The weather - part 2

After the fog and wind on Friday, the weather forecasters were now promising snow and ice for Saturday. So we did the sensible thing and stayed in the house eating home made croissants.

The snow didn't come, so we ignored Sunday's forecast (more snow and ice) and planned a long(ish) run, mostly off the road.

 

When I got up on Sunday morning there was no snow. Then it started snowing, and an hour later there was about an inch . And then it stopped. So we ate breakfast (more croissants!), digested for a bit, then got ready to run.

 

We left the house, a covering of fresh snow on the ground, but the sun shining from a blue sky. By the time we got to the edge of the moor it was much greyer, and a strong, bitterly cold wind was blowing. The path was covered in two or three inches of frozen snow, topped with occasional deeper drifts of light dry snow, sculpted into delicate waves by the wind. Then it started to snow again, and the wind was blowing it horizontally. Who would have guessed that the snow would only start falling heavily once we were on the most exposed bit of ground on the entire route? Well, I for one would have put money on this happening...

 

We carried on past the chimneys, the drifted snow was deeper over the next part of the track, and finding areas of shallow or frozen snow to run on was difficult. Occasionally, our feet went through the snow and the ice below into deep muddy pools of icy water; sharp on your ankles as you go through the ice and surprising (to say the least) when your shoe fills up with cold water. Still, it gave us something else to think about.

 

We got to the road on the other side of the moor and headed down to the next track. Once we had removed the ice from the baler twine securing the gate, the track down, although covered in a few inches of frozen snow, made for good running. And so long as we kept moving we were warm enough.

 

Back on the road at the bottom of the track, a banana eaten, and then a run down the steep road and then up to Ninebanks. Still on the road, we were looking for a footpath we didn't really know, to take us back to the Carrshield to Allendale road. It was signposted through a farm yard, then the signs disappeared. We set out in what seemed like the right direction, but it quickly became clear we were off the path. We carried on regardless, climbing steeply through deep frozen snow and tussocky sedge. After scrambling over one gate we reached a second (padlocked) gate onto the road. Oh well, we got where we wanted to be (about 500m below the finger post for the path we had been looking for), and it is all access land, so no harm done.

 

The road was covered in ice, and the wind was blowing hard, cold in itself but carrying fine blown ice. Wrapping buffs around the bits of our faces that were the only remaining exposed skin we headed back up the road. Again the snow at the side of the road had been sculpted into waves and peaks; quite lovely but the wind that was creating these effects was a bit unpleasant.

 

Astonishingly we then saw a bicycle coming down the road. With skinny tyres and drop bars... and staying upright on the ice, despite the wind. I was quite impressed.

 

We got back to the track across the moor past the chimneys, and now the wind was blowing hard, creating a blizzard of blown snow (it wasn't snowing) about 6 feet high, making navigation difficult, and making forward progress difficult. We pushed on, past the chimneys, where the snow on the track was less deep, and then finally back to the road.

 

Going down the hill the conditions quickly became benign once more, making it hard to believe how severe they had been just a short time before.

 

Only a total of 14 miles, but definitely a small adventure.

 

Oh, and the Inov8 TrailRoc 255s mentioned here got their second outing, and were great in the snow. 

 

 

The weather - part 1

I know it is a terrible cliche, but I am English and the English do like to talk about the weather. Perhaps not quite as much as they once did, but the weather is still at least the second most popular subject for aimless small talk among strangers.

The reason that the weather is the subject of endless speculation in England is probably explained by its entirely unpredictable nature. Other countries are colder, have more snow, are warmer or have more rain, but it is usually predictable. In England it is sometimes a bit cold, or snows a little, or rains, or even (but very rarely) it is quite warm. Often it is all of these things in a single day (usually in August); but it is never predictable.

So, in case you haven't already guessed, this was my half-hearted attempt at an introduction to a distinctly weather-themed post. Sorry.

Last Friday I managed to sneak out at lunch time for a quick ride on the Bianchi. It didn't seem too  bad when I left the house; cold and a bit windy, but not bad. But I wasn't starting from the house, because I only had a couple of hours and I wanted to ride on a road I hadn't been on before. So I had engineered a lift to a suitable starting point that gave me a route of just under 30 miles back to the house.

We went up over the moor at Plenmeller and it was foggy. And I hadn't brought a light for the bike (I don't really own a light for the Bianchi, but that isn't really the point). Or a hi-vis vest thing (and I do own one of these). So I just assumed it would clear by the time we got to where I planned to start.

When we got to place where I planned to start cycling I decided that the fog was bound to clear once I had gone a mile or two. When I got out of the car I noticed how cold and windy it was; this surprised me as I assumed "foggy" meant "still", because shouldn't the wind just blow the fog away? But it was hard to deny that it was very windy, quite cold and foggy. So, obviously I set off anyway.

I went up the hill, and then down past Eals to the Alston to Brampton road, and at last the fog cleared a bit. This road seems quite flat in the car, but is actually "rolling", and it seemed impossible to find the right gear, or to get into a rhythm. I was quite glad to get to Alston, but the turn onto the cobbled and steep main street was hamperd by two cars attempting U turns (or something). I thought the first was parking, so went to go past it, and it pulled out to drive up the hill. I had to unclip as I thought I might need to stop, and what with the new pedals and cleats, couldn't clip back in. I came to a halt, tried to set off again, failed to get momentum and clip in, and had no choice but to walk up the polished cobbles in my ludicrously slippery new cleats.

I was then forced to buy a hot cross bun from the Moody Baker to make amends for this inglorious performance. I ate it while trying to look less of a prat than I was feeling, and it was good.

At the top of the hill I got back on the bike without incident and headed towards Nenthead. I have never cycled up this road, but the section beyond Nenthead is always populated with walking C2Cers in the summer. These people usually have nobbly shod MTBs, which on the one hand might mean they will have lots of low gears, and if they have to walk then I will definitely be wearing down the rest of my new cleats. On the other hand it might mean that they don't really know what they are doing.

Surprisingly I rolled through Nenthead and up the other side quite easily, then turned off towards Allendale via Carrshield, and into the fog. This time it wasn't clearing, and I was probably completely invisible. But I just had to keep going, despite the lack of visibility from the fog and my misted glasses, and the wind, now blowing hard.

I managed to get home in one piece, mostly this was luck; there weren't many cars about. Descending was genuinely scary, I couldn't really see, but I know the road was full of potholes, and it is steep, and bendy. So I went very slowly, and in the end it was fine. I might not choose that route again in the mist, though...

I've never done a sportive

The thing about cycling is that I never get to do it as much as I intend to. The more I think about this the more I realise that there are several really good reasons why this happens.

Firstly, my plans are always essentially vague; I must cycle more this year, I say emphatically (actually, probably not say, just, well, think, but emphatically, definitely emphatically...). I don't say "I must cycle 100 miles a week", or "I must cycle 3000 miles this year", or anything at all specific, I just say "I must cycle more". And then, obviously, I just don't.

My second excuse is that I don't do any cycling type events. If it was running we were talking about here I would have signed up for 10 events by now, and then I would have to get out the door and train to avoid turning up at a race I was entirely unprepared for, and having to walk most of it. And I don't underestimate the word "race"; if you run, at whatever standard, you will eventually enter a race. Not an event, a race.

Then there is my training partner (who is also my wife), who doesn't really cycle much. If we go out running, we tend to go together, and if we go swimming, we do that together. We usually enter the same races, and sometimes we even run them together. She does go out on the tandem with me, but doesn't currently cycle on a solo bike with me (or at all really). This means that when I cycle, I go on my own, and although she is quite encouraging and probably doesn't really hold it against me, I have this sense of smouldering resentment in my mind. And while I am out she usually does especially useful things like earning money or even hoovering the rugs, and this just makes me feel more guilty (sometimes she does less useful things like rearranging her collection of nail polishes in order of the colour spectrum, but this is obviously just scary).

So this year I have a plan to address those very issues.

First of all, I have a goal: a rather conservative (and therefore eminently achievable) cycling target of 2000 miles (or 3220 km to be more traditional).

Secondly, I have entered an event.

At this point I need to digress a little once again. I have never, to date, completed (or even started, although I did once enter) a cycling sportive or an audax, or a race or a time trial, and to be honest races and time trials are entirely out of my league.

As for sportives, I'm a bit put off by sportives as I have a slightly biased view of them as being full of "middle aged men in lycra", comparing their latest shiny carbon fibre "steeds" and "weapons of choice" and discussing the merits of leading brands of energy gel. And then they would all humiliate me by being faster than me.

I'm also a bit put off by Audax events as I have a slightly biased view of them as being full of  mildly eccentric bearded blokes, on outlandish recumbents, saddlebags bulging with moth eaten windcheaters and lemon curd sandwiches. And then they would all humiliate me by being faster than me. Even the 84 year old on a "trice".

But at least audax events are cheap; with a sportive I may well have to pay 75 quid to ride the same public roads I could ride any day of the year, the sole difference being that if I choose to do the sportive I get a "free" banana and an out of date energy bar half way round.

Anyway, to return to the point, I have entered an event... and it is a sportive. It is only 60 miles (100 km), but it does give me something to train towards. And I need to see if my prejudices are justified in any way. I also need to be sure about the audax things, so I have one or two of them on my radar, but I may need to enter incognito given my comments about the lemon curd.

So I think I have finally arrived at my plan to address the third and final problem; how to stop feeling guilty about Mrs JD. And the answer is.... I have entered an event, but better still, so has she, and we are going to do it together on the tandem. Which means we need to train together on the tandem... and so harmony is restored.

Footnotes;
(1) We have entered the Virgin Money Cyclone Challenge B ride on the 29th June, and are considering the 100km mini Dales tour audax on the 8th September.
(2) I was only joking about the lemon curd.
(3) I am still fairly sure most people at an audax event would be able to humiliate me by being faster than me over any distance greater than 500m.

My left foot

I have a bunion on my left big toe. Properly known as a "hallux abducto valgus deformity" according to Wikipedia.

I am fairly certain that this is the result of genetics and not the result of wearing excessively pointy shoes, but whatever the cause, a " lateral deviation of the great toe" (and not apparently an enlarged or deformed toe joint - thanks again to Wikipedia) makes my foot a funny shape. I can't help but think that having "Morton's Toe", that is a big toe that is shorter than my second toe, in a world where all shoes assume that your big toe is your longest toe, has assisted in the development of my bunion.

But, whatever... I have a bunion on my left foot and the significance in the context of running, swimming and cycling is that it has an impact on the shoes I can comfortably wear. And to be fair it isn't much of a problem with swimming.

Because I need to comfortaly accommodate the bunion I need wide running shoes, and preferably ones that are made with quite soft fabric. This seems to be most difficult when it comes to off-road shoes which are often narrow and often have rigid protective welts directly over where my bunion goes. If the fabric won't stretch over my bunion, it is going to hurt. Sometimes some convenient stitching goes directly over my bunion; this won't stretch even if the fabric will, and it has the added benefit of often being abrasive.

So unless a shoe is really wide (and they may now exist, but as such shoes are a recent innovation, time will tell), it must be made of a soft stretchy fabric, with no welts and no stitching or seams in the area of  the bunion. And that is the sort of shoe I buy for trail running or fell running.

But all of this comes at a price; fell and trail shoes aren't made of strong fabric with welts and narrow fitting by chance. In particular the shoes I choose give little protection to the parts of the feet most likely to come into contact with sharp rocks (especially, you guessed, the bunion), they may also reduce precise control on very technical running sections, and most importantly they are not resilient.

Softer fabrics, stretched to an unusual shape, soaked with acid bog water and scraped against sharp rocks don't tend to last long. And if you look at the picture at the top of the post, the result is clear. All of the shoes have split at the point of the bunion, some after less than 100 miles use. The shoes in the picture are, from left to right, Inov8 f-lite 230, Inov8 x-talon 190 (both great shoes, but just too narrow), Saucony Peregrine, Inov8 terrafly 303 (disappointing as this is Inov8's new wider "anatomic" fit) and the New Balance 101.

I need to make it clear that I don't really blame the shoe manufacturers for failing to produce shoes suitable for one person with unusual feet, but I wish I could find comfortable, long lasting off-road shoes both for short technical blasts on the fell and longer days out on trails. Any suggestions?

What I might do with the hybrid

I currently seem to be suffering from a fortuitous combination of elbow tendinitis and a flu-type virus. The result is a lack of energy, slightly dubious sense of balance and discomfort when I try to grip anything. This means that I don't really want to cycle, run or swim, and even messing around with a screwdriver seems to to be off limits. But I can just about manage to type gently.

This gives me the opportunity to at least think about what I'm going to do with the hybrid, and in what order.

It currently looks like this:

First of all I plan to strip it back down to a bare frame and forks, and have it powder coated, probably in pale blue.

Then I will build it back up with the current components, except for the  headset, front brake, and possibly cables, which will need to be replaced.

Once it is all working again, I plan to replace the existing butterfly bars with some new moustache or Northroad bars like these or these; and I may also fit a new stem at this stage. I do quite like the butterfly bars, but not quite enough not to replace them. They were on the tandem, with the brakes in the more conventional position (at the ends), but I wasn't happy with this. On the tandem I like my hands close to the brakes most of the time, and on the butterfly bars this gives the least sense of control and stability while also losing all of the useful hand positions.

When I put the bars on the hybrid I put the brake levers in the less conventional position you can see in the picture, near to those places where I most often have my hands. This is definitely an improvement, and I can't help but think people choose the other position simply because it is much more difficult getting the levers round the bars into my preferred position.

I will also replace at least the front wheel (but probably both wheels if finances stretch that far), with either proper handmade touring wheels from Spa in Harrogate or a pair from Rose Versand in Germany (cheaper, possibly handmade and probably with a dynamo hub). If I decide not to replace the rear wheel then I will need a new rear cassette (7-speed); If I do replace the rear wheel I will need a new rear cassette (7- or 8- speed, but 8-speed might require a new set of gear levers and maybe even a new rear mech).

By then it will be summer, so I will put off fitting new mudguards (and maybe a rack) until winter is looming once more.

And then it will be complete... unless I maybe get some thumb shifters and then maybe...

The great hybrid bike conversion project

I have a Ridgeback Adventure 502 GS hybrid from the early nineties. I bought it new, to cycle from home to the railway station when I lived in Sheffield (and foolishly worked in Nottingham). I chose it mostly because it was cheap, and not having owned a bike as an adult, I wasn't sure that I would use it at all.

I can't really remember how long I used it for, but it must have been at least a couple of years, almost daily. Then it was off the road for a while having various bits replaced, and it was never quite the same again. I also was expected to wear a suit more often, so the bike became much less convenient than the bus.

Then I passed my driving test at the grand old age of 33, left my job in Nottingham and moved up north where I travelled to work by car.

The bike lived in the shed mostly, and occasionally went to the shops, but no further. Then one day when I rode it to the shop I realised that it wasn't just the weight that was slowing me down (we are not talking about a light bike here, it is heavy steel), in fact it seemed to be like cycling through treacle.

And so the project began. Without me knowing that it was a project really. The problem seemed to lie in the transmission, and more specifically the pedals... or the bottom bracket. So I bought tools, did some reading, removed the BB and found the source of the treacle. I cleaned it, re-greased it and reassembled it. Lovely.

Then I looked at the chainset (crankset) and thought how nasty it was, a bit rusty with the chain rings spot welded together. It was thin and light and sharp. So I replaced it with an Alivio one... a bit better, but not, unfortunately, compatible with the existing BB. So I bought a new cartridge style BB and fitted that.

And then I couldn't get the front mech to change properly, so I replaced that with an Alivio one.

Then I replaced the tyres, decided that I needed a new front wheel (at least) replaced the original straight bars with some butterfly bars I had previously on the tandem, and added some funky (or perhaps not) yellow bar tape. Oh, and a new rear canti brake.

Then I realised I had a bike I could use... and a project.

Resurrection

I have decided that it is about time that I resurrected this blog, mostly so that I can document the great hybrid conversion project (see next post), but also to add a few running and cycling training notes.

The big goal for this year is the Lakeland 50 in July, which will be the furthest we have ever run. We entered a 50 mile ultra last year, but failed to even start let alone finish; hoping to at least reach the start line this year.

So far, as part of the build up we have the official Lakeland 50 recce at the end of March (and for some reason I have no idea how far this is), then the Allendale Challenge (26 miles) a week later in April, and then the  Swaledale Marathon (22 miles - ish) in June. Beyond that, the training is still a bit vague beyond get some long days on the hills under our collective belt; I'm working on the assumption that time on my feet is the key, and not the number of miles covered.

More importantly I now have the shoes I plan to wear on the big day. This is absurdly optimistic as most fell and trail shoes last me about three weeks before the uppers split, or my feet are shredded. This is entirely the result of  the bunion on my left big toe; if the shoes are soft enough to accomodate the bunion I split them, if not, then they are too uncomfortable to wear.

Shoes have become a bit easier with the latest Inov8 shoes now being made on a foot shaped last, rather than the narrow last they previously favoured... but I still split my Terraflys in about 100 miles in the same place as all the others (and to be fair, not just Inov8, but New Balance and Saucony...).

So the new shoes are Inov8 TrailRoc 255; the same shape as the Terraflys, but with a more aggressive sole, a 6mm drop, and a bit more protection than the other lighter TrailRocs. On paper they look like the right shoe for the job.

On their first outing today the TrailRocs were great; we did about 10 miles on track, footpath and road, in snow and ice and they were pretty much faultless.