Irresolute beginnings …

So it’s New Year again and most of us are at the point of determining which New Year Resolutions we will attempt not to break by Epiphany, or, as happens on occasion, sooner. And like the rest, I shall be thinking up impossible and impracticable “targets” with which to propel myself, angst-ridden yet driven, into 2011. “Angst-ridden” because of the pre-event guilt of knowing that one’s track record in NYRs is poor enough to make it pound to a penny that every one of the buggers will have come crashing down before February, and “driven” because we human beings are still naive enough to think that the only thing that will come crashing down this year is one’s poor track record in NYRs. In fact, I should imagine that for most of us except the anal ones who wrote it all down (yes, guilty as charged), we can’t actually remember what our NYRs were at the beginning of 2010, and the majority of us will have signally failed to achieve them.

Ah well. Perhaps in that case I may have the satisfaction of entering 2011 as a mould-breaker, having actually achieved not just one but two of ‘em. I did cycle 5000 miles in 2010 and I did lose a stone in weight. Pity the second of those did not also include the one which is now so much an annual occurrence it has almost become a mantra re not eating chocolate. By Twelfth Night this has usually dumbed down to not eating as much chocolate, and by Easter it has disappeared entirely, along with its sister NYR of not yielding to temptation.

But where did the custom of hatching Herculean feats that one will subsequently break come from and why is it seemingly impossible to stick to our well-intentioned resolutions? It is of an uncertain origin, appearing not to have its roots in any particular faith, creed or other belief system but rather being just something that seems a natural part of seeing out the old and ushering in the new. The issue of why we don’t succeed (and it appears 88% of our annual promises fall into that category) has been the subject of some recent research and it appears to be all to do with how our brains cope with the whole resolutions thing. We all joke about habits being easy to make and difficult to shake, and this appears to be because the part of our brain responsible for willpower – the prefrontal cortex – has enough to get on with in its normal processes of abstract problem solving and handling our short-term memory, without asking it to play the lead role in ridding ourselves over a prolonged period of time of the compulsion to eat an entire box of chocolate fingers at one go. In fact, the annual ritual of concocting a bag full of resolutions, no matter how well-intentioned and noble – is probably the worst possible way of setting goals as the brain goes into a form of resolution meltdown resulting in the inevitable failure of most if not all of our genuine self-amelioration attempts. And then of course the angst really kicks in and the self-deprecation begins.

According to the researchers, the best way of achieving your NYRs is not to set up a jumble of ill-constructed and vague sentiments like “I will lose weight” but to establish specific targets or goals spread out over a longer time frame. This of course has to be accompanied by the game plan for achieving them. So, now that I have stopped indulging in all that back-patting re my own 2010 NYR achievements, perhaps it’s right to analyse why this time around I succeeded in the face of many monumental failures in the past. I believe it was because I set myself goals that I knew would take the entire year to realise and set the game plan to take that into account. It factored in the potential for knocks along the way such as occurred in May with an unexpected illness. It was also considerably helped by the simple fact that the 5000 mile target and the increased level of cycling activity it entailed, by its very nature meant a significant calorific output which led to a large part of the weight loss required to meet the second NYR. I’d like to think this was a deliberate ploy on my part but honesty forbids me from doing so, thereby, albeit entirely incidentally, fulfilling another NYR about not telling so many fibs!

The research also shows that many of us, especially women, benefit from being supported in our aspirations by friends. I would have to say this was true of my own situation, and I would like to extend a lot of thanks to those who assisted me by means of inspiration (the original one and the ongoing), encouragement and even by the use of reverse psychology – this latter from one in particular who has not known me for any length of time but who has grasped that I am contrary enough to do something just to prove others wrong.

And so to next year – well this year actually. I am going on the same basis that more specific goals are required and have set myself some target events (one sportive or distance event a month from April to October) and a training plan to help me develop the fitness to achieve it. Weight loss is in-built rather than a resolution on its own. There is a vague no chocolate promise, complete with my “diversionary tactic” as mentioned in the research on standby. Here’s hoping.

Pre-frontal cortex – it’s all up to you now. Pass the chocolate fingers will you.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703478704574612052322122442.html

I would walk 500 miles…

… well cycle 5000 actually but The Proclaimers didn’t sing about that particular feat.

So. 2010 has but a day to go and I have achieved my target of cycling 5000 miles. Not all at the one go you understand but over the course of those 364 days. In getting there I have used for the most part my Dolan Mythos road bike, notching up around 2500 miles on it. The Cape Wrath MTB made a signficant contribution too, providing 1000 of the miles, and the new Surly even managed a mention at 150 miles. The rest, for reasons I shall explain later, were done on a Taxc turbo trainer. And depite the weather misery which was December, I did manage to do the last 100 or so miles on real roads. Appropriately, the deed was done while cycling with Alan and Matthew my two trusty soigneurs (their word, not mine – I prefer to refer to them as coffee and cake bearers) on a 30 mile voyage around Ayrshire. The last 15 miles was done in the pich dark and a dense fog – equally appropriate in light of my weather misery comment – and if you’ve ever encountered an Ayrshire fog then you will truly understand the meaning of the expression “pea souper”. Or, as my dear friend referred to it on her Faceook wall the other week – a “pee souper”. Doesn’t bear thinking about really!

Anyway, from that thought of pish back to the blog post, and I’d prefer if you thought of that as a non-sequitur please. Now that my milestone achivement has been realised after but a year and three months as a “real” cyclist, how do I feel? I have a quiet sense of being pleased at the achievement, tempered sightly by the knowledge that far too many of the miles were done on the Tacx turbo trainer. However, if it hadn’t been there as an option I doubt I’d have got out at all in the months of January, February and latterly December when the snaw’n’ice hit us with a vengeance, and snaw nice was rather somewhat of an understatement. As excuses go, it’s accurate if cliched so I’m sticking to it. Which at one point I almost literally was it, such was the ice.

The highlights of 2010 probably are:
* achieving 2 metric centuries (Ardbeg committee ride in June, “3 Lochs” ride with Colin Doyle from Walkers CC in September) and 1 full century (Pedal for Scotland – September) in which I “cheated” slightly and instead of doing the proper ton route, I just went there and back on the 50 mile route.
* successfully completing the longer Braveheart route, having done the shorter one as my only formal “race” in 2009.
* 3 distance rides with Charity Adventure – Hadrian’s Wall (175 miles) Coasts & Castles (173 miles) and Amsterdame (245 miles).
* Becoming a Sky Ride Leader which allowed me to share cycling with others and perhaps give encouragement to those swithering with taking the sport up more seriously
* Raising c £1K for charities
* and last but far from least, meeting loads of new people with a common interest/passion many of whom I am still in touch with and indeed enjoying cycling with. Why I even met Scottish cycling celebs Graeme Obree and Chris Hoy and being pleasantly struck by how normal they were rather than up themselves with their own importance. That seems to be reserved for soccer “stars”.

Regrets? missing out on Etape Caledonia thru illness and the fact that as already mentioned re the use of the turbo trainer.

My 2011 targets are not going to be driven by the simple attainment of a mileage total to avoid the issue over the turbo trainer usage. In the coming year I will be concentrating on specific rides – including 3 centuries and a number of other Sportive events. In these I will be concentrating on improving times and so forth. Booked to date are:
* Perth & Kinross
* Etape Caledonia
* Trossachs Ton
* Pedal for Scotland (proper century route this time)
* Velo Club d’Ardbeg Ride of the Falling Rain (century)

But once more, the key point is not losing sight of having fun on the bike in the quest for achieving targets. Altho’ I am fiercely competitive, I have come to realise that targets are not the be all and end all. Gaining new skills, discovering new and interesting parts of the countryside and enjoying the company of cycling buddies while meeting new friends are all as important if not more so. I hope I never lose sight of that.

Now, I’ve just cycled 5000 miles. Soigneurs! Where’s my bloody CAKE!!!!

Flower power

Well now. Someone said to me the other day that I have become something of a bike bore, meaning that all I do is burble on about my cycling exploits. So I’m not going to mention the word “bike” once in this post.

Ah shit! I just did!

Today, just because the urge took me, I revisited something I used to do every weekend without fail. No! Behave yourself! Nothing to do with that! Playing hockey that is – what were you thinking about? Actually, on this occasion I am talking about flowers.

Yep that’s right – those great big girlie things that most people wouldn’t associate with this particular lifelong tomboy. But there you have it: my little secret is out. I am a closet florist.

For a few years, every Saturday I used to buy myself (well, I’d have grown old waiting for anyone else to buy them for me) a handful of bunches of flowers and create floral arrangements. I was actually getting quite good at them latterly if I say so myself. I can’t actually remember why I stoppped doing it – possibly bonsai intervened, possibly other things.

Anyway. Today I decided to resurrect my amateur florist status partly to alleviate the tedium of yet another snowy day with temperatures below -7C. Partly also to brighten up the house which was looking a tad gloomy through lack of festive decoration (HimIndoors is still on his bah humbug anti-Christmas thing so decorations are a non-no and a Christmas tree – forget it!)

Result was fairly good. I’m a bit rusty but with some more practice maybe? good lord! At this rate I’ll be doing tray bakes and victoria sponges for the local Woman’s Guild. Heaven forfend!

it's been a good year for the roses....

Snow fair

A week on and the snow is still lying. Well, when I say snow I really mean snowandice (or “snice” as my bonsai friend Jim calls it) as it has now frozen hard. All very pretty to look at and great for kids no doubt, but it’s getting very frustrating not being able to do anything bike or bonsai related. Some of the good people from Walkers went out on MTBs yesterday, but I decided against it as I have neither the MTB skills nor the confidence to be anything other than a liability in those conditions. I did make an attempt to get out and about as a few days on the turbo trainer was making me stir crazy, but it was rather short lived. I went up to the airfield with George who was meeting with another lunatic to test run some engines. Yep. In the snow. In the middle of a field. With a 1:3 slope to negotiate on the way out. In my nice BMW. I took the MTB with me in the faint hope that I could go for a short ride over to the reservoirs but within the space of 1 mile I had gone down on to the road twice. I promise I won’t show you the prettily coloured bruise on my arse. Just as well as I didn’t land on anything less well-padded.

The reservoir route abandoned, I then attemtped a run in the snow around the airfield. Sadly this yielded little other than the realisation that the snow was so hard and deep that the bike could stand up on its own. Well it did for at least 10 seconds before I did that slo-mo sideways almost graceful subside into a snowdrift. Why is it you know exactly what is going to happen but are totally powerless to stop it? I gave a certain degree of amusement to some cows so at least I made someone’s day with my classic comedy moment.

Ah well, back to the kitchen. At least Buddy had a good time today. and getting back up that slope did yield up a frisson of excitement (not to mention a few well-chosen swearity words) as the car slid back towards the wall.

Buddy truly digs the snow

The invisible cyclist

Go fly a Kite

A highlight of the trip to the Trossachs was a visit to Argaty Red Kite centre near Doune. Part of the reintrduction project for this marvellous bird of prey, they have public feeding sessions every day (that’s session where the public pay to watch the birds being fed just in case that wasn’t clear). The bird was virtually extinct in the UK in the latter part of the 19th century, mostly through misconception as to its nature (it was widely regarded -erroneously – as a threat to livestock etc). How marvellous to see the reintroduction programme doing so well, not just here but in Wales, England and NI as well. The website <a href="“>(http://argatyredkites.co.uk) gives you the details more succinctly than I can, but suffice it to say that it was truly a wonderful sight to see around 40 red kite circling overhead.

Red Kite flight

Kite flight 2

Slummin’ It

The good thing about having a well-off sister and bro-in-law is that we occasionally get to piggy-back on the good life things they get up to. And so when they invited us to spend some time with them at their HPB holiday destination in the Trossachs, we of course had to think long and hard about it.

An idyllic setting on the shores of Loch Achray, Tigh Mor is a largish complex which incorporates the former Trossachs Hotel building and a newer built set of flats in the style of a stable block. The sun shone wonderfully for us on the Friday and I was able to notch up 23 miles on the MTB while making my way to meet up with the rest of them at various destinations.

The 6 inches of snow we woke up to on the Saturday morning was rather more of a surprise, and the scene looked even more idyllic with the ice-cream topped buildings framed against the blue sky. Less pleasant was getting snowed in on the Sunday as the heavens deposited their loads of flaky stuff for nigh on 18 hours and made the roads too hazardous to attempt a return to home.

Made it back down on the Monday morning and got to work with two minutes to spare. Pity the students hadn’t been so dilligent, rather than using the lack of a Number 48 bus from one end of Paisely to the other as an excuse for more snoozing and/or watching some extra editions of The Jeremy Kyle Show while dining on a few additional Pot Noodles. Tcha! Young people of today!

All in all an interesting weekend with plenty of plus points. Would like to revisit the area in less inclement weather as the biking and other outdoor activities are rather splendid.

Ah well.

our place in the country. I wish!

idyllic

twin headed stags


Monkeying around

Now I like a bit of speed myself. Ah! Let me clarify that before either the cops or the ghost of my mother break down the front door – what I mean is that sometimes when I go out cycling I like to get the head down over the bars and just blast it. But there are other times when cycling is at its best when it is a voyage of exploration when you feel quite confortable stopping every hundred metres or so to look at whatever aspect of scenery, architecture etc. is in front of you. This is most always a feature of my Saturday rides with Alan and Matthew and it is a very pleasant antidote to the fast and frenetic pace of other rides.

Such a ride occurred today. I had decided to commute to work (despite it being the coldest day of the autumn so far) and used the free afternoon to go for a wee donner along the Renfrewshire roads in the glorious sunshine. Apart from anything else, it was the first real outing on the Surly so it would be interesting to see how it did over a longer distance than my Thursday night jaunt.

The route took me along from Renfrew to Bishopton and then up the Old Greenock Road to the Monkey House – so named because of the monkey stone statues adorning several roofs. This particular gem is Formakin House and it was designed by Sir Robert Lorimer for John Augustus Holms at the start of the 20th century. Holms planned and laid out the formal gardens before the house was was built, including a fountain, oriental and walled gardens, all joined by paths set with heart shaped stones. Somewhat of an eccentric, he did not suffer trespassers,and arranged tripwires in the grounds to catch out unwary visitors and land them in a muddy puddle. The house was built in the style of a 17th century mansion and its trueness to style is remarkable and fooled many experts. That the whole design was approached with a spark of humour is evident in the carved date of 1694 on a shield on one of the walls, accompanied by the letters DL, standing for Damned Lie The house was later owned by another eccentric, AE Pickard, who had a penchant for American cars but got bored when they broke down and simply left them lying about the estate while he swanned off in another purchase. Now transformed into several flats and smaller properties, it is nice to see the estate lived in again.

It’s little gems like this that make going out and about on the bike fun -and it’s especially worth it on these rare crisp but lovely days. Spirits were duly uplifted, and 30 miles notched up. And yes I did allow myself a little bit of a blast along the Georgetown Road just to see how the Surly did at speed. Marvellous all round.

gateway to the grounds of The Monkey House

one the few remaining monkeys

Damned Lies

It’s Here!!

It’s arrived. My new Surly Crosscheck cyclo cross bike for use in the crap Scottish winter weather so I don’t go arse over tit on the snownice. And after only a mere two weeks in the making which is pretty good, nearly as good in fact as saying your bike is custom built. Oh man!

Lovely shiny bits in red and black – my new favourite bike colours. Will have to get an appropriate set of clothing to match.

Thanks all you lovely people at Walkers finest cycling emporium – I hereby award you the freedom of Kilmaurs

Proud parent

it means the tyres!!

Wheeling to the Wheel

A nice Sunday and no Sky Ride! How will I cope? I know: I’ll ask if Andrew and Flt Bear fancy a wee hurl along the Forth and Clyde canal to that engineering marvel, the Falkirk Wheel. *Gets on Facebook and sends message* *Response – a clear yes.* Now this is going to be a mountain bike run as the path is a bit rough in places and the new cyclo cross bike isn’t ready yet. Plus, with last night’s clock change it will also be getting dark towards the end of the run so lights are essential.

Off we set, a bit later than scheduled but encountering very little in the way of fellow travellers on the route. The voyage through Glasgow was uneventful and surprisingly warm so one of the extra layers I’d put on was duly shed. And so onwards through Kirkintilloch and Bishopbriggs. The canal path is not particularly wide so progress was slowed down whenever we encountered other path users. We reached the Wheel at about 3pm and stopped for a coffee and a photo session. The latter took longer than I had intended but since the Wheel had not been in operation on my previous visits I thought I’d risk a bit of darkness on the way back. Boy was that “bit of darkness” an understatement! Fortunately there was enough moonlight to actually see where the canal was (as opposed to path!) but there were a couple of hairy moments when a barrier appeared out of nowhere and a dumper truck suddenly materialised. 50 miles or near enough and about 3 and a half hours. But a marvellous spectacle.