A busy 48 hours

This is possibly one of the most busy weekends I've had in years. Not because the FA cup final was on, but because today I learned to drift drive on a Caterham 7 in Silverstone. And it was excellent. But more on that later (though just one thing: At the end of the day we had a drift assesment around the track. And not only did I get the title of "most improved" but I also kicked Calv and Magic ARSES!! Oh yeah baby.)

Tonight though I am absolutely shitting myself. Tomorrow I have to get up at 5.30 am to get to Tonbridge Castle in Kent because I stupidly signed up to cycle the Castle Bike Ride - 100 miles around Kent. 100 miles. 160 kms. 100 fucking miles.

The reason for this stupidity (see the topographical map, which basically shows the first 30 miles as being the ultimate killer of all killers) is that I am using this as a practice run for my London to Paris cycle, which incidentaly is the only thing I think about these days. I keep reading online training guides and cycling fantatic forums which usually have such helpful hints as "to be a true cyclist make sure you're cycling 70 miles a day"

I feel like I'm going to be sick because I'm tying myself into so many knots... I am absolutely shit scared right now. This is the most physically exhausting thing I've ever signed up to do. Thankfully a friend of mine who has done the John O'Groats to Lands End cycle (basically the very north of Britain to the very south of Britain) told me that cycling is a mental thing: so as longs as I keep myself fed and watered and keep a positive attitude, then I should make it... And he told me to ignore all other "purist" cyclists and just remember, I can do this, even if it takes me the 7-10 hours...

Oh god.... I feel scared.

Cycling to dumpsville

No, not that dumpsville. The Dumpsville that is the London Olympic Site.

Now that I am going to Paris on my little bike, the only thing I can pretty much think about now is how painful this 300 miles over 4 days is going to be..

Sunday two weeks ago, I officially started training for my London to Paris cycle ride by joining the London Cycling Touring Club on a Sunday 2 star ride from London Victoria to the Olympic site, via the east end, and then back through Greenwich. A 7 hour bike ride, which should have taken about 40km.. Whilst it was good to get some experience of what 7 hours on a bike would be like, unfortunately it was just a bit, well, slow. 8 miles and hour is not fast, especially when the ride was supposed to be the second hardest they do (the hardest being training for segments of the Tour de France). Whilst the leader was really very nice, he did turn it into a bit of a tour guide operation. It started with describing different interesting buildings in London (where the first cycle shop in London was, stories about St Pauls) but as the day progressed the stories became more and more random and, well, less interesting. We cycled deliberately on a detour soley to go past a gastro pub near the Magics house (personal note: The Magic - we have to go to The Gun. It looks amazing!) so he could show his wife where he met a friend once, he then showed us his old school, 3 of the houses he used to live in, the very spot where he watched Prince Phillip open the Cutty Sark to the public, and finally to the place where he got chucked into the mud by some school friends in the 50s.

On the plus side, I got to meet some nice people, and I now know to expect from a 7-8 hour cycle. A very sore arse.

Last Sunday C and I went on another cycle ride with the London CTC. Half an hour out of London, and despite it being pretty much Tory voting countryside, it was lovely out there. And today, for the first time (I'm ashamed to say) I went to the gym to start training on a bike (point - by first time, I don't mean first time ever just the first time for training for this insane ride).. Apparently, according to the literature that I got from my charity, one hour in the gym is equivalent to 2 hours in the saddle. Unfortunately, I really hate gyms. And when I say hate, I really do mean hate. There is no roads, no wind in my hair, no sun, no rain. Nada. Just oonce-oonce-oonce music blaring, and ultra fit people being uber aggressive with dumbells and what-not. Yeesh.


And finally, I've also started my fund raising, which entails me making cakes, bringing them into work and shamlessly asking for donations in return. I've so far made a Victoria Sponge, dark chocolate florentins (whose recipe I've nicked from Clotilde at chocolate and zucchini), apple tartes, and today, a coffee and walnut layered cake. All have been pretty lovely (buttercream icing is very popular), so I now have to get my still-sore-from-Sundays-cycle arse into gear and make more food.

Speaking of sponsorship (hint hint) if you would like to sponsor me, drop me a line at tryingtopanda at yahoo dot co dot uk and I'll send you my sponsorship page... Nudge nudge, wink wink, know wha' I mean, say no more.

Proud day as a cyclist

I hit my first pedestrian today! Oh yes, after many almost run ins with incredibly stupid lemings who just blindly walk out onto the street without looking if, say a bus, a truck, a car or a cyclist is hurtling towards them, I finally collided with a pedestrian. This morning a middle aged woman came running out infront of a bus, and into the cycle lane just as I was traversing that exact same piece of space. Bash! Right into her - breaks screeching in the rain, me bending the handle bars in an attempt to not go over the top, as I slamed to a stop, front wheel right between her legs. I screamed out, in possibly the most East end accent since Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins "FAAH-KING HELL WOMAN!!". Unfortunatetly (or fortunately, I'm not sure yet) she wasn't hurt, and was still smiling despite my obsence Van Dyke impression, was very appologetic and asked if I was ok. This of course made it impossible for me to yell "why weren't you bloody well looking where you were bloody well goinig?" and I could only grumble "yes, I'm fine. Are you ok?". Grrr. I hate it when I want to be angry and yell at someone and they are nice to me. Inconsiderate feckless bastards.

Speaking of cycling, it's only 3 months 20 odd days (but whose counting?) until my London to Paris cycle. I've taken a more pro active approach to fund raising by deciding to start making cakes, bringing them into work, and hoping people will chuck some pennies in a donation tin in exchange for buttery goodness. I write up a little blurb about what it is that I'm doing, what I'm offering in return for their hard earned cash, and if possible a little bit of history about the cake (no not like "I've had these eggs in my fridge for the last month" but more "A Victoria Sponge is named after Queen Victoria because she liked them so much". I've also got my first corporate sponsor! Li kindly donated a bunch of Green and Blacks eggs which went down quite well! Unforunately they went down even quicker with people when I took the tin away and they didn't feel the need to donate any money.. Yesterday I brought in my first Victoria Sponge, and I have big probably drink induced plans of making custard tarts, bakewell tarts, coffee and walnut cakes... I figure this tactic will work 2 fold - 1 I get money for cakes, 2 I get to actually practice making cakes and sweets - something I'm not massively confident about because I get really bored eating cakes, so I never make them for myself.

As far as training is concerned - well.... that's another story. The charity I'm raising money for had an information day a few weeks back that I went to. And whilst everyone seemed nice, I met some pretty hard core cycling snobs - the kind that usually work at places like Evans where they don't talk to you unless you're covered head to toe in skin tight lycra (actually is there any other kind but skin tight?), are wearing cleats, and have the body of an adonis. If you're like me - sneakers, cycling shorts, t-shirt, and not adonis like in anyway, they have a remarkable less likely to help you and remarkably more likely to believe you're made out of thin air and thus ignore your existence completely. Much in the same way that sales assistants to do women in electrical or computing shops. Bunch of ****s.

Anyway, at the information day, I met people who are seriously hard core - one guy had already raised way in excess of the money needed for the event, was doing London to Southend cycle rides, going on rides with a cycle group every Sunday ("where we ride at about 26 miles an hour constantly"), and generally looked at me like I was never going to finish. When I'd mentioned I was learning how to ride in cleats but I had fallen over and hurt my hand, he sniffed "oh I did a similar thing a few weeks ago! Though I think I broke my rib. Did I go to hospital? Of course not, I'm seriously hard core and needed to be back on my bike the very next day or I will die. Besides, I don't need a doctor. I can push the rib back in and live through the pain cause I'm a cyclist".

Christ what in god's name have I got myself into?

4 hours later

I think the seriousness of what I've just committed myself to is starting to sink in.. London to Paris. On a bike. Sacré bleu!

Unfortunately, I think that I'm starting to turn into one of those annoying "cycling bores" because when I got to the pub tonight, rather than really talking to anyone, I started pouring over the latest Evans cycle brochure thinking about all the gadgets and bits and bobs I am going to "need". And even worse, I started to bore everyone with the various details, pros and cons of each of the bits and bobs I now want to buy.

Please god, don't turn me into a "cycling bore". I hate people who constantly wax lyrical about the sport they do and can hold no other form of conversation. Please, please, please don't let me become one of them!

Somethin' stupid

I have today (before I lost my nerve) signed up to do the London to Paris cycle ride for Action Medical Research... it's a 4 day, 300 mile cycle ride from London to Paris (well duh!), via Dieppe, Lieux, Vernon and ending in Paris the day before the Tour de France. I'm not really sure why I want to do this, but I do. I'm kindof nervous and excited about the possibility of doing around 80miles a day from here and all through rural France... Actually, I'm mostly scared that at the end of the first 10 miles out of Blackheath, I'll end up in a blubbering heap on the floor, wailing "I can't go on! I can't go on! You'll have to go on! But give me a backey the whole way to Paris" .

I'll be asking everyone for sponsorship money very soon. I intend to aggressively campaign for sponsorship to the point of obnoxious, until people will want to pay me to just stay away from them!

At least this is one thing I'll get to do this year that I want to do. But more of that on another post.