13/05/12: Well hello, Captain Speedy

18/05/2012 by Missus Toast.

Sorry about the title, but I thought it’d give me an ideal opportunity to publically state how much I hate BT’s new advertising campaign.  I thought the last one was odious enough, but the current one makes me want to throw things at the TV.  Large, heavy things.  It’s like their marketing department is actively trying to annoy me.

Dangerously back on topic, last weekend I rode Follow the Dog twice.  I was toying with the idea of the Monkey, but decided that I just wanted to relax and have fun.  It was sunny, surprisingly dry, and I was going at a good pace (for me), so I decided to see if I could get a good lap time in.  First lap clocked in at around 55 minutes, although I could have shaved another couple off if there hadn’t been congestion at Werewolf Drop.  I overtook seven people, and was only overtaken by one.  This is either a sign of great progress, or a sign that the trails were surprisingly quiet.

I actually found the fireroad hill a bit more of a slog than usual, quickly going into granny ring.  I think I’ve said it before, but I think I find it much harder when it’s dry.  In a way it might have been a blessing, as my knees weren’t quite as knackered as when I try and push it in middle ring.  Still makes me nervous for Mountain Mayhem, as it’s considerably more climby and hilly.

Amusingly, I lowered my forks to 100mm for the climb, then promptly forgot to raise them back to 12omm for the rest of the trail.  Cornering seemed very nice, not sure if that was down to the fork travel or down to just having a good day.

Ended up back at Swinnertons and chatted to some of the Chase Trails chaps for a bit before setting out for my second lap.  By the time I got to section 9 I started to feel knackered, and the lap as a whole felt a lot slower - slower on the section itself, more pulling over to let people by, and longer drink breaks at the end of the sections.  Despite that, I still came in at just under one hour five minutes, so I was quite pleased, and also a bit surprised.

I managed to ride the switchbacks before Werewolf both times, so that’s a definite improvement.

Rather alarmingly, a bike was nicked from Birches Valley the same day - this is always a worry of mine, as when I ride alone I have to leave my bike unattended if I want to go to the loo.  You know Freud banged on about Penis Envy?  That’s why - no practical way of relieving yourself in a neat and tidy manner, even She Wees have horror stories.

ANYHOO, I always lock up my bike to a nearby fence, but I still worry that some scrote could cut the lock and nab the bike fairly swiftly.  Fortunately, thanks to a combination of suspicious locals and hardy northern folk, one scrote was thwarted in his efforts.  Despite evidently spending hours (Mr Toast had seen him the previous day and thought he looked a bit dodgy) scoping out bikes, he decided to nick one belonging to a group of 20 odd riders.  So if you see this chap:

…remember to congratulate him on his awesome decision making skills.  Whilst holding onto your bike, obviously.

So that’s one less thief, but it’s unclear as to whether his Astra-driving mate was caught - if he’s part of a gang, then people should still be vigilant.  Well, you should be vigilant anyway - bikes are more than just a possession to most of our kind.  They’re our pride and joy, providing us with thrills and fitness whilst allowing us to explore the great outdoors… or just go around trail centres repeatedly.  It’s all good.  Don’t let a scrote take that away, or at the very least, don’t make it easy for them.  Lock it up!

Posted in Whinging, Mountain Mayhem, Mountain Biking | No Comments »

That there Monkey

07/05/2012 by Missus Toast.

I’ve been a bit slack on the blogging front lately, although that’s also down to the fact I’ve been a bit slack on the biking front too.  I’ve been biking into work on a daily basis, often even when it’s pissing it down, but I’ve found it hard to get out at the weekends.  Partly down to feeling a bit off, and partly down to family commitments.  This time of year is always a bit miserable for me as it’s the time of year when my dad died, and the weather - not helping.

I really want to get across the country - I want to hit Coed-Y-Brenin, Llandegla, Nant-yr-Arian, the Peak District, the Forest of Dean… but it’s a bit hard to muster the enthusiasm for a six hour round trip when it’s cold and wet.   We were hoping for some long weekends, but Mr Toast is finding it hard to even get the odd Friday off with his current workload.  We’ve not even managed our usual Easter trip  Ooop North to Dalby.

My knee has been playing up a bit again, so I’m off to see the doctor about whether a knee brace would be beneficial.  I quite like the look of the pricey but awesome Asterisk Knee Braces - supposedly good for people with ligament issues, looks very adjustable and doubles up as armour.  I’m just a bit reluctant to make the investment without knowing whether it’s definitely suitable for my knee injury, and what if they’re too heavy or uncomfortable for me?

I can tell that Mountain Mayhem is coming ever closer, as on Saturday night I had my first MM Anxiety Dream of the year.  I dreamt that I was riding, soaking wet under torrential rain, struggling in the mud and hating every second of it.  So, not so much a dream, more of a reminiscence.  I’m hoping my mother’s theory of weather proves true - “We’ve got to have a good summer!  We’re owed some good weather!”

On the plus side, what little off-road riding I’ve done lately has been moderately successful. For a start…

The Monkey!

Yes, it’s been well over a year since I’d ridden the Monkey, but I finally plucked up the courage to give it a go last month.  Despite my unfamiliarity with The Monkey (I’d only ridden it something like five times previously), it went better than expected.  My fitness was better than it has been in the past, and I wasn’t lying on the floor screaming with painful leg cramps, so that was a definite improvement.  My knees were objecting quite violently to the steeper climbs, and I had to stop to let the pain lessen a few times, and also probably took far more ibuprofen than is recommended.

I gave a few of the trail features a miss - I decided not to test my 50% success score on the pre-Klondike rocks, and also gave Woodbank a miss.  I was going to do it - I went to have a look, thought, “Oh, it looks easier than the start of section two”, and let a group pass.  The last fella in the group then prompty completely ballsed up, clipping his right handlebar grip on the tree and twisting his front wheel, sending him crashing in spectacular fashion.

Yeah, I’ll give that one a miss for today.

I also pretty much walked most of the Monkey-section of the Monkey.  This is probably going to sound a bit harsh, but it’s probably my least-liked bit of trail I’ve ever ridden in any trail centre.  It leaves me miserable and demoralised, with its stupid narrow trees and rock gardens, and I struggle to think of any part of it I actually like.  OK, I did have a brief moment of confidence boosting when I looked at the second rock garden, the only one I’ve ever ridden, and marvelled that I’d ridden that.  Admittedly it was before there was a huge gouge ripped down the right hand side, but still.

Being a bit of a pessimist though, that thought was soon crushed by the knowledge that there was no way I’d ride that again. The day that I rode that I’d been having a particularly good day, taking lots of risks that paid off… until I came off on the fireroad, stripped off a good bit of skin, broke my helmet and ended up on a heavy course of antibiotics.  I still bear the scars.   Pfft.  Be an overly cautious coward and live to ride another day, that’s what I say!

Went out on Saturday for the first time in weeks and rode the Dog.  Despite the good conditions, I ended up going a bit slower than usual, clocking in at one hour ten minutes - although I think a good five minutes of that was trying to wrestle my thermal jacket into my Camelbak.

Hoping to get out with increased frequency before Mountain Mayhem.  I need to improve my fitness, try and get my knees more used to climbing, and, my personal favourite, also have to get Benny used to camping… or its going to be a very, very tiring weekend.

Posted in Minor Bun Engine Benny Lava, Whinging, Sleepless in the Saddle, Mountain Mayhem, Mountain Biking | No Comments »

03/03/12: Good Dog/Bad Dog

06/03/2012 by Missus Toast.

I set out on Saturday with the intention of doing two laps of Follow the Dog.  With Mountain Mayhem and Sleepless both firm realities now, I need to get more miles in, need to get back up to speed and get my fitness to something slightly above embarrassing.

Despite the forecast predicting only light showers and sunny skies throughout the day, I arrived just as a downpour was starting.  I quickly got my bike off the rack and set of in pursuit of mountain biking excellence.

It didn’t start well.  First section seemed unduly slippy and annoying, and I had to come to an abrupt, precarious halt on the exit to two as a small child from a walking group that had stopped to let me exit decided to do a runner.  I shuffled the bike down, slightly shaken - it would have been a remarkably low speed collision if it had happened, but I don’t like to think who would win out of an 11 and a half stone woman on a lump of aluminum and a three year old.  On the plus side, his mother apologised and thanked me for not ploughing into her wayward progeny.  And that’s why you don’t come screaming out of sections at warp speed.

The lap continued to be a royal pain in the arse.  Everything just felt very skittish, and I began to wonder if I’d somehow lost all ability over two weeks, or maybe the Orange 5 had ruined me with its comedy wide bars.  The litany of ineptitude was unrelenting and horrible.  I realised at the start of the fireroad climb up to 8 that I had my rear shock completely locked out, so I was hoping that perhaps that could explain the horror.  I completely failed to exit section 8 twice, as every time I approached it my front wheel hit the same pebble and poinged off to the side.  I nearly came a cropper on the most inconspicious of corners.  On section 11, I managed to clear the two smaller steps, albeit with some rear wheel spinning on the second, but by the time I got to the bigger steps, I just couldn’t arsed.  I was riding rubbish, and I had a persistant stabbing pain in my left knee. I eventually bowled up at Swinnertons feeling fairly surly.

Jez was there, so I had a good whinge at him, and soon he was joined by other members of the Chase Trails posse.  Andrew asked about my tyre pressure, and gave them a squeeze.  There was then much laughter, and theorising that Al (who had recently switched my wheels for his spare Hope/DT Swiss combo) was trying to kill me.  Something like minus 20 psi later and my tyres were noticably squidgier.

I’d been pondering the second lap.  Obviously I’d set out with the intention of doing two laps, but I’d had a terrible ride and my knee was a bit stabby. But the weather had finally turned nice, and… well, it would have been rude not to try. I decided to do at least the first section, to see if matters improved with less pressure.  I’d probably only do the first section or so, as I’d promised my mom I’d pop in and I had a roast dinner to cook in the evening.

Lap two felt better - I’m assuming it was thanks to the lowered pressure rather than the trails drying off, but I was skidding about the place a lot less, so felt able to go faster and lean into turns without fear of the Professor deciding to go his own way.  The exit to two was still a bit shakey as I clipped my pedal as I went down, but other than that - splendid.  Less poinging off pebbles, exiting section 8…OK, it took me two attempts as I clipped my pedal again, but I had to keep telling myself that I couldn’t get a mental neurosis over something I’ve ridden countless times just because the weather’s a bit grim.  After successfully clearing the exit and chastising myself for being a bit stupid, I took a few moments to take a photo of the Professor with his new red grips.

Section 11 was a bit of a revelation - all steps taken with no skidding, spinning, or slipping.  IN YOUR FACE, UPHILL STEPS! By the time I got to Tackaroo, however, I started to feel a bit off.  My knee hadn’t played up as much on the second lap, but I was starting to develop a bit of an ache in my left arm for no real reason, and my thighs were protesting.  Still, aching from “Oh, exercise!” is better than pain from “You’re fundamentally broken on a genetic level”.  I was also feeling a bit woozy, possibly because it was about 3pm and I’d only had a bowl of cereal, a cup of tea and two bottles of water that day, which for a cake fiend such as myself is a bit of a break from routine.  Although not really on biking days - I always end up eating less on biking days than on workdays.

According to Dave and Andrew, who caught me up at the end of Hugh’s Bridge, I’d done my second lap in roughly an hour (they’d given me about a 20 minute headstart).  So, that was better than a poke in the eye with a horrible stick.  Incidentally, it was Dave’s birthday at the weekend.  You should totally help him out trailbuilding on Sunday to celebrate.  I’m pondering if we can get Benny to carry materials and tools like a small pack donkey, but I have my doubts.

After my second lap I rushed around my mother’s to say hello, and to steal her bacon.  She didn’t have any bacon.  She did have chicken soup though, so that wasn’t too bad.

Posted in Whinging, Sleepless in the Saddle, Mountain Mayhem, Mountain Biking | No Comments »

26/02/12: Flirting

01/03/2012 by Missus Toast.

I love the Professor, I do.  He has been a faithful steed, taking me on my journey of being a rubbish mountain biker to being a slightly less rubbish mountain biker.  But he won’t be around forever, and sometimes it’s nice to have a back up plan.

So, whereas Saturday saw me spending over two hours walking around the Chase with t’boy, Sunday saw me demoing an Orange Five.  For me, there have been two consistent facts on demo days:

1: There will be a cock up with the booking on at least one of the bikes

2: If it’s a Leisure Lakes demo day, I will fall off in spectacular fashion at some point.

These facts held true on Sunday.  Firstly was the mix-up - I’d asked to demo a 14″ Orange Five or an Orange Five Diva Long, but I’d been put down for a Diva Short.  Fortunately the Orange chap was fabulous - he quickly assembled a regular 14″ Five and let Mr Toast and I go out seperately to the guided ride.  So, off we went.

As the demo was at Tackaroo, we got on Follow the Dog from there.  The bike initially felt a little alien to me - it’s lower than the Professor and a little longer.  The tyres were also fairly horrible compared to my High Roller/Captain combination.  The suspension felt lovely though, and it cornered really well - I actually managed to get around the nobbly zig zag just before Werewolf for what I think is the third time ever.  Said hello to the trailbuilders who were busy fixing the end of the Tackaroo section, and continued over the road and onto section two.

By this point I felt more comfortable on the bike, but there was one thing that really wasn’t right for me.  Handlebars.  Handlebars that were as wide as a wide thing.  It made me a little overly cautious between some of the narrow trees, but the bike still felt great.  Very confidence inspiring.  Too confidence inspiring.  Onto fact 2…

As I was approaching the end of section 2, I was literally thinking, “This corners really well!” as I washed out on one of the switchbacks.  Somehow one leg went in one direction, and gravity and the bike took the other leg in the opposite direction.  It’s the nearest I’ve gotten to doing the splits since my Tae Kwon Do days.   Fortunately there was no damage done other than a few impressive bruises, so it was back on the bike.  As we were on a time limit, we skipped six and seven and headed straight up the fireroad to eight.

At this point, I felt that the Five was at a disadvantage to the Professor as it didn’t seem to climb quite as well.  However, I had just battered myself a bit by sliding across the trail, I was a bit achey from my sudden upswing in weekday riding, and  I was a bit achey from the previous day’s fairly long walk. Eight was fairly uneventful, but the slippery pebbles were a bit problematic with the horrible tyres.  Headed back to to Tackaroo fairly pleased with the Five - a few home comforts (like sensible handlebars and tyres) and it’d be awesome.

Evidently I wasn’t as pleased as Mr Toast was with his 22″ demo, as he’s now got one on order.  Apparently he’ll now have to give up trail riding in favour of riding around the car park, and we’re going to have to swap the Vectra for an Audi.  Herp derp.

On the 2012 event front, Dave and Andy headed over to Pat Adam’s house in person to hand in our Mountain Mayhem entry forms.  They were the first people to ride there and hand in the entries (some others had gotten there earlier, but had driven), and massive thanks go to them for being so utterly bonkers and getting the entries in.  Although that thanks might be revoked when I’m doing my first lap, probably in torrential rain…

On the Dog Front, Benny had his first training session this week.  There were many puppies - spaniels, cockapoos, many, many pugs, a strangely vicious whippet, rough collies, a chihuahua, a pomeranian, border terriers, an English Sheepdog… and all of them could walk to heel better than our boy.  ALL OF THEM.  He was kind of the derpy remedial pup.  Still, I’m sure he get it eventually…

Posted in Minor Bun Engine Benny Lava, Mountain Mayhem, All the gear, no idea, Mountain Biking | No Comments »

12/02/12: So I actually went for a ride

24/02/2012 by Missus Toast.

I managed to get my first ride over the Chase this year two weeks ago.  After leaving Mr Toast at home with The Boy, the day started fairly eventfully, when I accidentally doused myself in petrol on the way to the Chase.  I had to decide - go back home and forget my bike ride, or go biking whilst covered in a flammable substance.  I decided on the later - unless I clipped my pedal on a rock and sparked, I was probably on the safe side.

Incidentally, if you want to get the smell of petrol out of your clothes, saturate the garment in question in coke.  As in Coca Cola, not the snortable stuff.

Surprisingly, the usual panic over whether I’d lost all of my skills over Christmas and New Year didn’t surface, and I rode everything that I normally ride without any real sense of fear.  Even though it was *gasp* muddy.  It was just after the thaw, and although most of Follow the Dog has survived the winter fairly well, thanks to the sterling work of the trailbuilders (draining the berms on Tackeroo, for example), there are a few parts that a trifle muddy - the deforested section before section 11 being a prime example.  I didn’t get overtaken much and did some overtaking of my own so I felt that this year’s riding was off to a good start.

I really enjoyed being out on the bike again, and felt suitably warm and toasty in my new thermal leggings and overtrousers.  Admittedly, I probably would have enjoyed them more if they weren’t covered in petrol, but never mind.

The queue for the bike wash was understandably huge, which meant I had an audience for my comedy moment of blasting the Professor across the cleaning area and onto his side, still stuck in the stand.  Poor Professor.

Last week was no biking for me at the weekend - it was Mr Toast’s turn, and Benny needed a haircut.  Before:

After:

You know, at some point I’m actually going to start putting pictures of bikes on this blog.  You should see the Professor now, he’s got posh red grips.

In other news, it looks like I’m definitely signed up for Mountain Mayhem and Sleepless in the Saddle this year.   Hoping to put in a better performance this year, with more laps in a faster time, and less crying.  And certainly less overtakings by unicylists.

And on a depressing note, please keep an eye out for these stolen bikes.  They were nabbed in Croydon, but obviously with eBay and the like it’s possible that it could end up anywhere.

Posted in Minor Bun Engine Benny Lava, Sleepless in the Saddle, Mountain Mayhem, Trail building, Mountain Biking | No Comments »

Mountain Mudhem

28/06/2011 by Missus Toast.

So, this month saw my race debut.  In short, it was awesome.  In long…

Things didn’t start out too well.  I’d managed to miss the important travel news on the Mountain Mayhem website concerning the M50, so we set off blissfully oblivious, guided by the GPS.  We were supposed t0 get off at junction 2, but junction 2 was closed.  Instead we had a 15 mile diversion as we headed to junction 3, then had to loop back down the M50.  This, combined with the grim skies ,made me somewhat cranky.

We found the Chase Trails camp, waited for the rain to stop, and set up our home away from home.

 

 

 

Confession time: I’m not a huge fan of camping.  And as we settled down in our freezing tent (yes, it was freezing in June), my slight apathy towards camping turned into full blown loathing.  I didn’t actually sleep that night.  That’s not an exaggeration - I literally couldn’t sleep as I was so cold. Fortunately I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep on the Saturday morning once the sun had risen and Toast gave me his sleeping bag to go over my own.  I woke up still sleep deprived, aching, and soon added ’screaming’ to that as I found an earwig in my sportsbra.  No, camping wasn’t growing on me.

It was hard to be too grumpy though - the atmosphere at Mountain Mayhem is fantastic, and anybody complaining about the toilets or the catering really needs to go to a music festival.  I once paid £4.80 for an ice-cream at Donington one year… and not recently either.   We pottered about for a bit, then went to cheer on Andrew, who would be starting the 24 hour race for our team.  Rather cruelly, Mountain Mayhem starts with a rather long run before the competitors can get on their bikes.  Fortunately it’s just the first riders in the teams that have to do this, so once Andrew had finished his (rather respectable) lap, it was Petra’s turn.  The weather turned a bit iffy, and she was treated to a few downpours.  Meanwhile, I grabbed something to eat and waited for my turn.

I started to feel faintly nauseous.  I had that weird, cold hollow feeling you get from not having slept properly, but more concerning were the PA announcements.  Apparently Oliver wouldn’t be returning to the course, because he’d been hospitalised.. People were going too fast and having accidents, so could people please slow down…  There’d been a broken collarbone and a broken ankle.

This was less than four hours into the race!

Petra came in slightly worse for wear, and I was off like a speeding gudgeon!  To celebrate my race debut, the heavens promptly opened and started pissing it down. I was in the timed Kenda Climb, where I did a mighty 1 minute 24 seconds - not the slowest, I checked.  And I would have been at least a second faster if I hadn’t have slowed down to high five those meddling kids!  By this point I was soaked through, with my sodden 3/4 clinging to my knees and making movement even harder.

The course was… awkward.  10.3 miles long, with 1400ft of climbing.  What made it hard was a combination of the mud and other riders.  The first bit of singletrack was fairly short and easy, and I smugly dropped over a rooty step with ease as other riders dismounted or tried ridiculously convoluted lines around it.  It was still fairly hairy though just for the sheer pressure of other riders shouting that they were passing.  The next singletrack section had a particularly slimey descent - I’d say the majority of riders I saw here dismounted.  A few rode it, one not entirely successfully, but, I along with the majority, gingerly minced our way down, slipping and sliding, holding the trees for support.

So it carried on - the subsequent sections of singletrack were quite a bit easier, and it was here I felt most comfortable and confident.  I still got overtaken on occasion, but generally could keep up with people.  Unfortunately that left the rest of the course - long climbs and straight, rutted descents.  Some of the climbs were an absolute nightmare - again, because of the mud.  It was like walking the wrong way up a escalator - soft, sludgy and plasticine-like mud took away a lot of grip and sapped my energy.  And the descents… let’s just say I walked a couple, went down one dabbing my foot on the side, and rode 90% before practicing some ‘EXTREME RESTING’ on the side of the track, accompanied by my now obligatory yelp.  It’s kind of a cross between a Wilhelm Scream and the cry of a startled guinea pig.  I’ve gotten quite good at falling off, however, and my first reaction was to pull the Professor off the track before checking to see if we were both OK.  One rider asked me if I was OK, and sped onwards after he surmised that I wasn’t dead.  The next rider, seeing myself in the popular EXTREME RESTING pose of ‘upside down in some ferns and brambles’ said, “Get up, love” - which may have been cheery encouragement, but sounded like sneering condescension.  Admittedly, it’s a bit hard to tell when you’ve got a face full of bracken.

I stood up, located a source of bleeding (one small scratch on my elbow), decided that it had been a splendid adventure and it was now time to continue.  As I checked the Professor, I heard and saw two more riders fall on the same descent (not near my, I was totally off the course at that point!).  Looking through Rob Crayton’s photographs revealed more comedy dismounts on the same hill.  In hindsight, it made me feel a lot better.

At the time though, I was starting to feel decidedly stroppy.  I was soaked through, my back wheel was sliding through mud like a crazed weasel (note to self:  when husband says, “We should put a mud tyre on the back”, listen to him), I’d fallen off, I’d run out of water, and to add insult to injury, I thought I’d unexpectedly finished far sooner than I’d thought, when in fact the major climb was still to come.

As I passed through the arena again I passed some of my teammates, who shouted encouragement at me.  This spurred me on, and I decided I wouldn’t have a breather… where they could see me.  I carried on up the hill, went around the corner and prepared to stop… and a random spectator shouted more cheery encouragement at me.  Bugger!  Will have to carry on!

The climb up to the obelisk has some amazing views, and by this point the sun had finally decided to make an appearance.  I promptly stopped along with the other people faking mechanicals to take a breather.

“My saddle!  Yes, it’s a saddle.  It’s got a quick release lever… yes, it still works.  Oooh, I can make my saddle go up and down.  If I look really intense, people will never know that I’m skiving!”

“I’ll turn my bike upside down, no-one will question me!”

My fake mechanical was poking the small island’s worth of mud and grass that had accumulated around my mechs. I mastered the art of looking stern and professional whilst discreetly admiring the view and waiting for my legs to stop screaming.  I feel this might be an important lesson to learn.

My lap was nearly over.  I’d been overtaken by singlespeeding charity racers in sumo suits and, the ultimate insult… by a unicyclist.

 

As I rode through the stadium again, random strangers shouting encouragment and asking for high fives (hello again, kids!), I suddenly switched from “Gah, this is the worst idea ever, I’m never doing this again!” to “THIS IS AWESOME LOOK AT MY RIDE TO GLOOOORRRRY!”  I spotted Mr Toast and Jez, who were cheering me on (I think, they could have been saying anything at this point), so I sped up, overtook a couple of riders and handed the baton onto Julien.  My lap was done, and it was time for water, flapjacks and rocky roads.

 

I’m not entirely sure what I did at that point, but I know I was there to cheer Julien in and cheer Mr Toast out.  Well, I say ‘cheer Julien in’, what I actually mean is he shouted, “I’m never riding a bike again”, to which I yelled, “LE PETIT ESCARGOT!”, which I learned from Charlotte and Jessica.  Toast went out, and I escorted Julien back to the camp.

 

I think I managed to get a shower during Mr Toast’s lap. Mountain Mayhem has many fine points, including the abundant supply of free shower gel:

The showers, however, were rubbish. Allow me to  demonstrate the showers with this handy timeline and the use of emoticons.

0 seconds:  Button pressed.  Dribble of water falls out of the showerhead -_-

4 seconds:  Dribble of water turns into a full strength blast of water.  Cold water. O_O

7 seconds: The water is still cold. Q_Q

9 seconds:  Wait… is it getting warmer? :/

13 seconds:  It’s warm!

15 seconds: It’s stopped.  Press the button again. Repeat. -_-

It was remarkably like being in a Skinner Box, as I tried to uncover what behaviour would give me access to more than 2 seconds of hot water.  Press the button repeatedly?  No, that just leaves it in the dribble state.  Leave it for a bit before pressing it?  No.  No wonder the showers had sizable queues!

It was now pretty much dark as Jez and I made our way to the arena to cheer in Mr Toast.  Unfortunately Mr Toast had got in ten minutes earlier and was grumpily waiting as he was heckled by fellow riders for being a billy-no-mates.  Jez yelled, “I’M COMING, AL!”, and the passover was completed, with Al taking comfort that at least the ten minutes had been added onto the start of Jez’s time rather than the end of his own.  Not that he’s competitive or owt, you understand.

It was now the turn of the mentalist night riding contingent, and time for me to get some sleep. I’d learned some lessons from the previous night - before we had been lying directly on the groundsheet, but we did actually have a sleeping mat.  That came out, and the spare towels were used as a pillow.  I also wore an Iron Maiden t-shirt and hoodie in addition to my thermal baselayer, socks and tracksuit bottoms combo.  I slept like a rock, and when I awoke to a sunny Sunday morning I decided camping really wasn’t that bad after all.  In fact, I think I could do a second lap!

Toast woke up bleary eyed and de-hydrated, and was nominated to do the next lap after Liam.  After riding up to the arena in my jeans and feeling decidedly creaky, I surmised that perhaps that second lap of mine wasn’t such a good idea.  Eating rocky roads and a bacon sandwich though… that’s a GREAT idea!

After Mr Toast plucky youngster Mini-Bave(TM) went out and rode our fastest laptime - 1 hour 8 minutes.  Yes, he did it in less than half the time it took me to get around.  D’oh.  Ian was nearly our last rider, but after it was communicated to him that Dave wanted to do another lap, he raced over the line and passed the baton with 3 minutes to spare.  And off Dave went!

There was unintentional hilarity after the announcer started the end of race countdown a minute early, with many racers speeding up, thinking that they’d be passing the line just after the 24.  The mistake was realised and the announcer was yelling at the racers that he’d cocked up, and they slowed t0 a snail’s pace (or in some cases stopped completely).  Once the clock hit 24 hours, Pat Adams started shaking the hands of each finishing racer as they passed the line.

We watched the time and tried to calculate when Dave would be passing certain spots to offer him encouragement.  We missed him going up through the arena, but got him on the way down.  As he passed by, he shouted, “I CAN’T STRAIGHTEN MY LEGS, CRAMP!” and continued speeding down the hill.

All there was left to do was to collect our medals and watch Jessica as she ‘acquired’ some Mountain Mayhem banners.

 

I’m very pleased with my medal.  As a child, I loved the Olympics.  OK, I mainly loved it because they’d show the Animalympics cartoon, but I loved the idea of people doing well and getting medals.  Sadly I was a spectacularly inept child when it came to sports - timid, lacking in confidence, and never really getting involved.   I never even got participation medals, although I did get merit points for being the only girl in Clive house in my year who would a) do the 15oom run, and b) the front crawl in the Swimming Medley.   But it’s not the same as having a medal.  It’s made of metal and everything!

Fortunately I managed to resist the urge to wear it constantly for the following week.

So, a very memorable and enjoyable weekend (not the bit with the earwig though).  I raced the same course as Liam Killeen and Guy Martin (”By ‘eck, chief!”), I didn’t break anything, and I wasn’t the slowest.  I decided that I would definitely do Mountain Mayhem next year.

And Sleepless in the Saddle this August.

EEK!

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The horror! Or, Map of Joy: Volume III, Update I

19/06/2011 by Missus Toast.

I’ve been sadly remiss with my Map of Joy updates!  This year I decided to take a different approach -  rather than making a list of the places we were hoping to visit and ticking them off as we get there, I’ve gone for *drumroll*…

THE MYSTERIOUS MAP OF JOY!

Which is like the old Map of Joy, except we fill it out as we go along.  It’s less of a crushing disappointment that way at the end of the year when we realise we haven’t managed to visit half of the places we were hoping to!   Keeping on last year’s theme of slacking I’ve not actually posted this year’s yet, but in my defence we have had a lot on.  Well, wait no longer!

OK, slightly overdone build up when it only has three locations on it, but look!  A medal!  From Mountain Mayhem!  Over-excited blogpost to follow soon!

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12/06/11: Mulberry Burst

12/06/2011 by Missus Toast.

Yesterday I did something a little different - a social ride with most of our Mountain Mayhem team.  It was good fun for the most part - it was great seeing parts of the Chase that I don’t normally see, and riding new stuff.  Had a few mishaps though - we rode a section that was quite loose and squishy.  Not being used to riding non-surfaced stuff threw me off a little… but not as much as me yanking the front brake after doing a log drop.  With a dramatic flourish and a scream worthy of Wilhelm, I lost control of the bike.  Fortunately Jez was there to catch the screaming hobbity missile that was me, although I did manage to knock him over in the process.  Strrriiiiike!

Second off was a bit later, again on a bit of a singletrack descent.  The funny thing about natural stuff is that it’s often like a spider web, with lots of other tracks leading off it, and sometimes you can lose the track.  Well, you might not, but I did.  I was kind of in the middle of the pack, having lost the faster riders at the front and… er, holding up the faster riders behind me.  I was sooooo close to the end, but couldn’t quite follow the track and…why, hello front brake!  WE MEET AGAIN!  Over the handlebars, face first.  Into brambles.  Managed to roll over, tangled in my bike, and Ian helped me up.  I was whimpering, more pride hurt than anything else, particularly with the indignity that I was stuck like an upturned turtle and stuck in the brambles.  Managed to remove most of the thorns from my person.  Mr Toast finally found us, and said, “Oh, your face looked scratched!  You know, like the scratches you get from brambles, but on your face!” To which I replied, “That’s because I just faceplanted in some brambles”.

“Oh!”

On the plus side, I rode a bombhole and did a little jump off the end - I’m informed I actually got air.  On purpose!  Really need to sort the panicking/front braking thing though- I think a good chunk of it was trying to keep up with people on unfamiliar turf.

We ended up at Milford, which brought back memories - the only time I’ve been to Milford previously is when I was doing GCSE geography something like 16 years ago.  The Wimpy is still there, as is the Little Fawn cafe, which does really good chips.  Unfortunately the weather had turned a bit sour at this point, and I was a bit sore and mardy.  And, for the first time this year, I’d come out without my thermal. Bloody typical, for weeks I’ve been lugging it around as unneeded baggage, and the one time I needed it I didn’t have it!

Mr Toast and I headed back, and ended up at Tackeroo.  Despite feeling exceptionally surly and sorry for myself, I forced myself to do the last section of Follow the Dog.  It’s amazing how easy Follow the Dog seems after riding natural stuff, which is probably why everyone else has a lot more confidence.

Today I had a few interesting bruises and scratches, plus severe aches and pains.  However, I think this might be partially down to my new gym routine that I started Friday.  Well, if you’re going to beat yourself up, might as well do it properly!

Ride: Cannock Chase

Trail: Random stuff up to Milford, end of FtD

Highlights:  FtD and a little more FtD.  Actually trying stuff

Bad bits: Faceplanting

Post ride food snaffled: Chicken burger and chips, omnomnom.

Good dogs seen: There was a most excellent schnauzer, but the absolute best was a small jack russel riding with another rider.  He was wearing a neckerchief.  The jack russel, not the rider

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04/06/11: I break for no-one!

12/06/2011 by Missus Toast.

This ride was quite a milestone for me, as it’s the first time since I started riding that I’ve done all of Follow the Dog without any rest stops.  Yes, it’s taken me three years to get to this point, but I got there eventually.  My riding was actually a bit off - I felt a little skittish and off-balance, and I felt slower than when I’m at my best, but that might have been down to not having my usual breaks around the fireroad hill.

After Follow the Dog I stopped at the cafe for tea and a cookie (ideal fitness nutrition…) then did some pootley fireroad.  I decided to venture onto the old section 3, which is still rides remarkably well although it can be easy to lose the trail at times.

I’m going to keep trying to get around with no stops, as I think that will improve my fitness and lap times.  Given that Mountain Mayhem is in two weeks it’s probably a bit late to be worrying about it, but better late than never!

Ride: Cannock Chase

Trail: Follow the Dog

Highlights:  Doing FtD with no rest breaks

Bad bits:  Being a bit inept

Post ride food snaffled: Cookie

Good dogs seen: Schnauzers, a spaniel and its pup

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Update Ahoy!

29/05/2011 by Missus Toast.

Apologies for the lack of updates - there’s been a lot going on in Toast Towers.  For a start, Toast Towers has relocated to Warwick.  This has been deemed “A most excellent move”.  14 miles cut off the journey to the Chase, several quality takeaway establishments in delivery distance and access to super fast cable broadband.  The biggest day to day change is that I no longer drive to work - I normally bike in on a daily basis now, or occasionally take the bus.  This has done wonders for my fitness, plus I get to see ducklings every day, and sometimes baby moorhens.  It’s impossible to go to work on a heavy heart when there’s little balls of fluff swimming about!

Mr Toast has also just fixed my PC, which has been playing up for months and becoming increasingly unstable.  After a long process of elimination it eventually became clear that it was the heart of the PC itself that was giving out - the motherboard, the memory and the processor.  To their credit, they were ten years old and have been overclocked for the past six, so they were retired in good grace.  Now my PC is (touch wood) fully back up and running - a great relief, as it was impossible to use most of the Adobe Creative Suite programmes.

So, what have I been up to on the biking front this last month and a half?  Well over Easter we went Ooop North to Mr Toast’s parents, enjoyed good company, silly dogs, excellent food and Dalby!

Dalby was interesting.  The furthest I’ve ever biked in one day (that I can think of) was the Ladybower loop we did last year, which was 22 miles.  Dalby is 24 miles.  Despite my chronic lack of fitness (I hadn’t started biking in at this point), I decided that I was, for the first time ever, going to give the full red a punt.  Fitness aside, I felt a warm glow of satisfaction as I began the initial climb up the shared blue and red.  On previous years I’d struggled both with fitness and technique, but this year it wasn’t an issue at all.  If nothing else, at least that was better!

Dalby is a curious track - most the difficulty comes from the length rather than any of the features.  However there was the odd section that I walked - normally involving steep downhill gradients, loose stones and drops on corners.  Most of it though - no problem.  Mr Toast did have a problem, however - we were fairly early on in the ride when he stopped, frowned and said, “What the hell is that clicking?”

Whilst he investigated, I did what any dutiful wife would do and promptly starting taking photos of The Professor.

By the way, that knee pad hanging in the tree?  Not mine.  Not entirely sure how or why it got there, I can only assume that somebody is a massive tosser.  Eventually Mr Toast’s investigations revealed that the thread had come off one of his pivot bolts.  We decided to continue… cautiously.

I have to admit, by about two thirds of the way through, I was utterly shattered.  Although the singletrack is generally fairly easy going, Dalby does have a lot of switchback and fireroad climbs.  I definitely would have enjoyed it more if I had been a bit fitter - as it was, it quite often seemed as if there was a lot of excruitiating climbing with little payback.  However, stubboness combined with encouragement from Mr Toast meant that I was going to see it through to the bitter end.  I finished Dalby in a slightly delirious state, chuffed that I’d managed to ride that many miles, not pushed up a single hill and ridden some features I wouldn’t have dreamed off a year or two ago.  And on return to Mr Toast’s parents’, there was a roast chicken dinner waiting for us.  RESULT!

We returned to Dalby a few days later, Mr Toast’s broken Pitch meant that we were unable to take our planned excursion to the moors.  Mr Toast was forced to hire…

A Kona Fire Mountain!  The only hire bike big enough for Mr Toast was slightly battered, but with a bit of tweaking he managed to get the gears running smoothly.  He cursed slightly, and I was forced to giggle - when we’ve been to Dalby in the past, he’s been the one on the fancy pants full susser and I was the one stuck on the hired hardtail.  However, something happened as he got used to the bike.  He started to like it.  It had been some time since he’d ridden a hardtail off-road, and the first time he’d ridden a bike that big (look at the seatpost!  It almost looks sensible compared to the height of the handlebars!).  Despite our initial plan of just exploring the fireroads, we ended up doing the last quarter of the red route.  I chortled slightly as the hardtail was a great equaliser - it was much easier to keep up with him!  I’m glad we did the last part of the red, as I’d been utterly wiped out when we’d got to it a couple of days earlier.  It was nice to ride it relatively fresh.

So, that was Dalby.

We’ve been over the Chase most weekends, work allowing, and the past couple of weeks have seen a marked improvement from me.  I’ve been able to get up the fireroad hill in middle ring, which sounds like such a stupid little thing it’s almost a non-event, but it’s something I’d not managed to do this year until very recently. The number of breaks I’ve been taking have also been getting shorter.  In fact, today, the only time I stopped was at the start of the fireroad hill, to take off my thermal.  Other than that, I refused to stop, moving from one section to the next.  Thank you, daily commute!

Slightly panicking though as we’ve got Mountain Mayhem in less than three weeks, with Mr Toast frequently reminding me of the length of each lap and the greater degree of climbing. Still, what can possibly go wrong?

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