Riding mo rothar around the Ring

Finally managed to get myself to compose a post about my longest cycle to date, The Ring of Kerry. 

Playlist: Calvin's Spotify
Distance today: 8 km (morning commute)
Total: I've lost count.. somewhere above 3000km though.

You'll remember that back in May I came off my bike at silly speeds, on a silly, slippery, sloping, corner; I was taken out of action for a number of weeks and thought that I wouldn't be recovered in time for the cycle. I'd already missed The West Cork 200, and didn't want to miss both. 

As soon as I felt I had the strength back in my right side, I started commuting out to work on my Giant (which is no longer with us, but more on that later), to get the legs spinning again. I had maybe two or three weeks till I was headed off and I really didn't want to lose any strength I'd been able to maintain. 

As my wheels rolled on, so too did the weeks, and suddenly I was facing getting everything fully prepared to get to Kerry. My Scott was repaired, my helmet replaced, and my collarbone properly seated in my chest (I hear that's important). The plan was to make a week of it. Emma and I were going for 5 nights and then going to Galway for the remainder of the holiday. I was ready for action.

We'd purchased a bike rack from halfords, which I would like to warn you about; these are very fiddly, but they're absolutely fine. As it was my first time mounting my bike, I was a bit nervous watching it through the mirror as we sped down the dual carriageways, my mind filling with thoughts of it coming off and disintegrating like Alderaan at the whim of a Grand Moff. 

I assumed I'd be doing daily cycles after doing The Ring, so I packed pretty much everything I needed to last a few days. 

On the day of departure, I manage to completely forget my gloves, which are essential for keeping your hands nice and covered in skin should you come tumbling off the bike at any reasonable speed. This resulted in us halting our efforts, driving back to the house, picking up the gloves, and eventually re-embarking on the journey.. All to the displeasure of the stalwart driver. 

We had to detour to Tralee instead of going straight to the house we'd booked; Emma was purchasing a bike herself from Halfords. She wasn't going to be cycling in the event, but she wanted a bike and we'd get to go out on them together anyway. Once we picked up her Pendleton and affixed it to the rack (The rack looked silly for the first few uses; raised a little higher than it needed, and tilted too) we motored on back toward the proper route to the house. Up through Ladies View and onward through Sneem to get to Castlecove. 

Poor use of the bike rack. At least it was held in place well.

Ready, set.. 

We were staying in a lovely little house, detached from a café that I was familiar with, although I only learned this upon arrival. Having been a Caherdaniel summer-resident for about 15 years I know the place very well, traversing it during day and night throughout the summer antics. 

So the next day was the cycle. I was so excited. I wanted to see just how capable I was on the bike, and even more so how beautiful Kerry was to traverse on one. Woke early, circa 5:30 after a good night's sleep and a good wholesome meal the night before. Porridge for breakfast if I recall. What more could you want? Also ate a chicken wrap on the way into Killarney. 

Parking was mental. Genuinely the least impressive aspect of the whole endeavour. We ended up parking in front of some closed GP's office or Dental place if memory serves. Since it wasn't the starting line, we decided to call that my starting line. A few exchanges of excitement, and encouragement from Emma and I was on my way. 

..go!

Just like that, my 180km cycle was underway. I motored on down that road, past an intersection, and then saw the main road out of Killarney that the rest of the cyclists would be passing. I waited for a group to pass and followed in behind them. 

I drafted in behind a group that had just left the start line. All assortments of people, but these seemed to be the roadie type for sure. Got chatting to a lad, Mark from Lucan. Grand fella, riding a lovely full carbon Orbea. Now, the funny thing here is that as gorgeous as his bike was, no more than 5km into the spin and his chain snaps! Disaster for him. 

I stopped with him so he wouldn't be alone, plus, he was the only person I'd been talking to so I couldn't just abandon him straight away. His buddy, also from Lucan, Pat then rolled up, on a similar, but nicer, Orbea. Introductions all around, and then straight back to the problem at hand. Mark called the support number and in a few minutes one of the support crews were out in their van. They didn't have a chain for him, or a spare link, so they took him and the bike back to Killarney to the shop to get a fresh link. He'd be back on the road in no time.. but back at the start line. Pat and I motored on toward Killorglin. 

Killorglin is where my Dad lives. I've been there once or twice, and through there a good number of times so I knew the area. The road was fair most of the way there. Certainly better than I'd expected. We kept up a very good pace, about 28km/h - 33km/h or something was what we saw on our respective bike computers. Mine a crappy wheel magnet, his a Garmin. Strava recording it in my saddle bag on my phone (say goodbye to your battery).

There was a lovely short steep hill just after coming into Killorglin. People at the top cheering people who rode it hard, and they looked defeated any time a rider took the low gradient alternative road. I  relished the chance to pump the legs. Climbing has always been the tough part for me so I always try to do my best. Powered up, cheers all around. Felt great. 

Mark and Pat, gentlemen. 

About 200m after this hill was the first water stop. We stopped in the hopes of waiting for Mark. Some free timeout bars, some drinks, and of course.. porta-potties. What more could a sportive need?

15 or so minutes of waiting for Mark and he was back to us. New link in the chain and happy out. We pushed on as a trio. Shortly after this, we had our second mechanical. Well, basically I got a flat tyre. It happens. We had been keeping a very high pace after Killorglin, passing a lot of riders, not just the casual ones, but entire clubs too. Not in an aggressive way at all, but we gave them all the room they needed, but we just had our own pace and we were happy with that. Once it came to the downhills, we passed even more and got to some fast speeds. Not the best roads for the speed either, queue the flat. 

The best part was that I manage to change the tube very quickly, only to be met by the same support van that helped Mark. We flagged them down so I could use their track pump and get a decent tyre pressure instead of relying on the hand pump. Back to 130-140 psi and the rolling began again. Not only were we riding as a trio, but apparently our problems were going to work that way too. Two down, surely that'll be all?

Nope. Right before Cahirsiveen We hear a noise, one I was familiar with up to this point.. a broken spoke, followed by a severely buckled rim. Pat. Poor aul Pat and his gorgeous Campagnolo wheels. 

A rear spoke broke and warped his wheel. We widened the brakes to allow for the rim to pass through without any brake rub. It worked, but as you can imagine, it's never a good thing to ride on a rim that's missing a spoke. It wears out the rest very quickly and usually results in replacements or a lot of replacement spokes. 

We rode a bit more carefully, especially for descents, always making sure we were ahead of Pat in case his wheel locked up and took us out too. It sounds mean, but we essentially abandoned him for descents, hoping he didn't come off the bike at high speed. After each descent, we waited for him to make sure he was 100% and his bike was at least 65%. (These are not scientific percentages at all.)

Pat's warped wheel was looked at, once again, by the same support van. During our stop in Cahirsiveen we got to indulge in free sandwiches and tea. As we were on our way out up the slope we passed them, and low and behold they gave the wheel a bit of a truing but it remained fairly buckled. Enough strength in the wheels, a testament to the build quality of Campagnolo wheels, to make it the rest of the way! 

So that was the trio of troubles, for the trio of riders. These were offset entirely by the absolutely stunning views of the Kerry coastline. We stopped a few times, not from fatigue, not from lack of willpower, but to take in just what we were experiencing. Take a moment to check out my lovely steed, and of course, the much more important view, albeit, obscured by the focus on the bike. 

Ah, these pictures still have my old wheels. Once again trued and tensioned by Capwell Cycles before departing for Kerry, once again held up brilliantly. (you may remember he also sorted me prior to my 130km to Waterford where they also held true and strong) Shortly after this trip I ordered some Campagnolo Khamsins and they have been bomb-proof. Couldn't recommend them highly enough. 

I should take a moment to let you in on a secret. There is no such thing as a flat cycle in Kerry. Honestly, the entire route is rolling hills, ups, downs, and then some flat in between. You are using every one of your cycling muscles throughout the journey.

Notably, two climbs are spoken of highly for the route. One usually held higher than the other.. Moll's Gap. The 'lesser' of the two evils is considered to be Coomakista. I think it's a little unfair on Coomakista though. You arrive at Coomakista with fresh legs really, you get there at something like 70-80km in. You're only half way, and it's your first 'real' climb. Something like 7km steady uphill. Moll's Gap comes after 140km into the journey, and consists of a 10km climb. Moll's gap also features flat sections, especially at the base of the climb. You climb a little, then even out, round a corner, even out, dip a little, back up again. It's easier. It really is. Just.. you're tired at this point. 

We had a headwind pretty much from Killarney to the top of Coomakista. So, that's 90km of headwind. Which was more of crosswind for the climb, but just as tough on the body and mind. Coomakista was a real tough climb for me. I discovered on this trip though, that 13km/h is my slowest speed climbing. You really just grind your teeth and keep pedaling. When those lighter lads shoot past you and disappear into the mist, you just have to remind yourself that no matter how tough it is for you, you are going to get to the top, and you're never going to take climbs for granted, they are tough for everyone. Some people just get used to the suffering. 

Reaching the top was something crazy. About half way up we started to lose visibility. The place seemed to go right into the clouds. We went from 30°c to something like 11°c in the blink of an eye. See below.

Getting to the top and forgetting to take a drive-side photo, I was quite spent from it. 

From here it was all downhill - Until the rolling hills began again, and until Moll's Gap. Downhill straight into Caherdaniel. Couldn't wait. I was going to get to see my dear friends from Belfast at the site I usually stay at. My extended family really. 

They were waiting diligently for me, as I was passing so I pulled in, gave everyone their well-deserved hug, and met the new member of the family, Katie. Adorable little Girvin! 

So, shortly joined by Mark and Pat, and we continued on after tactical-ice creams. So began the rolling hills. The tiredness starts kicking in now. After one long climb and the remaining stretch of road doesn't feature any food stops except in Kenmare, which was gone by the time we got there. Closed up early it seems. (We had taken quite a long break in Cahirsiveen) Ten minute breaks all add up. Adding considerable time to your trip. 

Passing the house we were staying at was tough. Since I was tired now, I genuinely had the bright idea of just getting off the bike and going to bed. I'm pretty happy I didn't have the key to the house, and instead pushed the idea to the back of my mind and pedalled on. 

Nothing exciting from here to Kenmare. Literally rolling hills, gorgeous views, and a bunch of cyclists here and there; not many on the roads at this point. 

Quick break in Sneem to sort the shoes, give them a bit of a rest, and try some of Pat's absolutely filling Peanut-Butter flapjack thing. It was so heavy.. And full of energy, fortunately. 

So we got to Kenmare, and so we got to Moll's Gap. Quick water stop, stretch the legs out, and off we went. The low gradient start was ideal, we really wanted to ease into it. Mark was particularly good at climbing, the lightest of the three of us. He motored on up. Pat and I were together for some of it, but he eventually broke off. I manage to keep going fairly steadily. I did however manage to get quite low on my sugars.. typical of climbing as those are the stores you use when you're climbing. Took my dextrose, which I'd been popping throughout the day, especially for the many climbs, large and smaller. 

Didn't help much though, they kept me going but I had reached the limit on my sugars. I needed to get to the top and hope there was still food up there, or the ambulance that had passed me going up when I was feeling stronger. I took a considerable amount of time going up Moll's Gap. I met a woman going up who was also finding it tough, I shared with her one of my last dextrose tablets. I hope it made the difference for her. Eventually I said enough and just powered the last section, doing my best to get there without breaking my body. I got there.

An ambulance was at the top and I cycled up to them to ask if they had any dextrose tablets handy. They didn't, but they did have Lucozade. That'll do pig. I met the two lads who had waited for me. I had taken quite a while, so I was surprised they waited. Gents, absolute gents. 

We decided it was time to depart, and of course, being mostly a descent into Killarney and the finish, we didn't expect to stay together for it. We said our prospective goodbyes and cheers and the like and motored on. I took the front and I completely bolted. I was really rushing to get back, but I loved the speed of the descent.

Traffic had started using the roads again, although they were supposed to still be closed. This meant we didn't get to use the whole road, but took it handy on the sharper corners instead. Brakes were tested, and they held strong. 

The descent was fantastic. My bike handling skills were tested. Eventually after passing through Ladies' View and getting onto the straight road into Killarney I was able to really put the pressure down. I started to feel the last 170km in every pedal stroke but I had taken longer on the route than hoped, and I had Emma waiting for me in Killarney. I needed to get back ASAP. Plus, I was hungry. 

It was a very lonely cycle back to the start line. Since I'd lost the lads after the summit of Moll's Gap, I was riding alone and didn't meet another cyclist at all till I got to the finish. I was greeted with tea, a certificate, and a verbal pat on the back. Lovely. 

My phone had died, so I kind of had to wait to meet Emma, if I recall I had a few minutes of battery life so touched base and waited. You'll see below how I looked after reaching the finish line. I was told I looked completely drained. Scroll to the top to see a comparison. 

Straight from here to McDonalds. What else? 

The drive home to the house was long. Emma was as exhausted as I was tbh. I didn't get to meet the lads again. We didn't know how long they'd be and I was hungry to the point where I really needed to get food into me. It was quoted that the route burned 10k calories for me. Certainly felt like it. 

Once we got back to the house, it was pretty much straight into bed. I couldn't stay awake. 

The next day was considered my rest day, the legs were a bit stiff, and I wanted to get back on the bike. But that could wait one more day. Emma and I took a 4km uphill trip to Staigue Fort and back. I was so proud of her. Essentially her first trip on the new bike and it was all uphill! What a trooper. 

I was feeling strong that day. The legs were conditioned after the 180km and I needed to get the stretch into them anyway or risk feeling a bit weaker on the following days. 

I've the Nicolas Roche cycling coming up at the weekend, that's going to be fun. Maybe it'll warrant it's own post, or I might just tie in the last few months into one. 

I'll leave you with the following image taken the day after the cycle. (Clever, I know)

Take care folks, cycle safe. 

Coachford, corners, and clavicles.

This is an off-the-bike post. I've not cycled for two weeks now. It's been rough.

Playlist: Trouble Will Find Me - The National
Distance today: 0 km
Total: 1996 km

I've finally gotten around to writing a post covering my accident, and that's mainly down to feeling much better. 

First I want to show you this awesome t-shirt I bought for only €15. Picked it up on sale from wiggle.co.uk. It's a long sleeve, super comfy, and totally awesome. 

Moving swiftly on.

So the date of accident was May 17th. It was a lovely Friday afternoon, chance of rain but things were looking good. I cycled out to CIT to meet the club and was greeted by a very tired Elliott who had stayed up very late studying for an exam he sat that day. Hopefully all went well! We talked about the usual stuff, our bikes, the weather, the Giro and the plans for the summer. Shortly 'The Rocket' rolled up, and we continued with much the same, although with the added French accent*. 

*It is a well known fact that adding a Frenchman to a discussion on cycling increases the authenticity of the content. 

We waited around to see if anyone else might join us. The only members I've met are the two here (Elliott and Erwan), along with Killian, and Joe who were out the other days I've been out with the club. 

No one else came so we decided to get ready. At this point, Elliott was feeling the effects of his late night study session and subsequent exam. It had taken a toll on him. We thought about doing a nice flat route, but Elliot thought he might just cycle with us some of the way and head on home. Fair enough, when you don't have the legs, you don't have the legs. 

Erwan and I decided that we would start the day with the climb in Sunday's Well that ruined me before. I was eager to see how much I may have improved; hills are still tough for me. We headed on out Carrigrohane Road toward Victoria Cross. Elliott turned left down the Lee Road and we turned right to Sunday's Well. 

The climb was tough, it wasn't as tough as the first time I tried it, but I certainly took the first corner too quickly and tired myself out. I probably wasn't in the best gear either; I'm still trying to get familiar with exactly what gear I can keep a steady out-of-saddle cadence with. Watching Erwan (The Rocket) pedal effortlessly up climbs is a real encouragement, and is something I hope to be capable of myself someday. 

I had to stop a few times going up, my body just couldn't bring my weight up the steep gradient. It was tough; 105kg + 10kg bike is not an easy thing to power up even a Cat 5 climb. Erwan has a lighter bike and is between 60kg and 70kg so sure it's easier, but he's also well trained for it. I didn't walk it though, that's the important part. I may have stopped for a few seconds (more like 30 seconds) here and there and clipped back in and motored on after catching my breath. We eventually made it up anyway, and turned off toward Blarney. From here it would be much lower gradients and since we were high up now, we got to enjoy some lovely descents. 

The first descent was nice, the road wasn't too bad and once again my weight had me exceeding 50km/h while coasting down the hill. Erwan had to pedal to keep up with me. Ha, finally some use for the weight! 

Descents are nice, I seem to recover after climbs about as quickly as I tire from them. I guess for now that's an acceptable situation, but one I hope to remedy in time.

Once we passed through Blarney we found ourselves back on the road to Coachford. A road we are all too familiar with. It varies in terrain which can go from lovely, to bouncy, back to lovely, and suddenly absolutely terrible. Roads, Ireland sure knows how to make them.

It was a grand day out, Erwan and I were able to chat the whole time as we more or less rode next to each other, keeping pace, all the while chatting about the Giro and the mysteries of life*. I think the pace was in the 26-30km/h range which was okay, sometimes it got a little tougher, but I prefer a lower cadence cycle so I'm usually in a nice gear on the big ring; Elliott seems to be the opposite, he loves a high cadence, that man has some serious love for the small ring.

*It is surprising how fast you can drift off when cycling. If you're cycling alone you may not even remember thinking about anything in particular. I've often just enjoyed the scenery and the 'fresh' air. When you're riding with someone you'll talk about anything and everything. 

Once again I was checking my bloods every hour, you've got to be safe on the bike when you're riding with a dodgy pancreas. Hills use your glycogen stores and you better make sure you're 100% for them. Dextrose is my hero. 

Oh, this reminds me, food on the bike! Erwan doesn't eat on the bike. What the hell? The Frenchman is crazy. I couldn't do it if I tried. Not if I intend feeling good off the bike and the next day.  Menu for the day was peanut butter & jam sandwiches and bananas. Glorious. 

So we got to Coachford, had a small break, I refreshed my water bottle and energy drink. We joked about the new €5 note, riveting stuff I know, and quickly clipped ourselves in and continued on. 

Took the hill that broke my spoke a fair bit easier this time. I'm glad I did, the road really is treacherous. So I was glad to get passed that without issue. We then continued on to The Windy Gap, a well known climb that seems to last forever; it was long, but wasn't tough. Sure I was only doing about 10-15km/h while Erwan probably felt like a snail. (If you're reading this, I sincerely appreciate your patience with me on those climbs)

Once we levelled off, the rain started, so we pulled in and threw on our rain jackets. It was at this point we realised the rain was in fact hailstone. Always fun to get that in your face while cycling. Poor Erwan had no eye-wear. I tried to eat one of my sandwiches while we stopped, but good grief that was dry; not the easiest thing to eat it seems. 

We got to the descent that has ended my cycling for the next few weeks. The road was slick, the corner was much tighter than expected, and things came crashing down. 

So according to my odometer, I was going about 47km/h I think I peaked just over 50 before the corner. I slowed knowing the corner was coming; you can't brake in the corner itself because you'll slip the bike out underneath you. When I got into the turn, I saw just how sharp it really was. I tried to turn the bike but it wouldn't turn as much as I needed and I could see that. I made the only choice I could and that was to brake into it and try to come down before going straight into the ditch and barrier. 

The barrier was blocking me from going over the side into the River Lee below. Yeah that wouldn't have been fun. The ditch was my saviour; when I came down the ditch made me spin and flick the bike out on the road. I landed hard on my right side and spun to have that same side facing the direction I came; the direction Erwan was approaching from at speed.

I could hear Erwan shouting, he knew he was going to hit me and I think he was pre-emptively apologising for his imminent crash into my side. His front wheel went hard (enough to leave quite a bruise) into my side and he flipped over the front of his bike, he landed right on my chest and flicked his bike over a little beyond me. I'm quite glad the bike didn't hit me, that could have caused some bad scrapes. Imagine the big ring going into you, ouch! 

It all happened so fast (I know, we were going nearly 50km/h of course it all happened fast, obviously.. ) and by the time it happened we were already picking ourselves up from the road. Somehow, no blood. Neither of us had a scrape on us. My shorts were dirty and I had loads of grass/leaves on me from the ditch. A car that was behind us pulled up, asked if we were okay and told us we were going over 40km/h. Thanks for the clarification old chap. 

I knew I was injured, I couldn't do much with my right arm and this was a little worrying at the time. My brain told me that if I wasn't writhing in pain that it was probably just from hitting the ground hard, nothing too serious.. right? It was odd to know I was hurt, and yet convince myself I was fine. 

We collected our stuff, checked our bikes and made sure we were okay. That bloody Frenchman got away without a scratch! We clipped back in and started the cycle home. I noticed I couldn't move my right arm. I had it firmly attatched to the top of my bar and wasn't able to change my gears or even attempt to move it, if I did, I got a huge shooting pain into my upper chest. This filled my head with thoughts about my collarbone.. Thoughts I shared with Erwan as we cycled back, he was concerned, but I was cycling.. so things were fine right? Nope. 

I'm fortunate my back ring was mid-way selected at the time of the accident. I was still able to change my front ring so I was able to keep a good pace and still handle the small inclines back to the city. It was torture though. I was really really suffering. 

I thought back to one of the cycling films I'd watched, I think it was the Team GSC film 'Overcoming' where one rider came down, broke his clavicle and continued on in the race. I endured, I had to get home and hope for the best. 

Erwan was noticeably worried though. The poor chap was constantly asking me how much I was suffering. I wasn't hiding it though, my grimace said it all. The pothole I hit on the way didn't help. Didn't really have the coordination to avoid it, nor did I really notice it till too late. That pain was probably the most I've experience in my life thus far, I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. 

So we cycled back and I had convinced myself I was fine after we got through Ballincollig, I told Erwan I'd be able to make it home from here myself and that he should head on back Model Farm Road while I'd go back Carrigrohane, through town, and home. 

I made it to the Lee Fields. I had to stop, everything was hurting and I was tired and getting cold from the lower pace. I pulled in, sadly this meant I was going to get colder, and sent Emma a text - "In cork by chance? I may need assistance if you are.b" Note the lack of capital and the random b. I couldn't type very well, this actually took me an awful lot longer than normal too.. I had to delete so many words. 

Well my Valkyrie did not disappoint. Already near my house, and had actually phoned to see if I had been home, but of course, I was on the bike, she motored on out to me with haste! 

I was cold, so cold. My entire body was shivering and I couldn't stand up, I was sitting on the small walls of the Lee Fields, my bike resting against me. People walked, joggged, ran, and cycled past without really asking if I was okay, and trust me, I didn't look okay. This really really surprised me.. I would have expected the people who were most into their health and fitness might be the first to recognise a sporting injury and offer help; I was wrong.

Emma was an absolute hero, she took the wheels off my bike and lifted it into the car. What a woman! We drove to my place and I was in a really bad way. I couldn't really move all that well and my arm was more or less useless. I needed assistance getting the cycling gear off, don't worry I'll keep it clean folks. 

Emma got me sorted, I showered as best I could and then once again assistance was needed to get dressed and ready for A&E. I wore a hoodie and just a hoodie for my upper body. I knew I'd need something easier to get on and off. Back into the car, not an easy task mind you, and off we went. I'd warmed up so the shivering had stopped, it may have been shock, who knows?


Once we got to A&E it was the usual god awful wait, but at least the place was quiet. Our turn around time was five hours there. Went from waiting around to being given an uncomfortable fabric sling that pulled badly on my neck. The pain got too much at one point and I asked for pain relief, I think it worked well enough. Emma had gone over to Wilton to pick up supplies and I got to enjoy a lovely Roast Chicken & Stuffing sandwich. Eventually had x-rays done. These took quite a while because they couldn't find a fracture so they needed to confirm that it was a dislocation. 

When they told me it was a dislocation, my first reaction was to utter "Dislocation is usually followed by relocation right?.. fun.. " They then told me not to worry, that they can't do that for the collarbone. It is treated just like a break, it heals on its own. My dislocation by the way, is a posterior one. That means that it's been pushed backwards into my chest. This is the bad type because it's close to your lung, blood vessels, and important nerves. I was to report shortness of breath and/or any loss of feeling or tingles in my hand straight away if they occurred. 

Emma has been absolutely brilliant. She completely looked after me. I think she's earned some serious brownie points with my mum too. (Whom is probably reading this, so I hope so) We even went and saw ducks and angry geese at The Lough last Saturday after some amazing Chinese food. She has had to endure my less-than-able-bodied self, but has done so with a smile. 

So that's the breakdown of how May 17th went. 

I kept my arm in a sling for getting about last week, but I'm out of it now after visiting the physiotherapist. She recommends only using the sling for comfort if I need it, and to get stretches in and some light activity. 

I'm back gaming, although the first few times gaming I was very bad. I had to basically use the MAV when I was playing Recon in Battlefield 3 to make sure I was contributing. 

Arm is feeling good now, I have movement and I can use it for things. It hurts the most in the morning, but a lot of that pain is in the trapezium muscles. That's what the damage has come down to, soft tissue damage that just needs to heal. 

For me, I want to get on the bike straight away. My friend Cathal, what a champ, has borrowed his dad's turbo trainer for me to hook my bike up to once I get it back from the shop. Oh yes, the bike. The bike was more or less fine; I had to loosen the brakes on the front as the wheel was out of true, and the back wheel could do with a re-true too. The right drop on my handlebars was bent inward about an inch, and since it's aluminium it can't be re-bent as that would add a weak point in the crease. The bar tape got all torn up on that side too. 

Currently the bike is with Stevie in UBikeWithUs off Anglesea St (great guy, will feature in a post about the different shops later). He's going to affix the new (green) bar tape to the new handlebars he's ordered in for me, true the wheels, and fix out the rear tyre to my old one (for the turbo trainer). I should be sorted soon. 

So hopefully I can get pedalling in the coming week, not going anywhere but I need to maintain the regime if I hope to be in shape for The Ring of Kerry. I think the West Cork 200 is out of the question now. Three weeks till then.. that's within my six week recovery. I can hope for the RoK though. 

Not cycling for two weeks when usually there was only a day out of seven I might not be on the bike, has been tough. I've seen so many cyclists, we've had such amazing weather, and having to get the bus for my last week of work on Campus was absolutely vile. Things are looking up though. We motor on.

My new Scott kit arrived only the Monday after the accident, so that's been hanging on the back of my door taunting me. I endured some pain to try it on anyway, it's maybe a little tight, but we'll work on that. Since then I've tried it on a few times, keeping myself motivated. Holy moley the chamois is amazing. It even has a little 'armour' up front. I can't wait to test it on the bike when I'm using the trainer. 

While I've been off the bike I've been thinking about selling my Giant again in the hopes of getting a commuter with road geometry and appropriate drop bars. I can't stand using a flat bar. It's uncomfortable. So I've offered it up again to my Facebook contacts, and have been looking into getting a vintage bike. 

I'll cover that endeavour in another post however, possibly in the next few days after I see what I might be able to do. 

Do note however, that today I was given a free Viking 5 speed road bike. Perfect frame size for me, just needs a little tlc. It means I don't have to sell the Giant to sort it, but it also doesn't guarantee I won't need to. Below is the fine steed during some of the mild cleaning I was doing (note the bar tape removed on one side, this stuff was sticky!).

So I'll leave you with all of that. I know I meant to keep posts short but it doesn't really look like I'm capable of that once I start typing. 

Regarding my playlist, although I wasn't listening to it while writing this as I was actually watching Breaking Bad season 3, I think it is aptly named for the event covered. Also, the album is fantastic. It is The National's new album that only came out a week or so ago. It's more of their usual stuff, but by no means does more of their usual equate to a bad thing; I love it. I've also been listening to, obviously, the new Daft Punk album, Random Access Memories. So my playlist for the last while has been both The National and Daft Punk equally. I love their new album too, it's a tribute to the music that got them to where they are today, their inspirations. The collaboration work has been fantastic, and the album is a great representation of their work and just how flexible Daft Punk really are. 


Correction, I'll leave you with what appears to be a highlighter-attacked chest! Yes, that's the bruise on my chest at the moment. Showed up after two days and has been there since. 

Well there we go, hope you enjoyed my injury. At least someone should! 

Cycle safe, 

Michael

Warp 9 to Waterford

Today is a lovely* day of rest that the legs certainly needed.

*lovely is synonymous with exposure to bacon


Playlist : None - Watching Giro d'Italia coverage
Distance today: 0.00 km 
Total: 1871 km


I'm currently sat on the couch with my feet up, laptop abiding by its name, watching the live Eurosport coverage of the Giro d'Italia; the Giro has been quite exciting so far, and today is upping the game after the latest changes to the general classification rankings that occurred after yesterday's time trials, so I'm really enjoying the coverage, perfectly suits a rest day that's for sure. 

This post should hopefully cover my trip to Waterford in a decent amount of detail; hopefully you can glean a fraction of the excitement and fun I enjoyed from it. 

Friday's adventure was far beyond what I've previously done. My longest distance to date had been a total of 84 km in one day, that was the day I first bought my Scott road bike. You'll recall I was completely destroyed from that endeavour.. I've been consistent with distance in the last two months, averaging 135 km a week mostly from the commute, then the recreational cycle. I had one week of only half that, which lowered the average of course, but that was due to the problems with the rear wheel I was having - "Holy spokes Batman!!"

The distance to Waterford on the N25 is roughly 120-130 km; quite accurate too since my odometer recorded my front wheel covering 129.87 km by the time I landed at Emma's house. I wasn't daunted by the distance, I was confident that my efforts of staying consistent with my commute, and the addition of my evening cycles, would have built up enough endurance in my legs to keep going. I wasn't wrong. 

Thursday saw me keeping check of what I was eating, I needed to make sure I wasn't going to be having anything that I'd need to be dealing with while on the bike, nothing bloating or too rough. I ate well. Friday morning I woke at my usual 6:50, had my insulin, metformin, and enjoyed a larger breakfast than normal. Porridge, toast, and coffee. Slow release, carbs, and caffeine, sorted. 

All prepared - Rain jacket strapped to saddle bag. 

Nutrition on the bike is just as important as before and after, for a diabetic however, I'm pretty confident it is more important on the bike than off due to the use of my glycogen stores for climbs and the intense parts of the ride. My snacks for the trip were simple but effective. I had a 750ml bottle of water on the down tube, a 750ml bottle of Lucozade sport on the seat tube, and the food in my jersey. The food I brought consisted of two bananas, four fruit bars (Nature Valley & Benefit), my dextrose tablets (always have these, not just for cycling), and the free Powergel Shot sweets that wiggle.co.uk gave me with one of my orders. 

The bars where horrible. Off the bike I enjoy them, on the bike they tasted so bad, I just didn't have the stomach for them. Should have gone with plain flavours like oat instead of going with peanut butter and summer fruits. I ate half of each of those flavours and just pocketed them again; I'd get food elsewhere. 

I ate a powergel shot every thirty minutes or so, there is 9 in the pack so they'd last quite a while and keep my sugar levels nice and steady; the problem for me regarding blood sugar, is that the earlier part of a ride is usually more intense and you end up using more of your sugar stores for energy than your fat stores. Of course this means that when you're cycling to lose weight you have to try and keep a much more steady pace throughout so that you don't end up using your sugar stores and do instead use your fat stores. I was fortunate however that the N25 out of Cork was very flat and I had a mild tailwind; I was averaging about 36 km/h for over an hour. Didn't have any issue with my blood sugar, even though my legs where spinning and I was powering along. Thanks wind.

I had originally planned to have a piece of food every hour; I suspected I'd average 25 km/h and would be on the road for 6 hours. Four bars, two bananas, six items of food for six hours. Instead I based it on distance. I was making such great pace that I had a banana after about 40 km, and hoped to have the other at maybe 80 km, leaving the same distance roughly till I was at Emma's, where there were bananas! Oh, in case you're not familiar, bananas are great because they help prevent cramping. Muscles like potassium it seems, taste buds like bananas anyway too! 

Yes we eat on the bike, there isn't any need to stop just to open food or a banana. The only time I'd stop to eat is if I wanted to check my blood sugar, which I did at 40 km. It was all good. Got myself comfortable in my shoes and shorts at the break, jumped back on and motored on with a banana hanging out of my mouth, possibly to the amusement of the drivers dropping all their kids to school.

My shoes where fantastic, but I think my socks where slightly too thin. I had to stop a few times at the side of the road to fix that feeling where you sock has gone between two toes. Very annoying when your pedalling is so consistent and you really notice the feeling every single stroke. I even turned them inside out and swapped feet (they are padded and foot specific); no luck, didn't really make much of a difference, however, loosening the shoe straps did make them last longer between fixing. I'll probably just need to wear two pairs of socks perhaps, or use the thicker ones I have for longer distances. 

The bike held up perfectly. After having the spoke issues with the back wheel, I was worried one might snap again, what with that being the pattern of things once one breaks. Capwell Cycles however, did an absolutely brilliant job on the back wheel, I even phoned them when I arrived to let them know the wheel held up for the 130 km and not a single issue. It stayed true, I was delighted, as were Capwell Cycles. 

Not only did the wheel stay true from just the distance, but it stayed true while descending before Dungarvan at 70+ km/h. My lords that was scary; in the most exciting and adrenaline fuelled way. I loved it, it was so fast, I'd never done anything like it. The fastest I'd gone before was about 60 km/h down through Glounthaune into Glanmire. This was something else entirely. I had the entire hard shoulder to myself, and frankly I could have used the road itself because I was after exceeding the speed limit anyway. I looked something like this, probably a little bit funnier though: 

This wasn't my only descent of the day like this, before getting into Waterford city, there is a gorgeous "new" motorway. Still the N25 but the road is fantastic. It goes up and down like there's no tomorrow, so you're climbing to enjoy it. However, the dip that you go down just before the city was breathtaking; literally, I don't think I was breathing. If you thought 70 km/h was fast. Try 80 km/h. I looked down at my odometer and it reported 84 km/h. Effortlessly I might add. This was simply me and the bike using gravity to our advantage, and boy did it pay off. 

The road to Waterford wasn't as flat as the Cork side of things suggested however. I knew I'd have to climb out past Youghal to get to the top by An Rinn and enjoy the huge descent to Dungarvan, but I didn't realise it was so long. It wasn't too steep, just long.  The same was true right after the lovely descent. It started climbing again, not steeply, just for ages. This climb didn't end with an awesome steep descent, instead it had a steady low gradient descent that I was able to mostly coast and recover during. 

Please enjoy this panorama of the border of Waterford and Cork respectively.

Everyone says that you get to enjoy the 'fresh air' when you're out cycling. I'm guessing they've not been passing many of the farms that are on the roadside of the N25. Holy crap, I was climbing and I knew I was getting higher, it was getting colder, I could see my breath, even in the sun, and boom, there it was, the powerful scent of farming. Bleugh.. That lasted long enough. It sure made the climbing more of a priority; must.. get.. away.. from... manure.. 

Before Dungarvan there is a little shop/petrol station that has toilets, so that made the journey all the better. No need to try any awkward roadside piddles, not that I imagine I'd need to pee much since all the water I was drinking was being lost through sweat. 

Back to the route. The route is fantastic though, because you almost always have a hefty hard shoulder to enjoy, and not one covered in debris or a terrible road surface. The only times you don't have it are on part of a climb that's part of a speed check so cars aren't much of a problem anyway. A couple of trucks did fly past quite close and their back draft shook the bike a little, few wobbles here and there. Nothing that would take you off the road however. 

I took a short 5 minute break near the top of a long climb where I found an entrance to some private home that had a really nice pebbled road up to. I just parked the bike against the wall and lay down on the pebbles for a while, shoes off for a bit. I laid down and had some water. It was nice. But breaks don't last long, you need to get back on the bike as soon as you're refreshed; it makes a huge difference. You really get the energy back quickly after a climb. 

I stopped in Dungarvan to buy more Lucozade and was approached by a 70 year old man asking about cycling. He'd had a hip replaced and was looking to build muscle back in the area. So after a bit of a talk he said he's going to go price a spinning machine. Delighted. Onward to Mc Donalds! 

Unclipped and strolled into Mc Donalds with the bike, propped it up against the bins and went up to order, asked if I could keep the bike inside and they were fine with it, she seemed to enjoy the look about me, bit of a smirk the whole time. I brought the bike in and had a Burger and Twisty fries! I joked with them that I probably would have used the drive-thru otherwise. Apparently they have people coming through that on horseback sometimes. What the hell Waterford? 

That was to be my last stop of the day till the city. It was too, which was nice. I got to enjoy some solid roads and decent rolling hills. Motored on toward the city, enjoyed the terrifying 80 km/h descent and through the business parks of Waterford. I took a wrong turn however and ended up going through the city centre itself rather than straight out to Emma's. 

What happened next was purely by chance. Having taken the wrong turn and having to navigate the city to get to Emma's, I found myself climbing a hill similar to Patrick's Hill, so I unclipped and started walking up because the traffic was too much for me to keep a pace safely. Suddenly a car pulls in, just as I was about to cross an intersection. Oh, it was Emma! She had been out to pick up stuff during her break and was coming back that way! How convenient! House key in tow, onward up the hill off to the house while she finishes work. I had asked what the "flattest" way to get back would be and she said that staying with the road would be the straightest. Didn't quite answer the question and sure enough, the hill continued on and was quite the climb. Crafty woman tiring me out so she could look after me later! 

Cycled to hers, popped by my dear friends Avila and Noel's on the way but they were out, Emma's is just around the corner from them so I pedalled on. Got in, 129.7 km later and it was hitting me, I was tired. Yeah, Emma's room is on the third floor.. So many stairs for legs that really didn't want to do anything else. Couldn't remember how to turn the heating on in the house for the shower so endured a cold shower to get clean me down.

Got dressed with the spare clothes that Emma picked up for me, what a darling, and went downstairs to pass out on the kitchen couch. I must have fallen asleep because she was home in no time at all, suddenly I found myself being cooked for, while enjoying a cup of tea and a blanket. That meal was tremendous. Bacon, egg, sausage, beans, toast, what more could you want? 

Enjoyed a proper warm shower, and then we were off back to Cork. Wheels off, bike into the boot, happy out. Driving back was when I came to realise just how much of a gradient some of the hills actually were. They didn't feel as tough, but they looked it. I'm getting better I suppose, and the more weight that I'll lose from this will contribute to an easier, stronger time. Basically went straight to bed when I got home, tried to catch up with the Giro d'Italia footage from the day, but decided to leave it for Saturday at work. 

I managed to commute out to work the following day, on my Giant of course. I could feel in the legs I didn't have much strength, but they weren't sore until I was off the bike. Walking was stiff, they weren't really cooperating with me much. However, once I was pedalling they were fine, different muscle groups I guess. 

Since today is my rest day, they've not done much. I'll know tomorrow how I really feel, if the weather is nice I might take a spin to Kinsale and back. Roughly a 60 km round trip I think, maybe less from my house. 

I'm going to need to wrap this post up I guess, but first I'd like to take the chance to remember friends, family, and lost ones. It may not be Derrynane, but I enjoyed blue skies the whole way to Waterford, thinking of the Roe family, Stratton and Langford!

Thank you Emma for looking after me so diligently. I couldn't have done it without you. 

My next few posts might cover mechanical, the 'joys' of commuting, and my plans. Stay tuned, stay classy.  

Better late than never?

It has taken me far too long to actually get around to composing anything worthwhile for a blog. I'm still not even sure blogging is for me; I tweet and spam Facebook enough. I apologise in advance for poor descriptions, or a lack of interesting topics. I'm trying to bring you up to date. Future posts will be more in-depth or interesting, hopefully. 

With that said, let's give it a go. 

I'm going to start each post with the following headings: Playlist (at time of writing), distance (distance covered that day), type of cycling that day, total distance covered. I track every cycle I do with Endomondo and you can find me here.

Playlist : Rory Gallagher's Greatest Hits. 
Distance today: 18.89 km 
Total: 1709 km

The raison d'etre of this blog is to support my interest in cycling, and hopefully to keep me motivated when I'm not in the saddle pedalling away into the sunset. 

I'd like to cover the last 1700 kilometres entirely but that seems excessive. I'll break down the happenings since I started into a few small sections. Although everything is still entirely fresh for me, I'm not trying to publish a book here; Let's keep it short and sweet. 

Back in October '12, I decided it was about time to start working on my weight. Weighing in at 125.3 kg at my last diabetes clinic visit, it was obvious that I needed to make a change; I had an active lifestyle in terms of college and work, but not in any form of exercise. 

I had a bus pass, this meant I used it as often as possible. I would skimp on walking into town or out because I felt I had to justify the cost of the bus pass by using it all the time. This left me with a commute of nearly an hour or more each way. That's an awful lot of time sitting on your rear after breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I began to walk some of my commute, get off sooner, walk across town, get the second bus I needed; it probably helped, who knows?

After the weeks of work as Student Leader in CIT, which is probably the most physically active I'd get out there, I ended up in a relationship with someone that was very fit, active, and motivated; it was refreshing. I had also found myself surrounded by people who were positive and motivated when it came to sport. Each person rubbed off on me, just enough to make a dent; I decided to hit the gym. 

The gym in question was of course the CIT Gym, free for full-time students. I was delighted that I wasn't going to have to financially invest. I wanted it to be a change, not a chore or expense I'd resent. I spoke with the staff in there, picked a day to start, and headed on in. I asked to start on the spinning machines; I can't run, I really can't. Long walks and/or short runs used give me terrible pain in my shins. They set me up on one, suggested a 20-30 minute session at a low level to get used to it. I did just that. After the first session, I decided to do it again, resetting the time to another 30 minutes. 

The spinning machines told me what my RPM (cadence) was, my speed was, and more importantly what 'distance' I'd covered in the time. Little did I know that the distance covered would become my most sought after statistic. It was exhausting on the first day. Scratch that, it was exhausting every day, that never changed. I continued this up to and including the Christmas holiday break - so into January. I was working on campus during the break, so I had the proximity to keep it. So I did.

Shortly after Christmas however, the relationship I'd been in, ended. I was probably looking for something to raise my spirits and started looking at cycling in a big way, researching bikes, clothing, athletes and more. I had the idea that it would be a natural progression from the spinning machine to the road, hitting 30 km covered in an hour session on a regular basis, to being able to do the same on a real bike; it would open up the world to me. 

I was wrong. I was tremendously wrong. But more on this in a moment., 

The money I earned during the Christmas break started being saved up, I'd looked at bikes and had asked reddit's cycling community for advice (/r/bicycling) on what type of bike would best suit my needs and we settled on a hybrid from a local bike shop (LBS for future posts). I looked at Victoria Cross Cycles, went in for a chat with a lad called Gavin, who is a complete gent and a very honest salesman. He had the balls to bring my weight into the discussion and it made the selection even better. I settled on a Giant Escape 3

Fresh from the shop, all the bells and whistles.

This was my entry to the road, or my escape if we're playing that game. Even the 3km cycle from the shop out to CIT to show my buddies at work was tough. I was out of breath, and felt terribly unfit. What was going on? I should be able to handle this no problem, I used maintain 30 km/h on the spinning machine with a decent intensity! This is where I was wrong, so tremendously wrong.

Spinning and cycling are very different. There is so much more effort to actually push your weight along than just spinning your legs against a resistance. If I were able to find out what resistance level riding my bike would have been on the spinning machine, I probably would have sat there thinking it was impossible. However, I endured, I'd made the purchase and the commitment to commuting on my new steed.

I started commuting to college the next day with a 9 km commute through Ballypheane that I'd learned from walking back through that way once. So there I was doing roughly 18 km a day, give or take from exploring a few new roads. I started getting tips on a better commute and actually shortened my commute to 8km by going a much more direct route. This helped a lot because it was also flatter. 

After only a few days of commuting I knew that specific clothing would make it all the more enjoyable. I'd already picked up a cheap helmet before starting, and I'd like to take the opportunity to say you will never see me leaving the safety of my house on a cycle without my helmet. I strongly believe in them, and as recent articles have shown, they save lives. I don't care about looking like a 'Fred' or having helmet hair. I do care about staying safe. Anyway, I bought some cycling shorts, a jersey, and a jacket. I also picked up gloves one day after my hands went numb cycling in the snow to work, yeah, that's tough and that was quite an experience. I wouldn't recommend cycling in the snow without some form of eye-wear. It stings and puts you in danger of not seeing something you otherwise need to see. Cars, lights, people, etc. 

I started going for short cycles, maybe an hour or so around the city or down by Blackrock Castle. I was feeling independent and excited to explore and see things for myself. I'd convinced myself that I'd be exploring all the back roads and country roads of Cork, going far outside the city and then all the while able to come back home without much bother. I hadn't yet, and I had stopped going to the gym because I found myself needing the energy for the commute, so I needed more.

I wanted to take part in a charity cycle, what better way to force yourself to do distance and not give up? I looked at the Cork Harbour cycle and roped  two friends into joining me. Got a bunch of support from people and went off to up my distance and see how it felt. Began doing laps of the Blackrock-Rochestown route and clocked up the 25 miles (41 km) that the charity cycle would have covered. This was a week before the event, and I felt confident that because of my daily commute, my legs would take me the whole way. I wasn't wrong, it is amazing how much endurance you really do build up from simply commuting a short distance every day.  The charity cycle went really well, I embarked on it at half eight in the morning with two pals, Colin and Jan.

It was a fun route. It had all the flats we needed, small inclines too, and a monstrous climb in Glounthaune. Oh boy was that tough. I stayed on the bike for the whole thing, it's a Cat 5 climb, which is the lowest of the "rated" hills. It's long and steady and you really really suck in the air going up it, at least, the unprepared Michael did. Not everyone could make it up, the veterans did, but many just decided to dismount and walk it. I wouldn't forgive myself if I had done that, and honestly, I didn't want to look weak in front of my pals; I'd maintained great speed and was always leading our group all day, often getting too far ahead and having to wait for them. I made it up, and my heart was exploding. I'm confident I had exceeded a 200 heart rate going up that. After descending into Glanmire, we rode off toward Dunkettle roundabout and onward to the city centre to finish on Albert's Quay. I lost the lads at Dunkettle, I just motored on and pushed hard. Maintaining something like 35 km/h on the way in into the city. It was fun beyond words. I finished a good fifteen minutes before the other two, enjoyed my free soup and fizzy orange. It took about 2 hours and 30 minutes to do the route, including the ferry trip. 

This route then became my standard Sunday route. I would take off from home, make it to the castle and start the route. I failed to climb Glounthaune once since then on my Giant, low blood sugar really takes it out of you. The other fun day I had was in the pouring rain and hideous winds (I had convinced myself if I didn't go out, I'd lose motivation to keep cycling). I went out from the house, cycled to Passage West, onward through Monkstown to Curraghbinny, out through Ringaskiddy and back through Carrigaline. Little did I know that the road out of Carrigaline was comprised of three Cat 5 climbs before getting to Donnybrook and then a huge descent down - in the rain - which had me relying on adrenaline to not completely break down in fear for my life; my brakes weren't exactly the most effective in this weather. I made it home, and the route totalled to about 36 km. Soaked but delighted. I'd found myself laughing to myself thinking "never in a hundred years would I find myself doing this". Now I had. I was in love. 

Eventually I started looking at advancing from the limitations of a hybrid bike, and was eager to join the CIT Road Cycling club for some trips. Distance was what I wanted, so I had to shape up. I expressed my interest in looking for used bikes over facebook, I checked the local shops nearby, and started browsing donedeal. I wanted to go used because new road bikes cost a lot of money. That won't change any time soon.

I looked into how I would afford getting a road bike. I decided it was time to sell my collection of Magic: The Gathering cards. I wasn't getting to use them anyway, I was always working Saturdays and that was the day every tournament was on. I ended up selling my collection for just over €1000. Delighted, this meant I could afford the entry level bikes instead of going for a used bike, however I was told about a buddy of a buddy selling a KTM Strada 1000, which would have been awesome and I would have had money left over. Note "would have". Sadly he sold the bike the day we had agreed to meet up - first refusal was someone else's. I missed out. In a rush to get a bike before going out with the club, I ended up heading out to CycleScene thanks to the efforts of my lady-friend Emma and her lovely car 'Stormie'. There I had a look at a bunch of bikes, tried to narrow down what I wanted, and saw there was also a 10% discount on all bikes at the time. This opened up a slightly better range of bikes than what I'd hoped for. I settled on a stunningly gorgeous Scott Speedster 40 - it had what I wanted (new Sora/tiagra), and didn't have what I didn't want (thumb switch Sora shifters). The bike would be ready the following day for collection, fitted with toe-clips (for now). 

Silly bottle choice, computer connected incorrectly, saddle too high.  

The next day, I was dropped out to the shop to collect the bike. I cycled it home from there. It was a complete change of geometry and comfort on the bike. I knew there would be huge difference in riding it compared to the hybrid, but was amazed at how fast it 'wanted' to accelerate. I found myself constantly working up through the gears just to satisfy my legs. 

I rigged the bike up with some of the gear I had, saddlebag, tube, pump and so forth (tubes and pump are required for going out with the club). I headed out to CIT to meet the club and take part in my first 'real' cycle. I should note that the saddle was a bit too high at the time, but I didn't know this till after.

I met the lads and it just so happened that it was their climbing day. So off we went, down toward Sunday's well to do a lovely Cat 5 climb, I had to walk over half of it. I simply couldn't do it. I was loving the bike, the speed, the handling, and most of all the feeling of being a real cyclist (not that anyone who isn't riding a road bike isn't a real cyclist, two wheels, even three and some pedals and you're all set!). I was able to keep up with the lads on the flats and my endurance was fine. I was in pain from the hills and I was really suffering. We made it out to Coachford (About 45 km at this point) took a small break and then motored on toward Ballincollig and onward to CIT. 

I must take this opportunity to thank the Club, they really looked after me on my first outing. Elliott, Joe, Erwan, and Killian. Each of them took turns by my side, chatting, giving encouragement and advice. They always made sure I was with someone and wouldn't leave me on my own for any stretch of road. Utter gents. 

I hadn't eaten enough before going out with them either, this combined with a session of low blood sugar, the constant feeling of needing to vomit, a saddle that was too high and killing my back, meant I was really suffering. I was cramping up and sucking water like no-ones business. Elliott even replaced my Sigg bottle with a squeezy one so I could drink on the bike easier. Gent, complete gent. We eventually broke into two groups, Killian and 'The Rocket' Erwan headed off at speed as they wanted to up the pace. The remaining three of us took it handy back. 

We made it into Ballincollig and I broke off from the lads after swapping water bottles back and giving my feet a bit of a cramp reducing rub. They headed back to CIT and I continued on toward home. Eventually making it home, utterly destroyed, physically incapable of doing much, but completely delighted. I showered and went to sleep, satisfied with my 84 km (still the longest I've done in one day). I woke up a few times and ate what I could, found myself numb in a certain area.. yeah.. saddle height is important.. This lasted till the evening of the next day.. Swiftly moving on. 

Since then I can more or less summarise what I've been up to: upgrading certain parts of the bike, dealing with punctures, untrue wheels, broken spokes, and general maintenance. 

The first broken spoke happened 35 km from home, shortly after Coachford. I had to get collected, the club kept me company on the ride back to Coachford though. Gents, utter gents.  I've had three in total since; it happens.

I've been out cycling enjoying the evenings now that we have them back. I love going down to the Lee Fields and enjoying the river by my side. I'm out in all weather now, but mostly for the commute. I'm not much of a fan of 23mm tyres on wet ground. The hybrid is fine on the wet. 

I've only had one spill on either of my bikes, silly marble like surface outside of UCC in the rain. Yeah, came down off the Giant on one side, I didn't get a scratch on me, but it knocked the rear wheel out of true and scratched up the pedal on that side. Nothing major. 



I took the plunge going clip-less too, oh what a difference it makes! I haven't had a clip-less 'moment' yet and certainly haven't had to 'make the face'. 

This weekend however, I am hoping to take my Scott down to Waterford, roughly 120-130 km. I'll cycle to Emma, she'll look after me when I arrive exhausted and then we'll drive back to Cork in the evening, bike in the back seats (like one of the family eh?). 

I've been upgrading the bike as I've been adding kilometres to the road bike - new bottles for easier drinking, new saddle bag as I had been borrowing one, fixed the bike computer, many new tubes, and new tyres. About a week ago she looked like this: 

Oh, I've gotten into watching the professional races in a big way too! Taking part in a Fantasy League for the Giro d'Italia has been really fun, I've a strong squad! 

Before I leave you, I just want to say that the reddit cycling community has been great. I spend a lot of my browsing time there and it is a lively hub of information and excitement for the sport. 

Oh, and since I nearly forgot. My weight now you might be wondering? Roughly 105 kg. Yeah, that's 20 kg lost since October. Cycling is fantastic.

I'll be back to you hopefully with the outcome of Friday's adventure. 


Rain, wind, or shine - pedal on. Cycle safe. 


My sincere apologies for basically trailing off and whittling down the post nearing the end of this.