Fantastic Mr Fash

I was watching the new version of Gladiators the other day and I think that Ian Wright is trying to be the new John Fashanu.

I like Ian Wright, I should really, being an Arsenal fan but I don’t really think he’s good enough to live up to the Fash.

For starters, Fash had the catchphrase. “Awooooga!” * Sure, it was silly and a little out of place and a bit pathetic but the fans lapped it up like a tiny kitten at a saucer of milk.

Fash is the ultimate professional too. He comes across all nice and fun on Gladiators but I’ve seen the darker side to the man when he was manager for the reality TV series Fash’s Football Challenge. He can be one mean, moody guy and never hesitated to put players in their place. He rolled up at training with the big manager’s coat and the attitude of a man who facilitated the Wimbledon glory days, sort of Big Ron meets P.Diddy.

These are qualities that I don’t think Ian Wright will ever aspire to. Wrighty’s too cockney wide boy to rival the Fash.

I wondered what the Fash is up to now (briefly) and so googled him to find out. Wikipedia claim he’s hosting the Nigerian version of Deal or no Deal. I guess the same title could have been given to the contract to appear. Is that a step up or down?
Does he get to wear Noel-esque jumpers?
Is the Nigerian banker the same one that keeps emailing me to cash a banker’s draft for him and take a massive cut?

That would be fantastic for the winner of the show. “Here’s your banker’s draft for a million pounds. You can take the money or you can have this draft for $4,000,000 which we require to be moved outside of the country. Your assistance is required by the Bank of Nigeria and for completing the transfer, you will receive 50% of the funds as commission….”

So Fash, you’re a hero, a gent and a scholar. Keep up the good work and maybe one day you’ll aspire to the genius that is Kris Akabusi MBE. He’s an inspirational corporate speaker now, if you’re wondering and has his own Facebook page “The Kris Akabusi Sex Stories……..”

*There is some contention as to who coined this particular catchphrase as both Fash and Akabusi utilised it throughout appearances on Gladiators.

Pearson 150 Sportive

What’s the best recovery for a 112 mile Friday? A 94 mile sportive on the Sunday.

It was always my plan to have a big weekend of riding to try to mimic some of the distance I would be completing in June.

The Pearson 150 seemed like a good idea and all for a good cause so I signed up.

When Sunday morning actually arrived, I had little wish to do another long ride but gave myself the option of changing to the shorter route if I really felt bad after starting out, although this was never really an option……

After the first few miles, I felt pretty good and joined onto a group of riders from the South West Road Club. They were a bit too leisurely for my liking though so I upped the pace and found a faster group up the road.

The route was really nice and almost identical to the one that the British Heart Foundation use for their annual London to Brighton route. It seemed like no time at all when I arrived at the bottom of Ditchling Beacon.

I’m happy to say that the Beacon wasn’t too much of a challenge and I got up it without too much drama. I spent most of the time laughing at the guy in front of me riding up on a singlespeed….

I would have loved to forget the ride back and stay at the seaside. The weather was really hotting up and it seemed a much better prospect than riding back. I continued on though and reached the feed stop just outside Brighton which was really well stocked.

I think for a ride of this distance, only one stop is necessary as sometimes it’s all too easy to stop when it’s not really needed.

The route back was a mixture of quiet lanes, most of which I’d seen on Friday. This was quite fortunate as the signs were a bit on the small side and not very prominent in places. The blue writing on a white background was not very eye catching!

A final sting in the tale came with the climb up to Headley followed by a descent and a final climb up over Epsom Downs. The little energy I had, quickly evaporated from me.

I think Pearson’s first sportive was a success. Well organised, fast registration. A good HQ with parking and food stands, chip timing and a goody bag with a few food products to go along with the warm glow of some of the money going to charity….

The good (my first century), the bad (solo), the ugly (me for the rest of the evening)

With the Paris trip looming on the horizon it looked like only a weekend filled with misery and suffering would pave the way to a successful journey. I’m not talking about a Desperate Housewives boxed set or an afternoon watching Beaches, I’m talking about manly miles, on the road, in the heat.

One of the nice things about having a forum with the guys from the London to Paris trip is the ability to chat and get to know each other before the big off. One of the not so nice things is seeing all the mileage that others are clocking up and feeling inadequate. Information brings it’s own pressure…

I had decided that I wanted to complete a century ride in the hope that it would take away some of the anxiety I was feeling.
The route I planned was a quiet, country lane route down to Shoreham and then along the coast towards Brighton and back up and past Charlwood onto a reverse of the “club run” route. I figured that seeing familiar roads towards the end of the ride would spur me on.

I loaded up with plenty of snacks and set off at a relaxed, steady pace of around 17mph on the flats and less on the hills. No heroics, no out of the saddle efforts and the granny ring for any climbs to conserve energy.

By the time I got to Shoreham after 50 odd miles, I was feeling pretty fresh. It was pretty warm and I had been looking forward to an ice cream on the seafront for miles but arrived to find the only part of the UK coastline that prides itself on it’s industry. I ended up sat on the floor outside a newsagent eating a mini tub of Pringles.

Pushing disappointment aside, I carried on and started the climb back up onto the South Downs towards Devils Dyke. I then proceeded to take a wrong turning into the A27, down the big hill I’d just climbed and then looped back up, going 3 miles out of my way. Words can’t describe how low I was feeling at this point.

Coming off the Downs was a nice respite and I saw over 45mph on the speedo as I descended. My shorts almost saw similar trajectory speeds as tipped the bike in for the left hander at the bottom of the hill.

Miles ticked on and on as the route looked like it was never going to end. Riding solo is definitely a real challenge. The boredom is something that you just have to get used to. I found myself making a rhythm out of my pedal revolutions as my mind failed to think of things to amuse me.

70 miles was another low point. I guessed that I still had 40 miles to go and by now the heat was a nightmare. If someone pulled up in a car and offered me a lift, I’d have taken it.
The day progressed and as I got closer to home, it became beyond the point of quitting. What’s the point of giving up at 80 or 90 miles?
When I reached Charlwood, the familiar roads did help and I managed to carry on until the end.

I passed the 100 mile mark just after Reigate. I didn’t really know what I was expecting but the odometer clicked past 100 without celebration. What was I expecting? A bottle of Champagne to parachute down from the sky? My phone to ring and a personal “well done” from the Queen? I’d have settled for a little tune from my speedo but Garmin can’t even manage that…..

In total, I rode 112 miles and feel happy that I can now consider myself a proper cyclist….

SWRC May Flyer Review

Last year, I took part in my first sportive – the SWRC May Flyer. It was the first time that I had attempted a 50 mile ride and although I found it difficult and walked up several of the hills, I found it enjoyable.

This year, I was keen to have another go and see how much I had improved.

Grey filled the skies above Cobham as we signed on in the morning. I’d opted again for the shorter route as I was riding with a couple of friends. The registration was well organised and only took a few minutes. I was a little disappointed that there were no free gels like last year.

The route starts nicely and soon we were into a steady rhythm. We were all looking for the photographer on the first climb to style out the shots for the camera but he wasn’t there and caught us by surprise on the first hairpin of the descent.

Potholes were a frequent problem to avoid but that seems to be the norm for most UK roads at the moment. The ride was mainly traffic free and I’m pleased to say that the hills proved little of a challenge this year and were quite enjoyable!

Unfortunately, some of the route markings disappeared around the halfway mark which meant that we lost some time checking the maps and confirming the route at some junctions. The organisers have stated that this was only a problem on the short circuit.

Overall, I found it a pleasant day and one I shall be repeating next year, although I’ll probably go for the longer route. I think the organisation wasn’t as slick as last year and hope that SWRC make more of an effort next year to make things run without a hitch.

Nemesis

An elephant in the corner, a monster in the room - call it what you will but for some time now i've been avoiding the subject. Nemesis.
Since I started out on my bike, i've come to realise that my body and style of riding don't suit hills. Little ones, I can power over. Long gradual ones, I can stick it in the granny ring and gently roll over. Short sharp ones, I curl up in a ball and cry.
Recent months have brought some success on the hills and i've had some good experiences in Wales and other more recent events and rides. There's one hill though that has been talked about for some time amongst my friends and one that I always route to avoid. Nemesis.
Talk this week between us centred around which hills were the worst. It was agreed that some are worse than others for gradient, some for hitting you at the end of a certain route when you're already tired and some because they are just so ferocious they punch you in the groin and then urinate on you as you lie shaking uncontrollably at their feet. Nemesis.
I decided it was time today to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Kraken and dare to ascend it.
I set off this morning, having planned a 15 mile route out to Nemesis, the ascent and then a 12 mile route back. Today wasn't about rushing so I kept the pace sensible, all the while, thinking about what lay in wait for me at the end.
Kevin Spacey's words from The Usual Suspects kept ringing in my head, "How can you shoot the devil in the back? What if you miss?"
I turned off the A25 and arrived at Chalkpit Lane - Nemesis. 453ft of ascending in 0.9 of a mile.
There are steeper, more renowned hills out there - Wynnatt's Pass, Mow Kop but they're not close enough for me to worry about or skirt around routinely. This was my challenge.
The road eased skywards and I set into a rhythm. This wasn't too bad.....
I passed a sign that warned 20% and I approached the hairpin. I was out of the saddle in my lowest gear, turning a pathetic cadence when my legs decided that they'd had enough. I stopped. Pathetic.
I felt like Rocky Balboa when he first ran up the 72 steps outside the Philadelphia Museum of Art, dejected, distraught. I was certain of one thing though - I was not going to walk.
My breath came back, I took a swig of water and climbed back on. I pedalled all the way to the top.
Why the negativity? "Why the shame," you ask? I made it up without walking didn't I? There's an unwritten rule in cycling. If you have to unclip on a climb, you haven't conquered it. I'd gone the distance with Apollo Creed, shown him what I was made of, taken it to the bell but he'd knocked me down in the second round and won on points.
I'm bruised, battered and my pride is dented but I demand a rematch....

The Anti-Vampire

I did something amazing yesterday. I gave blood for the first time.

For years, it's something i've thought about doing but never really gotten around to. Seeing posters around at work finally pushed me into it and the thought that I could do it during work time just helped the idea grow.....

So I registered myself and went along to do the deed. I've had several tattoos over the years so needles don't bother me but i've never had a blood test or anything like that so didn't know how I would react to blood being taken.
It could be just a macho thing but I didn't want to faint as that would definitely ruin my street cred. I've only just managed to supress the posting on Facebook of a certain someone holding a bunny rabbit at Godstone Farm so did not need a fainting incident to occur.

As expected, there was nothing to worry about. My competitive streak did shine through though. I was trying to get the blood to come out quicker so I could fill the bag before the woman next to me. I did a pretty classy job too. I'd like to think that if there was a blood donation race, i'd be scoring points.

I got my free crisps and biscuits and toddled off feeling content with myself that I had done something good for once and possibly saved a life.

Some lucky person out there is going to receive a little bit of my awesomeness....

O! What’s occurring?

Where have I been you ask? Nowhere is the unfortunate reply, just very very busy.

So what’s been happening? How many more questions am I going to direct at myself like this? Shall I risk one more? Is it a risk too far?

I guess most people that read this blog want to know how the cycling is going so I shall start with that…..

After my trip to Wales the other week, I’ve been feeling pretty strong. I’ve managed a few short rides and have tried to stick with the daily training before work. The week immediately following the weekend in Wales, I eased up slightly as my body was feeling a bit tired. I seemed to be riding stronger on the actual rides themselves but then was aching the following day(s) so cut back a little for a few days.
Since then, the mornings have picked back up again. Driven on by the ridiculous amount of mileage other people are doing in preparation for the Paris trip, I decided to plan a long solo ride. I planned an 80 miles route (ok in all honesty I stole it from someone else on mapmyride and reversed it so made it my own) out into Kent Surrey and Sussex.
80 miles is beyond what I’d ever done before so I was mainly concerned about my fuelling. I took 3 flapjacks and a couple of malt loaf slices, 2 bottles of High 5 carb/protein 4:1 mix and some hard cash to buy more drinks en route. Probably overkill but I like food.
The route itself was all new to me as well so I filled my Garmin Edge 305 with waypoints and hoped for the best. I took an OS Landranger map as backup too so that I could find my way back should a horde of badgers mug me (would badgers bother taking the map?) or some other emergency took place.
Carrying the equivalent of a small convenience store about my person (along with my usual phone, keys, Britney Spears CD and kitchen sink) did create it’s own problems.
Usually on the bike, I have a small seatpack that contains the bare essentials such as multitool, spare tube, some self adhesive patches and tyre levers. The only space left in the pack was quickly filled with a retractable wire lock (in case of any pit stops). These locks are best to useless but will add seconds to someone walking off with my bike whilst I’m buying food so I thought it was necessary. This left only my jersey pockets to stuff with everything else and resulted in me looking like the Michelin man with his head back to front. I’ve since solved this issue by purchasing a top tube mounted bag for carrying snacks.

I set off nice and early to make sure I was back for the school run in the afternoon and after dicing through the rush hour traffic, headed into the country. It was a beautiful spring day and the first 40 miles were extremely picturesque. I was feeling good and stopped off for a drink at a little shop in Hartfield. After that, things got particularly tough and the hills seemed relentless. I’m not going to lie about this - the last 40 miles weren’t very nice. The scenery was good but 80 miles is a long ride with your own company. I broke up the monotony with some singing and wise cracking but found my own jokes offensive so decided to stop before a fight broke out.
One of my happier points was when I reached Merstham and I thought, “Great I’m nearly home.” This was still 10 miles away from my house though…….
Anyway, I made it back in one piece and with hindsight, it was an enjoyable day, just very tough to do alone. It has made me more confident about riding to Paris as I figure that 80 miles on my own is the equivalent of 100-120 in a group with the slipstreaming effect.
I plan on following lots of wheels on the trip……..