Monday 1 June 2009
The challenge may be over but I'm still trying to work out what to do next. Since finishing my challenge whizzing around london on my bike has been a breeze. Still struggling with directions and the odd bendy bus here and there, oh and pedestrians!! Apart from that I love it. No dirty tube hands. Think I'll take my bike to the lido after work - so much easier to get there by bike, especially in this heat...
Thursday 21 May 2009
Sammy cycled to the finish line
I felt excited at registration in the pouring rain - there was just so much to be excited about, and I can't believe I'm about to admit this- just being there with all these other people who had signed up to do the same thing as me - that was brilliant, then there was collecting our Macmillan/Etape vests designed by Adidas (we got these free after raising over £350) - I liked that too, then the smiley Macmillan folk got me even more g'ed up. We got our backs rubbed and ate mugs of pasta before heading home for an early night.
5.00am alarm sounds. Boyfriend teasingly calls 'wakey wakey, it's etape time', lift squished head off from pillow (feel like lips and nose have moved to opposite ends of face).
A vat of porridge and 1 gatorade later we had arrived in Pitlochery. After nearly mising the last wave we set off at the back, concerned we would remain there for the duration of the journey.
We didn't, we shot past a number of cyclists and saw many fiddling with their bikes at the side of the road. It felt good to be getting further in to the group and making friends. Ben was so excited he was busy filming people as they climbed hills, not appreciated by all but there was no escape really (got some great footage- keep checking macmillan site!)
I was just smiling so widely. I felt a bit like Ben and I were Mark and Jeremy of Peep Show fame - "we're doing it, we're really doing it!" we both seemed to exclaim. Brilliant to feel a natural high like that.
The first hill we took on was a little tougher than I had expected, but I knew it was just the beginning and I had to get up it. A few people seemed to be pushing their way up so at this stage I felt I was doing ok. We continued and my legs became stronger, more determined to push harder. At our first pit stop I felt great, 30 minutes later (3 hours in) I started to feel pretty tired. Made me appreciate how much we expect from our bodies on a day to day basis - the tipping point is easy to miss.
Then it happened, Ben, myself and a few hundred others got bunched up by a town hall. Oh disaster, I felt a sinking diasspointment that I would not get to complete what I had set out to do. When we learnt that the track had been sabotaged we seemed to stand closer to one another, discussing the news, expressing disgust and just buzzing with the desire to keep pushing on -
and so began the climb, up Schiehallion, 45 minutes upwards in to the mountains. When I set off I didnt think I was fit enough for it. So many had told me just to believe I could and I would. At each climb I turned over Ben's guiding words - 'low gears, nice and slow' and so I continued, with this mantra ticking around in my head and the faces of great encouraging friends and family hovering over my handle bars. After each climb I rushed with victory, I wanted to scream, 'look at me, just look at me do it'. It would have been absolutely unaceptably uncool, and so I kept that in my head too. We reached the top, Ben ahead and the whole thing caught on camera. I felt excellent.
We continued and it was difficult - strong wind meant the flat felt like a climb and my botty and back were sore but the stunning views of lakes, lush forests, fields filled with calfs and lambs, bulls and sheep kept my head wondefuly entertained.
As we approached the end of the track the encouragement from locals and Macmillan staff became even more intense and heartfelt - '6 more miles, and watch the sharp climb on your left' 'youre nearly there, you've done brilliantly' 'keep it up, you're so close now' 'half a mile, push harder' and a blast as we ripped over the finish line. Clapping, brilliant buzzing, bleep piped up the machine which clocked me cross the line.
I was smiling with everything as I rode over the finish- I heard one women comment from the crowd, 'cah did you see that girls face, she was smiling so hard her eyes were bout to pop out!'
They didn't. My bottom was a bit sore though.
I can't suggest this event enough -
I was overwhelmed by how few women were competing. Most of the ladies I saw were there supporting their guys. Perhaps the bike talk is off-putting? I understand that - I knew nothing of bikes before I agreed to take part in December, and now?
Well, I was approachd by a man on a bike near the end of the race offering me tubes. I had no idea what they were or why I might need them - I made this quite clear to him. He shouted in disbelief through his helmet, 'it's for when you get a hole in your tyre'. 'Oh' I said, 'well have I got a hole?', 'no', he responded. Exasperated, he handed me a pack, 'it's in case you get one' and shuffled off.
5.00am alarm sounds. Boyfriend teasingly calls 'wakey wakey, it's etape time', lift squished head off from pillow (feel like lips and nose have moved to opposite ends of face).
A vat of porridge and 1 gatorade later we had arrived in Pitlochery. After nearly mising the last wave we set off at the back, concerned we would remain there for the duration of the journey.
We didn't, we shot past a number of cyclists and saw many fiddling with their bikes at the side of the road. It felt good to be getting further in to the group and making friends. Ben was so excited he was busy filming people as they climbed hills, not appreciated by all but there was no escape really (got some great footage- keep checking macmillan site!)
I was just smiling so widely. I felt a bit like Ben and I were Mark and Jeremy of Peep Show fame - "we're doing it, we're really doing it!" we both seemed to exclaim. Brilliant to feel a natural high like that.
The first hill we took on was a little tougher than I had expected, but I knew it was just the beginning and I had to get up it. A few people seemed to be pushing their way up so at this stage I felt I was doing ok. We continued and my legs became stronger, more determined to push harder. At our first pit stop I felt great, 30 minutes later (3 hours in) I started to feel pretty tired. Made me appreciate how much we expect from our bodies on a day to day basis - the tipping point is easy to miss.
Then it happened, Ben, myself and a few hundred others got bunched up by a town hall. Oh disaster, I felt a sinking diasspointment that I would not get to complete what I had set out to do. When we learnt that the track had been sabotaged we seemed to stand closer to one another, discussing the news, expressing disgust and just buzzing with the desire to keep pushing on -
and so began the climb, up Schiehallion, 45 minutes upwards in to the mountains. When I set off I didnt think I was fit enough for it. So many had told me just to believe I could and I would. At each climb I turned over Ben's guiding words - 'low gears, nice and slow' and so I continued, with this mantra ticking around in my head and the faces of great encouraging friends and family hovering over my handle bars. After each climb I rushed with victory, I wanted to scream, 'look at me, just look at me do it'. It would have been absolutely unaceptably uncool, and so I kept that in my head too. We reached the top, Ben ahead and the whole thing caught on camera. I felt excellent.
We continued and it was difficult - strong wind meant the flat felt like a climb and my botty and back were sore but the stunning views of lakes, lush forests, fields filled with calfs and lambs, bulls and sheep kept my head wondefuly entertained.
As we approached the end of the track the encouragement from locals and Macmillan staff became even more intense and heartfelt - '6 more miles, and watch the sharp climb on your left' 'youre nearly there, you've done brilliantly' 'keep it up, you're so close now' 'half a mile, push harder' and a blast as we ripped over the finish line. Clapping, brilliant buzzing, bleep piped up the machine which clocked me cross the line.
I was smiling with everything as I rode over the finish- I heard one women comment from the crowd, 'cah did you see that girls face, she was smiling so hard her eyes were bout to pop out!'
They didn't. My bottom was a bit sore though.
I can't suggest this event enough -
I was overwhelmed by how few women were competing. Most of the ladies I saw were there supporting their guys. Perhaps the bike talk is off-putting? I understand that - I knew nothing of bikes before I agreed to take part in December, and now?
Well, I was approachd by a man on a bike near the end of the race offering me tubes. I had no idea what they were or why I might need them - I made this quite clear to him. He shouted in disbelief through his helmet, 'it's for when you get a hole in your tyre'. 'Oh' I said, 'well have I got a hole?', 'no', he responded. Exasperated, he handed me a pack, 'it's in case you get one' and shuffled off.
Tuesday 19 May 2009
Brilliant, amazing, quick sign up for 2010
Apologies for the delay on this folks - I have been out of reach enjoying the Scottish countryside after my 81 mile challenge on Sunday. Unfortunately the effects of a long day travelling back down south mean this post will be brief- however I will come back with more detail on the adventure this week.
In short - it was excellent, one of the best things I have ever signed up to. The route was stunningly beautiful and the comradery deeply exciting. I really did feel part of something big, something important and challengeing.
The organisers, supporters and Macmillan staff (massive thanks to Ellie who told me I could get up those hills and was at every point both encouraging and supportive) absolutely made the event. At every bend of the course there was someone there to support us- whether it was the local community cheering us on or a Macmillan volunteer who had peeled all the bananas for us which at 75 miles meant everything.
More on the actual event soon - as well as some footage which should be up next week on the Macmillan website - keep checking and let me know how you found the event. If you're interested in taking part and want to ask me a few questions please feel free to ask!!
In short - it was excellent, one of the best things I have ever signed up to. The route was stunningly beautiful and the comradery deeply exciting. I really did feel part of something big, something important and challengeing.
The organisers, supporters and Macmillan staff (massive thanks to Ellie who told me I could get up those hills and was at every point both encouraging and supportive) absolutely made the event. At every bend of the course there was someone there to support us- whether it was the local community cheering us on or a Macmillan volunteer who had peeled all the bananas for us which at 75 miles meant everything.
More on the actual event soon - as well as some footage which should be up next week on the Macmillan website - keep checking and let me know how you found the event. If you're interested in taking part and want to ask me a few questions please feel free to ask!!
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Tip top recommendation
I went to my first tap class last night at Pineapple Studios - can't say I felt very fred or ginger at any point but had so much fun I came home and tap danced for my friends (felt about 6 again - proudly showing off newly acquired skills to a patient mother). That excited them in turn and we ended up rolling back the living room carpet and dancing to 'I've got the power' for 2 hours.
Highly recommended.
Highly recommended.
Monday 20 April 2009
Saucy little roadster
On Saturday I purchased a beautiful new road bike - she's black, with a subtle yet distinctive patch of rainbow tattooed on the main frame, slender and light with a curved bar. Ben just kept staring at her which was a little off-putting. It is a sexy bike. And when on it, I feel sexy.
I had never really considered this a possibility. The speed exhilarating, handle bars low, your back dropped, hands grip tightly onto rubber bound handles, feet held in place and legs spin. You stop at lights and you're up front ahead of the dirty traffic, perched lightly on your saddle, a foot in the pedal, the other just touching the ground. Hand on hip for stability the other stretched forward on the handle bar, the sun is hovering and the warmth spreads under your helmet. Then you're off, those first few pushes work your legs and speed builds quickly. I felt majestic -part human, part machine.
While there was beauty to speak of, there too was pain. Ben's friend joined us, a potential half iron man contender, who set the pace. Ben kept close behind, and I, full of pride, worked hard to maintain my speed. Not only did it hurt, but it got awfully boring at times. Music may well have helped, but I had cars and buses to listen out for.
Arriving home, my bottom was bruised and my limbs began to ache deeply - exhausted and unable to move we ordered take out and consoled ourselves with it on the sofa. That was about 4 hours riding time, with frequent breaks on flat land.
Need to up the ante in the next two weeks or there might be trouble ahead.
I had never really considered this a possibility. The speed exhilarating, handle bars low, your back dropped, hands grip tightly onto rubber bound handles, feet held in place and legs spin. You stop at lights and you're up front ahead of the dirty traffic, perched lightly on your saddle, a foot in the pedal, the other just touching the ground. Hand on hip for stability the other stretched forward on the handle bar, the sun is hovering and the warmth spreads under your helmet. Then you're off, those first few pushes work your legs and speed builds quickly. I felt majestic -part human, part machine.
While there was beauty to speak of, there too was pain. Ben's friend joined us, a potential half iron man contender, who set the pace. Ben kept close behind, and I, full of pride, worked hard to maintain my speed. Not only did it hurt, but it got awfully boring at times. Music may well have helped, but I had cars and buses to listen out for.
Arriving home, my bottom was bruised and my limbs began to ache deeply - exhausted and unable to move we ordered take out and consoled ourselves with it on the sofa. That was about 4 hours riding time, with frequent breaks on flat land.
Need to up the ante in the next two weeks or there might be trouble ahead.
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Fitness fun
Completely forgot to mention that I have decided to take up tap dancing. That has got to be a fun way to get fit.
I bought my tap dancing shoes last week and learnt some spangly (rather basic) moves off Youtube - of note was the Shirley Temple step which rather tragically I can only do to the right, attempts at reproducing the step on to the left were both confusing and predictably upsetting.
First class is this Thursday - will let you know how it goes.
I bought my tap dancing shoes last week and learnt some spangly (rather basic) moves off Youtube - of note was the Shirley Temple step which rather tragically I can only do to the right, attempts at reproducing the step on to the left were both confusing and predictably upsetting.
First class is this Thursday - will let you know how it goes.
Spin to win
I got there, my first spinning class took place yesterday at 9.45am. I entered the room and saw people fiddling with their bikes, and so I feigned confidence and pathetically mimicked hand shuffling movements having no clue as to what I needed to do. A nice Irish woman saw my desperate attempts and came to my aid.
Once the bike was set, the room began to fill. And I noticed people greedily grabbing at the blue tissue dispenser - obscene quantities were being squirreled under handle bars and I too went to collect my share. There will be sweat, I thought nervously.
Instructor appears, lights dim, music blasts. Ten minutes in and I realise I have forgotten to eat something, I feel dizzy and all I want to do is go home. It hurts, it really hurts.
I contemplate jumping off, sneaking out. Would anyone notice? Then a large lady to my right steps off her bike. Instructor shouts 'WHERE ARE YOU GOING?', 'to get more tissue' she replies. Yes, I think, they would notice.
So I stick at it, and it gets better - the pain becomes a pleasure, the increasing sweat a salty victory.
By the end I realise it might just be ok. Then I spent the rest of the day touring London on my bicycle with friends. That was delicious.
I have only just remebered the absolute joy of feeling truly fit - and it's addictive.
Once the bike was set, the room began to fill. And I noticed people greedily grabbing at the blue tissue dispenser - obscene quantities were being squirreled under handle bars and I too went to collect my share. There will be sweat, I thought nervously.
Instructor appears, lights dim, music blasts. Ten minutes in and I realise I have forgotten to eat something, I feel dizzy and all I want to do is go home. It hurts, it really hurts.
I contemplate jumping off, sneaking out. Would anyone notice? Then a large lady to my right steps off her bike. Instructor shouts 'WHERE ARE YOU GOING?', 'to get more tissue' she replies. Yes, I think, they would notice.
So I stick at it, and it gets better - the pain becomes a pleasure, the increasing sweat a salty victory.
By the end I realise it might just be ok. Then I spent the rest of the day touring London on my bicycle with friends. That was delicious.
I have only just remebered the absolute joy of feeling truly fit - and it's addictive.
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