Contador and Clenbuterol: Get it Over With Already

Yesterday the Spanish cycling federation overturned an earlier decision banning the “winner” of last year’s Tour de France for 1 year following his positive test for clenbuterol (get more details here).  Whether you think this was the proper decision for them to take or a case of leniency and looking the other way in a scandal involving one of Spain’s sporting heroes it’s hard to see how this sudden change will do anything other than ensure that this controversy rumbles on, distracting attention from this year’s races and casting a shadow over last year’s results.  That’s what bothers me most about this whole situation, but more on that below.

There are also a few other details that make me think there’s something fishy with Contador’s story, the state of Spanish cycling and, depending on what the UCI does, international cycling’s governing body as well.  It’s hard to see the UCI not appealing the Spanish federation’s decision; if they don’t then I think it will be pretty clear that that organisation is rotten as well.  While the World Anti-Doping Authority does not allow an athlete to be exonerated if he or she unknowingly consumes something containing a banned substance rule 296 of the UCI does allow for a rider to be let off if that rider can prove that this occurred accidentally  and unknowingly.  That’s why you don’t see today’s riders accepting drinks from spectators, a sight that’s unavoidable in footage of even fairly recent classics and grand tours.  All it would take would be some tainted water or a spiked coke and, according to the letter of the law, an athlete would be subject to a two year ban.  That’s why the drinks powders, energy gels and bars, recovery concoctions that are any good are emblazoned with a symbol as seen on the back of an e

Another Year, Another Ride

Happy New Year everyone.  Now that the festive season has come and gone things should be returning to normal here at the Omphaloskeptic.  That should mean regular posts and plenty of waffle.

Before those posts start appearing I would like to let all my visitors know that I’ve just registered to ride from London to Paris for Action Medical Research over four days in July.  You can see the itinerary of the route I will follow here.  I’ll probably mention my fundraising efforts and training attempts from time to time but, for the most part, I plan to keep those confined to seperate, dedicated blog.  I’ll be riding for the same charity that I completed a century for back in September, and event I originally crowed about along with some of my reasons for doing so back in January of 2010.

Keep your eyes open for more details.

King of the Mountains: Tour of Britain Stage 5

This year’s edition of the Tour of Britain has featured two stages (4 and 5) here in the South West and, more importantly for me, passing through Exeter.  I didn’t make it out to see the peloton speed past during yesterday’s stage 4 on its way to the finish in Teignmouth.  Today I was determined to be at the roadside cheering the riders on.  That’s what all the professional riders really enjoy you know, loud American neophyte cyclists yelling useful things such as “yes!” and “go on” and sometimes even just emitting a noise that’s meant to sound happy and encouraging.  In the event a nice marshal gave me a little blue flag to wave in fine counterpoint to my vocal exertions.

Determined as I was to see some portion of the race the only real question I faced was whether to walk to the end of my street to watch it go by or to cycle to Whitestone, a few miles from where I live, where the day’s second King of the Mountains (K.O.M.) climb would be finishing atop a category 2 hill.    I opted to do the latter.  Mainly I did so because the top of a climb I know and make myself seemed like a much more exciting place to watch the race than a flat, suburban road.  I also knew the riders would be moving slightly slower atop the hill than they would be on the flat maximizing my chance of gaping at them.  Given that Wednesday is also one of my regular riding days it also seemed appropriate for me to pull on my own, ill-fitting lycra and drag my carcass up a big hill albeit at a much slower rate than the men I was going to watch.    I made the right decision.

I’d never seen any part of a stage race in person before today so I was very excited to see some of the teams and individual racers I’ve been following in print and on screen.  I arrived about an hour before the race was due to come past and nabbed myself a spot no more than three metres from the K.O.M. finish.  Once there I chatted with a friendly gent who’s been following the race in his car for the past two days and combining that pursuit with pub lunches and a bit of locomotive spotting.  He was also a very experienced cyclist in his own right and eager to share his insights.  Overall the atmosphere fairly hummed with the collective excitement of the spectators who continued to arrive by car and cycle up until 10 minutes or so before the race finally passed.

Not long before the first, breakaway group of 8 riders crested the hill police motorcycles enforcing the rolling roadblock sped past followed by the officials’ cars.  Before all that happened, however, two member of the K.O.M. support team applied the high-tech finish line to the road.

Yes, that IS masking tape they're using

When the breakaway went past it was truly impressive.  They didn’t even seem to be working terribly hard, an appearance I know was entirely deceiving.  I wouldn’t like to swear to who took which places and points on that particular climb though I was lucky enough to see Bradley Wiggins amongst the contenders and hear the crowd roaring in support of a native son.  I even managed to get a decent photo of Mr Wiggins despite digging my phone out of my rear pocket and snapping it without any pretence of framing the shot.  Support vehicles followed and then, 4 minutes later the main bunch trailed by yet more support vehicles, the broom wagon (yes, it actually had a broom attached) and, letting us all know that the spectacle was over a Honda emblazoned with the words “rear of race.”

As I write the riders have yet to cross today’s finish in Glastonbury so I don’t know if the breakaway I saw stayed away, stayed intact or had any impact on the overall classification.  Whether it did or not I’m glad I made the effort to go and watch a small portion of this 8-day stage race.  Even if you’re not a cycling fan I’d recommend you have a look if the race passes through your neck of the woods.  You don’t need to know names or teams, about gearings or graphite frames to get caught up in the excitement of cyclists rushing past at speeds most of us can’t dream of attaining attended by press, support cars, police and even a helicopter or two hovering overhead.  All the commotion aside I’d say, based on my experience today, that the absolutely best part of watching a professional cycle race is that, if you pick your spot carefully you’ll be so close to the riders you can feel the rush of the wind they’re generating and feel your heart quicken as some ever-cautious part of your brain wonders if the half metre between you and the riders is large enough to be safe.

The Winchester 100 and Then Some: A Final Update

Yesterday saw the completion of a journey I began last November when I published a post wondering about the real benefactors of charity cycle rides.  After registering, having a number pinned to my back and receiving a safety briefing, an air horn was sounded and I set off from Sparsholt College just outside Winchester to follow a 100 mile route with a six or seven of my fellow riders.  Another group or two had already departed and more groups were to follow.  By the time I pedaled my way back onto the grounds of Sparsholt College late in the afternoon I’d ridden through parts of three counties (Hampshire, Wiltshire and Dorset) chatted with some very encouraging fellow cyclists and, thanks to my navigational skills, managed to get lost 5 miles or so from the finish with the result that I eventually rode over 115 miles rather than the scheduled 100.  Along the way I passed through some beautiful villages, was forced to give way to a group of long-haired donkeys in the New Forrest and spent a good 2 hours alone pedalling directly into a strong headwind while being pelted with rain.  I especially liked that bit.

I haven’t yet been told how much money was raised by the event, but I do know that those who generously sponsored me combined to donate £490.  As the woman who registered me exclaimed “that’s very impressive.”  Action Medical Research is, in my opinion, a very deserving charity that does great work.  The organisation doesn’t receive government funding so they rely very heavily on events like the one I participated in and the generosity of people like those who sponsored me.  Thank you to everyone who did donate.

I should also mention the fantastic effort the volunteer support staff  contributed to make yesterday a success for me and the other riders.  There was nothing ostentatious about the arrangements but they were both very practical and appropriate.  Despite my getting lost the route was VERY clearly marked; I only have myself to blame for failing to spot two large black and yellow signs telling me to turn right and then powering on for miles before wondering if I’d gone wrong.  Somebody or somebodies had to travel the route and put those signs up and it cannot have been a fun job.  The marshalls as well as the people at the three feed stations along the route were all friendly and encouraging.  On at least at least two occasions I was grateful for some verbal encouragement as I neared the crest of the route’s bigger hills.  Over lunch some of my fellow riders and I agreed that we were particularly indebted to the people who had cooked the dishes we were gobbling down.  We didn’t know who they were but it was a very nice and, after the rainy run in, needed change from the bits of fruit and energy bars we’re accustomed to carrying and eating while training.    The fact that the dishes were home cooked and, I suspect, donated by volunteers also made me feel better than any catered meal could have.

By the time I crossed the finish line I was more than ready to get off my bike.  Going off piste had happened at the worst possible time for me when I was at my most exhausted and easily distressed.  Overall it was a very good, if very long day.  All of us were presented with a dog-tag style medal to mark our achievement which is pictured above.  I haven’t been wearing mine about.  Were were also given a bag containing information about the charity and a sample of Zipvit products donated by that company as a sponsor.  Better yet, lurking in each and every bag was a small, plush version of the charity’s internationally famous mascot.  He keeps staring at me and he’s already starting to whisper about the possibility of me competing in another ride.

Pedals, Punctures and Pleasure: A Charity Ride Update

It’s been just over a month since my last update on my preparations for the Winchester 100 charity ride in September.  Things are coming along nicely.  I’m averaging just over 26 miles on my midweek rides and while I’m not in danger of breaking any records my average speeds are up.  Sundays have seen me spending much longer periods of time on the road and covering greater distances.  For two weekends in a row this route has formed the basis of my excursions.

Two weeks ago I tacked a bit more on to the front end of the ride and covered just over 73 miles in total.  The Sunday just past I added some additional miles at the routes end to push my total up to just under 82 miles.  On both rides I had a great time as I was able to pedal my way through some really beautiful terrain.  Tiny brooks, thatched cottages, densely wooded lowland, windswept hilltops with great views, tiny villages and country towns all featured on these rides.  I even managed to eat a banana or two as I was pedalling through Devon.

Perhaps the greatest testament I can give to just how enjoyable this route has been is to reveal that the first time I followed it I never got frustrated or lost my temper despite my rear wheel being punctured four times during the course of the ride.  I’m not a terribly patient person, so the fact that I was able to stop, replace or patch my tube all while continuing to enjoy what I was doing and where I was says a great deal (Two days later I did replace the worn rear tyre which has slowed my puncture rate considerably).  If you live in or are visiting the area I’d really recommend following some or all of this route if you get the chance.

Given how far I’ve been going Sunday afternoons and evenings have found me a very tired and rather stiff individual.  My Monday rides have also been rather sedate affairs.  Still, it’s nice to be able to report that I’m making good progress toward my immediate goal of riding 100 miles on 5 September.  The London to Paris ride in July 2011 is also starting to look like a real possibility.

Care to join me in turning the pedals?

Why I’m Loving Le Tour

In the midst of all the World Cup excitement the 2010 edition of the Tour de France has, at least its week, been lost amid a babble of hyperbolic sporting metaphors that I’m not sure the tournament ever lived up to.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m under no illusion that the majority of fans who tuned in to see the final or any other match would have tuned in to coverage of the Le Tour had the Cup not been in progress.  I’m also not benighted enough to think that someday professional cycling will rival football for affection in many hearts across the world.  I even watched a fair bit of the tournament myself though I have to admit to switching between the final and Top Gear.  Despite watching the overgrown adolescent Clarkson and his grinning sidekicks I was back in plenty of time to see the winning goal scored which was, I admit , pretty exciting though not nearly as invigorating as watching England beat Germany in 2001 on a big screen in a somewhat dodgy pub off the Mile End Road.  Spain’s winning goal also wasn’t nearly as exciting as this year’s edition of the Tour has been so far.

Before the race started I was a bit wary.  After the intense excitement of the Giro d’Italia earlier this year I didn’t think it likely that the French race could offer fans as much.  Sure, the Tour is the stage race and the director and his staff had planned this year’s route to ensure maximum excitement, but I just didn’t see how it could match the spectacle provided by its Italian cousin.  Nine and a bit stages in (stage ten is  underway as I write) I’m happy to report that I was wrong.  So far la grande boucle has provided more than enough thrills and drama to keep me hooked and hungry for more.  Elsewhere on the web and in print there’s plenty of  strategic and statistical analysis of the race.  This stuff is useful to understanding what’s going on, but I think it’s only interesting because the race itself has been great to watch.  With this in mind I offer readers of the Omphaloskeptic some of my subjective reasons for taking such delight in the 2010 Tour so far

The Contador Armstrong rivalry -  I might as well get this out of the way to begin with as it seems to impossible to watch or read any coverage without encountering some mention of it.  Beyond the question of Armstrong’s age, the allegations of doping and his 7 victories I’ve always found myself reacting against what I see as his incredible egotism and megalomania as well as the attention that is lavished (and forced) on him.  He started better than I expected him to and it would have been an incredible story to watch him battle it out with Contador all the way to Paris.  That being said his horrible luck and, in stage 8, apparent lack of fitness have put him outside of contention for a podium place and let a breath of fresh air not so much into the field as into discussions of the race.  While it would be amazing if he did claw back the minutes he’s lost I think it’s only good for the race that the rivalry between Armstrong and the Spaniard has already been put to bed.  This makes it easier to hear, read and talk about the numerous other stories and riders worthy of attention.  One Schleck brother, for example, has been forced to abandon due to crash-sustained injuries while his younger sibling, who many agreed depended heavily upon him, seems poised to give Contador more of a contest than most expected.  My point isn’t that Armstrong versus Contador wasn’t worthy of attention just that it risked overshadowing a much wider range and greater depth of stories.

The Three C’s:

1. Crashes – I hope everyone reading this is shaking his or her head in shock.  The crashes are horrible, they leave my mouth dry and give me a definite feeling of nausea.  As someone who cycles I can’t bear to watch them; they are nightmares played out on my screen.  It’s their aftermath, how the riders respond to their spills that is important for reasons in common with the other two C’s which I’ll get to in a moment.  I do not watch the race to see crashes for their own sake and it would make me very happy if there were no more crashes this year or in future Tours.
2. Cobbles – I loved the cobbled sections early on in this year’s Tour.  The riders rode aggressively and there were some surprises as well as crashes
3. Climbs – the past few stages have seen the Tour entering the alps and forced the riders to do some real climbing.  I love watching both the pure climbers who seem to dance gracefully up first and hors category climbs and the bigger guys who force their way up the slopes with brute force.  Cycling up and over a mountain is a silly thing to do when you think about it.  It’s even sillier to do it more than once in a day.  The  grimpeurs and the grunters negate that silliness and give us something beautiful.

What the crashes, cobbles and climbs all share is an ability to make it clear just how hard the riders of the Tour are working, how close to the edge they push themselves just for the sake of a gruelling contest that sees them ride over 1oo miles daily for three weeks apart from two rest days.  The cobbles demanded aggressive riding and a clear commitment on the part of all those who crossed them and even that wasn’t enough to keep everyone safe or within sight of a podium place.  The climbs, even for the best climbers, are a visible display of an ability to deal with physical pain and carry on.  For some that’s through a stubborn refusal to give up, for others it’s a more graceful exercise that sees them ‘play’ with other climbers as they chase and accelerate away from fellow riders as they climb.  In both cases the determination, dedication and strength of the competitors is on show something that is also true, perhaps to a greater extent, when riders pick themselves up after a crash, get back on their bikes or one of their teammates’ and carry on despite road rash, the need for stitches and worse.  Then, where possible, they come back the next day and continue racing.  Cadel Evans, for example, took the yellow jersey and  completed the next day’s stage with a broken elbow.  Like many others watching I thought he’d simply run out of steam when he was dropped from the main peloton and saw his chances of an overall win disappear.  It never occurred to me or the commentators I was listening to that he might have a broken bone in one of the arms that had been supporting his upper body weight on his bars all day.  It’s a horrible thing to contemplate doing.

It also, I think, says something eloquent about not just Evans, but the race as a whole.  As a stage race the Tour de France is a daily grind for those who contest it.  It’s a punishing ordeal for their bodies and minds that demands strength and skill.  It can, and often does, exact a blood tribute from its participants.  From that daily slog, from the mixture of dust, sun, mud, rain, grease and blood that is le Tour something dramatic, strong, graceful and, yes, beautiful emerges.  The race is self-contradictory.  It can be hard to watch.  At the same time, once you see it for what it is it’s even harder not too. . .

More Gruppetto than Grimpeur: A Charity Ride Update.

In January I revealed that I’d finally gone ahead and registered to take part in a 100 mile charity cycle ride.  I also promised or, depending on your point of view, threatened to keep visitors to the Omphaloskeptic updated on my preparations for the event.  I don’t want to bore people by rabbiting on too often for too long about my training and fundraising but I figure it’s about time for some form of update.

Over the past six weeks my training has become more serious and more structured than it had been and I’m making some noticeable progress toward being ready for September 5.  Because I’m cycling for longer and covering greater distances than I have regularly done in the past I’ve been confronted by the need to search out new routes to a) keep things interesting and b) make sure I pedal over a variety of terrain.  Yesterday I completed a ride that satisfied both of the these requirements, especially the later.

If you’re interested you can see a large portion of the route I followed here.  In total I completed a circuit of just over 50 miles (80 km) but, once I returned home, stretched and showered, I was only really interested in the new climbing and descending I’d done so I only mapped the novel and unfamiliar portions of my ride.  While I’d known in advance that I was going to be climbing one or two relatively large hills I’m glad I didn’t map the route and look at its profile the night before.  If I had I may well have revised my plan.

Instead I returned home to find that I’d climbed to a height nearly 100 metres than any of the hills I regularly pedal and of any of the rises that will feature on the charity ride not once but three times.  It wasn’t easy, but the sun was out, I was on good, quiet roads and during the climbs as well as at their summits I was treated to some fantastic views that made my physical exertions worthwhile.  I even snapped a few photos with my phone, but forgot to actually save any of them.

The feeling of having surprised myself by exceeding what I thought I was capable of at this point in my training was just an additional bonus to being outside, crossing the Devon countryside on a beautiful Sunday.  Recently I’ve been worrying most about the climbing I’ll have to do on the charity ride rather than the distance to be covered.  Yesterday’s ride has helped put my mind at ease reassuring me that, as long as I keep training, the hills around Winchester won’t present insurmountable obstacles.

While I did make it up some hills yesterday I didn’t exactly fly up them.  That’s fine, I’m not a racing cyclist.  Even as recreational spinning goes I suspect I’ll never be much of a climber or grimpeur.  I can force my legs to keep turning my pedals and, sometimes, stop my shoulders rocking and my head bobbing as I strain for a summit.  I’ll come out of the saddle if I have to but I don’t like doing so and I certainly don’t dance gracefully on my pedals to accelerate during an ascent.  Instead I’m a gruppetto of one, forcing myself  just to get up and get over the climb in my path within a self-imposed time limit.  I know how long the new climbs took me yesterday and the next time I point my handlebars up them I’ll be aiming to complete them just a bit more quickly.

Compared to professional cyclists and even a number of recreational cyclists the climbs I did yesterday are nothing to brag about.  They do amount to a small milestone for me in both my preparation for the charity ride as well as my own cycling endeavours.  I enjoyed my ride yesterday and gained a certain sense of satisfaction, as well as tired legs, from my ascending.  At the same time I’m also very glad that, unlike professional riders, the only clock I was competing against was my own and that my little gruppetto of one wasn’t pursued by anything other than an imaginary broom wagon.

A Good Reason to Ride

It’s only been over the last few years that I’ve started cycling in anything resembling a serious way.  Sure, I had a bicycle growing up and, when I was younger, it provided a good way to have some wholesome fun with my friends.  When I got a bit older my machine was primarily a means of transportation, to and from school, between the local pick-up basketball spot and home and the occasional spin just for the fun of it.  As exercise, competitive sport or a recreation cycling did not sit high on my list of activities.  Iwas a hurdler, a 400 metre runner, a basektball player and a surfer.

I still surf, though not as much as I’d like t,o but the running and basketball playing are out.  My knees don’t deal well with such high-impact activities.  They swell painfully, refuse to bend.  Stairs become a problem and to say I get cranky is an understatement.  Given the sedentary nature of my profession it became apparent a few years ago that I needed more exercise than just walking my dogs and long rambles on the weekend.  I tried swimming – it was nice but laps get repetitive after a few months- and then decided to get myself a cheap road bike.  I had this idea after a trip to France where I saw all sorts of people pushing their bodies to cycle up a certain Mt Ventoux.  Any activity that inspired that kind of dedication, I figured, must pay some pretty big rewards.  So, a few months later, I got my own machine and gave it a go.

I’d be lying if I said it has all been wonderful and plain sailing since.  It hasn’t, but on balance taking to the roads has been a great experience.  I’ve even graduated to a much nicer machine.  There are all sorts of reasons I love to be out on my bicycle.  I live in a part of the world that means I can very quickly get out into some beautiful countryside that changes spectacularly with the seasons and the local area.  I often see all sorts of wildlife from pheasants, to deer as well as a collection of livestock and farming practices going on.  Cycling makes me feel good and I know it’s good for me.  These are all reasons I use to explain to people why, to paraphrase a friend of mine, a grown man like me wants to spend so much time messing about on a bicycle.  But they don’t tell the whole story.

Occassionally everything from my body, through the way I can take corners and how my gears shift, to the weather seems to align in some perfect way.  This happened to me for the last three quarters of my ride today and even though I knew I was actually working rather hard my overwhelming sensation was of a comftorbable, joyous rhythmic motion at speed.  It was so nice I wanted to extend my ride, but knew I couldn’t.  It’s probably a good thing to0, because when I got home and stepped off the bike all the hard work I’d been doing immediately caught up with me, my legs felt like jelly and they’ve been groaning at me in protest ever since.  It’s a satisfied protest though.  I wish rides like this happened more often.  All the other reasons I have for getting out and spinnng my wheels are great; they’re rewarding but they don’t actually compare with those moments of happy, spinning rhythm that I’m pretty sure I can’t adequately describe to someone who hasn’t spent much time on a bicycle.  It’s like surfing but on the road and on wheels, a simile that doesn’t actually help me reach a wider audience.

Jean Bobet, brother of a certain Louison, does a better job of expressing what I’m trying to get at in the English translation of his book entitled Tomorrow, We Ride. . . I’m under no illusion that I have common ground a man who was an elite competitive cyclist and brother and training partner of one of the sport’s superstars.  I do think I’ve had some small glimpse of what Bobet was writing of when he penned these words:

The voluptuous pleasure that cycling can give you is delicate, intimate and ephemeral.  It arrives, takes hold of you, sweeps you up and then leaves you again.  It is for you alone.  It is a combination of speed and ease, force and grace.  It is pure happiness.

I couldn’t say it half as well as Bobet does in this passage, so I’ll stop trying.  There are plenty of good reasons to get on a bicycle, but those special days, like the one I had today, definitely top the list.

Taking the Plunge

Regular readers of the Omphaloskeptic will know that I’ve been flirting with the idea of participating in a charity cycle ride.  Back in November I was prompted to post on some of my questions and concerns about the prospect.  Much to my surprise early this year the head of fund raising for  the one charity I’d mentioned by name responded to my post and directly answered the issues that were weighing on my mind.  I have to say that I was impressed by this person’s willingness to address the unknown author of a blog read by a handful of people every month.  My questions were valid, but it wouldn’t have been incomprehensible for that particular reader, or any other for that matter, to suspect me of a combination of disgruntled cynicism accompanied by a rather puritanical belief that philanthropy must involve suffering.  To make a long story short this direct address combined with the specific responses played a significant role in helping me finally to take some action.  Half an hour ago I registered for a place in the Action Medical Research Winchester 100 cycle ride.

Anyone who is interested can click on the above link to gain an understanding how this charity spends the money that it raises.   It’s clear to me that I’m going to be raising money for a worthy cause as I cycle 100 miles through the country surrounding Winchester.  At this point I’m just aiming to finish the ride rather than complete the circuit in any particular time.  Depending on how my training goes that may change and I’m in no doubt that I’ll be making mention of my endeavours here in the months to come.

If anyone out there has any advice, tips or tricks to share about preparing for or taking part in this type of event I’d be grateful to read them.  Better yet, if any of my local readers feel like taking part let me know; it would be fantastic to have a training partner and someone to ride with on the day.  Finally, while I’ll likely be making a more direct appeal closer to the day itself I do have a page where donations can be made.  At the minute it only displays automatically generated content; that will change.

Now, with a mixture of anxiety, excitement and what I suspect is a smidgen of smug self-satisfaction I’m going and work out what’s for dinner.  Tomorrow I may even go for a ride. . .

A White (Post) Christmas

A few days before Christmas I waxed personal, though not lyrical, about my new bicycle and why I wanted the icy weather to end and was hoping no snow would fall.  I even managed to end the post with the kind of simplistic confusion of homonyms that I deplore in others.  What can I say?  The bicycle had me very excited.  It still does, and I’ve still had little chance to use it.

Tomorrow I’m off to Brussels for a long weekend before the teaching term starts again next week.  I know I’m not going to have any chance of doing anything cycling related while I’m in Belgium.  As a kind of substitute I was hoping to spend a long, self-indulgent afternoon cycling through the clear, crisp freezing air and sunshine we’ve had in my neck of the woods whilst carefully avoiding any ice that might be around.  Visions of cresting a frosty hill as pheasants flapped noisily from the hedge filled my dreams last night.  Then I woke up. . .

. . . and the ground was covered with snow.  It was still snowing and, though it did stop, it started up again repeatedly through the day.  I don’t have anything like the right kind of tyres, let along clothing, to deal with compacted snow on icy, traffic-filled roads that that have now been carefully packed in snow.  As the weather is set to continue for weeks (the ‘experts’ have been informing the nations of this) I’m going to use it as an excuse to order some proper winter cycling gear of the sort that I normally wouldn’t have much use for otherwise but that I know I’ll have to pay for sooner or later.

I figure that doing so will help ensure two things:

1. It will warm up when I return and, as usual, my major concern will be getting all the muck cleaned out of the moving parts of my bicycle after even the shortest of rides.
2. As my dreams of a pre-Belgium cycle failed to materialise, I will make the acquaintance of a certain Mr Merckx during my Belgian sojourn.  He will recognise me as a hopeless neophyte, but impart some sort of inspiration and wisdom that is entirely appropriate.  Jaws will drop and drinks will materialise as I tell the story of this meeting for years to come.

Yeah. . . I’ll keep Dreaming.

If anyone out there has managed to get a decent ride in I’d love to hear about it.