The Bilge on Sunday

Today is a weekend kinda Sunday, which means it's seven days before next weekend's Sunday. On that day - all things going according to Plan - I'll be riding the Franja Maraton in Slovenia. Last year, I said I'd do it and I'm not backing down. It's 155km with a couple of longish climbs, and looks like a bit of fun. The aim for me is to stay on the bike in the first 20km section out of town, which is neutralised.

The good thing is that I can climb hills again, although my knee is far from 100 percent. I got up the steep hill at Pucklechurch on Friday, then did a slightly longer one en route to the Bristol Bike Fest on Saturday. I was down to ride that as part of a team, but contented myself with watching other members of WhatMTB thrash around the course at Ashton Court. Well, by watching I mean I sat in the shade with a beer and relaxed while said riders would come back from their laps looking very hot and bothered. Then I went home. The end.

Jez and his grass-floored campervan
© Jeff Jones
Our crew at the Bristol Bike Fest
© Jeff Jones

Sunday was better. I got out with Will and we did a lap of Chew Valley and Blagdon Lakes, coming back via Stowey and Timsbury and I finished up with 100km. I got up the Stowey hill in 4'20, which is about 330W, or about 20% off what I can do when I'm fit and going flat out. Still, at the start of the week I was passed by a guy wearing jeans on an MTB on a small rise on the bike path...so there's been quite an improvement. I reckon I should have everything back in around two weeks. That means the last two months has been a complete write off in terms of building on whatever form I had in early April. Bit annoying, but not as bad as last year.

I'm reading The Flying Scotsman at the moment. It's by Graeme Obree and is a good insight into his life and career. He was a brilliant innovator and a world class rider (hour record breaker, world champion, but he didn't quite fit the mold of a professional cyclist. He has bipolar disorder and he has really struggled to deal with it all through his life. He tried to commit suicide two or three times, poor bugger. But he's still alive and has gone back to racing, as that often helped him smooth out the bumps.

There's a movie out based on the book, which should be worth a look.

Speaking of books, I'm back in Fopp and trying to write another bit of mine. Our writers group is getting together next Thursday to workshop each other's stuff. I've submitted a chapter, but I've seen precious little from the Others.

And now to matters of import, viz:

What's the deal with Paris Hilton only spending three days in jail? For some reason, this annoys me. What's the point of having 45 days when you only serve three? If the US jails are overcrowded, then they could always let out a mass murderer for a bit while she does her time. No-one would notice. Or just send her to the chair. Breaking a driving probation is a pretty serious crime in at least 47 states. As a citizen of Great Britain and Australia, I demand justice.

Spiderman #3: Hmm...it dragged in a few places. I thought MJ should have completely disowned Spidey and run off with Venom. And the Sandman was too fragile. But a good enough slice of entertainment for a Susan Sontag sort of afternoon.

OK, enough dribble. Back on your heads.

Forging ahead

The tables have turned and I am well on the road to recovery. That is pointing towards Bristol and back, as I pootle up and down the bike path for 40km each morning. Riding time has dropped from a very sluggish 1:33 to 1:24 today. Another four minutes quicker, and I'll be back to my rest day pace...

Still, the riding and icing of bruises (thanks for the tip Laura) have kicked things on a bit, and I can actually walk up stairs without much pain now. It will be at least another week before I can take the dressing off my knee, because that was such a big hole. Today, the nurse told to come back for a fourth visit and she gave me another plastic sword.

I'm going to rank this as my third worst crash after a) breaking my wrist last year (4 weeks in a cast + 2 months to get the strength back) and b) putting a big hole in my hip 10 years ago (3 weeks with metal stitches + a general anaesthetic). I've never been this bruised before but I'll get over it.

Aim for June/July/August/etc: stay on the bike. Like Roy and HG said about the weightlifter: "Just lift the bar"

It's all go at work now, with less than a couple of weeks until launch. The required run rate is going up, but we'll get there.

The joys of being injured

The problem with being sick or injured or all three is that you get bored. And when you're bored, you don't feel like doing anything to make life less boring. For example, adding more pages to your doorstop.

It should be clear by now that there is no second person in this narrative; it's just me. So I will switch to the first person.

I found salvation in two DVDs: We Can Be Heroes, which is quite a good piss take of Australian ordinariness, and The Dream, which is Roy and HG's incredibly funny take on the 2000 Olympics in Sydney. Yes, both of these saved my life.

I've also watched a lot of BBC4, which this week has been about the evolution of British Children's TV. The Brits do nostalgia very well and it was interesting to see the story of The Magic Roundabout and The Tomorrow People. I didn't know that Magic Roundabout was actually French, but had an English story set to the animation. And that it was full of subtle humour.

On the book front, I've just about finished Junky. It's probably not the best read if you're feeling a bit queasy and fragile, but I got there. It's sordid, raw and addictive. There's an element of watching a plane crash over and over again, but it's worth the read. Remind me not to become a junkie. I've had enough of needles and being prodded for one week.

I went back to the finest surgery in Bath to get my stitches taken out at the leisure of the NHS. They didn't even give me a plastic sword! But I now no longer have any blue threads in my face and knee, just a couple of jagged looking scars. I have to go back next Wednesday for what I hope will be the final checkup.

I asked them whether I could ride now. "If you feel up to it," was the response. That's the equivalent of "Whatever" in NHS-speak.

Walking is still bloody painful. My right calf and my left hamstring work in concert to send spasms up and down my legs. I managed to hobble into work for the past two days but it's going to be a while longer before I can go at my normal speed. My colleague Matt Cole, who dislocated his shoulder five weeks ago, has just got his sling off and is working on getting his strength back. We are a sorry bunch.

I think I'll try to get out for an hour on the velocipede, among other fun things, on the weekend.