Double Trouble

Saturday 6th February 2010

That last weekend in January reminded me of Christmas morning as a youngster (bear with me on this). The excitement of opening those beautifully wrapped presents and finally coming to the ‘piece de resistance’ – that one toy that that you knew would occupy you for the foreseeable future. If you were a girl it might have been the latest talking doll or some fancy kitchen set up with fancy lights and bells. If you were a boy maybe some futuristic space weapon or intergalactic craft. Can you remember tearing open the box, unpacking your new wondrous toy……..and then discovering you had no batteries?

Argh….the frustration and disappointment of having something, but not having it because you can’t use it. And so it was on that cold and frosty Saturday morning in Pollicott.

There I was glowing in my new high vis jacket, safety helmet aloft, and sat aside my gleaming new bike – with temperatures minus many degrees and more ice on the road than a beginner like me should be trying to cycle on.

When Sian declared “Ice Stops Play” thoughts immediately turned to tea, toast, and a warm fire, but the reality was we ended up in the gym. Treadmills and exercise bikes made sure training for The Ridgeway stayed on track in the mysterious world of pain and hard work.

Today was a little better, still very cold (and a little misty) but this time we’d be away, we just knew it. And so it was.

As we sailed down the lane talking to every horse, chicken, and cow we passed (thanks for the heads up on that one Olwen) confidence was growing. Not only was I cycling I was managing to multi task at the same time – even having time to listen to Vicky raging on about the awful state of the roads. This was fun.

Up the lane, down the hill, up the next bit, and down another, along the pathway that Des and his dad built, and onto the ‘off road’ track that was our main training exercise of the morning.

Sian was up front as we skimmed along making light work of this new challenge, “how easy is this” I thought as my new bike ate up the miles. “Keep peddling through the mud” shouted Sian as we hit a sticky bit “whatever you do don’t stop peddling”.

“What was that you said” I asked Sian as I stared up to her from my resting-place in the mud? Sian was stood over me asking if I was OK, Vicky was removing the bike from across my legs to make sure I didn’t come to any more harm. I have no idea how many seconds it takes to go from ‘cycling down a track’ to ‘laying in the mud’ but I do not remember a moment of it. Perhaps just as well.

The cycle back was a little slower than the cycle out – falling off had always been on my mind and a bit of a worry, and I survived. That said I wasn’t in a great hurry to try it again, not today anyway.

On a thankful note I was grateful for Sians considerable help up Wotton Hill when, having cycled to the top, she ran back down to help me.

Accidents and bruises do seem to attract a certain amount of sympathy though. Vickys four year old daughter Georgina was kind enough to point out where I’d gone wrong, offering to lend me the stabiliser bars from her bike. Andy was impressed enough to jet wash our bikes down at the end of the ride. My family was quick to point out that fooling about on bikes at my age was always going to end in tears.

An interesting fortnight by any standards…..I wonder what next Saturday will bring!!

Alex xx