The circles and cycles change. Metaphorical and literal.

I was blessed ten years ago to meet life long friends. They ride bikes. I ride bikes. Companionship cemented.

Life changes. Life gets complicated. A full life and now; fulfilling.

Customers, riding companions, new friends. A welcome evolution.

Life changes.

Fat Lad

6 weeks and 3 days ago I tumbled off my bike breaking my collar bone
and damaging my elbow and shoulder at the same time.

Sat in A&E I was not a happy chappy, in fact my mood got worse when
the doctors started saying things like I wouldn’t be riding again
until October – 4 months away.

So what did I do….. I decided that I wasn’t going to sulk about the
doc’s opinions on when I would pedal again and instead do something
with my time and hopefully prove them wrong

Seeing as I had spent the winter slogging my guts out riding through
West Yorkshires finest stickiest wettest mud in an attempt to get
fitter I decided that I needed to keep turning the wheels somehow.

Out came the turbo trainer, yep the dreaded turbo trainer. I decided
that I needed a challenge, something that would keep me motivated,
keep me focussed and sane

With all that in mind I announced on twitter that I was going to do a
turbo version of LEJOG, a mere 874 miles from Lands End to John O
Groats. At the back of my head a small voice wondered if I was daft,
it was a huge number of miles, I couldn’t reach the handlebars because
of my broken bones and in fact getting on and off the turbo was really
rather challenging.

What I hadn’t factored in was the fantastic people I chat to on
twitter, there was lots of encouragement, my fellow broken collar bone
twin @trio25 agreed to do the same on her turbo, @stickymitts and
@_rOcKeTdOg_ decided they would attempt to do the same distance on
actual bikes whilst I pedalled on the turbo inside.

So far I have ridden 82 miles so still a long way to go, I’m slowly
healing, plenty of physio sessions, lots of turns on the turbo even
though I still can’t reach the handlebars. All the time being
supported by Al who has in the last 6 weeks dressed me, made my
meals,cut up my food, driven me everywhere, sorted out my tears of
frustration and continually looked after me whilst I have begun to
heal.

Hopefully the sling will disappear this week, my collarbone appears to
be healing well, my shoulder is a bit more troublesome but we will
see. All I need to focus on now is more sessions on the turbo to make
those miles disappear and to get out pedalling properly.

Sarah (AKA Crash Test Dummy)

A muddy rock strewn 5 yard stretch of trickiness. Everything went right. Perfect line choice, roll in roll out huge grin. A few seconds of sheer joy. Worth every minute of headwind muddiness it took to get there.

When was your last moment?

Fat Lad

• Irritability
• Mood swings
• Foul language
• Increased sighing and melancholic staring out of windows

Have you heard the following?

• “F*cking British weather”
• “Really this rain would put Noah off”
• “I can’t decide who’s taking the piss more; Mother Nature or the Met office…”

Then chances are your cyclist has SSAD. Shit Summer Affected Disorder. SSAD has been clinically proven* to ruin any day when the trails are drowning.

If you have a cyclist in your life affected by SSAD, tell them to MTFU! They’re not made of sugar and won’t dissolve

Fat Lad

*By real doctors and everyfink!

“So, the earth has magnetic fields?”

“Indeed”

“I believe that all the ghoulies, apparitions and unearthly sights are simply strong emotion stored to the earth.A spiritual Match of the Day to Gaia’s betamax played on loop again and again. Ghosts stuck on repeat. Recordings of the soul”

“Right…”

It’s a conversation that in all the years of slowing synapses has stayed lodged firmly in my head. If it’s true what do we leave with every turn of the cranks on the trails? All the bits of trail haunted by my learning over the years, memorys shed all over the paths of the land. Do they play back? In the dead of night do whispy ethereal riders whoop down the runs leaving misty contrails from other wordly tyres?

Tyre tracks fade on . Our souls play in the dirt eternal.

Fat Lad

Fat Lad

It’s all about momentum.

Descending your ally. Keep it on side; a little kick of the pedals here. A push of the bars there. So much comes from so little effort.

Ascending momentum a fleeting friend. Pedals turned smoothly carry the relationship for so long. But momentum will flee on all but the briefest of ups.

Sarah’s momentum stopped dead Thursday night. A bad roll of the cosmic dice robbed her all the forward motion gained.

Our current thoughts on the matter come to a slipped front wheel over rough terrain followed by a panic brake gave us the above result.

Watching your everything cartwheel at speed over the bars and ragdoll into the bushes is something I never wish to see again.

A clean break of the collar bone may have slowed Sarah down. So much has been gained. But her’s is a momentum that’s hard to slow yet alone stop.

Fat Lad

Through various means of online interaction you follow the days of people you don’t know and are invited to live the existence they choose to share with the digital ether.

A rider I never met lost their life in the most tragic of circumstances and I feel it keenly. The long rides, the sometimes curmudgeonly rant and considered opinions of this other are gone forever now. I’ll miss living that someone else’s ride life.

On hearing the news that lurching feeling in the stomach, a melancholy mood descends and I genuinely feel sadness I haven’t felt since losing a friend a long time ago.

The same night of the announcement I rode for the first time in a long while with friends who truthfully I’ve neglected. I pushed hard, tried more and though the dust flavoured endorphins helped for a few hours, thoughts turn to a man I never shared the trail with. And then my thoughts fall to those left behind to pickup the pieces and ask questions that will never be known…

The trails might not have the answers but it won’t stop me looking.

At the worry of harping on about it Sarah really has got the bug. “What have *you* done to me?” is  a question I get a lot now.

I’ve been riding cycles in one way shape or another now for *mumble mumble* years and with the best will in the world there is only so much enthusiasm for riding yet again in the wet.

But Sarah’s joy de velo is certainly infectious. With a Sunday afternoon suddenly free Gisburn was suggested. Dear Wifey had done the dirt deed there a few times before but only the lower loop. I didn’t suggest doing the full figure of eight, Sarah did.So we went and we did.

Riding with someone new to the game is the best. Go grab a noob.  Go ride your bikes. It might even help to lift the grump.

Fat Lad