It must be love, love, love.

Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it, go out and get busy.    Dale Carnegie.

I had a major crisis of confidence in the middle of February: my old bike was slow, my new bike gave a different riding position (etc), the weather was windy and wet, I was old, I was daft to think I could ride LEJOG when I was too scared to get on my new bike on the road, my legs weren’t as long as I thought they were and…. well, you get the picture.

Simon Tubb (http://www.sjtubb.blogspot.co.uk/) said he’d ride a few miles with me on Saturday 22nd. It seemed sensible to ride up and down our quiet road before hitting any with traffic so I gingerly pushed the bike to the kerb and got on, pushed off and……………… Oh, what a revelation! I suddenly saw why people had been telling me it would feel lighter (wobble to the end of the road, stop, walk bike round, get on), easier (wobble, stop, walk bike round, get on), smoother (wobble, stop, walk bike round, get on), more fun (wobble, ride bike round – woohoo! Success!) and I carried on wobbling down to Hallen (scary hill – walk down it) and the non-existent chemical works.

After a slight communication breakdown I met Simon on my way back and he managed to persuade me to ride a bit further. The weather was beautiful, spring was springing and we kept going from one possible stop point to the next, turning round after seven miles, back the way we came and up the scary (whichever way you go) hill! Yay! Success!

My next challenge was to ride by myself so I set off last Sunday in the rain down the scary hill on the bike (Go me!) and around the Avon Cycleway, concentrating on keeping upright in head- and cross-winds, with my mental sound-track on shuffle and playing “It must be love, love, love,” and Queen’s “Bicycle Race,” the latter’s segue into “Fat-bottomed girls” reminding me that the reward maybe should be more restrained than “eat anything with sugar in” when I get home. Something with a stronger rhythm was needed for the last few miles and Salt’n’Pepa’s “Push it” did the trick, then it was that ****** hill again. I started talking to myself: concentrate……. keep it going…….. relax……...  That did the trick and I rode up the hill with Frankie Goes to Hollywood, hoping I wasn’t singing aloud.  Thanks, Frank!

I’m gradually ticking things off my “Learning to ride my new bike” list: riding in the rain, cross-winds, head-winds, downhill, uphill, on the drops, standing on the pedals (I’ve done that once with each foot – it’s a start), etc. It’s helping me build confidence and strength. The bike still feels a bit wobbly at times but I’m slowly getting there. I ticked another one off the list today as I swung (ooh – get me) onto the drive and promptly fell off. Bike unscathed but I’m now the proud owner of a bruised hip and a grazed knee. Many years of watching the Tour de France showed how useful they'd been when the voice in my head said "Ooooh. That'll hurt when she gets in the shower."

I'm off for a bath.

My new Valentine

In the middle of February I got the news I’d been waiting for: my new bike had arrived. I felt as excited as a five-year-old at Christmas, apart from those times when I was mildly terrified (drop handlebars, different gears, looks smart) and thoughts of “this is going to be fun” mingled with “what on earth have I done?”  Still, I’d paid a deposit and I’m from Lancashire so I went to BW Cycling on 14^th February to have the bike properly set up.

I am slightly obsessed with having my bike set up properly: I’m not tall (you may have noticed), I’m planning to ride a long way (you might have heard) and I’m not young (zip it!). The bike is beautiful: sleek, smooth and rolls with a lovely quiet “tick, tick” sound.

Oli put the bike on a turbo-trainer. I got on it - just (the turbo-trainer lifts it a couple of inches off the ground so it was a bit of a stretch), and Oli stuck white dots on my ankle, hip and knee, then I pedalled while he videoed me. This was not as strange as it sounds: the dots acted as reference points. We looked at the video and he joined the dots, measuring the angles between ankle and hip, shoulder and knee, etc. Then he said something that no-one has ever said to me before: “You’ve got long legs,” adding,”relatively speaking” before lowering the saddle a bit. Ah well, it was good while it lasted. He continued tweaking the set-up of the bike: saddle moved forward, stem changed for a smaller one, then showed me how to change gear. This is all rather complicated and abstract without a road and I think (hope!) it will soon become natural. 

BW have been great: Andy and Oli have been interested in me and what I want to achieve. They’ve taken into account my experience, age and physical fitness without ever being patronising and everyone else has been friendly. I’m confident that the bike is going to do the job.

I went back a few days later to have mudguards fitted (to the bike, not to me) and Oli has lent me his turbo-trainer. I am honoured: he has been National Cross-country Cycling Champion five times and has represented Britain three times at the Olympics. It inspired me and when I got home I set it up the turbo in the carport, put on some loud music and started pedalling. The front wheel seemed to be at an angle, so I got off and adjusted that. I tried the “drinking while pedalling” technique (needs practice). I couldn’t hear the music properly so I went inside and turned up the volume. A few minutes later, the bike started to make a squeaky noise. I stopped pedalling and checked but couldn’t see anything wrong.  I started again and realised I’d left the door open a bit too much on a chilly day but I reckoned I could just about reach it if I leaned over.  So I leaned and …………………………..

It’s not very promising if I can’t even stay upright on a bike that isn’t moving.

Finding our way

“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” – JRR Tolkien

Some sort of route planning was necessary so that we knew when to start and so we could tell people who were joining us en route where we could meet. There is no set route for Land’s End to John O’Groats. Several former Lejoggers had talked about their routes and I had four route guide books plus many websites for reference. It didn’t really help: so much choice was just too confusing so I asked Judy to come and help.  She did. I have never had any one help me get so confused so quickly.

To help clarify matters I had bought two identical copies of a road atlas from which we cut the relevant pages and stuck them together. It did stop us diverting to Norfolk (very flat) or Butteriwck (very good potatoes) but the choice of routes was bewildering and we are very easily bewildered.

I wanted to go via Launceston, Darren’s home town, and come through Bristol, our home town. This is very easy if you travel by car: you just stick to the A30 and M5, but less good on a bike: scary at best, lethal at worst and/or illegal. After much deliberation we ruled out staying in Bristol overnight as it seemed to mean that for the next ten nights we would end up far from civilisation, with the possible exception of a night in Runcorn. We decided, though, that we will aim to arrive at Ashton Court at 10am on our first Saturday as post-parkrun cake would be guaranteed then we could have lunch before crossing the Severn Bridge in the afternoon and heading for Monmouth. The “post-parkrun” refers to everyone else: we just plan to be a cheering party for the last runners. All this planning does mean I can indulge my stationery habit, though, and am developing a colour-coded annotation system for the route.

6^th February
A cold laid me low last week, coinciding neatly with my days off, and I had full days at work, plus a day working in Milton Keynes yesterday. It’s meant that my training has gone slightly haywire. On reflection, you can remove those last two words and it’s very accurate. I need to get a firm grip on my training programme and be tough with myself. Fortunately I have several other people who will remind me to keep focused on the end result so I did a spin class this morning. 45 minutes of hard work: screaming leg muscles, tired arms and the single thought of “What on earth have I let myself in for?”

I’ve done fifteen marathons and one thirty-five mile race. I can do this.

                                                               Any excuse for Post-its.