Tag Archives: accident

Six weeks almost up

When I was knocked off my bike I read up on broken ribs, including the NHS site (National Health Service UK). It said that basically doctors did nothing & let it just heal naturally. This would take about 6 weeks. So I didn’t bother clogging up the health service unnecessarily, after all I wasn’t coughing up blood!

I seem to be good at the healing process luckily. I’m just 5 weeks in and apart from the odd twinge I seem to be OK. Only legacy is an unwillingness to push it up hills too much, as that led to pain when breathing. Even so I’ve still managed over 500 miles in March as well as a few PRs locally.

However on Wednesday Specialized are hosting a demo day, showing off new rapid bicycles (including Venges).  It’s on a race track at Knockhill in Fife, just under 55 miles away. I’m highly unlikely to be buying a new bike any time soon, but I’ve decided to cycle across and have a go. I think I may stand out a bit as white beards probably aren’t the norm for this type of event, especially as my bike & gear is a whole lot less than high spec.

But, should be fun, first of all trying out cutting edge bling bikes and secondly having a blast round the race track with no traffic etc.

Unless I’m feeling very, very fit (or stupid) I’ll probably cycle back to Edinburgh and get the train back.

So I’ve got a little apprehension but looking forward to it unless the weather is totally inclement.

As ever some recent pix:

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Near the Lang Stane looking north

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Easter at North Berwick

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Looking over to the Bass Rock

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Spring is sprung

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Our local cycling hazards – two lots of frisky horses this time!

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A lovely climb through the wood, closed road as well!

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A mistake putting the camera away, but I like it anyway

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A wee Contretemps or not?

A lovely day for a ride? It was, went over my little local hill, my ‘personal challenge’, then was going to head east for. 20 – 25 mile loop. Coming back down to the main road you go under the by-pass road through a wide bridge that feels like a tunnel.

  
The route shown actually goes under the road, not over it.

I signalled that I was going to turn right and started to move out when the ‘Chelsea Tractor’ behind me pulled out and started overtaking. Muttering somewhat I pulled back in and waited till it was clear before signalling clearly again and moving out. Ahead of me the offending car pulled over to the left and signalled a left turn. As he/ she/ it swung to the left I slowed right down and moved to the centre of the road. I drew forward to get a clearer view before turning right, but went slightly over the white line ahead of me at the junction.

  

As I slowed (doing less than 4 mph) I saw this red car, cutting the corner towards me. I instinctively veered left away from it, but was caught by the wing mirror and flung to the ground. I felt a huge blow to my chest and lay there for a wee bit gasping for breath. Eventually I calmed down and started getting up. The bike was a mess, I think the back wheel had been run over and was certainly a curious shape. The front wheel was turning, but rubbing and the handlebars and levers twisted round, plus the a pain in my chest. Ah well!

Folk came running up and a woman from the car behind me kept saying “you were over the white line. Then an older lady, who it turned out had been driving the car that hit me, came back and was asking worriedly how I was. There were offers to run me home, but as it was just at the end of the village I told them I was OK to get myself back, loosened off the brakes and set off home, drama over.

The damage? A suspected broken rib, the back wheel needed rebuilding, the front wheel straightening, new handlebars and pride mending. And I’ll not be riding till things clear up a bit.

So, who’s to blame I keep getting asked, or did you ask for her insurance etc. Well I think it was a bit of fault on both sides, I was too far over or out, she was clipping the turn. Both of us should hopefully learn from it. Ah well again!!

  
May be a while before I’m up here again.

   
A happier ride the day before

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A sunset ride the day before

 

Gore, Guts and Glory

It’s been an interesting(?) couple of weeks for me. Started off just over 2 weeks ago.

I had been looking forward to doing the 80 mile ‘Tour of Tweeddale’ Sportive in the Scottish Borders, one I’ve managed every year since it started 4 years ago.

But, on the Sunday before, I was out with the local Haddington Club. Going up hill I suddenly thought, back off, I’m getting too close. Next moment I touched tyres with Terry in front, wobbled to the left, straightened up thinking I’d got away with it. Terry slowed down and I came back into his wheel from the other side – tarmac crunching time. He said later he had slowed down to look how the back of the group was doing, ah well.

I got up a bit shook up, assessed the damage to me and the bike, got back on and completed the run.

My knee looked a mess & a scraped shoulder didn’t help, but it was all superficial. The painful damage was a staved finger which made changing gear and braking awkward. But it looked like I’d be OK for the next week’s event.

Ouch!

Ouch!

Ouch Again!

Ouch Again!

So, after a week of healing I was at the start line again. 82 miles and over 4,000 feet of climbing to go. The three desperadoes had teamed up again. It was cold at the beginning, 3°, but rose up to a lovely 20° with hardly a cloud as the day slipped past. Ronnie had a puncture before we began then 15 miles out another. Once mended we set off again and another flat. This one was sorted and we headed for “The Wall of Talla”, a local test piece. Ramping over 20% it wasn’t too bad this year as a tail wind helped us over, or maybe I was fitter (or had lost weight gouging lumps out of my knee?).

Approaching the 'Wall of Talla'

Approaching the ‘Wall of Talla’

The 20% section

The 20% section

Another ramp up

Another ramp up

Then it was over and onwards, seeming to stop at every temporary road works traffic light on the way.

The soup awaits!

The soup awaits!

Yet another of the road works

Yet another of the road works

We reached the River Tweed and started up the last 10 miles into a crazy head wind. But we were stopped again, this time by the police as 150 horses were coming down the road. The Selkirk Riding was holding a charity event so we were held up for a wee while, then continued, dodging horse poo, wide horse boxes on a narrow road and tractors blocking the road when pulling out from fields. So it was a gentle procession to the finish. Despite having a reasonable moving time, our overall was an hour slower, with only one planned short stop. Still a great event with the usual sun and some familiar faces and good chat with others.

Then 3 days later the Tour of Britain came through the area, with a King of the Mountains section on one of our local ascents. So we had to be there. Up early to get a good spot, packed 2 cameras, tripod and a sportscam and lots of warm clothes too. Hard work getting up the steep bit of the climb at 17% with all the gear though.

Adder by the roadside on the way up

Adder by the roadside on the way up

Got my site, but there was a chill wind blowing down the hill. Cycling buddies started to arrive and we all gradually chilled down, me too despite a down jacket, gloves, arm warmers, leg warmers etc.

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

The hill filled up with folk and I set up my tripod with the sportscam low down on the far side of the road and then took pics of the various folk coming up the hill.

Youngsters put us to shame

Youngsters put us to shame

Youngsters put us to shame

Youngsters put us to shame

Youngsters put us to shame

Youngsters put us to shame

The crowds gather

The crowds gather

Cycling buddies turn up

Cycling buddies turn up

The crowds gather

The crowds gather

The police motorbikes and official race cars arrived, zooming at what seemed crazy speeds up the hill through the crowds. A real buzz was in the air.

Roaring up

Roaring up

Roaring up

Roaring up

Then way off down the hill an armada of cars & motorbikes with lights blazing were to be seen in the distance. The race was for the King of the Mountains was on its way. A small breakaway group hove into view, with still a bit to go to reach us.

The leaders appear

The leaders appear

Quite a bit further back was the peloton.

The peloton in the distance

The peloton in the distance

TofB00020

Then the leaders were rounding the bend below us. What a noise from the crowd. The riders were up on the pedals and going for it, with still quite a bit of the hill above us still to climb.

The leaders come through

The leaders come through

The watchers became a bit quieter, wait for the main bunch. Suddenly a roar went up from below and round the bend they came, powering up the hill.

The leaders arriveThe peloton arrives

PowerPower

The Peleton arrives

The Peleton climbing hard

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Cav comes through

Cav comes through

Sir Brad in the pack

Sir Brad in the pack

After a crescendo of noise, including a barking dog, the peloton were past us and away.
I wasn’t sure if I’d got any good photos as my fingers were like wooden sausages with no feeling at all, time would tell.
All the multitude of team cars, motorbikes etc. came streaming past, followed by an Asda van, which almost got the loudest cheer of the day.
Gradually the crowd dispersed and the event was over for us. I decided to continue over the hills, the long way home. It took me at least 5 miles of enthusiastic peddling before I had warmed up enough to cast off some layers.
Later that night I watched the round up of the event, and there I was a crouching gnomic figure watching the riders pass through.Spot the Gnome!Spot the Gnome!
So that was it, but for one last thing.
I was out with the North Berwick crew on Sunday, but just Johnny & I turned up. We decided to climb local hills as he is doing one of the biggest bike climbs in the world. It’s in Columbia, 50 miles long and over 10,000 feet of ascent. On the way round he was behind me, touched my wheel but I accelerated off and all was OK luckily. Then right near the end we came to a junction. I stopped, but Johnny’s concentration had lapsed. He braked hard, hit me on the bum and somersaulted over the handlebars beside me, landing in the road ahead but managing not to get flattened by a passing car. He picked himself up gingerly, but was basically OK apart from the odd scraps and minor bleeding. He’s a doctor though so he could heal himself I suppose?

Anyway out of my circle of cycling pals four of us have come to grief in the last 3 weeks, so go carefully out there, we’ll try to do the same!

Flying Sheep and Somersaults

I’ve been biking over our local hills a bit recently. Usually this entails some steep climbs and a minimum of 3,000 feet of climbing. It’s been magic but hard going, tempered by fabulous descents.

The roads are a bit rough and gravelly in places, so a bit of caution is required. The wildlife has been a bit manic as well, not sure if it’s the youngsters being a bit hung ho, or just that’s the way it is.

But there is a dangerous side to all this. A pal a wee while back had a pheasant try to run through his front wheel while on a group ride. He was barreling along downhill at over 35 mph when the bird ran out in front of the group, dashed back into the hedgerow then swung but out again. The bike stopped dead, Eric catapulted over the front and broke his hip and the bike’s forks were broken.

Then last week another pal was coming down off the hills, I would imagine going pretty fast. This time it was a sheep that dashed out. After his abrupt stop and sumersault he is now recovering from a broken elbow and arm, so a few weeks off the bike.

It’s dangerous in them there hills!

My encounters have been luckier. Some roe deer hopped out in front, but I managed to slow down and let them caper about for a while before they disappeared into the undergrowth. Various pheasant, grouse and partridge have threatened to try to bring their lives to an end, all thwarted by a bit of caution. The worst have been the sheep, running harum scarum all over the place.

I took a sports cam with me on one of our trips to make a wee vid of a journey over the hills. At the moment it is too long (15 minutes) and I haven’t done the music so it’s not ready to inflict it on you all yet.

One of the shots was a sheep running out in front of me on a fast downhill section. It looks incredibly close on the video, but I had seen it and it didn’t feel anything like as bad in reality. When I was editing that section of the video I noticed when I looked at the still, the sheep was levitating across the road, so maybe hover biking is the way to go?
Sheep1

Sheep2

Sheep3

Sheep4

Sheep5

What do you hear?

Heading down from the Col du Galibier to Lauteret just before overtaking

Heading down from the Col du Galibier to Lauteret just before overtaking

Think this could be a theme coming on, wandering around the senses?

I was very conscious of the sound of my tyres on the road the other day. It was quite windy & I was freewheeling down hill with the wind behind. The tarmac was fairly smooth and a delightful hum came from the front wheel, with no other sound. It set me thinking.

Normal bike sounds, the usual sound of the freewheel, usually fairly quiet on my Shimano set up. The clunk of the gear change or horrendous crunch if, as I occasionally do, get it wrong. The rasp of the tyres in an occasional skid to stop or over-egging it, the squelch through a puddle or ford, the crunch through gravel, the click over the local train level crossing (which is far from level) or the thud over lumps of tractor mud.  The different noises from the brakes – a gentle rub of pads on the rim, a short squeal if there is dust around or a foul crunching if a wet day has thrown gravel onto the rim. The chatter of cycling companions around or beside you usually entertains you. Then there is the explosion of an inner-tube blowing or the hiss of it leaking.

Then there’s the traffic. The quiet hum of cars, or noisier deep throated rumble of a diesel vehicle, coming up behind. The click of a bike gear change that lets you know a fellow cyclist has teamed up. The roar of a boy racer’s car (not usually women) as it violently accelerates past you. The disturbing hoot of a horn sounding from an impatient motorist behind. There’s also the shout of an irate motorist from beside you, often for no reason, ah the joys of pathetic road rage. The sounds of trains running on nearby railway tracks or tractors working in the fields.

Then there are nature’s sounds surrounding you. The different wind noises is almost always a variable constant, sometimes the patter of rain, the crunch of hail or the crack of thunder. There is also the cries of birds and the flurry of wings as they fly towards or away from you. The sparking of the hooves of deer or sheep as they scamper out of your way, hopefully.  Dogs often bark, or sometimes growl as you ride past, sometimes giving you a doppler effect. Horses in fields or ridden along the road give a whole variety of snorts, whimpers coughs etc, with riders often shouting out a cheery greeting, or a quick ‘thanks’.

Also the welcome salutations of friends, other pedestrians or cyclists are an ever welcome part of the soundscape.

But, the worst is the sound of a fall or crash and the groans of the one who has come to grief, such a compendium of grating noises – hopefully hardly ever heard.

And the strangest thing of all, the fact that for those of us lucky enough to have hearing, we mostly just take all of this for granted.

So . . . . . . . . what do you hear?

Tour de France training just for wimps? – My not-so-secret (now) training regime

Me as a Yeti in our local Pantomime

Me as a Yeti in our local Pantomime

I promised myself that when I got to 20+ followers I would publish my training regime. So here goes.

Why the title -well a Tour rider maybe rides for 20-25 years if they are lucky and only a relative few have ever made the history books. But in 2012 a hundred year old guy from France, Robert Marchand, got the world record for his age group for cycling 24 kilometres and 251 metres in 1 hour (just over 15 mph). It was then taken by an American rider. This year, at 102, Robert has beat his own record going 10% faster – cycling 26 kilometers and 927 metres in the hour (about 16.3 mph).

So this is my long term training plan. He only took up cycling again at the age of 67, so maybe there’s hope for me?

So what’s involved?

I have to:

  • train for at least 34 years
  • somehow stay alive till I’m 100. My granddad lived to a good age, my dad lived longer, so it looks like I may have a reasonable set of genes inside me. I’m also a non-meat eater & in a recent programme by the BBC it suggested research indicates that we may live longer than the average, especially avoiding processed meats
  • stay healthy – try to get enough sleep & avoid aids/ ebola & other pestilences coming our way if possible
  • Try no keep out of harm’s way with the traffic & wildlife around, plus my own riding style
  • keep enthused & going with activity. I already go cycling (about 5,000 miles per year +), canoeing, cross country & ski mountaineering and walking – just need to keep enjoying being out. Plus indulge in life outwith exercise and activity
  • maybe continue “don’t upgrade, ride up grades”?
  • keep going out with selections of cycling pals of different ages and abilities – I have several social groups I join over the weeks and enjoy the company so much, as well as my own solo rides
  • not get down if others keep putting that record higher & higher – we’re getting to be fit older generations
  • remember living to a hundred was once rare
  • deal with the aches and pains

So maybe there’s a chance, if I manage this blog for the next 34 years I’ll let you all know.

So is all this harder than the Tour de France training, I’ll maybe find out if luck is on my side?

Sometimes it’s just not . . . . . . . .

An East Lothian pheasant, not dashing out.

An East Lothian pheasant, not dashing out.

. . . . . got your number.

It’s been a funny autumn so far. The wildlife seems to be going a bit nuts. Drivers seem to be a bit less courteous or maybe less thoughtful, birds seem to have their minds on other things.

So – what’s the upshot of all of this.

The Lucky Times

Crossing the hills, the sheep take it into their minds to dash out in front of you, but decide to change course and head back to the edge of the road.

At the edge of the woods the deer skitter in front of you but head off into the trees.

The mad pheasants whizz across just before you, without getting that bit too close.

The flies & bugs that batter your face when your mouth is closed.

And as for humans, we manage to scrape past a big car belting round the blind bend towards us, with our wheels teasing the verges of the road and my back wheel skidding as I brake while angled over. Or the other one, when I was coming up the High Street in our village, she reversed out in front of me, I just managed to scrape round the rear of the ‘Chelsea Tractor’ without making contact. Went back and asked her politely to make sure she looked more carefully next time she pulled out and she said “But I did see you”. I was too flabbergasted to say or think of anything & just rode on shaking my head.

The Bad

Not to me, luckily, but to a cycling buddy.

On a Sunday we go out with a local group. I go out on at 9 am with the slower crew, a coffee stop is almost compulsory. He went out with the 8 am fast crew. I’ve been with them a couple of times, but just feel I’m holding them back when it gets to the hills, plus I feel knackered. Anyways, they were in a group speeding down one of our local hills at 35+ mph when a pheasant flew out into his front wheel. He went from fast to zero in a fraction of time and was thrown right off the bike. He was knocked out for a bit, but recovered consciousness but had a cracked shoulder blade, road rash & skid burns. After a hospital visit he was later back home to recover. The bike’s front fork was broken.

So sometimes, you just can’t do anything about it, fate seems to have its eye on you. So be thankful for the other times when it’s just not your day.