Your legs are aching, they feel hollow, there's nothing left, you feel like you're going to be sick. Quad and calf torture comes in the bucket-load each time the road goes up, your club mates tell you to "dig in", someone gives you a push and you manage to cling on for another mile.
Thought I'd do an evening ten. Not a thought I've had for, I think, about 12 years.
But there was an inter-club ten and a bunch of the Bath CC guys were going and it was a balmy May evening, calm and warm. 16 miles out to the back end of Frome is an ideal warmup, too.
Why bother cleaning your chain? Easy; even if you don’t buy the argument that it saves money – and, depending on how you cost the time put into extending the service life of a chain by, perhaps, 10 per cent, it may not – riding with a filthy chain is asking for a ‘fourth cat tattoo’ down the right calf. Perhaps more importantly, a correctly cleaned and lubed chain that is still within its wear limit runs almost as smoothly and efficiently as new. And it looks nice.
I don't really consider these socks to be lucky.
But I was looking forward to wearing them, fresh from Italy, on my first outing in the 2/3s. Which was so brutally short that I didn't even have time to really get them sweaty, so they went straight back in the drawer for next time.
I've been testing the first two production bikes from Mason Cycles, and hatched a plan to ride down to Brighton to swap one for the other, before heading home. Just the 400km over two days, and on paper it looked fairly straightforward, if a bit wiggly in the lanes. Two 200km legs with 1,670m of climbing in each. How hard can that be?
I know where I’m going to die.
Actually, there are several places where I know I’m going to die.
We all have them. Those junctions, downhills, corners, sections of road where we know we’re pretty likely to end up bouncing off a bonnet, being scraped off the tarmac, asked if they were wearing a helmet.
Bradley is done…
The top level road racing career of arguably Britain’s greatest ever rider will be coming to an end as he rides an elongated lap of honour around Yorkshire this weekend.
“Wiggo” has been a divisive character but someone we can all look up to having risen from the ranks of track riding and time trials to become the first British winner of the Tour de France.
You can’t buy a legacy like that. And… like him or loathe him, his mark on the sport is massive.
A Daily Mail story pillorying Justine Thornton, wife of Labour leader Ed Miliband, for breaking traffic laws on her bike, actually demonstrates the "insanity" of London's roads, says a leading cycling advocate.
The Mail accuses Ms Thornton of running a red light, ignoring a 'No right turn sign' and a 'No entry' sign, riding the wrong way up a one-way street and riding on the pavement.
I once asked a mate why he hadn’t stuck with bicycle frame building when he tried it out prior to the start of a long and more-or-less successful career in cycling journalism. ‘Filing’, he said; ‘I couldn’t stand spending ages filing tubes.’
It’s been many years since I had ventured into the world of sports therapy and massage.
The recent sojourn to Belgium and a heavy (by my standards block of training) left me keen to visit a newly opened facility on my doorstep in Yaxley.
My age and the hunched over nature of cycling has left me visiting a chiropractor regularly for over a decade. This was something completely different though and an opportunity to get some time on the massage table, just as professional cyclists do.