Here is the event live website: http://www.24wsc.com My race number is 73 and I am in under 25 age group.
Still hot as here but chance of rain some time before the race end.
Andrea turns up tommorow and almost eveyrthing is in place, sort of anyway.
Sweet as.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Two days to go
A quick update from the Canmore Library.
After lots of fluffing around I am more or less ready to take on The Rockies. One of my bikes is all sorted and has done a few laps of the course during this week.
The course is not quite as steep as last year, but for the Solo's there is a lot more single track. At this stage rain is only a chance but it will make the course very interesting if it arrives. Here's hope for a storm like last year.
It is hot and very summer-like. The evenings are long, light until 10:30.
San Fran proved to be not too much of a hassel on the way over, but my attempts at humour in security were not acknowledged or appreciated. Geryhound was lame as, security here also as well, has been just a lame ass bus ride.
Am wishing I had a car to get to the race on Saturday but may end up getting a taxi.
Adjusting to the altitude much better than last year and maybe the heat too.
Sorry to the spelling police - I am writing this fast and on a public computer.
After lots of fluffing around I am more or less ready to take on The Rockies. One of my bikes is all sorted and has done a few laps of the course during this week.
The course is not quite as steep as last year, but for the Solo's there is a lot more single track. At this stage rain is only a chance but it will make the course very interesting if it arrives. Here's hope for a storm like last year.
It is hot and very summer-like. The evenings are long, light until 10:30.
San Fran proved to be not too much of a hassel on the way over, but my attempts at humour in security were not acknowledged or appreciated. Geryhound was lame as, security here also as well, has been just a lame ass bus ride.
Am wishing I had a car to get to the race on Saturday but may end up getting a taxi.
Adjusting to the altitude much better than last year and maybe the heat too.
Sorry to the spelling police - I am writing this fast and on a public computer.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
21 Days to Race Day
Ready for race status: on track maybe solid 7 out of 10.
It’s just as well I’ve been riding in these harsh winter climates as I near my date with the stifling Canadian summer in a matter of weeks. Recent rides on the roads round Rotorua have seen many cautious moments as I glide off patches of crisp frost. So far so good at resisting the temptation of tasting the frost despite its every attempt to look good.
Now that I have finished pretending to be a journalist at Waiariki, I have been sent out into the harsh world pen in hand. I have skipped regions and absconded to New Plymouth to warmer climates and free rent. Two things that bode well for an overseas racing complain. New Plymouth does lack the world class-highly maintained tracks, but cakes and eating etc...
The other weekend an opportunity arose to have a slightly longer than normal ride. A trip to the biggest Pacific island city but without using any of that ever-expensive fuel. Challenges then, Rotorua – Auckland return over three days. I left Rotorua at an unreasonable (for a student) hour of 8am on Friday and quickly set about demoing the k’s after dodging the frost on the Mamaku’s. Eight and a half hours and a million sets of traffic lights later I found myself on Queens Street.
The return journey was to be not such a carefree event. Having gained negligible amounts of sleep over my stay in Auckland I awoke early to get through those horrid traffic lights on a bitter Sunday morning. A breakfast stop atop the Mamaku’s was the peak of the ride. I disappeared into the box for the mindless k’s to come. Regularly falling asleep for seconds, dazed, confused and keeping the wheels turning. Eventually with the air near on the whiff of sulphur my flatmate picked me up on the way back from his weekend adventure. At only 20km to go I felt a day’s riding had been done and nothing would be proved by stubbornly riding down the hill to compete with the painfully inconsiderate Rotorua traffic.
Out of my garage-like room in the shadow of Taranaki I am running my final preparation for the peak race of the year. Many road kilometres have already been seen too. But with it being a mountain bike race on the horizon I am working in the dirty miles as well. Seeking out similar terrain that will greet me in the Rockies is hard in little old NZ, but the basic aspects are easy enough. Hills, hills and more hills. Go up go down. As the fluid like bike situation I have been complaining my rigid single speed Niner Sir. This makes both these up’s and down’s harder and more intense, particularly when doing speed sets.
It’s just as well I’ve been riding in these harsh winter climates as I near my date with the stifling Canadian summer in a matter of weeks. Recent rides on the roads round Rotorua have seen many cautious moments as I glide off patches of crisp frost. So far so good at resisting the temptation of tasting the frost despite its every attempt to look good.
Now that I have finished pretending to be a journalist at Waiariki, I have been sent out into the harsh world pen in hand. I have skipped regions and absconded to New Plymouth to warmer climates and free rent. Two things that bode well for an overseas racing complain. New Plymouth does lack the world class-highly maintained tracks, but cakes and eating etc...
The other weekend an opportunity arose to have a slightly longer than normal ride. A trip to the biggest Pacific island city but without using any of that ever-expensive fuel. Challenges then, Rotorua – Auckland return over three days. I left Rotorua at an unreasonable (for a student) hour of 8am on Friday and quickly set about demoing the k’s after dodging the frost on the Mamaku’s. Eight and a half hours and a million sets of traffic lights later I found myself on Queens Street.
The return journey was to be not such a carefree event. Having gained negligible amounts of sleep over my stay in Auckland I awoke early to get through those horrid traffic lights on a bitter Sunday morning. A breakfast stop atop the Mamaku’s was the peak of the ride. I disappeared into the box for the mindless k’s to come. Regularly falling asleep for seconds, dazed, confused and keeping the wheels turning. Eventually with the air near on the whiff of sulphur my flatmate picked me up on the way back from his weekend adventure. At only 20km to go I felt a day’s riding had been done and nothing would be proved by stubbornly riding down the hill to compete with the painfully inconsiderate Rotorua traffic.
Out of my garage-like room in the shadow of Taranaki I am running my final preparation for the peak race of the year. Many road kilometres have already been seen too. But with it being a mountain bike race on the horizon I am working in the dirty miles as well. Seeking out similar terrain that will greet me in the Rockies is hard in little old NZ, but the basic aspects are easy enough. Hills, hills and more hills. Go up go down. As the fluid like bike situation I have been complaining my rigid single speed Niner Sir. This makes both these up’s and down’s harder and more intense, particularly when doing speed sets.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Pig & Whistle Fundraiser
Thanks to Gregg Brown at the Pig and Whistle there will be a fundraising night on Thursday the 25th in the Upstairs bar to raise funds for my World title defending trip to Canmore in Canada.
Last year I raced the race of my life to claim the Junior World title in 24 hour Solo Mountain Biking in the Canadian Rockies. Without doubt the toughest course I have ridden for 24 hours making the most of the wild terrain of the famous mountain range.
This year the event again returns to Canmore and the gruelling mountain course on the 25th and 26th of July.
Armed with knowledge from last year I hope to back up this performance and improve my overall ranking this year. This will be greatly helped by this fundraiser
As it is on the other side of the world it requires considerable amount cash. Some of which will come from this evening at the Pig and Whistle.
There will be a presentation of photos from last year’s event and the winner’s jersey and medal will be on display.
I will be leaving everything out on the course in Canada as i smash myself for 24 hours, all you have to do is indulge in evening of at the pub.
So to all those in Rotorua, come along for a great Thursday night. And to those not in Rotorua, why not make the trip and have a long weekend on the trails while your here.
Things will kick off at 7pm in the upstairs bar at the Pig and Whistle on the corner of Haupapa and Tutanekai Streets in central Rotorua.
Last year I raced the race of my life to claim the Junior World title in 24 hour Solo Mountain Biking in the Canadian Rockies. Without doubt the toughest course I have ridden for 24 hours making the most of the wild terrain of the famous mountain range.
This year the event again returns to Canmore and the gruelling mountain course on the 25th and 26th of July.
Armed with knowledge from last year I hope to back up this performance and improve my overall ranking this year. This will be greatly helped by this fundraiser
As it is on the other side of the world it requires considerable amount cash. Some of which will come from this evening at the Pig and Whistle.
There will be a presentation of photos from last year’s event and the winner’s jersey and medal will be on display.
I will be leaving everything out on the course in Canada as i smash myself for 24 hours, all you have to do is indulge in evening of at the pub.
So to all those in Rotorua, come along for a great Thursday night. And to those not in Rotorua, why not make the trip and have a long weekend on the trails while your here.
Things will kick off at 7pm in the upstairs bar at the Pig and Whistle on the corner of Haupapa and Tutanekai Streets in central Rotorua.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Here We Go Again
June is crunch time, worlds rise large and ominous just over a month away. Training is hitting hard and time is not there to waste. The weather is playing its part in making things difficult. In the last month 10 degree highs are the best it has gotten. Last year’s preparation seems so very distant but painfully familiar.
I fear it is some time since my last confession and my sins have not eased accordingly. Although my good for nothing knee injury has been forgotten and none too so soon either. My longer hours have meant lots of hours pounding the k’s out on the road machine. Not only does it make the odometer readings on the speedo look good it is an easier way of getting in 4 plus hour rides.
At my usually 12 hour test ground things went moderately. I blew myself up in the first few hours and slipped into 24 hour cruise mode for the next ten. With the exception of the last lap where let a few taps loose. I felt little incentive to push to my limit on this one and the organisers abusing my support crew did not encourage a stellar performance. Controlled then, a check that everything is working and capable of stepping up to thigh plate, pass.
It goes without saying the arctic temperatures bring the need for more attire when in the great outdoors. But when I am training for summer in the Rockies there is a greater need to wrap up. Temperature adaption is one of the killers when travelling to overseas events, especially when crossing the equator and the height of the seasons. So I’ve become somewhat of over dresser on both the trails and the tarmac. Getting use to being on the edge of uncomfortably warm in winter is not a normal run of affairs. But now I’ve being trying it for sometime, I can’t leave the front door without at least two layers on.
With my decent into to my training, and it is a decent. The time to let my mind wonder on those long hours turning the pedals through a blur of landscape increase lineally. Here is an abridged snippet; ‘was that a bat, no wait it’s a nothing. Gezz only four hours and I’m hallucinating. I wonder if anyone else is out this was on a bike. Is there anyone behind me (quick glance back) no. Well I’m banking points anyway. What would it be like if rode straight on at this next corner, hmm could be interesting. Would be different down there, I could be still. No come on. Quick drown that in logic. (Long interlude of me staring at things as I pass, consumed by my perspective changing as ride past.)
Now don’t fret if none of this seems coherent of seneschal. The truth is that on long rides I can become semi-conciseness, a daze if you will. Referred to in business as “The Box”. I’ve taken the time to make my “Box” a happy place. Now it is more of a sphere and is bright friendly colours.
One point I touched on in my snippet earlier was the mention of ‘points’. Again a hypothetical concept. These are sometimes used a bragging rights. A general rule is the more epic or cool something you’re done the more points. Ride to the dairy and back equals no points. Ride from Rotorua to New Plymouth equals big points. Another rule is the amount of points awarded or accumulated is neither defined nor mentioned, merely referred to in relative terms as larger or smaller.
This is an extension of bicycle riding’s inherent nature of competitiveness. Whether a person will admit it or not, most of the time they are driven by the goal of catching someone in front of them or loosing someone behind. I am happy to come clean on this, I am chronic for it. I see the slightest glimpse of someone ahead and that’s it, lock and load. I will chase them down for all money. Likewise a rider or riders appear behind me I will endeavour to keep them at bay.
Such a situation came up not so long ago. I turned right into a road and a little later a group of riders turned left down the same road. As usual I was by myself and a little bored. So I did something not all together nice and taking full advantage of the unwritten rules and I have mentioned. I did what I like to call fishing. I eased up till they got close enough for them to think they would have me, and then I put some coal on the fire and disappeared out of sight. To my amusement they took the bait hook line and sinker. This cycle repeated three or four times before I felt a little sorry for them. One of the group pulled alongside and stated what was all too clear to me ‘we’ve been trying to catch you for ages’. I acknowledged this fact and he commented that his bunch had broken up because they had been chasing me.
So I did the only thing left to in the game of fishing. I rode away again and never saw them again. Unkind maybe, but I need my entertainment sometimes and there has to be the occasional fringe benefit to filtering your life away aboard a bike.
I fear it is some time since my last confession and my sins have not eased accordingly. Although my good for nothing knee injury has been forgotten and none too so soon either. My longer hours have meant lots of hours pounding the k’s out on the road machine. Not only does it make the odometer readings on the speedo look good it is an easier way of getting in 4 plus hour rides.
At my usually 12 hour test ground things went moderately. I blew myself up in the first few hours and slipped into 24 hour cruise mode for the next ten. With the exception of the last lap where let a few taps loose. I felt little incentive to push to my limit on this one and the organisers abusing my support crew did not encourage a stellar performance. Controlled then, a check that everything is working and capable of stepping up to thigh plate, pass.
It goes without saying the arctic temperatures bring the need for more attire when in the great outdoors. But when I am training for summer in the Rockies there is a greater need to wrap up. Temperature adaption is one of the killers when travelling to overseas events, especially when crossing the equator and the height of the seasons. So I’ve become somewhat of over dresser on both the trails and the tarmac. Getting use to being on the edge of uncomfortably warm in winter is not a normal run of affairs. But now I’ve being trying it for sometime, I can’t leave the front door without at least two layers on.
With my decent into to my training, and it is a decent. The time to let my mind wonder on those long hours turning the pedals through a blur of landscape increase lineally. Here is an abridged snippet; ‘was that a bat, no wait it’s a nothing. Gezz only four hours and I’m hallucinating. I wonder if anyone else is out this was on a bike. Is there anyone behind me (quick glance back) no. Well I’m banking points anyway. What would it be like if rode straight on at this next corner, hmm could be interesting. Would be different down there, I could be still. No come on. Quick drown that in logic. (Long interlude of me staring at things as I pass, consumed by my perspective changing as ride past.)
Now don’t fret if none of this seems coherent of seneschal. The truth is that on long rides I can become semi-conciseness, a daze if you will. Referred to in business as “The Box”. I’ve taken the time to make my “Box” a happy place. Now it is more of a sphere and is bright friendly colours.
One point I touched on in my snippet earlier was the mention of ‘points’. Again a hypothetical concept. These are sometimes used a bragging rights. A general rule is the more epic or cool something you’re done the more points. Ride to the dairy and back equals no points. Ride from Rotorua to New Plymouth equals big points. Another rule is the amount of points awarded or accumulated is neither defined nor mentioned, merely referred to in relative terms as larger or smaller.
This is an extension of bicycle riding’s inherent nature of competitiveness. Whether a person will admit it or not, most of the time they are driven by the goal of catching someone in front of them or loosing someone behind. I am happy to come clean on this, I am chronic for it. I see the slightest glimpse of someone ahead and that’s it, lock and load. I will chase them down for all money. Likewise a rider or riders appear behind me I will endeavour to keep them at bay.
Such a situation came up not so long ago. I turned right into a road and a little later a group of riders turned left down the same road. As usual I was by myself and a little bored. So I did something not all together nice and taking full advantage of the unwritten rules and I have mentioned. I did what I like to call fishing. I eased up till they got close enough for them to think they would have me, and then I put some coal on the fire and disappeared out of sight. To my amusement they took the bait hook line and sinker. This cycle repeated three or four times before I felt a little sorry for them. One of the group pulled alongside and stated what was all too clear to me ‘we’ve been trying to catch you for ages’. I acknowledged this fact and he commented that his bunch had broken up because they had been chasing me.
So I did the only thing left to in the game of fishing. I rode away again and never saw them again. Unkind maybe, but I need my entertainment sometimes and there has to be the occasional fringe benefit to filtering your life away aboard a bike.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Hard Day at the Forest
In the course of 24 hours there are normally problems to overcome. Most just slide past with a good rhythm and support crew. Sometimes though things fall apart at the seams early on and you can’t get a break. Instead of a glorious blast through the fine single track, it becomes a slog with the hours still pilled high in front.
So this was one where things went tits up. It might be said that I am not clean of blame. I was coming into this race with a recurring injury. But the thing I particularly regret is not finding the time to notice or fix the punctures on my spare bike, thinking that I have very rarely needed a spare. These would both turn out to be right pains in the ass.
It started like these races usually do. Some tear off the line, some ease off. I shot midway and tried to settle in. Happy to cruise in second and whip into lap two. Just settling into track position at this stage does not usually mean jack this far in. Although I do like a good gap given the chance.
It was not long before a drive live gremlin reared its head to set the tone for the race. It was not disabling, but made the hard and smooth riding I like very difficult. I knew it was not a side of the track to repair even if I was carrying tools, so I ground on further exacerbating the problem.
I rolled into the pits and handed the Ellsworth over with a little disdain. But of course my spare bike now not only required suspension and gears, but also air in the tires. I quickly fixed this with some help. So out I went for my first lap ever in a solo race on a single speed rigid.
Although my Niner Sir is an amazing bike, it was never meant to be a 24 hour solo bike with the rigid steel fork installed. However despite losing time hand over fist I cranked through the lap, then another, then another. By this stage I was beginning to take the hint it was not my day, and became a little disconsolate. The downhills were very painful as I flung the Niner around nearly as fast as I did on the full suspension. The uphills were not much better as the lack of gear ratio variation was working on making my knee pain come to the fore.
To my delight my Ellsworth was waiting for me at the beginning of the sixth lap. I merely jumped aboard and floated out of the pits on my cushioned ride, thinking to myself that suspension and gears had been invented for a reason.
After blasting out a lap at race pace, my spirits returned a smidgen. I later learned that I was the fastest solo rider on that lap by a good way. Clearly this would not last, it was simply too good. And later that lap it all fell apart again.
This time it was all me. I made a rudimentary error and went down in a heap. I was fine but the bike did not take it so lightly. The handle bars were rotated 90 degrees which I quickly fixed. But the real problem was evident once I set off. The front wheel was chipafied or hopelessly bent. This left me no confidence in it given its unstable nature.
Back at the pits I changed front wheels with my Niner and set off again. It was later on this lap I realised that of the eight I had completed, only two of my laps had been a race pace and gone off without a hitch. Not long after this I was lapped.
Throughout these goings ons my knee was slowly getting worse. The pain, although very uncomfortable, was not disabling. But slowly drifting behind my two competitors was becoming a little unworthy of the pain. And just before half way I pulled the pin.
Not a great performance then. However lessons were learned and it is better to have an atrocious race in New Zealand than to have one on the other side of the planet at the Worlds Champs. With regards to my knee, it turns out that I packed up and went home in time for it not to be further injured too badly.
So this was one where things went tits up. It might be said that I am not clean of blame. I was coming into this race with a recurring injury. But the thing I particularly regret is not finding the time to notice or fix the punctures on my spare bike, thinking that I have very rarely needed a spare. These would both turn out to be right pains in the ass.
It started like these races usually do. Some tear off the line, some ease off. I shot midway and tried to settle in. Happy to cruise in second and whip into lap two. Just settling into track position at this stage does not usually mean jack this far in. Although I do like a good gap given the chance.
It was not long before a drive live gremlin reared its head to set the tone for the race. It was not disabling, but made the hard and smooth riding I like very difficult. I knew it was not a side of the track to repair even if I was carrying tools, so I ground on further exacerbating the problem.
I rolled into the pits and handed the Ellsworth over with a little disdain. But of course my spare bike now not only required suspension and gears, but also air in the tires. I quickly fixed this with some help. So out I went for my first lap ever in a solo race on a single speed rigid.
Although my Niner Sir is an amazing bike, it was never meant to be a 24 hour solo bike with the rigid steel fork installed. However despite losing time hand over fist I cranked through the lap, then another, then another. By this stage I was beginning to take the hint it was not my day, and became a little disconsolate. The downhills were very painful as I flung the Niner around nearly as fast as I did on the full suspension. The uphills were not much better as the lack of gear ratio variation was working on making my knee pain come to the fore.
To my delight my Ellsworth was waiting for me at the beginning of the sixth lap. I merely jumped aboard and floated out of the pits on my cushioned ride, thinking to myself that suspension and gears had been invented for a reason.
After blasting out a lap at race pace, my spirits returned a smidgen. I later learned that I was the fastest solo rider on that lap by a good way. Clearly this would not last, it was simply too good. And later that lap it all fell apart again.
This time it was all me. I made a rudimentary error and went down in a heap. I was fine but the bike did not take it so lightly. The handle bars were rotated 90 degrees which I quickly fixed. But the real problem was evident once I set off. The front wheel was chipafied or hopelessly bent. This left me no confidence in it given its unstable nature.
Back at the pits I changed front wheels with my Niner and set off again. It was later on this lap I realised that of the eight I had completed, only two of my laps had been a race pace and gone off without a hitch. Not long after this I was lapped.
Throughout these goings ons my knee was slowly getting worse. The pain, although very uncomfortable, was not disabling. But slowly drifting behind my two competitors was becoming a little unworthy of the pain. And just before half way I pulled the pin.
Not a great performance then. However lessons were learned and it is better to have an atrocious race in New Zealand than to have one on the other side of the planet at the Worlds Champs. With regards to my knee, it turns out that I packed up and went home in time for it not to be further injured too badly.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Build it Up, Tear it Down
In recent weeks chaos has been an appropriate description of everyday life and training. In true form the biggest 24 hour race in New Zealand has crept right up behind me. I now have a flat closer than before to the forest with ample room for my fleet of bikes. Study has kicked well into gear. And above all, training is piling up in waves.
Even with this event looming, most of my training has been with the Length of New Zealand (LoNZ) record attempt in mind. Having tickets to the recent WOMAD festive and not much funds to cover travel costs I came to an obvious conclusion. I rode the 300-odd kilometres back to my home town of New Plymouth. And 11 hours and 9 minutes later, I was at my parents' back door. This gave me the chance to get some very early morning riding prep for the LoNZ. It also staved off my cravings for riding, hence enjoying the 3 days of WOMAD.
Back to this weekend. Despite my routine of "last minute organise everything" performance I feel as if things have a distinct chance of falling into place. Blind hope it might be, but there is hope. With many friends at the race throughout the event am sure that things can’t go too wrong.
After a few practise laps this week it is clear this will be a fast race. There are real steep climbs like I saw in Canada. But like Canada there are quite a few open gravel sections. Of course being in Rotorua there is some wicked single track. It has been a week or so since the last decent rain in Rotorua so the tracks are in prime condition. I think this year could see the first 400km solo at this event.
I do consider myself unusual in the fact that I enjoy pushing the limits of endurance, pain, etc. But I do have a few friends that are sometimes in the same frame of mind. Last weekend an epic was planned. It was floated that I ride to Wellington while my mate rode from New Plymouth. We would meet in Bulls and work together along the boring straights to the capital. Then rest a day, and ride back again.
As luck would have it there were chronic head winds predicted and low early morning temperatures. Even so I was not backing out. So I got up at half past two and hit the road south at three am. The winds for me never eventuated. I battled the elements up to the spectacular Desert road.
But as I neared Bulls it was clear my mate was not doing it easy on the coast. His knee was playing up and the head wind was reducing him to a crawl. Soon after he caught a bus from Wanganui back home with his tail between his legs. Facing a knee problem of my own and with my Ay-Up 24 the next weekend I pulled the pin too. But with my loathing for buses I hitched back to Rotorua. Despite only getting to Bulls it was still an over 270km ride.
This little ride kindly left with me with a recurring knee injury. This originally came up due to what Heidie my sports massage therapist calls ‘classic circumstances’ i.e.: a very long hard run with no prior run training while in high km base training. However, after some serious physio and exceedingly painful massage it has passed in time for the race.
I would like to commend the actions in committing to building the first length of New Zealand cycle way. It might well prove to be a piece of good fiscal policy. It represents a long overdue change from the seeming anti-cycle attitude of most government actions, like more motorways and buses. This is of particular distinction for me as I am not, nor have never been, a supporter of the parties in power.
Even with this event looming, most of my training has been with the Length of New Zealand (LoNZ) record attempt in mind. Having tickets to the recent WOMAD festive and not much funds to cover travel costs I came to an obvious conclusion. I rode the 300-odd kilometres back to my home town of New Plymouth. And 11 hours and 9 minutes later, I was at my parents' back door. This gave me the chance to get some very early morning riding prep for the LoNZ. It also staved off my cravings for riding, hence enjoying the 3 days of WOMAD.
Back to this weekend. Despite my routine of "last minute organise everything" performance I feel as if things have a distinct chance of falling into place. Blind hope it might be, but there is hope. With many friends at the race throughout the event am sure that things can’t go too wrong.
After a few practise laps this week it is clear this will be a fast race. There are real steep climbs like I saw in Canada. But like Canada there are quite a few open gravel sections. Of course being in Rotorua there is some wicked single track. It has been a week or so since the last decent rain in Rotorua so the tracks are in prime condition. I think this year could see the first 400km solo at this event.
I do consider myself unusual in the fact that I enjoy pushing the limits of endurance, pain, etc. But I do have a few friends that are sometimes in the same frame of mind. Last weekend an epic was planned. It was floated that I ride to Wellington while my mate rode from New Plymouth. We would meet in Bulls and work together along the boring straights to the capital. Then rest a day, and ride back again.
As luck would have it there were chronic head winds predicted and low early morning temperatures. Even so I was not backing out. So I got up at half past two and hit the road south at three am. The winds for me never eventuated. I battled the elements up to the spectacular Desert road.
But as I neared Bulls it was clear my mate was not doing it easy on the coast. His knee was playing up and the head wind was reducing him to a crawl. Soon after he caught a bus from Wanganui back home with his tail between his legs. Facing a knee problem of my own and with my Ay-Up 24 the next weekend I pulled the pin too. But with my loathing for buses I hitched back to Rotorua. Despite only getting to Bulls it was still an over 270km ride.
This little ride kindly left with me with a recurring knee injury. This originally came up due to what Heidie my sports massage therapist calls ‘classic circumstances’ i.e.: a very long hard run with no prior run training while in high km base training. However, after some serious physio and exceedingly painful massage it has passed in time for the race.
I would like to commend the actions in committing to building the first length of New Zealand cycle way. It might well prove to be a piece of good fiscal policy. It represents a long overdue change from the seeming anti-cycle attitude of most government actions, like more motorways and buses. This is of particular distinction for me as I am not, nor have never been, a supporter of the parties in power.
With regards to my record attempt - although a record might be set on this cycle way, the roads I am sure will prove the faster and more practical route.
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