all uphill.

On Sunday the weather changed. It was colder. There was a nasty cool breeze and I wished upon wish that I hadn't bothered so much about my appearance. I was going to hit the road in my thick jumper and rust-coloured, ripped jacket but my excessively long hair prompted me to wear something a little neater and the end result was that I nearly froze, it was that cold. I met Andy, who was there before me this week (normally I leave early and get there around 0845hrs, but I was running late, not because I got up late but because I had a late night and felt terribly weary as a result. I felt as if I was riding at a snail's pace and, as I said to Andy later, had it meant an 0700hrs start I probably would have aborted. I'm glad it wasn't and that I didn't (abort). We sat surrounded by the rubbish left by revellers on Saturday night and soon it was time to head home. I struggled for a while but as we approached the Botley Hill roundabout I seemed to revive. I was going to ride down the 269 but decided instead to ride through Woldingham, giving me a respectable 23 miles on Strava instead of the rather pathetic 21.93 miles that would have been my total had I riden the main road. And who wants to ride the 269? Not me. Something that really annoys me is the abuse cyclists get from motorists, normally builders in vans wearing paint-spattered tracksuit bottoms and twatty Timberland boots. "Use the fucking cycle lane!" they shout as they drive by too closely. "Fuck off you overweight, ignorant cunts," I wish I had said, but they wouldn't have heard me anyway so I mumble something under my breath and continue riding. Last week I managed three Washpond Weebles and two Westerhams and it was on the former that I received the abuse. It's got a lot to do with riding around 5pm, the rush hour, when cunty builders and other van drivers who support Boris Johnson and Brexit are rushing home to watch the One Show or Pointless or something rubbish, accompanied by a can of Stella and something unhealthy to eat. They think that because they stand up all day drinking PG Tips and taking a dump in a Portaloo in somebody's front garden that they don't need any exercise. Anyway, enough said. It was a great week of riding and now I've got to do it all again. I write this on Tuesday 27 April morning. Earlier, when I mentioned how last week I managed three Washpond Weebles, that was the week that ended (for the purpose of my cycling) on Saturday 24 April. The sun is shining but it might be cold out, who knows? It was cold, but not bad enough to stop me riding on Wednesday 28th April, yesterday, and yes, I did a Washpond Weeble. To be able to equal last week's mileage I've got to ride another two Weebles and then ride to Westerham on Saturday, let's see. Andy texted to say he wouldn't be riding on Sunday, so it looks like I'll be riding alone.

So, it's Thursday 29 April and once again the sun is shining, but it might be cold. The weather isn't as good as last year at this time but I must get out there later today.

And now it's May Day, the 1st May, the sun is shining and I will get out there, shortly. Not a brilliant week on the cycling front and today is the last day of my cycling week. In fact, my weekly total is 60.18 miles.