‘Cross diary 11: I do a skills audit
May 19, 2012 at 7:55 pm | Posted in cycling | Leave a commentTags: beginner, biking, cross, cycling, cyclocross, diary, dismount, remount, skills
Well. One thing about this rotten weather we’ve been having: it’s perfect for ‘cross. After a false start where I somehow managed to put my trainers on and go running instead, and another where I cycled straight past the park and went for a road ride (avid readers will realise just what this means about the scale of The Fear, that I’d go on a road ride as a displacement activity), not to mention being called a big Jessie by several people on Twitter, I FINALLY got myself and my bike out of the house and down to the park.
Of course, as soon as I was tearing across the soggy grass in the rain, breaking my legs up those stiff little climbs and getting sprayed with mud again, I couldn’t understand why I’d stayed away. At the end I swung my leg over the saddle a couple of times and was astonished to find I could still jump off. Maybe it really is like riding a bike.
The next time, I found a flat bit of grass and nervously tried remounting again. Now, if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that ‘remounting’ and ‘nervously’ don’t go too well together. But still. I managed to get back on while going along a couple of times, even if I was double dabbing (@crossjunkie is shaking his head, sadly). It’s got to be faster than stopping. The tyre tracks and mud ruts from Wednesday’s TodCross were still there, so I charged round after them, jumping on and off randomly. I didn’t fall off! And I only got my shorts caught on the back of the saddle once! Delighted, I practised cornering, riding round and round the war memorial. I toiled up the big hill at the back a couple of times, spitting expletives and scaring wagtails. At the hairpin turn onto the Infamous Cobbled Climb™, I got off. I could barely run up it, pushing the bike, my cleats skittering on the setts. Beyond belief.
So. Work to do; but progress, too. I decided to do a CX skills audit:
Dismount: Not too bad
Remount: Almost functional
Riding on different surfaces:
- Grass: Fine
- Mud: OK-ish
- Gravel: Hmm
- Sand: No opportunity to practise, so no doubt hopeless
- Cobbles: Ha ha ha!
Going up steep banks: Not very good
Going down steep banks: Ditto
Cornering:
- To the right: OK
- To the left: Hopeless
Combinations of any of the above: Forget it
Braking with hands on hoods: You may laugh, but I couldn’t do this last year. Extremely proud that I can do it now
Shouldering bike: Very good (Really. I know. I’m as surprised as anyone.)
Bike wash: Even @spandelles approves, so must be doing something right
There’s a race coming up: 6 June, in Huddersfield. Come along, if you’re around, and heckle me. DOUBLE DAB! AMATEUR!
‘Cross diary 10: I experiment with sports nutrition
May 1, 2012 at 6:34 pm | Posted in cycling | 3 CommentsTags: advice, beginner, biking, cross, cycling, cyclocross, diary, food, nutrition, training
Well. I may not have been down the park practising my remounts just yet, but I’ve not been shirking. I have been TRAINING*. And getting hungry.
So. Sports nutrition! As you know, sports nutrition falls into three categories:
- Things you eat before you go out
- Things you eat while you are out
- Things you eat when you get back
I present here a detailed breakdown of these three categories, based on my extensive experience of eating and drinking the wrong things at the wrong times.
- Eating before you go out
This is the most important bit (apart from number 3, which is possibly even more important). Eat before you go out training. While some people swear training on an empty stomach encourages your body to use up fat stores, this has to be nonsense. Even crazy cabbage-soup-dieters know you need breakfast. Have some.
What to eat before you go out:
Porridge is recommended by lots of people. However, the high water content may mean you need to stop for a wee every ten minutes, which is inconvenient in bibshorts. Bananas are good, if you like them. Bread has a reputation for giving runners, well, the runs; but this may be worth it, for a bacon butty. @spandelles swears by eating an apple before riding about 90 miles. OK.
Note: Possibly more important than what you have for breakfast is what you ate the night before. Curry consumption has been shown in extensive testing** to be correlated with running very well the next day. And no, not for the reason you think.
- Eating while you are out
Drinking while going along is fine. Unless you are on course for a national 10-mile TT record, however, stop before you eat anything. Whether @Velominati approve or not, eating while riding along is only cool if you can do it without hitting the kerb and going over the handlebars. And take your wrappers home with you.
What to eat while you are out:
Even no-hopers like me can get away with a bit of energy drink while riding. As you zip past, passers-by will probably confuse you with someone who knows what they are doing. Avoid energy gels, sports beans, yogurt-coated technical filth bars and suchlike, though, if you are a bit rubbish. They’ll just emphasise to you the gaping chasm between you and Proper Sportspeople.
Instead, take something pocket-sized with you, and eat it. Tracker bars, fairy cakes, those strawberry fruit bars you buy for the kids’ lunchboxes, and chunks of bagel are all good. Anything with a bit of chocolate in it is cheery and motivating. Try to remember to eat something before you start wondering why you are bothering, you hate cycling anyway, bloody sunshine, what on earth are you doing, and snarling at riders who wave at you. These are classic symptoms of The Bonk, and mean it is already too late.
- Eating when you get back
On this, I’ll refer you to @Doctor_Hutch, who states correctly here that ‘you can’t leave eating till you’ve had a shower, done your hair and made some stylish selections from your wardrobe.’ However, the need to eat has to be balanced with the need to get out of your horrible sweaty rain-soaked kit immediately, before you lose your toes to frostbite. The best solution is to make a snack while your bath is running, then combine refuelling with decontamination.
What to eat when you get back
A yogurt and a cup of tea in the bath. Then have some normal lunch as soon as possible.
* in the specific @accidentobizaro sense of the word; see this for clarification
** in my home laboratory
‘Cross diary 9: I lose my mojo
April 12, 2012 at 9:28 pm | Posted in cycling | 2 CommentsTags: beginner, biking, cross, cycling, cyclocross, diary
Golly. Hello there. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?
Well. You remember that ankle injury? It got better, but then I got a cold, so I was out of action for about six weeks in all. Then I needed to build up the running before I started jumping on and off my bike again, so I spent a few weeks doing that. And then: Right. RIGHT! OK. Yes. Bring it on! I was raring to go. In principle. So why couldn’t I actually get out on my bike?
Well, the weather got a LOT colder. Icy some mornings. Snow, even. I started worrying about falling off onto HARD ground, as opposed to the nice squashy mud I’d got used to. And it was dark so early! Riding on the roads with lights is one thing, but bumping around Todmorden park through the woods is another. And you can forget the towpath in the dark, with all that water so close by. And my non-existent bike-handling skills. Asking for trouble.
I spent the autumn at home on study leave, but now I’m back on campus again, and opportunities to go out and get muddy are fewer. And I think, well, I’ll go and practise at the weekend. But then the weekend rolls around, and I think, oh, the park’s full of dog walkers on Sundays; I’ll just get barked at, and have to keep getting off and acting calm the whole time, while the owner explains that “he doesn’t like yellow.” So I don’t go.
It’s getting lighter in the evenings now, and warmer, and still the weeks pass. Finally, I have to admit it: I’ve lost my mojo. I’m scared again. I can’t bear to get out there and realise I’ve lost the few skills I worked so hard to acquire. I don’t want to forget to unclip while dismounting again, and feel those two seconds of terror before I’m gazing at the clouds with a bike on top of me. I don’t want another saucer-sized bruise on my inner thigh, from trying to re-learn remounting. In the words of @CycleBoredom, I don’t want to HTFU. I want to sit indoors with a cup of tea. I’ll just get on the turbo, and plan how I’m going to get practising next weekend. Again.
But I’m getting irritated with myself. Spring is here! Everyone is Out and About doing their first road races of the season, and I’m prevaricating. I miss my lovely, comfy, brilliant-fun-to-ride bike. I go out on a road ride, but I’m bored stupid; I miss grinning and singing through the mud and cold. I miss washing my bike in the rain, with hardy Yorkshiremen grudgingly admiring my tenacity, and thinking to myself: Yay you, Fearless Badass In Training! I have to get out there again, or I won’t be able to live with myself.
The events that seemed so far off in the winter are nearly here. Summer ‘cross season starts in May; I want to ride in that, and see if I can acquire some skills in time for next autumn. My British Cycling provisional race licence arrives in the post. I laugh uproariously, but when I mention it on Twitter, everyone is so supportive and encouraging, I know I’ve got to follow through. ‘Cross practice has started again on Thursday evenings; I can’t go along still unable to remount, I’ll die of shame.
So, I’m off to the park. Wish me luck. I’ll be fine. Really, I will. As long as it doesn’t snow.
Book review: How Cav Won The Green Jersey: Dispatches from the 2011 Tour de France (Ned Boulting)
February 10, 2012 at 12:29 pm | Posted in books, cycling | 5 CommentsTags: book, cav, cycling, mark cavendish, ned boulting, review, tour de france
This ‘digital short’ consists of (at least, according to Brian of the washing machine post) the final chapters that never made it into How I Won The Yellow Jumper. If you’ve read Yellow Jumper, then the style is familiar, and so is the general approach: events from the race are woven together with sideways observations on the mundane, behind-the-scenes life of the Tour. The text is punctuated with pictures, as in Yellow Jumper: happily, you can actually see them clearly this time, thanks to the ebook format.
This isn’t Yellow Jumper part 2, though. Yellow Jumper covers eight years of reporting on the Tour de France: what changed (Ned’s development from a neophyte into an obsessive), and what didn’t (laundry, hotels, food, toilets). How Cav Won The Green Jersey, by contrast, is a detailed description of highlights of the 2011 Tour. Yellow Jumper’s pretty structured, given that it’s a set of anecdotes organised around themes, without much chronology to support it. It has a narrative arc; a beginning, middle and end. It feels measured, and conscious, and planned. Green Jersey feels looser, wilder and woollier; more like a breathless phone call from a friend who just got to go backstage and met the band and OH my ACTUAL GOSH!
There’s a lot of lively discussion of the riders and teams, from Ned’s perspective as a reporter and (sometimes) as a fan. His portrayal of the Vacansoleil team, with their maverick, aggressive approach to the race, is tied into a vision of ‘real’ Vacansoleil holidays:
The beating heart of Hoogerland Holidays is very different. There is, if you listen hard, Lou Reed blaring from a distorting beatbox across the road, where the parents have collapsed on half-deflated lilos in the pool with a bottle of Jack Daniels, a bong and a bargain bucket of fried chicken.
Ned does write very well. It’s like listening to him talk – particularly like his scripted segments on the telly, where you can be misled by his jokey, blokey approach into assuming he isn’t saying anything very complex. There’s a lot packed into the observations here, and Ned has a way of bringing in his considerable knowledge and insight without coming across as pompous, or lecturing anyone. Quite a feat.
There are plenty of proper laughs (like a beautiful description of Chris Boardman’s superhuman ability to be simultaneously awake and asleep, and a lovely account of mutual incomprehension in an interview with Samuel Sanchez), and characters like Chris, Liam, Matt and the infamous Carno are succinctly and affectionately drawn. It’s not just a romp, though. Room is made for reflection, as it was in Yellow Jumper, although the self-deprecating voice is never quite suppressed, so there is nothing in this book that quite matches Yellow Jumper’s surprising and moving chapter on Glenn Wilkinson.
More than anything, Green Jersey is a celebration of the heroes and characters of the 2011 Tour. It’s needed more than ever now, in the midst of incredible betrayals, crashing disappointments and bare-faced cheek. I’d started to feel that the Tour was that flamboyant, sexy exchange student who whisked me off my feet, promised me an exotic new life in the sun, sweet-talked me into a quick knee-trembler and ran off with my handbag. This book reminds me why it’s still worth being a cycling fan.
- How Cav Won The Green Jersey, by Ned Boulting. Published by Vintage Digital, part of Vintage Publishing. Ebook only, available to download from 01 March 2012. RRP £3.99; pre-order on Amazon for a bit less.
P.S. Like Ned Boulting? You might like Gosh, yes! Ned Boulting… then. From those lovely people at the @INBFC (International Ned Boulting Fan Club).
‘Cross diary 8: I try spectating
December 31, 2011 at 11:54 am | Posted in cycling | 4 CommentsTags: beginner, biking, child, Christmas, costume, cross, cycling, cyclocross, diary, fancy dress, heptonstall, race, racing
So, I was ill for the fancy dress charity cyclocross race. Bah! But Primo was up for it, and so was @Psyclyst and his family, so we got our jumpers on, packed our gloves and snacks and cowbells, and went up to Heptonstall.
Heptonstall’s an ancient hamlet on the tops near Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire – all winding one-in-four cobbled streets and blackened stone houses, with a 360 degree view of the surrounding moors. It’s all very Wuthering Heights. We splashed across the car park past several Smurfs and a member of KISS, and went into the Social and Bowling Club to sign on. Inside, the place was heaving with serious-looking Yorkshiremen in Elvis wigs and devil’s horns. Ladies in polonecks and slacks dealt out chocolate brownies and race numbers with businesslike charm. I pinned Primo’s number to his policeman’s outfit and he signed his name neatly in the tiny space.
The kids raced first. Fairies, several Santas, a Kick-Ass and a couple of boys with Bieber wigs on top of their helmets battled gamely with a twisty, muddy course, bumping up and down grassy hillocks. We realised in the first lap that Primo didn’t know he was allowed to get off and run. Oops. Once we’d put him right, he was off, and came in about halfway down the field, grinning, barely out of breath.
We went to the windswept little playground for a bit, then it was time for the grownups to line up. Theirs was an extended version of the kids’ course. ‘How’s it looking out there?’ I yelled at a guy from Pedalsport as he rattled past on his recce lap. ‘Bumpy!’ came the reply. We found ourselves a vantage point on a tight corner, got the cowbells out again, and started bellowing ourselves hoarse. ‘DEG EN, SCOATTISH SMURF!’ ‘GWAAN, TANDEM ELVISES!’ Jimmy Savile ground past, cigar gripped between his teeth, bling tangling in his handlebars, to a Mexican wave of yodelling.
I started yelling compliments on everyone’s pro remounts (it’s not easy when you’re dressed as Lady Gaga). An elf rode by in fishnets and bare arms, holding up her low-cut top with one hand and grinning sheepishly.
Halfway through I realised I’d forgotten to bring any handups. Idiot! Luckily, the tandem tankmen were lobbing out mini Snickers bars as they churned round.
LAATSTE RONDE! We cowbelled ourselves silly and screeched encouragement at the kiddyback tandemist, who had stopped every lap to change child stoker and was now visibly flagging. We’re not sure who won, but we know @Psyclyst did an extra lap, just because he could. He was rightly pleased with himself as he’d managed to overtake someone; as he went past, the overtakee said ‘Well done!’ Only in cyclocross…
Back in the Social and Bowling Club, they were dishing out mushy peas and raffle tickets, and laughing about how the race had only lasted 20 minutes. We sat down with coffees and tried to get our fingers to thaw out enough to take our gloves off, but had to leave in a rush when Segundo started fishing balls out of the pool table and flinging them across the room.
It’s an annual event; we’re already cooking up costumes and heckles and themed handups (mince pies? Chocolate liqueurs?) for the next one. Like the Terminator, we’ll be back. Or – hang on! Maybe *as* the Terminator…
Read the British Cycling writeup of the event here.
Some great images from Mandy Parker here.
‘Cross diary 7: I seek professional help
November 27, 2011 at 10:55 pm | Posted in cycling | Leave a commentTags: acupuncture, beginner, biking, cross, cycling, cyclocross, diary, injury, physio, physiotherapy, trigger point
Well, I’m still injured. What to do? Not much point going to the doctor: to paraphrase @euanlindsay on twitter recently, they ask you if you exercise, then tell you to stop if you say yes, and start if you say no.
Complementary medicine? I had acupuncture (on the NHS!) for tennis elbow a couple of times. The male physio had green eyes and the longest, blackest eyelashes. They distracted me from the searing pain of the needles. My elbow continued to hurt. Until I got some cortisone shots, that is.
Despite being gullible, oversensitive, hypochondriac and Of A Nervous Disposition, I have reluctantly concluded that I’m just not suggestible enough for alternative therapies. Reiki doesn’t work on me. I feel nothing in Qi Gong. Even Derren Brown can’t pin me to my seat, or make me think of the right number. Once, when my osteopath was on holiday, I visited a chiropractor in desperation. She held what looked like a staple gun to my neck. I said, do I have to believe in it for it to work? She smiled tolerantly, muttered about being non-invasive, and squeezed the trigger. Of course, it didn’t.
Hold on! you cry. How can you diss CAM, when you go to the osteopath? And it’s true; I love osteopathy. Crucially, it works, whether you believe in it or not. You walk in like a Thunderbird; a few intense hugs and a couple of terrifying cracks later, you can move. It’s like magic. I never managed to get an osteopath to explain to me what they actually do; they mumble something about ‘releasing pressure’, and try to start an argument about whether running is a proper sport like tennis instead, to distract you. I lie on the table, close my eyes, and visualise my vertebrae clicking into place like Lego blocks. Who knows; it’s probably his knuckles I can hear, not my back. But it works.
But osteopaths don’t see ankles as part of their remit, in general. (Mine said drily to me, ‘I don’t really like feet.’) So I threw caution to the wind and made a physio appointment.
I’ve not had much luck with physios in the past, either, even the ones who say they specialise in sports injuries. I’ve always been suspicious that, while I was diligently doing heel raises on the stairs, and trying to watch telly sideways while lying on the floor with my legs up on a fitness ball, the dodgy ankle/ heel/ foot just got better on its own. The last time I went, with an arch strain, the recommended-by-several-people physio palmed me off on her subordinate. He gave me ultrasound, and complimented me slightly worryingly on my leg length, while I was spatchcocked on the table. I figured I could put my foot on the photocopier at work instead and save myself the thirty quid, so I didn’t go back.
Trigger point therapy helped me that time. I sit at work and vigorously rub the back of one calf with the opposite knee. It hurts, and looks a bit Vic Reeves, and I try to keep the gurning to a minimum, because there is a window in my office door, but it was what finally sorted out the arch problem. Unless it just got better on its own, of course.
So, my new physio. It’s promising at the moment, like the beginning of an affair, where you’re still finding each other fascinating. She’s treating me like some kind of exotic puzzle. She murmurs to herself, Mmm, slight forward lean, tibial torsion, and runs her cool thumb up my calf. I am bathed in hope. I lie on the floor in the kitchen and my sons silently watch me trying to persuade the correct gluteal to work. My ankle is improving: I run, cautiously, across the road, and feel fine. I turn my ankles in, 15 reps, turn them out, 15 reps. Maybe this is the answer; like when the long-lashed physio with the hopeless acupuncture knew why I had pain over my iliac crests when I ran, and taught me a simple stretch which solved it instantly.
Or maybe it’s just getting better on its own.
‘Cross diary 6: I get injured
November 13, 2011 at 10:19 am | Posted in cycling | 2 CommentsTags: advice, beginner, biking, cross, cross-training, cycling, diary, tips, training
So, remember all that remounting practice? I bashed my shin pretty hard on the pedal a couple of times, and thought that was why my lower leg and ankle hurt while walking afterwards. But I went for a run on the Sunday and ouch. Ow, ow, ow. Ankle pain. Had to walk home. Iced it and strapped it up and, well, it’s getting better slowly I think but, urgh. Very frustrated as I don’t dare to run or jump, so ‘cross practice (never mind racing) is off the agenda for a bit. Bah!
And what of you, poor blog readers, anxious for the next instalment? Well, it’s a well-kept secret, but if you look away for a moment while I nip into this Portaloo, I’ll emerge as… Training Tsarina! Here, this week only, to answer your training and injury queries*. Fire away!
Dear Training Tsarina: I know everyone says cross-train, but do I have to? I’m a cyclist! Running is for nutters! And if I swim, people might think I’m a triathlete! Thanks, @HeadDownIntoTheWind
Dear HDITW: Think again. Not only does monomania make HDTIW a dull boy, cross-training lessens your risk of overuse injuries. It also means that if you pick up an injury that stops you cycling, you may still be able to run or swim instead, so you won’t go nuts. And I know you hate the gym, but if you can find something you can bear to do indoors this is a real bonus, as you can still do it when it snows.
Dear Training Tsarina: Stretching is for wusses, isn’t it? Yours, @BunchedCalves
Dear BC: Many people shun stretching, thinking it is only for hardbody gymnasts and attention-seeking minor celebrities. But stretching helps to avoid weird aches and pains brought on by tight muscles pulling your body about, and also means you decrease your chances of having to walk sideways down the stairs the next morning.
Hey, Training Tsarina! I’ve discovered running! It’s brilliant! I’m doing fifteen miles a day! I feel great! Marathon next week! Love, @KeenAsMustard
Dear KAM: For you, the golden rule of training: Try harder, but just a little bit harder. The guy who ran my Uni circuits class used to bellow at us, ‘If you want to get FITTAH, you will have to work HARDAH!’ This is true. But suddenly doing loads more than you are used to ends in tears and pulled muscles. Add a little extra loop to your run; do a few more lengths of the pool. Don’t go mad.
Dear Training Tsarina: I’ve got my routine down pat now. Treadmill Monday and Wednesday; weight training Friday; long run Sunday. Trouble is, I’m bored stupid. And I don’t seem to be getting any fitter, or losing any more weight. Yours, @CreatureOfHabit
Dear CoH: Surprise your body. If you always do the same stuff, week in, week out, your body gets good at it, and stops adapting, and you stop getting fitter. Do something different: go for a hike. Or a swim. Or try yoga, or Pilates.
Dear Training Tsarina: Pilates? You’re joking, right? @NotGwynethPaltrow
Dear NGP: Be open to ideas. One of the best things I ever did was take up kung fu. I was the only girl in the beginners, and I had somehow overlooked that the main point of martial arts is hitting people. Ouch. But it was brilliant: I got stronger, and faster, and had a laugh. Even just a small change can be fun, like leaving your iPod at home and reading on the cross-trainer instead. Give it a go: it might work.
Dear Training Tsarina: All the training manuals say you should get out first thing in the morning. Trouble is, I can’t function before I’ve had poached eggs on toast and two cups of tea and read the paper. Do I have to? It’s making me miserable. Love, @NotAMorningPerson
Dear NAMP: Here’s the most important principle bar none. Work out what you and your body like, and do it. Don’t feel like you have to go running every day if it makes you grumpy and tired, even if Shirley from no. 42 does it and she seems fine. If you like short bursts of effort, but keeping going for hours on end makes you sad and lonely, don’t feel you have to do Audax riding. Be nice to yourself. Enjoy what you do.
*Of course, you are thinking to yourself, ‘Why should I take training advice from @accidentobizaro? Isn’t she, well, a bit crap?’ This is true. But as @spandelles points out on his blog, Proper Training Advice from Successful Athletes can be enough to make you hang up your SPDs in despair. No doubt you have lots of tips for me, too; I’d love to hear them. There’s a comments box just down there for them. Ta.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to my virtual training buddies, @mmmaiko, @CycleHermit and @stuckinoregon, for fun and thought-provoking conversations on these topics. All errors and idiotic pronouncements are my own.
‘Cross diary 5: get (up) on it
November 1, 2011 at 8:31 pm | Posted in cycling | Leave a commentTags: beginner, biking, cycling, cyclocross, diary, dismount, mount, remount, skills
Remounting. A word to chill the blood of the CX newbie. While dismounting is also scary (especially to those of us with no balance, coordination or bike-handling skills, who have been known to topple over while waiting at traffic lights), it is at least possible to break it down into steps: unclip right foot – stand on LH pedal – swing right leg over saddle – unclip left foot – jump off. Of course, this is just the beginning. My dismount at the moment is more of a semi-controlled tumble, gripping the bike to stay upright. Mostly I remember to unclip my left foot. It’s not exactly smooth.
But remounting… No matter how many YouTube videos you watch, there’s nothing to break down. One minute the gal or guy is running alongside her/ his bike, the next – hup – s/he is on the saddle and pedalling off. What happened there?
So here, for the benefit of other scaredy-cat noobs, is my collection of (mostly other people’s) wisdom on learning to remount. There are different options, depending on your general psychology and your bike handling skills:
Option 1: Softly softly catchee monkey.
I saw this demonstrated online and it looked like the answer.
- Walk alongside bike
- Sling leg over
- Little push with left toes
- Off you go.
Recommended for people who can control the bike at a slow speed. You guessed: not me then.
Option 2: Just do it.
- Push bike along and jog alongside it
- Leap onto saddle while going along.
Oh, hang on. How do I do that, again?
Option 3: Err… there is no option 3.
As I couldn’t do option (1), I had to work on improving my chances of option (2) happening. I was so worried about this that I put my bike on the turbo trainer and practised slinging my leg over the saddle, getting on with a little hop. It did help.
Then I went to the park. I put the RH pedal in a ready-to-pedal-off position, then walked alongside the bike and put my right leg over, connecting with the pedal immediately and pushing off as I was getting my bum onto the saddle. This helped me feel like I knew where the saddle was.
My first attempt to jump on ended up with me straddling the top tube. Too far forward, then. I walked along close to the bike, my arms at full stretch, bumping my hip against the saddle. Head up, shoulders down, try to relax, look forwards*. I ran with the bike (it is easier if you jog**) and thought about going forward and around the saddle, rather than up and over*. I counted one, two steps***, and jumped. It worked! Blimey! Partner happened to be looking at me rather than watching the boys circling the park at that point, and I heard him yell ‘WAHEEEY!’. Haha!
Then, of course, I immediately couldn’t do it again. I tried using positive psychology (stop trying to jump, and jump!).
I also used visualisation (that is, I visualised myself tweeting triumphantly about my success later on).
By the end, I probably got it right about three times out of every four. The other times I changed my mind at the last minute, or I didn’t get my leg up high enough, and tangled myself in the rear brakes. Once I ended up with my stomach on the saddle, Superman-style. But now I know I can do it, it’ll just be practice, won’t it? A lot of practice…
[Maybe the most important thing: it is REALLY tiring (both mentally and physically) practising this. So warm up, and maybe stretch, then get on with it. Don’t try it at the end of a long session of other stuff. Practise lots of times as soon as you have ‘got it’, to try and make it automatic. Stop once you are getting tired; I made a hash of it few times towards the end and started losing confidence. I did it one more time correctly, decided to quit while I was ahead, and went off to practise slaloming around goal posts instead.]
* all these are tips from this forum discussion.
** tip from a chap at training.
*** tip from @Psyclyst
Also see CJ Boom’s tips on remounting on her blog.
‘Cross diary 4: I do some training
October 21, 2011 at 6:49 pm | Posted in cycling | 1 CommentTags: beginner, biking, cycling, cyclocross, diary, quiz, training
It is a good idea to assess your level before embarking on a training regime. See how you do on the following quiz:
A. Cyclocross training in the park on Tuesday nights is:
- Better than staying in watching Cupcake Wars
- Brilliant fun! Whee! Crikey, these corners! Oh look, you fell off again. Haha!
- An opportunity to work on your ‘cross-specific skills and simulate a racing environment
B. How many intervals should you do in a typical turbo session?
- One every time your playlist hits a fast track
- 5 x 1 min efforts separated by 30 secs of rest, then 5 mins steady, then repeat
- Keep going hard until you get a Twitter mention, then ease up to reply to it on your iPhone
C. You are going out for a 1.5 hour road ride. How should you maximise the benefit you get from it?
- Plan a hilly route and ride eyeballs-out uphill, attacking out of the saddle to improve fast twitch muscle response
- Plan a flat route and ride at a constant rate of 15% below your maximum heart rate
- Try to avoid getting distracted by sheep and sunsets, and remember you are supposed to be trying a bit harder than usual
D. Cyclocross involves running, so your training should include:
- A 20-25 minute run before work every other day, to complement your evening rides
- Dismounting at speed on train platforms, shouldering your bike and running down the steps to the underpass
- Running up the ‘down’ escalator in Selfridges
E. What part should weight training play in a successful cyclocross training schedule?
- Targeted weight training under the guidance of a professional coach can redress muscle imbalances and improve core strength
- Clean and jerk bike lifts (left hand, then right hand) make the manoeuvre second nature and improve upper body strength
- Weight training? You’re joking, right? When I could be outside getting muddy?
No prizes at all for guessing my answers…
‘Cross diary 3: I race. What can possibly go wrong?
October 16, 2011 at 9:00 pm | Posted in cycling | 6 CommentsTags: beginner, cycling, cyclocross, diary, race, racing, rapha super cross, women
Sunday: We arrived in Huddersfield in time for Son no. 1 (6 years old, hereafter known as Primo) to race in the under 10s. There was Rapha Super Cross bling everywhere, and lots of juniors riding around in team kit looking terrifyingly pro. I took the boys to register; we got in the way, and didn’t know where to sign or what to write, but everybody was lovely anyway. Primo rode off with an impressive field including several kiddies on tiny bikes being pushed by their dads. Segundo (son no. 2) and I rang cowbells and screamed ourselves silly for him. Primo held his position well and was completely thrilled to have raced. ‘I wish they’d had 157 laps!’
Then it was time for me to get nervous. Partner gave my bike the once over and sent me on my way. I approached a very friendly veteran who pinned my number in the correct place for me, on condition that I did the same for him. A marshal pointed me in the right direction and I rode off to recce the course. The first obstacle I hit was a series of diagonal turns up and down a seemingly vertical bank, with hairpins at the bottom and top. No way could I ride that. I immediately felt like crying; I’m not going to be able to do this. But then I thought: sod it. I can just run the whole section. There was another vertical descent later on; I held my breath and took the brakes off and, miraculously, was fine. The course continued through some steep turns (= foot dabs) and then hit a zigzag ascent up the side of a hill. My cornering was definitely not up to it, and I was worried about dismounting going uphill. Solution: get off at the bottom and run the whole thing. Some singletrack through the woods and up and down the grass a few times (those blardy corners again) and that was basically it.
Time to line up. I found a place at the back and did a bit of last minute stretching. Cue cracks from the blokes next to me: Are you psyching us out? My body won’t even do that. They joked with another woman: You’ll be too hot, with that snood on. Her: It keeps me hair out me eyes. I can’t go fast with hair in me eyes. I looked to my right and saw Castle Hill lit up in the sunlight. What on earth was I doing?
We were off. I didn’t dare to mix it with the crowd and found a safer-feeling place at the back, with another woman on a mountain bike. I completed a lap and felt like I was going to die. Heard the commentator saying ‘Well, we’re about 15 minutes into this race,’ and thought, oh, God, that means another 2 laps at least. Help. I seriously considered getting off about 3 times during the next lap, but then found a weird rhythm, and kept going. Getting lapped all the time was worrying; I kept thinking I was going to bring someone down. But everyone was lovely: ‘Rider, on your right!’ ‘OK!’ ‘Thank you! Keep going!’. One guy even said ‘Nice brakes!’ as he went past. The worst sections were the bits up and down the bank, and the zigzag ascent. But even these were still fun, in some kind of worryingly masochistic way. At the top of one vicious run-up, I quipped ‘Where are all the dollars?’ which got a couple of laughs. People took photos of me grinning like a nut. Spectators shouted ‘Keep it up!’. My boys rang cowbells and shouted ‘Go on Mummy!’ So I did.
Partner thought it was funny that I didn’t even realise where the finish line was. I was so massively relieved when I realised I could stop. At that moment, I thought: I am never doing this again, ever. But on the way home, I was thinking: I need to work on those right-hand corners. And find some banks to ride up and down. And I need to get fitter. I thought I was fit, but I’m not. And those remounts… must find someone to help with the remounts. And next time we need to bring sandwiches, and energy drink…
Watch a short video of our efforts here.
NEW: My CX debut immortalised in blingee form by the wonderful @CyclingBlingees !
NEW: Official video of the elite race, and a link to some images on the British Cycling site . Gives a really good idea of what the course was like.
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