Month: January 2017

It has been a little while since I last posted. Not because I have nothing to write about, steadily grinding out the miles without incident, but possibly because I have been avidly following the blog of the BBC journalist, Caroline Wyatt, whose offerings are crafted with such clarity as she endures stem cell replacement treatment in a Mexican clinic to fight off the onset of MS. It makes my writing seem so inconsequential and impossible to match.

carolinewyatt.com

However, I have experienced the state of mind she has at the moment and reading her daily bulletins reminds me of those times. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, and after each subsequent setback, somehow my mind’s response was to banish all insignificant things to the recycle bin and make space in which to think and to concentrate on what and who is important. In a strange way it is a refreshing phase to go through and promotes creative thought.

Before anyone reads this, Caroline’s wellbeing will be less uncertain and hopefully more positive. One of her former assignments was as BBC Correspondent to Paris where, at that time, I worked at the British Embassy. One of my colleagues invited us to a salsa party which would involve being taught how to attempt a few basic steps and of course drinking a lot of alcohol. As luck would have it a friend with whom I worked, Severine, was, and is, an amazing salsa dancer so in order to get a bit of a head start she gave me an introductory lesson in the office. Severine is very polite but even she could not find anything to praise in my first efforts.

I am not sure how it happened but at the party I found myself at one point partnering Caroline. Maybe she had identified someone who would make her appear to be a potential winner of Strictly Come Dancing. Anyway, she survived the ordeal and I hope this experience has added to her resolve and given her new stem cells the strength to do their job.

Back to the cycling…

…well it has been everything but uneventful. I went a whole week with virtually no distance covered but far from feeling disappointed I just felt grateful that I survived without serious injury. Quite a few of my routes start with riding to Duxford via Hinxton, along a lane which features a ford across the River Cam. This day was cold, sub zero in fact. As I crossed the footbridge adjacent to the ford I noticed that ahead a van had gone off the road. The thought “I had better be careful, the road must be icy” formed in my head but I only got as far as “I had b” when I realised my saddle was no longer supporting me and I was falling. The impact was borne by the back of my head, or more accurately, by my helmet at the back of my head. I lay there in the middle of the road for a while trying to work out if I was OK. A van driver stopped to help me but as he approached me he too slipped on the sheet of black ice and hit the deck. Eventually I got up and retrieved my bike. My head ached and I felt sick so I reluctantly decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to continue so I called Ros who came to pick me up. I just felt thankful that I had been wearing my helmet.

Two days later, fully recovered, I set off for Cambridge to meet up with an old friend, Christine for lunch.

I got barely 50 yards before I realised something was wrong and looking down I saw my gear cable hanging loose. It had snapped when I crashed so once again another cycle ride was curtailed.

I have been trying to make up for it since and have been clocking up the miles. Yesterday Ros dropped me off in Royston and I rode to Cambridge at a good speed along flat roads. There is a lot of mud on them at the moment, I think because it is the tail end of the sugar beet harvest and there has been little rain to wash it away. It’s not a lot of fun when the mud freezes as can be seen from the pictiure below.

As you would expect in the second week of January the weather hasn’t been great but unexpectedly I ended the week on a positive note. Thankfully the depression of last week has lifted for the time being and I’ve also managed to clock up over 70 miles on the bike including a 33 mile run yesterday.

The middle of the week saw strong winds which limited not only distances traveled but also my enthusiasm. I took the opportunity to get the gears re-indexed by OWL, part of the Papworth Trust charity who provide a great service while you wait.

These short trips were bookended by two longer ones. The plotting of new routes, planning coffee stops, and taking in different scenery is so much more rewarding than plodding along familiar roads. As Ros was meeting a friend in Woburn yesterday she dropped me off at McDonald’s car park in Royston so early that the racehorses were still exercising on the heath. However the sub zero temperature seemed to give me more impetus (and cold ears) arriving at my planned coffee stop 17 miles later with ease.

On the way I found a new friend who was all too keen to smile for the camera.

 

 

On I went, the wind finally my friend, across Grantchester Meadows, and home.

One thing I have realised is how adept I have become at avoiding the dozens of pot holes pitting the local roads. Now I am cycling further afield I am falling into some big ones. I have heard of amputees being able to feel pain where limbs used to be, well as the force of the drop into yet another pot hole is transferred to my body via the saddle I am sure it is the pain in my erstwhile prostate that causes various profanities to spill from my mouth.

Well it’s been an unusual first week of 2017 with a lot of the confidence gained in December evaporating in two sluggish 13 mile rides. I can’t even blame it on an excess of alcohol on New Year’s Eve. It was cold and breezy but I just didn’t have a lot of energy. I decided to pencil in a longer ride for today (the 5th) but last night the demons associated with the drugs I take decided to come out to play. Not good and hard to keep a lid on. Nevertheless this morning I vowed not to let them beat me and set off by train to Cambridge…

The local news has featured several sightings in the last few days of an escaped large rhea called Lawrence on farmland South West of Cambridge. It would be fun to make his aquaintance so I plotted a route taking in the area where he had been spotted.

All was going well until I alighted at Cambridge Station…a front wheel puncture! Damn..I could either get the next train home or try and get it fixed and carry on. As luck would have it there is a bike repairer in a shack just outside the station. What a shame the proprietor showed a good deal more interest in the sausage roll he had just bought than in my front wheel and he informed me I would have to wait three hours for a job that would take him ten minutes. There was nothing for it but to walk to the City Centre and fix it myself. OK Sports Direct get a bad press but they certainly came up trumps today, an inner tube, tyre levers, and a pump (which I needed anyway) all for £17. Twenty minutes later all was done.

Riding along King’s Parade in front of King’s College is normally a huge pleasure but I could feel the demons resurfacing and scrambling my brain. I pushed on, out through Newnham, Barton, Haslingfield, Barrington before stopping for a rest. I really wasn’t enjoying the ride and not a sign of Lawrence.

Through Orwell and a brief stretch in the Western Hemisphere

 

All of a sudden I settled into a rhythm and eventually struggled home. It was 27 miles and I was proud that I hadn’t given in to the drugs’ side effects. Alas, this evening I have discovered that not only was the rhea recaptured this morning but his real name is Eric. What a day!