So, D-Day (Dash day) is fast approaching. When facing moments of extreme stress in my life I find it easiest to focus on the small and insignificant details rather than the big scary picture. Luckily in cycling there’s a lot of kit to focus on to take my mind away from the monumental task around the corner. This week’s kit irritation has been my glasses. Sweating my way up and down the stupidly big hill near my house, as I click down the gears, peddling furiously, inching my way up the stupidly high incline and approaching the top, my see-through cycling glasses invariably fog up. So I’m literally cycling blind up a narrow, twisting, vertiginous path with a line of not-so-patient cars and buses snaking below me. I’m so tired that I am beyond embarrassment or fear. There’s no way on earth I can pause or stop to clear my glasses because every fibre of my being is being used to keep me upright and moving. I reach the top, panting and mildly hysterical in my own foggy world where I can literally just see my hands on the handlebars and the metre of road in front of me. Perhaps a blessing in disguise?
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| Mountain biker Clare with visor |
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| Road cycling Clare with hat |
As I creep up the hill and the fog descends I contemplate how I seem to be the only person with foggy glasses. I had a plastic visor on the top of my cycling helmet when I bought it, but when I did the Brighton ride and arrived at the top of Ditchling Beacon all fogged up once again, someone rather snootily pointed out that only mountain bikers (that wild and mutinous, muddy breed) need the visors and road cyclists (the race horses of the road) don’t countenance plastic visors so I ditched it. I thought it might improve the fog – but it has, sadly, lingered. I wonder if I have the wrong eyebrows for cycling. I may have inherited my grandfather’s rather fabulous wise-owl brow-set, which could be contributing to the fogging. Not something I can do much about!
One by-product of cycling I hadn’t anticipated is nasal secretions. I have had a cold recently and this has made it spectacularly worse. On long rides, or early in the morning, I develop a perpetual drip on the end of my generously proportioned nose. This became a veritable sticky slick with the onset of my cold. That added to the blossom and pollen being shed from trees this time of year, I’m a picture to behold on my bike rides. The cycling gloves come with a patch of absorbent material on the outside around the base of the thumb, which I’m told is the makeshift cyclist handkerchief – and which I have been using. But I noticed with some alarm on the Brighton ride the number of people snot-firing nostrils while in motion from their bike seats. A dangerous procedure for the unpractised to perform, and dangerously unpleasant for those who follow behind in their firing lines. Not a practice I intend to emulate.
I cycled to my local hospital for an appointment this week and didn’t want to take my road bike as I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave it somewhere secure, so I dusted off my old bike. It’s a single speed bike which, for those as ignorant as myself about cycling issues, means it doesn’t have any gears. It also doesn’t have drop handlebars or cleated pedals – BLISS! The bike isn’t fitted to me in the same way as my giraffe road bike so I slid around the saddle a lot more. But wider handlebars meant there was less pressure on my wrists. The heavier bike felt more stable. And no cleats and a lower seat meant I felt so much more in control and much less anxious stopping at lights. I’m feeling more and more inclined to retire my road bike at the end of the Dash. Just days left to go – but still £550 short of my target – please sponsor me!
ACHIEVEMENTS
still cycling!
AMBITIONS
to stick at it til the ride on June 8th!
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