Riding with Dan

Dan and I used to work together.

Since he left the college, I've hardly seen the bloke. So it was nice to catch up with him last weekend, especially when that catch-up involved mountain bikes, forests, hills and cake!

Although we certainly hadn't it planned it so, it ended up just Dan and myself riding that morning. All our other cycling friends were doing something different that day (road cycling, lying in bed, taking the missus out, feeding chickens etc.)

We headed out on a beautiful autumn morning, setting the pace to 'relaxed' so we could have a chat on the canal to the Lickey Hills. Once in the hills, there was a moment of nervousness on my part as the gradient increased. Had all of my recent indulgence (pies and beer) ruined my climbing? Happily I was able to hold the pace with Dan and still have a gossip. I know Dan must have been taking it easy, however...

We cut through the hills until we reached 'Bono' - the superfast trail that runs down the side of Beacon Hill. Dan made it look easy, managing to look agile even on a fatbike, while I tiptoed down on the wet leaves like Bambi on ice. The fact that my eyes were watering in the rush of cold air didn't help.

At the start of the Waseley hills we decided to do a bit of riding in the lanes to get to our cake stop. A wonderful recent discovery: Lizzie's Farm. The slices of cake were huge and the tea was good. There were two shops: one selling food and the other selling arts and crafts. A lovely place to be. Plus, they had the posh handwash in the loo when I went for a wee. I like that stuff.

ShotokanCyclist at Lizzie's Farm. Photo by Daniel Phillips Photography

After that welcome break, we headed back to the Lickey Hills via some fun urban biking. As usual, the fatbike attracted lots of attention as we cycled past the locals on our way back to the forest. Once we were back among the trees, and the sun was making pretty patterns through the reddening leaves, Dan took some more shots of me on the bike. He has built up a pretty impressive portfolio of photographs, some of which you can see at http://danielphillips.co.uk/

Photograph by www.DanielPhillips.co.uk

Photograph by www.DanielPhillips.co.uk

 We got back to Dan's via the canal. I drank tea while Dan seemed to do the lion's share of washing the bikes! We exchanged birthday presents (our birthdays were in August and September!) and I was very pleased to receive a new updated copy of Matt Rendell's excellent The Death of Marco Pantani along with Project Rainbow by Rod Ellingworth - the Team Sky manager's account of the recent success of British Cycling.

A splendid Saturday morning.

Isle of Wight - Mountain Biking Holiday

Having never before visited the Isle of Wight, I was unsure of what to expect. I was pleased to discover a beautiful piece of England with stunning countryside complete with quiet country lanes and many miles of signposted bridleways! We stayed at The Orchards holiday park in Newbridge on the west side of the island.

Ride 1 - Newbridge, Newport, East Cowes.

For the first ride, on my second day on the island, I had to put my faith in my Isle of Wight cycling map which Lucy had purchased for me before our holiday. It was marked with bridleways, byways, public roads and cycle paths. Within twenty minutes I was lost! After 5 miles of riding along bridleways and country roads I found myself back at the holiday park! I kept going, and eventually found myself on the correct bridleway - one which took me to the Tennyson Trail.

The wrong bridleway - I got lost for 5 miles!

Terrence Malick

The Tennyson Trail lies just over the horizon.

The Tennyson trail is named after the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson who was a resident of the island. The trail itself is a public byway for approximately 12 miles, from Newport at the centre of the island to Freshwater Bay in the west. After that, it is open to walkers only. The trail formed the backbone of each of my 5 rides, having various bridleways crossing it and allowing me to plan my day's adventure. The trail was not easy, however - it contains challenging climbs whether heading east or west and the chalky rock proves particularly slippery in the wet!

The Tennyson Trail looking back west to Freshwater Bay

On the first ride, I decided to follow the Tennyson Trail all the way to Newport. I was so glad I did! The trail features a lovely, fast (but not steep) descent over open park land, enabling me to get some air when jumping off natural drops and rocks. I had to share the trail with walkers but they always seemed perfectly happy to see me and the trail is so wide on the Downs that I didn't always have to brake! After the two descents on the Downs, the trail turns north-east and cuts through a wood. By now, the steepness of the climb to the trees has put off the walkers and I have the trail to myself.

The Tennyson Trail cutting through the wood.

The great thing about the trail at this point is that the remaining 4 miles are all downhill, the last section of the trail ending in a steep chute through the woods with natural jumps and berms. Real NWAlps stuff! Obviously, there are no photographs of this section - I wasn't stopping!

After the first section of woodland, the Tennyson Trail becomes singletrack. Dry and dusty enough?

One of the things that the Isle of Wight has got right is the signposting. Nearly every junction has a sign letting you know which bridleway or byway you're on and where it's going. Many times, I would have missed a gap in a hedge where it not for these signs.

Where am I going? Oh, okay.

Reluctantly leaving the Tennyson Trail, I found myself in the busy town of Newport. I cut through this as quickly as possible and got myself on the cycle path that runs north to East Cowes at the top of the island. Now, a cycle path in Birmingham and Solihull is normally the footpath with a blue sign of a bike above it, where pedestrians get in the way and tut at you. Or it's a white dotted line drawn on the left side of the road which BMW drivers simply ignore. A cycle path on the Isle of Wight, however, is a wide path devoid of motorised traffic which cuts through some of the most beautiful parts of the island. It was great to see whole families out cycling together.

How a cycle path should be done. Not a German car in sight.

After arriving at the top of the island, I decided to take the coastal route home on the roads. The roads were busy, but nowhere near as congested as the A34 at rush hour - something I ride on 5 times a week! I was quite content to roll along in the sunshine with frequent stops to consult my map. I stopped off to take a look at the sea at Gurnard and to be revved at by an Audi who promptly drove into the opposite kerb in his rush to get past me!

Gurnard

The rest of the ride passed without incident and, despite some self-doubt regarding my decision to bring the mountain bike instead of the road machine, I was very happy with my day. The weather was great and the ride contained no less than three category 4 off-road climbs! Strava data here.


Ride 2 - Newbridge, Newport, Bowcombe Estate

Rain and mist. I looked at the weather forecast for the day and decided against taking the camera with me. Armed with my trusty cycling map and the GPS on my phone, I headed off on the trails looking for a more off-road based adventure than the cycle path and coast road ride of the day before. I couldn't resist riding the Tennyson Trail all the way to Newport and then set about finding a bridleway just after Carisbrooke Castle. I eventually found it and immediately regretted not having the camera! It was a unique experience riding this bridleway - I couldn't see how it was possible to ride a horse up it - it was far too cramped! The trees and bushes either side met overhead so that even I had to duck at times! The bridleway was a climb that just kept on going! For just over a mile, I rode up this chalky path surrounded both sides and above by greenery. I'm not ashamed to admit that at times it felt a little creepy, being totally isolated in a mile-long dark tunnel of vegetation! But I soon emerged into rolling countryside and farmland, and then got utterly lost.
After a climb which defeated me and reduced me to pushing uphill, I was on one of the highest points of the island, surrounded my driving rain, mist and howling winds. My map was wet and torn and the rain on the screen of my phone stopped it responding to my fingers. I simply couldn't find a way past the Bowcombe Estate. According to my map, this area should have been a network of bridleways running through farmland. All I seemed to find were electric fences behind which were game birds being fed in order to be shot at some later date. It was over an hour before I finally gave up and headed for the nearest road. During that time, there was a point where I couldn't figure a way out and ended up off the trails, pushing my bike up a steep hill in the long grass while mist and rain made sure that both me and my map were soaked to the point of uselessness!
I followed the Tennyson Trail back to the west of the island and then got on the road to get back to the caravan. This ride was a hard 30 miles including five category 4 climbs! Strava data here.

Ride 3 - Newbridge, Freshwater Bay, Shalcombe

A beautiful sunny day. I got up on to the Tennyson Trail once again but this time headed west, through the golf course, and down to Freshwater Bay. The golfers didn't seem to mind my being there, but at the same time, they didn't acknowledge my existence either. The run down into the bay was fast and slippery and fun, and I met a local at the bottom who said I must be mad. She couldn't believe it when I explained that I would be riding back up it in a little while! Freshwater Bay itself is a lovely little place:

Timed shot, missed off the top of my head! My trusty, dried-off map in my back pocket.

How much blue is too much?

After spending some time looking at the sea, I found a friendly little cafe and sat down to tea and cake. There were 4 roadies in there and we tried to have a chat but their routes and my routes were alien to each other! So we talked about Geraint Thomas headbutting a telegraph pole instead.

Velocake

Back onto the Tennyson Trail and I found it rather busy. I chatted to walkers including two groups of young people, one from America and one from London. There were a lot of cows on the trail too. 

The white line is part of the Tennyson Trail heading west.

After bombing it down the lovely descent (and getting both wheels off the ground again) I turned left and left again in order to explore a bit of a forest I'd spotted on previous rides. After a long, hot steep climb, I found some nice fast fire road type riding, but couldn't find any single track. I met a guy on an expensive Specialized but he was too cool to say hello back. It was still lovely to be speeding downhill in a forest.

This is nature

On the way back to base, I took to the lanes to have a look at a couple of country pubs we were considering having dinner in. Later that evening, we ended up at the Horse and Groom and it was very nice and very expensive. Strava data here.


Ride 4 - Newbridge, Niton, Newport

I started off on the Tennyson Trail as usual but pretty soon turned off south to follow some bridleways on my map. I found some lovely countryside, but didn't find the route I was looking for and actually ended up riding through someone's farm. Unfortunately, I got more and more off course as the day went on - I guess the map could have been more accurate and would be a lot easier to follow if I'd just stuck to the country lanes. But that's boring on a mountain bike.

I didn't know where I was and this didn't help!

The day got hotter and I eventually had to admit that I couldn't find the route I wanted so had to make it up as I went along. This resulted in a lot of turning around, thorny, stinger-filled diversions and some unwanted A road riding.

Narrower than it looks

Ouch

I ended up chasing these sheep up this narrow chute. They were terrified of me. My wheels ended up covered in very fresh sheep shit.

I can see for miles.

A few seconds after I realised that I was utterly lost!

This is very steep and very rooty and typical of the type of riding I found on ride 4

For at least 2 hours I was completely alone on some technical trails that went up and down very steeply indeed. I don't mind admitting that I walked down two of the sections - they were very steep and obviously I hadn't ridden them before, so I didn't want to take too many chances... If I'd broken my leg, I'd probably still be there now. It was completely deserted!

I was VERY glad to find these signs!

Eventually, I emerged on to the Red Squirrel Trail - the southern section of the cycle path I'd ridden on Ride 1. It felt great to get up to speed on some flat fire roads and whiz past the groups of tourists chatting on their hybrids, The trail was punctuated by 'STOP, LOOK, LISTEN' notices which pointed out interesting things you might encounter along the way (such as dragonflies and types of birds etc). I arrived at Carisbrooke Castle and met the rest of the family. Lucy bought me some flapjack and, during the course of a cup of tea, I tried to express what a beautiful, exhausting, exhilarating, lonely adventure I'd had today. The kids were more interested in the fact that I had sheep shit on my socks.

I got back on the Tennyson Trail to ride west and soon realised how much harder it was going that way! 42 miles with two category 4 climbs. Phew! Strava data here.


Day 5 - Newbridge, The Needles, Yarmouth

Today, I was mostly on the roads. During the climb up on to the Tennyson Trail, I almost turned back - my legs were empty and I struggled to find the motivation. Once on the trail, however, I cruised through the golf course and down to Freshwater Bay and felt much better! From there, I cycled out to have a look at the Needles - a fantastic bit of landscape at the western edge of the island. Unfortunately, I couldn't get near it - someone has built a tacky theme park around it! I quickly turned around and headed off east along the coast road. I made it to Yarmouth Harbour and took some nice shots, and then, after some gift shopping in Yarmouth itself, I headed back to base with shaky legs and an empty belly. Strava data here.

I would recommend the Isle of Wight to a mountain biker as long as they are prepared to do a lot of hard slog and not to expect flowing single track at every turn. It helps if you appreciate nature and beautiful landscapes and are interested in more than just speed and thrills. I rode a total of 147 miles over 5 days and never got bored. 

I'm glad I didn't take the road bike.

An active weekend

On Saturday July 11th, Martha and I took part in the 2015 club karate competition.

On Sunday July 12th, Jonnie and I rode in the Change Gear Solihull 76 mile sportive.

It was a busy weekend...

The karate competition was a relaxed, friendly, but still competitive event featuring karateka of all ages and abilities. Competitors were grouped according to age (3 divisions) and then by colour of belt (3 divisions). I was looking forward to competing against people I hadn't met before and seeing how well my kata and kumite stood up to theirs! 
Martha was the first of the two of us to compete. She had entered the kata competition in the 11-16 year old age group for those wearing green or purple belts. Her kata performance was strong even though she was very nervous. She was bitterly disappointed not to get a medal this year but I was very proud of her and she should be too. 

My first event was a bit of a surprise - I appeared to have been entered into an ippon kumite event along with the brown and black belts! I explained to the Sensei in charge that I hadn't put my name down for this event but he let me know that Sensei Gary Beggan had entered me for it 'as a warm up'. After a bit of a mental scramble I quickly selected some old techniques that I had been taught by Sensei Paul Hexley about 14 years ago, one of which was a take-down. I was very surprised to get past a 1st kyu in the first round to take the bronze medal!

I was disappointed by the rest of the events I had entered, however. At my own level (6th, 5th and 4th kyu), there was a distinct lack of competitors compared to the brown and black belt events! I had hoped to compete against karateka I hadn't met before, from some of the dojos around the midlands where I hadn't trained. Unfortunately, only members from the Tuesday night dojo had entered so it felt more like a training session than a competition. I was fortunate enough to take 2 golds and a silver but would have enjoyed pitting myself against more competitors!

The organisation was relaxed, fun and friendly with lots of advice and encouragement from the instructors and spectators. It was a great family day out with lots of Ruach members working together and getting to know each other a little better. 

The following day, Jonnie and I turned up at Tudor Grange leisure centre, Solihull to ride the inaugural Change Gear 76 mile sportive. We were issued with numbers and timing chips and cable ties that were far too small. Then we were given a mini-lecture about food stations and cut-off times.

Once on the road we found that we were on a familiar route until we reached Lowsonford. After that, it was all new to me. There was the usual mix of quiet country lanes with the quick dash along an A road or two. Heading west, the wind came up and Jonnie had to dig in to drag us along through it. Then, as we reached The Lenches, the heavens opened...

Wikipedia describes 'lench' as meaning 'rising ground'. And that's putting it mildly. We had to ride up four sharp climbs to get to each lench - Church Lench, Ab Lench, Sheriffs Lench and Rous Lench. Of course, going up in the rain doesn't present much of a problem (if the legs and lungs are strong enough) but for me, descending in the wet is a bit of an issue. I didn't have the downhill skiing skills of Jonnie so I lost sight of him on one of the descents. Unfortunately, the downpour of rain was such that Jonnie's Garmin had stopped working! The reduced visibility meant that he missed one of the signs and ended up taking a wrong turn.

We eventually met up with the help of a couple of friendly chaps at the second feed station.

On the subject of feed stations - it would seem that the organisers had decided what to provide based on what they had seen of professional bike riders on Eurosport. There were energy drinks, energy gels, no chairs and no toilets. Which is fine if your name is Vincenzo Nibali because you don't stop, you can have your energy gel on the bike, and you urinate while riding along one handed at 25mph. Amateur cyclists don't necessarily want an energy gel. We want a cup of tea and a slice of cake. And a wee. And a nice sit down. Dynamic Rides got it right when a few of us rode the 100 mile sportive last year - they had the local WI presenting tables groaning under the weight of homemade cakes and flapjack, in a town hall with toilets and chairs. Heaven!

Anyhoo, Jonnie and I were glad to see the back of the foul weather and we soon got back into a rhythm. We finished the day not quite dead last, but almost! But we didn't care, we stretched out in the sunshine in my back garden while Lucy fetched us beer and crisps. 

A marvelous weekend of sporting activities!

Life Cycles

Dad died on March 26th this year.

Since then, I've tried twice to update my blog, but it seemed too self indulgent somehow, too irrelevant. Today changed that, and, as usual, I can thank the bicycle.

In recent years, I've often been accused of having no emotions. This is because some people can be confused by the fact that I don't become emotional. I have very different ways of dealing with things compared with how I used to, but that doesn't mean I don't feel anything anymore. I have nothing against those who show their emotions easily. Depending on which texts you read, the samurai of Imperial Japan would cry at the drop of a hat! Shedding manly tears at feats of bravery or sacrifice, a samurai would think nothing of blubbering in front of others. This would certainly not mean any loss of honour. However, this is not something I choose to do anymore. I still express my feelings, but not as others would expect.

People deal with negative emotions in different ways: Some people eat comfort food, some people binge drink. Some talk to friends, some become withdrawn. There may be those that turn to drugs (legal or otherwise) or counselling, meditation, crying, TV, violence, housework, screaming, massage...
I turn to cycling.
Actually, that's not fair on my other forms of exercise. There's a lot to be said for the healing power of Karate given the immense concentration required to perform a technique correctly. Weight training can invigorate the mind while it punishes the muscles in your body. Running gives a person time to reflect and find the inner calm as the body settles into a rhythm. However, it is the bike that calls to me the most - that tempts me out outdoors to test myself once again. To find myself.


So, the bike. Today was glorious. Right from the start the sun was bright, the wind little more than a playful breeze, and the roads bone dry. Jonnie and I set off towards Honiley at a little after 8:30 as soon as I had swapped my all-weather tyre for 23mm Italian rubber. Jonnie was in good spirits and we set about trying to find some Strava PRs inbetween telling stories and chatting. We cruised through Snitterfield, some 20 miles later, with an average of 15.8 mph which was very respectable for us. I took over at the front and lent into the bike. We arrived at our tea stop with the average still way above 15mph.

A puncture as soon as we set off didn't spoil our mood. We sat on a garden wall to repair Jonnie's flat tyre and the owner of the garden came out to chat. He was a respectable gentleman in his 70s, maybe even 80s and he told us about how he used to cycle - sometimes as far as 20 miles in a day! I couldn't help but wonder what cycling stories I'd have to tell when I reached his age.

On the way home, the target was clear: keep the average above 15mph in the 16  miles of climbing that lay before us. I took the lead and applied myself to the task, Jonnie hot on my wheel. 

And then it was Forde Hall Lane and I was climbing.
Suddenly alone, I settled into the pain and found myself momentarily free of the physical demands of the body, my mind free to wander, perfectly relaxed. I was aware of the weight of the heat of the sun pressing on me, the brilliant colours of the sky and vegetation all around. The hum of the wheels on the road was the only sound I could focus on. The bike will set you free, and there I was, floating. I felt the cycles within me, of the human body, of life and death. I hoped there was a God and I pressed harder on the pedals and I saw Dad fishing with Grandad on a wide slow-moving river in some neverending perfect vision of English countryside. The gears changed without me having to think about it and everything I had done in my life led up to the point where I reached the top of the climb and then the road levelled and my breathing slowed and the bike carried me along home.

And the wheel turned.



42miles at 15.2mph

The Mad March Hare 2015

OK
I think I'm finally ready to talk about it.

Sid and me before we set off (still smiling)

I'd been very excited about The Mad March Hare - mainly because I felt I'd trained hard for it and that I would be riding with my brother for the first time since we were about 15 and 12 years old! I even described the sensation to Lucy as being similar to the way you feel at Christmas Eve when you're a kid.
My bro Sid arrived on Saturday and we fed him chicken and pasta and he even helped himself to one of my beers! His bike was a disgrace - covered in black muck, it looked like it had never been cleaned. I got it up on the workstand and we set about adjusting the brakes, straightening the handlebars and getting the grime off it. Underneath the dirt was a very handsome Specialized Allez Elite.

We woke up to a grey Sunday. I had a breakfast of eggs and bacon followed by fruit and a large slice of cake. Sid had muesli. We called round for Uncle Jonnie at 8:30 (he lives less than a mile away) and then took a nice easy 5 mile pedal to the start line. We met up with Fast Ant and Roger and after distributing homemade flapjack (and Christmas cake for Jonnie!) we rolled over the timing mat and headed off into the countryside.

For the most part, the route was fine. It was mainly unfamiliar roads which was a nice change after all the training we'd done on the same old lanes. However, it was nearly all downhill for the first 30 miles or so and it was quickly apparent that I was still struggling to descend properly. I was never good at descending, but since my crash I've been extra nervous going downhill. On the day, this meant that I'd get left behind as the rest of the lads wooshed down the hills, then I'd have to increase my efforts to catch up with them again when the road levelled. Every time.
It was wearing me out.

Sid and Jonnie helpfully observe Fast Ant changing an inner tube.

Fast Ant was our super domestique. He spent most of the ride out front, churning round his enormous gear, in his track suit bottoms and t-shirt. The rest of us with our high cadence and lycra could never hope to match him!

My brother was probably the least properly prepared. It was obvious that his seat was too low for him and so he wasn't making full use of his leg muscles. However, because some assistant in Evans Cycles had told him that he didn't need to adjust his new bicycle AT ALL because it was already perfect for him, Sid didn't want to tamper with his set up. He was also wearing trainers. Normal trainers for running. This meant that he couldn't even use the toe clips on his plastic pedals so essentially he was riding flats! When you consider that he was also giving up sweet things for lent so couldn't refuel with Lucy's flapjack, it was apparent that he was at a major disadvantage.
But you'd never know. He may have found himself at the back during flat sections, but he was rarely off the back. He descended well and held his own on the climbs. Built like Marcel Kittel, once he gets the right pedals and saddle height, he'll be a very useful cyclist indeed.

At the halfway point in the Cotswolds, instead of a feedstation, we found Saintbury Hill. This hill is the most challenging climb I've attempted outside of Wales. At over 1.2 miles and 9% average gradient, it is recognised as a category 3 climb and has been used twice for the national hill climb championships.

When we arrived at the start of it, Fast Ant didn't seem to slow down and simply disappeared up the climb, not to be seen for the next 15 minutes! I was second in line for the first half of the climb. Spinning my legs round in my tiniest gear, gasping for breath, I was dumbfounded when I witnessed Roger, a man over 20 years my senior, ride past me! And he kept on going! We rode past people resting at the side of the road, and then into silence when all I could hear was my own ragged suffering.

Sid and Jonnie at the top of Saintbury Hill

Fast Ant was at the top of the hill eating flapjack and repairing an inner tube when I arrived, Roger having already joined him. A couple of minutes later came Jonnie and Sid - Sid doing his best Sagan/Hulk celebration at the top (and I don't think he even knows who Peter Sagan is!) I'm pleased to report that we all made it up without walking. Fast Ant even made it without using the smallest ring on his triple!

Roger

The next part of the ride was the worst for me: a long swooping descent, including a 12% drop, on busy roads. I tried to stay with the rest of the lads but my nerve didn't hold and I was soon on the brakes with the handlebars in a death grip. After the road levelled, I set about putting the effort in to catch the group. I knew I would suffer later, but what choice did I have? To make matters worse, Sid had kindly stopped to wait for me on the flat section. Unfortunately, he had ran out of water and when he cramped, I ended up slowing down for him!

We caught up with Jonnie and Fast Ant but unfortunately, they had lost Roger! By this point, it had started to rain, was getting cold and we had been riding on some horrible A road. We tried calling Roger but he didn't answer his phone. I sent a text message explaining that we think he had missed the turning off the A road and that we would meet him at the feedstation.

We carried on into the rain.

By chance, some time later, riding across a huge traffic island, we saw Roger approaching from the right! I'm still not sure how we all ended up riding together again - but it was certainly a very small chance that we would reach the island at the same time riding from different directions!

When we got to the feedstation they were trying to close up. They had even put the chairs away! Fuck that, I got the chairs out again. By this point we'd got about 65 miles in our legs and were ready for a proper sit down! Jonnie bought the tea, I supplied the flapjack and we waved goodbye to Fast Ant - he'd understandably had enough of waiting for us four slow guys in the cold and rain. He sped off at superhuman speeds. I really wish he'd use Strava: he'd be setting some impressive records!

This includes the ride to and from the start line.

The last 20 miles were hellish. The wind was howling (really, it sounded like a massive wild animal trying to scare us off our bikes) and blowing the rain at us horizontally at times. As we neared the finish line, at Earlswood, the roads were slick with running water and my nerve suddenly snapped again. Convinced I was going to slide, I dropped the speed down to about 11mph and coasted back like a sightseer on a touring bike. Sid and Jonnie had kindly waited for me and we crossed the line together. We found Roger munching on his bacon buttie. In fact, Roger, the oldest of the lot of us, even managed smiles and hearty handshakes. You might even be forgiven for thinking he had actually enjoyed himself! They must make them tough in Yorkshire...

Unable to cycle properly in the rain, with numb hands and aching everything, Sid and I wobbled home. When I got to the house, I vowed never to ride the Mad March Hare again. Then I declared, after about 3 beers, that I was never cycling again. Sid, Jonnie and I sat shoulder to shoulder together on the couch and watched Top Gear.

Driving looks more fun.