Well you, son of T de F Rider...

Introduction (please imagine it being narrated by Leonard Nimoy) Fast and Furious The Expendables The Bourne Series Terminator Transformers Spiderman Pirates of the Caribbean Final Destination What do these movie franchises have to do with Scott's tumble in the Majorcan countryside?  Not much, until now. Now, his little story can join the ranks of the above esteemed titles by going on (at least) one story too long.  As much as Scott would have loved to wrap things up after the last episode where he made it home in a back brace for a slow but steady recovery. But, oh no, that's way too easy, so, dear reader, sit back and enjoy the next thrilling episode with Scott and his dodgy descending technique. I got home from hospital on a Friday afternoon.  I had a truck load of meds and a back brace. "Honestly love, I feel a bit tired now but another few days and I'll able to start going back into the office" I probably even believed that too as I said...

Even though I have already posted about the crash, I wanted to share my experience of having a major trauma in a foreign land and how I was treated. I want to start from just after I hit the deck.  Initially, I was lying in the ditch over some big rocks screaming like a baby.  I admit I'm not brave at the best of times but this was pain like I have never felt before.  (By the way read the previous post if you haven't already so it makes sense.) I shouted for the first couple on the scene to help me up.  I was aware I could move my head and limbs ok so I didn't think anything can be broken. As they pull me to my feet I realise the pain is too intense to stand up, so I lie down on the road on my side which didn't hit the wall.  Other people arrive on the scene and try to offer comfort.  Something soft is put under my head and I'm given shade and water.  As I'm lying there I can feel it difficult to breathe and very painful if I try to take a deep...

April was an improvement on earlier months this year.  Got out half a dozen times and a staggering distance of about 360kms. Even managed two visits to the world famous Eureka Cafe.  The cake there always ensures I don't lose too many calories on these rides. Did my longest ride for quite a while, in fact my longest recorded on Strava, 116kms.  Went over the "Shelf" a famous climb out of Rhuthin in North Wales.  Wasn't too bad either.  Last time I went over there was 25 years and 10kgs ago.  I did notice the difference!  But it reminded me of what I had been missing.  Despite my lack of ability, I do still like the hills of North Wales.  This area of the UK is really fantastic for pedalling around. The new kit arrived (see last post) and was fitted.  Managed to get it all working, so I'm very pleased with the upgrades so far.  Even managed to recoup some of the cost with a bit of spit and polish on the old kit and flogged on eBa...

So after an okish (for once) January, Feb was not great.  Three (3) rides. Just three.  Just over 200kms.  Pretty rubbish, but I put it down to the crap weather and my penchant for not wanting to get wet or go out when its dark and cold.  Well, I wasn't going to ride in the Eddie Soens Memorial race in early March so I think I can get away with it. Then March arrived.  Another ski trip followed by a bout of man flu wiped out nearly the whole month.  I suppose the skiing itself was good training, but that was soon undone by a further 20 day lay off.  But now we have got to Easter and I have had two rides in three day.  Only short 30 kms at a time, but softly, softly catchy monkey (as they say). Two bits of exciting and motivating news to help me going forwards though... 1) A major order made from Wiggle!! (Other online cycle component retailers are available).  I decided to go "all in" and purchase a new groupset and pedals.  Not a ...

The story of how I found cycling... In the beginning... I never knew my dad had been a semi professional racing cyclist. He rode for Viking in the late 50's, early 60's as an "Independant" (a paid amateur who kept a "real" job as well).  I think my parents kept it hidden so my brothers and I wouldn't feel pressured into doing it and following in our father's footsteps. They needn't have worried. My brothers and I discovered the joys of cycling by chance one summer whilst staying at our grandad's. Our parents had selfishly won a holiday to Ibiza and jetted off for 2 weeks in the sun leaving me, and my two older brothers, Dave and Mark, up to our own devices in the warm August of 1978. I was seven years old. Pre computers, games consoles and Channel 4 it was to the outdoors that most excitement was to be had and after a route in grandad's loft and discovery of an old bike, Dave had the cunning plan of fixing it up for me so we could ...