Dropping Behind (or how to lose a mountain bike race)

I’ve noticed that cycling and writing have definitely taken a downward turn over the last few weeks. Sometimes life just throws too many things at you and something has to give way to accommodate. Whatever it is, both the time (to cycle) and the inclination (to write) have definitely been lacking.

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Midges and Maniacs (Part 1)

Heading off to Wales for a week of mountain biking, it began to get a bit disconcerting after the 11^th text message which said

“Have fun, don’t hurt yourself too much”.

I don’t know if these concerned messages were indicative of my (lack of) skill or just the perception my nearest and dearest have of the sport.

However as it turned out, the very real danger was to come from somewhere wholly unexpected.

Fast Women – That need for speed

My current cycling speed record is 38mph (61 kmph). Surprisingly this was not achieved on the sleek and aerodynamic road bike but on Claud, my aluminium-framed workhorse of a touring bicycle.

Rather than awesome leg power on my part, I strongly suspect that a combination of  precipitous hills in Ontario and four fully loaded panniers were the main contributors to this record. Especially as, try and I may, it’s a speed I haven’t come close to reaching since on the roadie.

The Crazy Cat Lady of Old Bikes

I’m currently exploring the internet with the vague (ok, fully concrete) intention of buying a mountain bike. Doing so I’m amazed and horrified in turn by the number of advertisements which begin with statements like “as new, ridden once” or “unwanted gift” or “only cycled home from shop, never used”?!

A Bit On The Side

In full confession mode I can admit that I have recently been cheating on both Albert and Claud, leaving them waiting oblivious at home whilst I sneak off to enjoy the illicit, heady excitement of a new experience….getting down and dirty and discovering the fun of Mountain Biking.

Swim, bike, run, pancakes

Everywhere around me the water is churning and bubbling like the inside of a washing machine. I can see nothing as cold water seeps into my eyes, up my nose and down my throat. The world is spinning and the surface appears to be below me. I breathe in and my lungs inhale a soup of chlorine rather than air.