The Commute

As I have ‘layered up’ and creaked off into the blackest of of icy January mornings I have consoled myself with the firm belief that these hard winter miles to work will be worth at least double in the training stakes, and, when I reach the too-Highlands of Scotland, these nasty  winter commuting miles will propel me up the most ridiculous inclines without breaking sweat.

Well, you need something to keep you going when the elements conspire against you, when your fingers are so numb you can’t change gear, your head’s a block of ice ready to topple from your shoulders and a knife-like wind cuts so deep it cannot possibly be legal.

Don’t get me wrong I love riding my bike in all weathers, just as long as it’s not too cold, too wet or too windy. So on at least three days of the year all is well in my world.

But commuting cyclists without weather conditions to moan about at the end of their ride would be like football managers without a dodgy decision to base their post-match pontifications on - it’s the law!

I have ridden to work - on my trusty Boardman mountain bike (pictured) which can smooth out the pothole hell of our highways (oh, that’s worthy of a blog all of it’s own, don’t let me forget) - throughout the winter, two, sometimes three times a week. While the miles haven’t been massive - a round trip just short of 25 miles - it has kept the old legs moving, and brought plenty of smiley moments.

Despite my earlier weather moan, I can now say I do prefer the bike to the car for my commute, and I’m disappointed on the days when client meetings away from the office mean I have to fire up the Mazda (that doesn’t quite work does it). I miss my music fix but this is easily outweighed by the early morning fresh air feeling and a little shot of two-wheeled adrenalin on top of my too-strong coffee for a real catapult start to the day.

I enjoy seeing the same people on my spin through Southwell, Farnsfield and Rainworth - the death wish paperboy - look, no lights! The suicidal recumbent rider - come on HGV make my day - and the manic Mini Cooper driver - missed you today, but I’ll be back.

And then, when I arrive at my destination, I have executive bike storage facilities at my disposal. No seriously, it was part of the agreement when we moved offices - no soggy saddle bike stands for us. I have my own changing room, at least until they let the final vacant office in the building, and I have a fellow commuting cyclist with whom to swap near-miss stories, weather grumbles and must-have bike gadget lists.

The bike commute is now a highly-prized part of my working day.

Jez

Now get out of that!

The die is cast - statements committed to the worldly wise interweb, to be retrieved and used in evidence at a later date should I not now undertake my stated mission.
I’ve passed the point of no return and well and truly committed (although that could be a loophole).
I hereby declare that I will, without the aid of stabilisers, attempt to pedal from Land’s End to John O’Groats. If I complete this foolhardy mission I will strike a blow for the un-aerodymamic, the beer guzzlers and pork scratching munchers, the legions of ‘maybe next year’ sportspeople, and raise a few quid for Cancer Research UK in the process.
So, this is where the real training, the proper planning and the horrible realisation begins.
I will be trying to update this blog on a fairly regular basis, reporting on how the preparation is going, asking for help and advice, begging for sponsorship and generally going on a bit.
So, if you can live with that please call back.
Jez