Hard to remember when I last went on a ride, but I think it was Westerham and it seems like weeks and weeks ago. My fitness has been hampered by illness and by travel. On the latter, a flight cancellation put paid to a ride a few Saturdays ago to Oxted. In fact, I can't remember the last time I sat in Caffe Nero chilling ahead of massive climb up Titsey Hill on the return ride home. Then there was illness. But you know about that as I wrote about it in the last post on this blog. So what other excuses do I have? Oh yes, the weather. Rain stopped play too and if you put it all together - travel hassles, weather and illness - it adds up to no riding and very little in the way of fitness, bar a few walks of around three miles each while at work, but that kind of didn't count, although I suppose it does, so, yeah, it's been odd not riding. The trouble, of course, is that once you start slobbing, it becomes addictive and soon you start not wanting to go, preferring instead the warmth of the house, the glow of the laptop, the comfort of the Hot Cross Bun - make that two, alright, three in the space of 24 hours. Because, yes, with slobbishness there is food, normally rubbish food, like cakes and chocolate, they all go hand-in-hand and soon, while I berate myself constantly while lying in bed at night, promising that today - or tomorrow - there will be no more cakes, no more chocolate and no more cappuccino, the opposite is true and I find that rather than eat less rubbish, I eat more.
When I had a cold a few weeks back, I started to go to bed early. Too early. I used to wake up around midnight in the spare room, the house in darkness, everybody in bed, and me looking out of the window at the street light in Ellenbridge, wondering what time it was; and then finding out by looking at my iphone - it was midnight thirty. Should I brazen it out, lie in bed until I fall asleep? Or get up, trot downstairs, make a herbal tea or a Lemsip, perhaps watch some television? In the end I would reach a compromise and perhaps nip downstairs (as opposed to trotting) to get a glass of water and then return to the darkness and try to seek out the Land of Nod. I'd oversleep, rush breakfast in the early morning, make sandwiches and head off to work with a wodge of paper tissues in my coat pocket. It wasn't severe enough to be off work and it wasn't COVID and soon it was Saturday and I didn't feel up to riding the bike. Fair enough.
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| Easter Sunday morning in Westerham |
I am writing this on Good Friday. It's just gone 6pm (1800hrs) and there's a programme on TV about King Charles and his relationship with Prince Harry. It's pointless. We all know why they're at loggerheads and, to be frank, we don't care.
This morning I did go out on the bike and I did a work-out on the dumbells when I returned. I thought I'd try the Norfolk Nobbler, a round-the-block hilly jaunt that is around six miles. But it wasn't six miles, it was nine miles and I couldn't figure out why. It took me 51 minutes and it was a good work-out. I thought that I'd followed the route of old, but clearly I hadn't, I'd added a couple of miles and I couldn't figure out how. I think that when I last did it I just rode one circuit, no repetition. This time I went around the loop and back up Norfolk and around Ridge Langley a second time, something I distinctly remembered doing the last time, but for some reason I'd somehow added two miles. It's bugging me now as I write this: how come it was almost nine miles instead of almost six miles (something like 5.94 miles). I just don't get it. I always went around Ridge Langley twice and then down Arkwright towards the Upper Selsdon Road, left and then up West Hill, passing Barnfield, riding the length of the Ridgeway, left on Arkwright and then home via Elmfeld and Ellenbridge. So how come I was out for 51 minutes and not the usual 38 minutes? It's a mystery and tomorrow I'll check it out again, perhaps just riding one circuit and taking it from there. I suppose the good thing is I rode nearly nine miles and not nearly six, so I guess I did myself a small favour.
The weather was fantastic today and most of last week too, so perhaps (at last) things are starting to pick up. Last week I wanted to ride to work, but just couldn't motivate myself to do it. One day there was a frost on the ground so I gave that day a miss, but I reckon that things will start to get warmer and soon I'll be able to return to four rides a week (which is all I need to lose a bit of weight). Look, I'm not a fat arse, but I'd like to lose around a stone, perhaps a bit more.
On Saturday I went over to see mum and meet up with Bon, who I haven't seen a great deal of lately because he's moved to darkest Sussex. Bon hasn't been on his bike for a couple of years because he's had other stuff to contend with, like moving home, so I suggested we meet up later in the year when the weather really improves and ride from his place to the beach for lunch at the Lobster Pot. I can get the train to Pulborough or drive down with the bike in the back (I think that'll be the best option).
To Westerham!
The ride with Andy has been game on for some days now. I texted to say I'd definitely be there and so, at 0800hrs on Easter Sunday I headed off. It was touch and go that I'd actually do it because there was a family get-together at lunch time in Oxted and the table was booked for noon. I knew that if I left Westerham at 1000hrs I'd get back for around 1100hrs, giving me enough time to shower and be ready for the drive to Oxted. But, as often happens, it didn't work out that way. I finally got underway around 1025hrs meaning that I'd be home around 1130hrs and would have to rush to get ready. I considered simply riding from Westerham to Oxted (around 3 miles, possibly a little more) and then hanging around until noon and joining them in the restaurant, but that would have meant being unshaven and stinking of sweat, although I thought about it: I could nip into a chemist and buy some underarm deodorant and freshen up in the public toilets in the car park behind the high street. Had I brought some trunks with me (why would I bring swimming trunks on the ride?) then I could have enjoyed a brief swim and a shower in the Tandridge Leisure Pool and then things would have been find. I would then have to ride home, up Titsey, after a three-course meal, not that I couldn't handle it.
When I reached Westerham, Andy was already there, drinking coffee in the seat by the window. The weather was amazing. Sunshine and blue skies, daffodils in bloom, and I parked up outside next to Andy's Blast. I ordered an English breakfast tea, took a leak and then joined Andy. We talked about cycling holidays and the notion of cycling around the Canary Islands. This was something Andy would like to do, but it's more of a pipe dream than anything else. That didn't stop us discussing how it would materialise being as Andy's in to cycling he whole way, ie from the UK. So, a ride to Portsmouth, pick up a ferry to Santander and then cycle to Cadiz to pick up another boat to the Canaries. It wouldn't be cheap and we figured the whole trip would take around a month, but what a trip. I found the entire conversation uplifting and soon it was time to ride home, but I just knew I wasn't going to make it in time for the family lunch and started to wish it have been booked for 1230hrs instead of noon. But hold the bus, never say never. I put a spurt on, having left Westerham at around 1025hrs and managed to reach Botley Hill at just before 1100hrs. I called home and suggested that I could either head down to Westerham and wait for everybody there or ride home, knowing that I wouldn't get there much before 1130hrs. Why were they planning to leave at 1120hrs? The table was booked for noon, that would mean 40 minutes. It's only a 10-mile ride and the 269 is 'national speed limit applies' so I figured they could leave around 1140 and still be there on time. I decided to go for it and sped home along the 269 through Warlingham and beyond towards Sanderstead. I was pushing it and managed to reach home around 1130. It was a case of going straight into the shower, changing and then driving back in the direction I'd already come from and as a result I started to feel a little light-headed. Note to self: never rush things. When we reached the restaurant I decided the best course of action was to drink a lot of water and fortunately they plonked a huge bottle of the stuff next to me. I drank the whole bottle and then ensured there was another one ready, which there was. I started to feel better. That said, a brief word on rushing around on a bike: don't do it! Right at the end of the ride (apart from feeling a little light-headed, which itself wasn't good) I nearly came a cropper by riding in front of an oncoming car. I like to think that I was aware it was there, but perhaps I didn't, I can't remember. It wasn't as bad as think it was (at least I don't think it was) but I remember seeing the woman sitting in the passenger seat wondering what the hell I thought I was doing. She was right, I was wrong, but disaster wasn't so much averted, it was kind of just about avoided.
The bike has been performing well and I need to reward it by providing another new tyre, like the one on the rear, and one of those gel-based inner tubes. The tyre on the back I bought from Halford's and it wasn't pricey, just around £13. It's not a huge mountain bike tyre like the one on the front, but something more suitable for tarmac roads.
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| Well, it's Easter! |
We wandered around Oxted as the last rays of Easter sun shone upon us as we looked in to shop windows. Costa was open until 1700hrs. Everywhere else was closed so we went in and ordered a pot of tea and then simply sat there for around 20 minutes and chilled. And now it's almost 2030hrs and I'm still chilling.
Buzzin' by Bez
I'm finding Bez's autobiography - Buzzin' - an inspiration. One chapter to go and I'm wishing there was more. The guy is simply amazing on so many levels, somebody I'd definitely have on the guest list of my dream dinner party. Not only a leading member of the band Happy Mondays, but a close pal of former Clash frontman Joe Strummer. I loved reading about Bez and Joe and pals sitting around Joe's camp fires and I'm glad to read that Bez has carried on the whole camp fire thing at his place in Herefordshire. Bez is a keen beekeeper and he likes the idea of free living outside of capitalist society, he believes in urban farms and growing his own food. While you could say he started off as a bit of a chancer and a blagger, he has become this amazing person who is always positive about life, a true inspiration. So I'm feeling fairly buoyed up by Bez and meeting Bon and the sun going down over Oxted and that great, uplifting conversation with Andy on Sunday morning, Sunday lunch with the extended family and all is good with the world.
