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Are you gonna go my way?

Posted in Hazards, Training with tags , , , on 16/02/2012 by Sheree

Frankly, if Lenny Kravitz were to ask me, my answer would be affirmative. Sadly, Lenny wasn’t asking but I continue to live in hope rather than  expectation. I’ll explain the connection, but first I have to back track.

The mercury had risen a few degrees, the sun was shining so my beloved and I decided to venture up into the hills for a ride. It was still chilly in the shade, and one had to exercise caution in the corners, but I was riding really well.  I suspect Peter Sagan (winner of today’s stage in the Tour of Oman) and I had the same breakfast this morning.

My husband turned round early to get back for a conference call while I pressed onwards and upwards. I was riding strongly even though I was doing high cadence intervals. I was channelling my inner Alberto and spinning without too much movement on the bike. Not quite as supple as Bertie, but I’m getting there. I even overtook a few groups of cyclists but almost came to grief as a Monaco registered black Porsche passed by me way too close. Still, on the positive side, they’d have been able to afford to compensate by beloved for losing the woman who makes his life heaven [and hell] or, at best, replace my beloved bike.

A gentleman, probably in his early sixties, rode up to me and expressed concern with antics of the Porsche. We exchanged a few disparaging words about foreigners and tax dodgers. Then he accelerated gently away. I was determined to keep him in view. I picked up my pace and maintained the distance between us. As we crested the hill, at the entrance to the village, the road flattens out and I shot past him. I was well ahead as I started the descent but he caught me as I was delayed by a small traffic jam. He stayed on my wheel until the roundabout. I turned left after the roundabout, while he cut it. This was war! I tracked him. I didn’t know where he was going, but I was going too.

I stayed on his wheel until the next roundabout. I was hoping he was going to turn right. He did. I followed him up the slight rise, shifted into my big ring and then attacked on the downhill: game over. I know this descent like the back of my hand and I powered down it. I never saw him again.

This is one of my favourite games when I’m out riding. I like to get someone in my sights, ride up to them and past. Guys generally don’t like being overtaken by a female and will often give chase. I can hold my own on the flat, am vulnerable on any climbs but will crush anyone on the downhills.  Most rides around here involve a long ascent, then a few ups and downs, followed by a long descent. If you’re still in my sights come the descent, you’re toast!

Of course, some resolutely refuse to play ball and ride me off their wheels on the ascent, never to be seen again. But if I don’t at least try, I’ll never get into a winning position. I wonder if Lenny cycles?

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Who’s gonna carry the flag?

Posted in Favourites, Hazards with tags , , , , , , on 10/02/2012 by Sheree

Today L’Equipe has posed the question as to who should carry the French flag at the forthcoming Olympics.  They’ve also questioned whether France  – like Great Britain and USA – should allow the athletes themselves to choose the flag-holder. In any event, it’s academic as the decision’s going to be taken by a committee (what else?), the French Olympic Committee, on 9 June.  That aside, L’Equipe has been canvassing its readership to see who they feel should carry the flag and then contacting the potential candidates for their reactions.

Teddy Riner courtesy of Wikipedia

Two candidates were equally favoured by L’Equipe’s poll: five-times world Judo champion Tenny Riner and Olympic and World Champion hand-baller, Nicola Karabatic: two good choices. They’re both big enough to carry the flag with ease and readily recognisable by the French public. In third place was the former husband of Desperate Housewife Eva Longoria,  basketball player Tony Parker. A number of the candidates proposed by readers – all of the swimmers –  would be ruled out simply from the timing of their events. Interestingly, while both Karabatic and Parker would be happy to fulful this honnor, Riner wants to focus exclusively on winning that elusive olympic gold medal.

Only two cyclists were proposed: double-Olympic MBT Champion, Julien Absalon and the evergreen Jeannie Longo. The latter’s participation in the event is in doubt following recent revelations in connection with her husband and training partner’s use of EPO as a recovery aid, even supposing that at only 43kg she’s capable of carrying the flag for any length of time. Absolan, competing in what will probably be his last Olympics – and gunning for a third gold – would appear to be a sounder choice. He replied that it would be immensely prestigious to be selected to perform this task. Meanwhile, Jeannie couldn’t be reached for a comment.

Potential candidates should note that carrying the flag could be something of a poisoned chalice. Only five of the forty (Winter and Summer Olympics) who have previously undertaken the task, have gone on to win gold medals. I have to confess that I do think the athletes themselves should make the choice. Nothing is nicer for an athlete than the confidence of their peers. However, I’m with Riner. In the highly improbable event of me ever being in contention at the Olympics, I know I would want to concentrate solely on winning. The opening ceremony and any associated ceremonial duties would be an unnecessary distraction. It really isn’t about taking part, it’s about winning: winning gold.

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Watery welcome

Posted in Hazards on 05/02/2012 by Sheree

As usual after any trip, it was good to be back on home soil: France. The weather was cold, but not as cold as we might have expected from the weather reports, although as we were landing we could clearly see the snow on the surrounding hillsides and mountains.  An unpleasant surprise awaited us in the apartment. The radiator in our lounge had sprung a leak in our absence. Judging from the pool of water, it hadn’t been running for too long, but long enough to wreak some damage.

We alerted the lady who’s the elected representative for the building as to the problem. She immediately rang the plumber but it’s Saturday and therefore it’s difficult to a) get someone to come out and b) because we have central heating central to the building, it has to be someone who knows the building. She eventually located the plumber who’s going to take on responsibility for the building’s central heating system, assuming this little episode hasn’t put him off.

He arrived with his tools to find up knee deep in wet towels and plastic containers. Operation mop up in full swing. I’d also popped downstairs to see my elderly neighbour who’d noted nothing amiss but my eagle, and younger, eyes noted a water stain running the length of her bedroom. She wasn’t too worried as long as I could assure her that water wouldn’t be running down the walls. I could, so I left. Returning later with a full update and the bad news that her bedroom was going to be cold. She’s fortunately got a small heater to alleviate the problem.

The plumber was unable to switch off the radiator, although we managed to do so later that evening. Instead, he elected to close off all the radiators in the building above ours and drain the system. This means most of my neighbours would have no heating in their bedrooms during our coldest snap. A charm offensive beckons. It took four hours to drain the system, we were somewhat fearful that we’d have to sleep in watches to ensure we didn’t have a catastrophe but finally, around 22 hours, the water stopped. Bed beckoned.

I’m now faced with the tedious business of alerting the insurance company who’ll send around an “experte” to assess the damage.  I have to obtain quotes  and then we’ll haggle over how much they’re going to give me. Meanwhile, I’m going to get the radiator replaced pronto otherwise my neighbours are going to be facing further chilly nights. However, not just any old radiator will do. It has to be one capable of withstanding the pressure of a central system. The choice is limited and they’re not pretty but, fortunately, it’ll be hidden beneath my radiator cover.

Postscript: The building plumber, who couldn’t respond to our calls yesterday as he’d left his mobile at home, turned up the morning to decommission my radiator and restore the heating to my neighbours.

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Righteous indignation

Posted in Club Events, Hazards with tags on 22/01/2012 by Sheree

During the winter months the clubs hosting pointages often award extra points if you pick up a ticket en route. This is generally a carrot to encourage you to cycle a bit farther and wider. I left the flat about an hour after my beloved, who wanted to ride with his clubmates. I had timed my departure to avoid the worst of the morning’s chill and damp conditions and to arrive with time to spare to collect my ticket. Or so I thought.

I arrived at the designated rendez vous point to collect my ticket only to discover no one was there. They were supposed to be there until 10:15, it said so on the announcement which I had consulted prior to leaving. I was not a happy bunny. I whipped out my mobile and took a photograph of the empty car park which handily also records the time and where I took it. I continued on my chosen path muttering about clubs who don’t stick to the rules. I have fallen foul of these a couple of times, arriving exhausted only to find the club’s volunteers have shut up shop before the witching hour: nul points and no refreshments. Of course, now that I’m Club Secretary, I receive a copy of the each pointage’s details so I KNOW when they’re supposed to close or how long they’re supposed to hang around to hand out tickets. Knowledge is power.

Fuelled by anger and still muttering to myself, I was riding really well and overtaking large numbers of cyclists on my chosen route to the pointage.  I was zooming down towards the coast road when out the corner of my eye I noted an oncoming car indicating it was turning left, across my bows. I continued, but so did the car. A collision was inevitable. I applied the brakes and skidded on the wet road only to be knocked over by the car which stopped. The lady driver emerged and demanded to know why I hadn’t stopped. I leapt to my feet and checked my bike. It appeared undamaged. I turned and advised the woman: 1) I had right of way; 2) she should have stopped and would have done so had I been another car; 3) driving while talking on your mobile is dangerous and illegal.  I suggested that in future she keep her eyes on the road. I mounted and rode off to a round of applause from the witnesses. I consigned her registration number to memory.

Finally, I arrived at the pointage ready to do battle for my additional points. The wind was rather taken out of my sails by one of the guys who said he’d seen me at the meeting point but had been unable to catch my attention. I recognised him but didn’t drop him in it. He and his team mates had been enjoying a cup of coffee 500 metres up the road! I got my  precious points. I’m now back home and surveying the damage. Two black knee caps, a sore left hip and shoulder where the car struck. I’ll live to tell my tale again and again.

Monday Postscript: All sorts of aches and pains this morning which I’m stoically ignoring. The worst is my left shoulder which I hurt when I fell over on Saturday and exacerbated when I attempted to hold off the advancing vehicle yesterday. The blackened knees look impressive but will be hidden beneath my 3/4 bib tights.

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Don’t talk to strangers

Posted in Hazards with tags on 15/01/2012 by Sheree

When I was very much younger my Mum cautioned me against talking to strangers. I’m sure your Mum probably said something similar. But who are these strangers? To be honest, Mum didn’t give me much clarification at the time or since. I’m sure her intention was to keep me safe. But statistics show that most people are either harmed or killed by people they know ie not strangers. There are few really random acts of violence.

To be honest, I never much heeded her words and have spent most of my life talking to people I didn’t or don’t know. In fact I’m happy to strike up a conversation with pretty much anyone. The first instance I can recall was on a summer vacation to the Isle of Wight when I would have been around 18 months’ old. My parents (as a joke) deposited me in a large waste paper bin and walked round the corner. The joke was on them as I was rescued by a couple staying in the same hotel who heeded my cries for help. Just imagine the shocked looks on my parents faces when they returned seconds later to find me gone! Or maybe they were relieved.  In any event, we were shortly reunited.

While I was at primary school, Wednesday afternoons (and Saturday mornings) I attended ballet classes. My mother was hoping (in vain) to make me lighter on my feet. As a reward for my pirouettes my parents used to take me for afternoon tea at The Queen’s Hotel, later demolished to make way for New Street Station. Most of the hotel’s other guests were regulars, ladies and gentlemen of a certain age, often on their own. Once I’d been into the kitchens to see chef, and select my cakes, I would do the rounds of the hotel lounge. No one was safe. I would stroll up, bold as brass, and seat myself comfortably on a facing chair or sofa before smiling and then disarming them with my skilful interrogation techniques. No pliers or bright lights required. Once I had the facts at my disposal, they were filed away ready to be revisited the following week when I dropped by for an update. Early and very useful training for my future career as an auditor.

Now that I think about it, I’ve spent most of my life chatting to strangers and not come to any harm. Nowadays, when I’m out riding, I regularly strike up conversations with people I don’t know. I may not know their names, but they’re not strangers. We’re all part and parcel of the brother and sisterhood of cyclists.

About a year ago, I started chatting with someone who shared my interests: football and cycling. We regularly dropped by one another’s blogs and left comments. I knew his name, where he lived, the names of his family and his email address, but that was it. We were to all intents and purposes strangers. A few months ago he made me and two other strangers a proposal we just couldn’t refuse. He suggested we pooled our efforts to write a cycling blog. It launched at the start of this year, has been well received and it’s been such a blast. Mosey over to www.velovoices.com and check it out. While I was in the UK last week, I took the opportunity to meet up with two of the threesome and found we weren’t strangers at all, just long lost brothers and sisters in arms.

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Out of sight, out of my mind (not)

Posted in Hazards with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on 14/01/2012 by Sheree

Visits to my family in the UK are such rare occurrences that I never take my laptop with me. Not, of course, that my parents have access to the internet. But, even if they did, I would feel guilty spending even half an hour of the few precious hours I spend with them checking out what’s happening in the two-wheeled world. I’m not completely out of touch, I do have my Blackberry but emails and tweets tend to give me tantalising glimpses of what I’m missing. But I can be patient, every now and then.

My last UK trip was in October. This visit was arranged because of its proximity to my birthday, Xmas and ahead of next week’s start of the 2012 cycling season.  So for just a few days, while I’m seeing my family, and catching up with a few friends, I feel bereft of my usual daily anchors. The Times is a poor substitute for L’Equipe. But it’s better than nothing, and this week it did feature an interview with Sky’s World Champion, Mark Cavendish (seen right), and the planning and preparation that’s going into (possibly) making him Olympic Champion. A far harder task than securing the rainbow jersey he’ll be gracing all season long. My family sadly don’t share my love of all things two-wheeled, nor do some of my friends, though they all kindly show some interest which I repay by not talking too much or overlong (I hope) about my velo passions.

On my return home to the sunshine this morning, there were two items high on my agenda: a bike ride and a quick catch up on what I’d missed during the past four days (was it only four?). So much seems to have happened. A bit of a dust up over who’s on who’s side in the Contador v UCI/WADA decision and the fear that it might be delayed, once again. The wild cards for the Giro have been announced with German Team NetApp springing a bit of a surprise while Acqua & Sapone’s hopes and dreams went down the plughole. OPQS’s Tom Boonen deciding to up sticks and head back to Belgium, passing up on an opportunity to ride with me this winter. He must have had a savage pay cut so the team could pay for Levi Leipheimer and Tony Martin.

The route of this year’s Vuelta was unveiled on Wednesday. I’ve planned to be there at the start, shortly after the Clasica San Sebastian but, with the entire race taking part in northern Spain, I am now being tempted to linger longer. I’ve looked at the parcours and winced. This is most definitely a route for Spanish mountain goats, particularly those that weigh less than me. You know who you are!

Sylvain plots Fabian's downfall

There’s also been numerous team presentations, broadcast over the net, where riders have been forced to wear outfits they’d rather not and assume daft poses for publicity shots they’d rather not. It’s a tough life, even without the hours spent in the saddle.

We’re all (aren’t we?) poised in the starting blocks for next weeks’ season opener, the Santos Tour Down Under. The Australian viewing public have chosen their man to follow Vacansoleil’s and 2010 Tour of Qatar winner, “Wouter Mol”, and we’re all chomping at the bit for the action to commence. Fortunately my beloved is going to be heading to the UK on Monday leaving me ample opportunity to view proceedings. The speculation has already started as to who might win but the beauty of cycling is that none of us really has any idea. But it won’t be me.

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Feats of endurance

Posted in Club Events, Cookery, Hazards on 16/12/2011 by Sheree

Mmm delicious

I am not, and never have been, fond of mass participation events. Mass in my book being any number over and beyond me and my beloved. I’m a goat (Capricorn) rather than a sheep. However, there are times when you cannot do exactly as you please. By working for myself, I have sought to minimise these. However, while I was a wage slave, there were occasions when I toed the party line, notably the office Xmas party. Words guaranteed to strike terror into the heart of every manager. However, if you are a manager, then these are MUST attend events. Nothing short of death should excuse you.

By their very nature, they are organised, or should be organised, to appeal to everyone else and, to keep the taxman happy, generally to a per capita budget. I have long accepted that what constitutes a good night out for most is my idea of hell. I found the trick with office parties was to put in an appearance, eat and drink very little, be seen by as many people as possible, make a point of speaking to all my staff and thanking them for their efforts, but not to overstay my welcome and ruin everyone’s enjoyment. After all, few want to get off their face when the boss is around. Generally, leaving money behind the bar was also well received.

As the Club Treasurer and Secretary, I’m pretty much obliged to put in an appearance at all club events. However, here my role tends to be organisational rather than participational. In truth, I mind this less as I’m in charge. Events also follow a traditional pattern, although the annual dinner and dance has fallen by the wayside. Next year, we’re combining the AGM, which is being held on 6 January, with the Galette des Rois. Largely, it must be said, from necessity as the much in demand municipal venue isn’t available again until March.

In recent years, thanks to enlarged premises with a garden, we’ve also added a few events to the club agenda: Pancake night, Chocoholics evening and summer BBQs. These cost the club very little as it’s generally the members and their wives who prepare everything. Everyone mucks in and a good time is had by all, including me. But then that’s because I like nothing better than cooking for an appreciative crowd and proving that, contrary to popular belief, the English can cook.

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You want how much?

Posted in Hazards on 12/12/2011 by Sheree

Allegedly you can buy fans for your blog. I kid you not. I have received  a fair amount of spam alerting me to this practice. Obviously they’ve not read my open letter to spammers. Or, they have and they’re getting they’re own back. I declined to discover exactly how this might be achieved aka I hit the “delete” button. To be honest, I’m not sure why you would even want to engage in this activity. After all, only I and the people at WordPress know how many visitors my blog attracts. It’s our dirty little secret, until somebody hacks into my WordPress account. .

I have already inadvertently discovered that you can drive visitors to your blog with suggestive titles. Of course, the visits are fleeting since you’re not offering what they’re seeking. A few of them do browse but I sense I fail to retain their interest. I don’t have the right sort of lycra lovelies. My most regular visitors are my subscribers, family and friends. To be honest, I write the blog for my own amusement, so it really wouldn’t matter if no one dropped by. I quite enjoy recording my thoughts, views and musings. If someone finds them interesting or entertaining, so much the better. However, I’m seeking neither fame nor glory, not even my 15 minutes’ worth.

Of course, if I were hoping to win the blogging equivalent of an Oscar, I would presumably need to drive traffic to my site to vote for me. Likewise, if I were expecting to earn a living from blogging. But neither’s the case. No, low cost and low key’s much more my style. The thought of actually incentivising people to visit the blog sounds somewhat desperate; the blogging equivalent of “Billy no mates”. Do people who write blogs constantly check to see how many visitors they’ve had and which blog entries have been read? I don’t know, you tell me.

One indicator of blog popularity might be the number of comments you receive. But even those can be deceiving. l read a number of blogs but rarely feel moved to comment. I think that’s called lurking. However, I do comment from time to time when I agree with or empathise with the content. But, when pressed for time, which seems to be just about all the time recently, I just read the few I enjoy and rarely trawl further afield. There’s just too much data out there and sometimes, not enough information. Unsurprisingly, the sites I visit most tend to cover one or more of the following topics cycling, MotoGP, cookery or football. No surprise there!

 

Postscript: You can also buy friends on Facebook!!!!

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All’s right with my world

Posted in Favourites, Hazards with tags , , , , , on 20/11/2011 by Sheree

There’s nothing I love more on Sunday afternoons than relaxing on the sofa with the newspapers, watching sport on the television, after having ridden with my beloved in the morning. Even though, the mercury continues to head towards more wintry temperatures, it was sunny again today. Perfect for a ride along the coast were it not for the fact that the Nice-Cannes marathon runners had first dibs on the road today.

My beloved returned late last night having spent two days in Bournemouth in the company of 600 women. He seemed in high spirits. I wonder why? Actually, I know why. One of the products he’s currently promoting at long last seems to be catching on big time and proved a hit with the ladies.

We woke too late to ride with the club and only set off for our ride when most of the other club riders were returning home. We see no point in venturing out while it’s still too cold. Far better to wait until the sun’s warmth has taken the chill away. We headed toward Pre du Lac and then rode back via Opio, Valbonne and Biot. The reverse of one of our favourite winter Saturday rides. Like yesterday there was a stiffish breeze which I hope didn’t unduly hinder the marathon runners. Each year I ponder whether I might take part in next year’s event but pondering is about as far as I’ve got. I’m still running (for want of a better word) on a regular basis as part of my training but 45-60 mins is about my limit, any more and I get bored.

The marathon was won by Kenyan Lukas Kanda in a time of 2:08:40. In fact, the top 10 places were all taken by runners from the African sub-continent apart from Frenchman Alban Cholin who finished 9th. I was much amused to see that runners from my local Post Office finished a very creditable 8th in the relay. These cannot work in the actual office, they must all be Postman Pats.

Ahead of my forthcoming trip to Paris and New York, I’ve ridden every day and run the full gamut of exercises. My Garmin tells me I’m in the form of my life which is rather poor timing on my part. The sportif’s season tends to run from early April to mid-June, so either I’ve peaked 7 months too late or 5 months too early. Take your pick.

While my beloved boys in claret and blue head to London for a Monday night clash with Spurs, OGC Nice played a blinder with nine men against St Etienne. Yes, within 30 minutes two players had received their marching orders, including the goalkeeper, and they’d conceded two goals. Despite losing another player (careless, or what?), they managed to preserve the status quo for Marsiglia’s first match in charge. Either this will prove to be a baptism of fire from which the team will recover or it’ll be a large nail in the new manager’s coffin.

Current crooner and former tennis player Yannick Noah seems to have created a bit of a storm in a coffee cup, following his comments about doping during an interview with French newspaper Le Monde. He implied that Spanish athletes were omnipotent thanks to taking magic potions and, as a consequence, the French authorities should be more lenient. It’s fair to say that his comments have not been well-received anywhere. I would imagine that Alberto Contador is crossing Noah off his Xmas card list while ASO, as I type,  are probably deleting him from the Tour de France 2012 promotional video. Noah, you should be responsibly, and not irresponsibly, provocative.

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Making the best of it

Posted in Hazards, Training with tags , , , , on 03/11/2011 by Sheree

Technology is a wonderful thing allowing us to do more with less, or in less time. However, when it doesn’t work or doesn’t work well, it’s a bit like that little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead. You get my drift. I now, at long last, have a functioning internet connection and  have managed to get the printer to print, although not to fax or scan. A number of the bells and whistles which were put in place by our own engineer have gone by the wayside and will have to be reintroduced next week, along with sorting out my beloved’s laptop and notepad. But, for now at least, I’m back on line.

As a consequence, over the past few busy days of month end, everything has taken much longer than usual. In addition, I have been keen to profit from the last few dry days and have been out conscientiously logging the kilometres. I am facing almost a week riding the home trainer, jogging along the sea front and working out in the gym in lieu of my usual rides. Now, of course, you can ride in the rain; particularly once the rain has washed away the surface diesel. However, I don’t enjoy it and am not keen to catch another cold so soon after dispatching the last one.

My cycling coach has suggested attending one of his bootcamps, led by the gorgeous Greg, in Nice on Monday. I may just do that if the rain persists as forecast for the next six days. Working out on my own in the gym tends to get boring, as does the home trainer, after an hour or so. I also have the additional challenge of my beloved who will be home all next week and, after a long business trip, will be anxious to get out on the bikes. We may just default to the mountain bikes.

The last couple of days have had a Tour-like air about them: rolling road closures, police outriders, helicopters buzzing overhead and policemen stationed on every motorway entrance, exit and bridge. Of course, it’s not the Tour. The extra 12,000 plods are here to protect the G20 leaders and their not inconsiderable entourages. If you want to know where they are staying, and how they’ll be spending their days, the local newspaper has thoughtfully provided all of the vital details. Of course, this could be one huge smokescreen to thwart any potential troublemakers. Here, I’m thinking of Greeks rather than members of Al Khaida.

The Obama’s allegedly wanted to set up camp in the Eden Roc Hotel at Cap d’Antibes. Who wouldn’t? But sadly for them the hotel gets mothballed from the end of October until the beginning of April. So they’ve had to make do with just a 5* luxury hotel. As you might imagine, none of the countries Heads of State are staying anywhere other than the big named, luxury hotels in Cannes. Mind you, if the Greeks were here, they might have been expected to book into one of the budget hotels: an Ibis or Kyriad. Just like the Tour riders.

Friday postscript: According to the Nice Matin the American delegation numbers 800, including 150 secret service agents and 6 doctors. Wouldn’t like to be picking up that hotel bill.

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