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.
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