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

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!!

Well now. Another giant leap for mankind achieved. Or at least another few pedals pushed towards my targets for 2010 in that I did my first ever full century ride today. And mighty proud of it I am too!

Despite a bit of frustration at my supposed ride buddies who fell by the wayside before it even was a wayside, off I set from Glasgow Green to pedal the 50 miles over to Victoria Park in Edinburgh along with the 8999 others taking part in the Pedal for Scotland event. I had decided that I would try to tuck in behind the first group of people – hopefully gals – that were travelling at the same speed as me. As luck would have it, it turned out that a former colleague of mine was in the group I attached myself to somewhere around Coatbridge, although I didn’t actually realise it until we stopped in Edinburgh. We all came back together as well. Great outward run in warm sunshine, but the return was positively bloody for the most part as the wind had got up and was in our faces the whole way. The A89 route we chose is apparently a wind-tunnel at the best of times so we shouldn’t really have been suprised. What I was surprised at was that I managed a 14mph average because there were times on the return leg I was really struggling with the wind. (Perhaps I’ll rephrase that) Anyway – the stats were: outward journey – 3hrs 3mins, return – 4hrs 3mins. Max 14% but mostly 2-7%. I’m happy.

Bugger it – I’m more than bloody happy; I’m delighted.

The wind conquerors. Erm.....

Challenging? Gruelling? difficult to say which “ing” best describes this ride which put the mountain back in mountain biking. Having never done a real MTB ride before, today was certainly different as we headed for the Kilpatrick Hills. I opted to elave the car at Erskine and cycle the Erskine Bridge to get some extra miles in as I knew the actual route was going to be short. What I didn’t know was that it was also going to be so ruddy mountainous! Featuring grades of 14, 15,16 and17%, not surprisingly there were lots of spells of pushing the bike, and the average speed therefore pretty poor. The cycling (if you can call it that) was tough but at least I didn’t resort to the granny gear when I was actually on the bike. And if the “ups” were scary, picture this: one of the “downs” recorded as 63% in the Garmin. I believe that is accurate as it was as close to a vertical descent at you could get without actually resorting to hang gliding. I walked that one needless to say, which was much more sensible than what Matthew tried to do. But speed or distance wasn’t what today was about. Again, a good adventure and good company. And it’ll have built up some additional leg strength. I’m doing some speedwork tomorrow and Monday to make up for today’s dent in my averages though.

Woah! Steady on there! That’s two days this week when the sun has been shining, and… it looks set to continue for a week. Bloody hell! So, to take advantage of this phenomenon which, let’s face it, doesn’t usually happen even in the summer, I decided to try out my new route – the full Lochwinnoch loop. The route is Home to Kilbirnie on the NCS Route 7 cycle track then back on the public roads – first the A760 then the A737. Doing it that way around avoids going up a number of hills but as it was the first real ride after a lay-off and a flu-type bug I thought that was fair. I’ll do it that way a couple more times to get to know the route then I’ll go for the reverse just for the challenge. I had planned this using information on the Kelloggs site which charts it as 30miles which would have been a nice distance, but the Garmin recorded it at 23, which is more what I would have said it was from knowing the track fairly well. (I shoud have used the Sustrans Routes2Ride website as it is considerably more accurate.) I made good progress down to Lochwinnoch – mostly as there were few non-cyclist other users on the track and those pedestrians and doggie walkers whom I encountered were all very well trained. As it was a decent day I took a photo stop at Lochwinnoch as there were rather nice winter sun images of Castle Semple Loch to be had. Progress on to Kilbirnie was uneventful apart from being uncertain where to exit the track to get on to the road. As it was, I overshot and carried on to the end of the track, which was probably a good idea as it added a mile to the total. Brief Gatorade stop at the point where I should have come of the track originally, then onwards on the A760. Now the plan was to have no further stops on the way back, if only just to keep the momentum going otherwise I might putter to a halt. However, Fate had other ideas and had decided that an impromptu stop outside Howwood was an absolute necessity in this cycle learner’s experience as it was obviously time I learned how to deal with psychopathic kerbs that leap on to the road to attack you. Ot at least that’s what I’ll be telling people! As it was the reason for arser no 2 in my cycling career was sheer lack of vigilance. The A737 is a bastard of a road for volume of traffic though I have to say on the few times I’ve cycled it, the motorists have been reasonably well-behaved. There is however a right turn junction I need to make in order to come up through Howwood rather than go on to Kilbarchan. I was so busy trying to monitor traffic movement behind to allow me to go out into the turn box that I didn’t realise I’d drifted far too close to the kerb. Both wheels just caught it sideways and over I went – arse over tit completewith doppler effect yell. I landed on the grass verge so neither I nor the bike was damaged. (Actually I discovered later when I got into the shower that I’d grazed my left knee and a bit of thigh. Hardly life-threatening) What a daft cow! I gave the motorists a laugh, but next time I think I’ll stay on the A737 until Kilbarchan where the exit is on my side of the road. It was a decent enough run and I seem to be managing better cadence (today’s average was 77 and I am keeping up a regular 80+) and speed (average today 13.4 but I noticed I was doing about 15 or 16 for the most part). Still needs work but at least there is progress.

The serious bit now: I have not been having a good time recently because of the employment situation and the resultant concerns about the future, money and all that stuff. If the truth be told, I am a bit ambivalent in my attitude to it all. I get despondent at times not because of the lack of jobs but because of the merry round of knockbacks which do inevitably lead you to question your own self-worth. But on the other hand being out on the bike and seeing some real progress counters this. While cliches about it being the only time I feel alive are just a tad over the top, there is an element of truth in it. The other element of truth is that on many occasions I haven’t felt so bad about being jobless as it has allowed me to get out during the week when in normal circumstances I would be stuck until the weekend. Appropriate cliches? Silver linings or swings and roundabouts methinks. And I am still losing inches.

Castle Semple Loch on a bright winter's day

Apropos bugger all to do with bicycles or bonsai, I have to report that I got a call from the Polis this evening. No, they haven’t just caught up with that window I broke in 1968 – this was as a result of a break-in we had in early June. In fact, The Dibble had been effective at their job and got the wee gobshite (hereafter referred to as the WG) who did the deed and this was them ringing to tell us.

There were several factors to the story which, when I look back, are either quite alarming or just plain bloody hilarious. Factor 1: the WG broke in at 7am knowing full well there was likely to be someone home. I heard the noise of something which on reflection must have been the back door being kicked in but thought it was the dog roaming around. Factor 2: I distinctly saw a shadow reflected in our bedroom wardrobe mirror doors but again thought it was the dog. Turns out it was the WG leaning into the room to nick a wallet and a mobile phone – us in bed not but a yard away. Factor 3: the same dog that I thought was making the noise must have escorted the WG all through the house, no doubt pointing out items of possible interest ( should never have given him that antiques guide for his birthday). Some feckin’ guard dog is our Buddy! Actually, had the WG shut him in a room, Buddy would have barked his head off. Sod’s Law!

But Factor 4 is the best twist of all: I struggled out from beneath the dooffie at about 7.10 and staggered towards the loo. In the scud. Completely! Only to see a figure in the kitchen trying to get our (unknown to him) quirkily faulty back door open. After the initial surprise, I hurtled across the kitchen questioning his parentage very loudly as I went, at which point sheer terror took him up to the half landing and head first out the window on to our bins. God, I so hope that hurt him or that at the very least there was something particularly unpleasant and smelly therein!

So, the Rozzers now have a traumatised tea-leaf in custody awaiting a trip to His- or Heronour. I was pleased when they told me he claimed he didn’t notice I had no clothes on.

I was less pleased when they told me he said he just thought I was wearing something that needed a damn good iron!

So here we go: this is the very first post on my blog. Actually it’s not, because when I started off on this venture I had it on a completely different site altogether which didn’t have the versatility of this one. So it’s the first post on the new site. Well actually it isn’t even that as when you sign on here you automatically get a little “welcome” post. Personally, I’d rather they’d given me a bottle of fine wine or a nice box of Belgian choccies but hey ho, beggars can’t be choosers! It’s a freebie site after all! I’ve always found Life, especially the techy one, is full of little learning curves like this. And anyway, I worked out how to delete it. Can’t have my blog starting with me talking to myself now can I!