Ex-Strava-ganza

Much like the entire future of Marty McFly hinged on a single right hook by his father on Biff Tannan’s chin in 1955, pretty much all of my exercise regime over the past few years can be traced back to one critical point in time, that time, March 2011. Where a meeting of three old school friends was to shape my entire future. (You can read the full story here: The start of it all). From that point on, a new focus emerged in my fitness/lifestyle choices, with a lot of pain and suffering to follow. What was worse is I didn’t even get a future predicting sports almanac like Marty did, however I did get a bike!

Since that point in time Oli and Matt have been the root cause of a lot of pain in my life (Most notably in my bum........cycling). But without doubt the biggest culprit of me spending my money, and causing me to be subjected to hours of physical torture and mental anguish (*apart from my wife) is Oli (@0L1). He is the guy that researches everything: fads, crazes, training techniques, fitness programmes, exercise equipment etc. Being easily led,  and never one to say no, often leads me down routes that on a normal day I wouldn’t even consider. Turbo trainers, Sufferfest cycling programmes,  10k running races, 100 mile bike races and Triathlons are all products of Oli that I have somehow found myself taking part in, but if nothing else, it gives me something to blog about. I love Oli greatly and is one of the best friends anyone could hope to have, but sometimes I wonder why.

One of the latest additions that Oli has bought into my life (As well as Matt’s), is a simple App. For the Iphone. This App. Is called Strava. Strava is essentially a training tool for running/cycling, mapping your route, speed and heart rate etc. Strava allows all the basics to be stored online such as total distance, total time, top speed, average/top power, but critically, the App then allows users to create “Segments” along their rides, effectively making time trial splits, where other users can contest in a “leader board” to become “King of the mountain” (KOM) on that particular section of road. 

To those who know me well, I am ultra competitive, and unless I think I can do it fairly well, I won’t do something, this is why my son finds it very hard to play football with me (He is 3 years old). For someone like me, Strava is VERY addictive. I crave comparisons, data analysis, competition. When I get to the end of a ride, I get something tangible, a measurable achievement both on a personal level and competitive. Power, speed, distance, calorific depletion, I love it all!

There is a great sense of achievement when you come home, upload your results and find you have set a personal best time in a sector (PB) or even better, top the list of riders to have ridden that section making you “King of the mountain”!

I have a decent quality entry level road bike (Trek 1.5), which suits my purposes well, but isn’t the fastest bike out there, it isn’t draped in Carbon Fibre, held together by Titanium bolts or have a Campagolo group-set that I would have to remortgage my house for. Then again I am not a cyclist that warrants such luxuries. Because of this I like to concentrate on sprint sections, or hill climbs. Something where the speed of the bike and my general sub standard fitness isn’t such a handicap. Anything that can be over within 5 minutes I’m happy with!

Unbelievably I have achieved the KOM title on four separate occasions in my lifetime (Two of which I have subsequently lost). Each time as enjoyable as the last. In my mind’s eye, I can picture all of the Strava cyclists out there logging on to their accounts, checking the local routes, and seeing me, sitting proudly on top of the pile. I know, it is all they can do to stop themselves standing and applauding, whooping and hollering at my athletic prowess, speed, agility, power, in their own front rooms or office cubicles at work. When I reveal my achievement to the wife,  she is overcome with pride and elation. Going weak at the knees, like a teenage girl at a three hour late Justin Beaver concert.

In reality though, getting a KOM title only serves to annoy the previous title holder, and is *met by the wife with a disinterested smile and a heavily muted “Well done????”. But I’m not picky so I’ll take it!  

There is however another, darker side to the “leader board” battle. The bitter rivalry and hatred that festers in the background, one that is never openly acknowledged. A cauldron of male hormones, sweat, pain, energy gels and sweaty bum cracks, all ready to explode given the correct trigger point. That trigger comes in a very inconspicuous but deadly form of an Email notification: 

From: Strava

Subject: Notification - Uh oh.....

You know what’s coming, and the blood starts to boil, you can’t help yourself. You click on “open Email”..............

Son of a bitch! I now hate Alan Brown, I have never met him, but he must be destroyed!!!!!!!

This Email has now sparked an unstoppable chain of events.

Your life has been given a predetermined path to follow. To regain your crown. Your next ride will be given the sole purpose of becoming the rightful owner of that “segment” once again.

Check list:

·         High tyre pressure to reduce rolling resistance

·         Aerodynamic clothing – You may have to peel your clothes off later but is worth it.

·         Water bottle – No, have an energy drink before hand, any excess weight should be stripped

·         Weather – fine, any unwanted rain or buffeting wind should be avoided

Take to the road with a mission, giving good effort on the way to the battleground. Warming up the leg muscles all the while. Then POW! An explosion of energy as you hit the upcoming timed segment, no rest, no slacking, it’s now or never. Breathing like Christina Aguilera chasing an ice cream van, lungs of fire and legs engorged by lactic acid. Before you know it, it’s over and you can return to your normal riding speed, trying not to fall off or pass out.

Congratulations, You have now reclaimed your throne!

I recently went out on my bike around the local area to test out the change of height I had made to my saddle, with the intention to pop-in two or three timed sections along the route, this would mean going slightly out of my way, but it’s worth it for the extra fun of the ride.

Having already completed one of my segments, I ventured to the next, enjoying my early evening ride. I spotted a fellow cyclist coming towards me. I was heading into a mild head wind at the time, and him looking all smug as he sailed by, aided by mother nature. I recognised him as he past me from one of the various Strava profile pictures that pop upon the leader boards for our surrounding area. I knew where he had been, and I knew what he was doing........ I wanted to beat him, beat him bad!!

I turned the corner from where he had come, and drifted down the short but steep hill. In the opposite direction I knew this was the timed section he had just completed. I freewheeled a bit further to give myself a run-up, then dropped the hammer. It is one of those climbs that is very short, but gets progressively steeper, ending in a T-junction in the road.

I can only compare hill climbing on a bike to licking a battery. Very uncomfortable and unpleasant, but you will always go back for a second try, just to make sure it’s as bad as you remember, and invariably, it always is!

 Once the pain and lung busting fight for breath was over, I again turned down the hill and headed for home. My mind filled with thoughts of segment times and leader boards, perhaps too much as an elderly gentleman in one of those timber framed Morris Minors from the 70’s hurtled round the fenland corner and tried his best to detail the side of his car with my bike.

Once home I quickly uploaded my data and waited for the results to collate. Had I beaten the mystery rider? (On later inspection his name was Darran Bennet, a man who seems to often thwart me on leader boards).

 

The results were in:

REJOICE!

Just like Sir Chris Hoy, it is time to celebrate with a Pizza and a couple of cans of Coke!

James

*Disclaimer – My wife is fantastic and a great support in my life, any derogatory remarks towards her in my blog are meant in jest, and are only there to add a bit of comic relief to what would otherwise be a boring blog**

**Disclaimers disclaimer – The previous disclaimer was added so I actually will be allowed into my bedroom after my wife reads this blog.

Me and Mrs Jones

In preparation for our “Grand adventure” I have tried to balance out a mixture of cycling, running and core based exercise, not least of all because Oli and I are also participating in the “Toughmudder” on June 9^th near Brighton (www.toughmudder.co.uk) just a wekk after the Paris ride.

Due to injuries past and present I have had to adjust both my running style and the chosen platform to run on. When once, I was a Tarmac eating machine, pounding miles before breakfast with the speed of a Puma and endurance of a horse, I now am NOT! I now see myself more as an ambling goat, stumbling across riverbanks trying my best not to either a) throw-up in a bush, or b) Trip and fall down the riverbank into said bush, all with the style and panache of Britney Spears getting out of a Limo after a night out. I have come to love my new picturesque running routes, it used to be dodging 20 tonne heavy good vehicles on the main road and people gesticulating their annoyance by the fact I feel that I too am allowed to use the road when there is no path to be seen. Now I see new things daily, ducks, cows, birds and nature at its finest, although one time I’m fairly sure I saw a guy dropping trow in the wooded area next to the A10 lay-by (If you are asking, it was a driver for Yodel home delivery).

I truly enjoy running, and, as you may be aware I’m a “kit” man, I love buying the kit. And running is full of it. Whether it be the new Trail running shoes, MP3 players, Calf sleeves or Heart rate monitor, I love it all. But the one thing I couldn’t do without is my Garmin GPS watch. It’s like having a running partner that pushes you just that little further, but, all the while his stupid little pixelated body mocking you at your inability to keep up with the overestimated pace you ambitiously programmed in before you set off. The watch is also the most frustrating part about my run. The anticipation of starting the run, staring at the Garmin, waiting, watching it coming ever closer to being found by the satellite only to have the search bar drop back to the start. And yet, without it, I now feel naked. How will I know if I ran 6.25 or 6.28 miles? It’s now in my nature, I must have the satellites located before I can begin!!! I wish I had some great spiritual thought to connect because this sounds like the beginning of a fantastic analogy, but really, it’s just me being frequently annoyed by my Garmin. But once it’s connected, I’m off and running!

On these rare moments of alone time during my runs I find myself thinking about things that a normal person just wouldn’t. Questions arise in my head such a: “If a Tsunami came over the horizon now, where would I run to, to survive” or “If a Tiger appeared out of that bush/Alligator out of the river what the hell would I do”. Not every day thoughts. Although I know I’m not alone picturing myself in a feel good, action film, running a la Rocky to the soundtrack coming out of my Ipod earphones.

In my life of fun and frolics “T’days are run days”. Meaning, I go running along the riverbank on my lunch break at work Tuesdays and Thursdays. It is a small window of opportunity, but one I can’t pass up if I want to survive my two weeks of physical hell come May. I am just about able to squeeze in a four mile run and shower, then get back to work. One Thursday I was in my office getting stripped down and getting into my running gear.......

*At this point I think I should point out I work in my family’s business (plug: www.wrightkarts.com), with the family dogs also on the premises throughout the day.

.........I was just re-dressing with only my shorts and trainers on when the dogs burst through my office door, unbeknownst to me it wasn’t “Clicked” fully closed. There standing in the doorway was one of my mum’s friends (who was just passing by), she will remain nameless for purposes of anonymity, but I will refer to her as Mrs Jones. Mrs Jones, looked up and squeaked “Oh my......”.

There, through the doorway she was confronted by a glorious sight. A body that would embarrass Michelangelo’s David, backlit by the midday sun trailing through the window. Like a slow motion, high exposure clip out of one of those Hugo Boss adverts...... but better. A sight so amazing it has been known to blind people.

Quickly she turned away and I shut the door, but the damage was done. I continued to don my running kit and left my office, where I again came face to face with Mrs Jones. “It’s been a long time since I have seen a young man with a six pack”. Now, truth be told, I am far from a mighty physical specimen, and in truth not even a good physical specimen, but I do have youth-ish on my side, and an extraordinary metabolism that allows me to consume enough food to power a small continent, and therefore I’m fairly slim. This seemed to be enough for Mrs Jones! Luckily Mrs Jones and myself get on very well, and was able to laugh off any awkwardness, but to this day, she reminds me of that moment and occasionally (constantly) makes pervy “me and misses Jones” type comments, eyeing me up like Nigella Lawson and Chocolate cake or, indeed, Oli eyeing anything made from Carbon Fibre......

Needless to say, I now make sure my office door is shut when I change.

*Mrs Jones. If you are reading this, stop picturing me in your head. I’m a married man!!!!

James

I'm just going to leave this here....

Local news coverage of the team and the aim of the trip from Cambridge to Paris.

You can donate if you like either at www.justgiving.com/C2P (Oli's Page)
or at www.justgiving.com/teams/showmethemoney

Oli

Look Ma No Hands

I’m not a super good looking guy, just a run of the mill bloke who does what he can not to visually offend people. But I’m partial to my face and body, and the skin that covers it. It was for that reason when training, I decide to “skip” the ice, snow and fog that has plagued these shores and their roads for the past few months and invest in some indoor cycling equipment. This meant that I could get on my bike and hit the “virtual” tarmac whenever I wanted and not battle Mother Nature to see who would emerge victorious. Let’s face it, if she had won, I wouldn’t have been in good shape.

When considering this new avenue, the choices here are numerous and as always each have their own pros and cons. If you want a standalone machine they range for a common exercise bike and progress right up to the pro spinning bike. But if you want to use your actual bike (Which I did/do) there are only really two choices. The Turbo Trainer or Parabolic Rollers.

Turbo Trainer:

In its simplest form the “Turbo” is a frame with a resistance roller. This attaches to your bikes frame via a specialised spindle that replaces the current rear wheels spindle on your bike. The rear wheel then rests on the resistance roller to give the effect of a rolling road, thus replicating actual forward propulsion. As with all things there are higher spec. versions of this theory, with various features, mechanisms, coffee makers, shoes polishers, space and time transportation........ But in essence simple to ride, balance and get on and off.

Turbo Trainers

The Parabolic Roller:

Dubbed the “Most realistic” of the indoor cycling methods. Here the bike sits on two connected rollers. The bike is not attached in anyway and uses the centrifugal/centripetal force of the wheels to remain upright.  In theory they also help hone your bike handling skills and improve pedalling technique, making you smoother and more efficient when on the bike. They have been used for years by track cyclists in-between events.

Parabolic Rollers

After much deliberation and thought I opted to go for the Rollers as my preferred choice of indoor entertainment. So it was straight online to make a purchase. A purchase which, in time would fill me with pleasure, pain, fear and jubilation.

The day of delivery came, a nice shiny new box with my brand new rollers in. That night I took it home unpacked it, and put all the pieces together. It was a glorious sight of glossy red and matte black plastic. Sure to turn me into the next Fabbian Cancellara overnight.

Unable to hold my excitement in anymore, I went to “strap up” for my first indoor ride. Now I had read that Roller novices could find it hard to make the transition from standing to actual riding on the rollers. But I had been riding a whole 4 months, how hard could it be..........

Having read somewhere that it is easiest to hold onto a wall or a doorframe to get you going, I positioned the roller and bike next to the garage wall. Mounted my trusty steed (Hand still firmly on rear brakes and wall) and prepared myself. I began to pedal...... Before I knew it the bike shot from side to side on the rollers as if I was trying to ride a wheel of butter on rollers of ice. It was something that I had never experienced before, complete and utter terror on my bike! Before I go on, let me stress the situation. My feet are firmly clipped in, I’m on my bike which if fairly tall anyway but when you put it on rollers it is another 6 inches off of the floor. There is no gentle fall from this height. I continued to pedal, bike zigging and zagging just maintaining enough control to stay within the “Safe” parameters of the roller width. After 15 minutes I still hadn’t managed to remove my hand from the wall,  and there was only a mild improvement. I decided to cut my losses for the night and retire to the house to research what I was doing wrong, IT CANT BE THAT HARD!

After trawling the internet, mostly Youtube for tips, it would seem it IS THAT HARD. The whole web seems littered with people trying to master the art of “The roller” and just as many have posted photos/videos of themselves falling off them: Some examples

Admittedly there are people also that can achieve it, and do tricks on them to boot, but I put that down to them being Aliens or something.

The next day I psyched myself up and went for round two. Having watched all the videos surely I would be able to do it and not make the same mistakes. 15 minutes of Wall hugging later, I was only slightly better. The following thoughts then started to go through my head:

“The spinning of the wheels are what keeps me upright!”

“If they spin faster it will be easier to remain upright!”

“If I really go for it there is no way I will fall off, I’m generally good at balance”

You can see where this is going right?............

“I’m just going to go for it”

“Let go of the wall and gun it”

“This will work!”

“Go!!!!!!”

Before I could say “Eat my dust Bradley Wiggins”, my face was bouncing on the garage wall, bike wheel spinning mid air and I was laying prone on the now motionless rollers. It hadn’t worked..........

A few more attempts later, and I had adopted the “slowly, slowly catchy monkey” technique. Slowly building up the RPM on the bike and tentatively moving my hand from the wall. After what seemed like an eternity (In reality about 2o minutes) I could remove my hand from the wall and actually hold the bars on the bike. Albeit only for a few seconds at a time. This was all the encouragement I needed. That week I dedicated all my training time to “taming the rollers”, and by Friday, I could actually do it!!!!! Now I wasn’t amazing at it, and the balancing took more effort than the actual peddling, but I could do it. I was the king of the garage, nobody could say otherwise! The greatest moment came as my wife walked in to change over the washing whilst I was mid flight. “That’s looks dangerous” she said. Yes it is, extremely , and I was conquering it, I was a god amongst men!!!!!

I have now come to realise that my accomplishment was not one only achieved by only supreme beings and ultra athletes, but I’m ok with that, I learnt to ride on a roller dammit!

That winter I used the rollers when there was Ice, snow or fog on the roads through until Spring broke. Spring, Summer and Autumn strewn with glorious sunny rides with the boys. Then at the back end of 2012 Winter returned, I was thinking about cracking out the rollers again but I received a phone call, it was Oli.

“I have discovered this thing called Sufferfest, you’ll need a Turbo Trainer”

But that’s a different story.......................

James

A shameless act of self-promotion and Page 3 Models

It's been a busy few days over the last week. Easter has come and gone and seems to have taken the worst of the weather with it. The relatives from Sweden have returned to Stockholm taking with them mountains of English chocolates and Easter eggs and powdered Colmans mustard. Good friends have headed back up to Yorkshire after their month long tour of France and Andorra and a weekend stopover with me and he wife, leaving me to finally get on with the imposing task of writing a piece for three local newspapers.

Page 3 Models Oli, Matt and James LtoR

Yesterday, James, Matt and I were joined by Brad, Matt's brother to take our first "official" team photo outside the Rosie hospital at Addenbrookes in Cambridge. We stood, posing for what seemed like an eternity outside the hospital while Brad "papped us" which I believe is the technical term. It was cold, bright and windy, so maintaining our smiles for the photo wasn't the easiest.

The editorial piece has been written and is going to feature in the Newmarket Journal tomorrow. Matt, James and I are now officially Page 3 Models, although probably not as nice to look at over your cornflakes. There will also be coverage in the cycling section in the Cambridge Evening News and also in the Ely Standard.

Hopefully, this change in the weather will make a huge difference to the amount of training that we'll be able to get in as we're now only 53 days away from the challenge!

Oli