A recent post about traffic jamming got me thinking, and I expanded it into a full article which Anth took on board for Issue 22 of City Cycling. It’s a good mag anyway. Go read it.

The East Fife Tri at Cupar was my first full sprint distance triathlon, coming two weeks after the DNSed Tranent. Frood wasn’t feeling too good, so it was Mum who came by at 07:15 Sunday morning to pick me up. This is an ungodly time to be up on a Sunday — especially Easter Sunday. But registration was at 8, so off we went.

A glorious day was trying to break through the early morning chill. We got the last on-site parking space. Some people had turned up at 07:20. The place was busy even though we were bang on time.

Through at registration I picked up my goodie bag, proferred that all-important race licence and had my left arm/right calf inscribed with “119” (Frood was later to remark that I struck lucky there — it could have been 118) by a nice lady who remarked she wished everyone would shave their legs. Not sure what I was supposed to do with the individual serving sachet of microwaveable porridge oats as I didn’t spot a microwave halfway round the course, but the bike bottle will come in handy.

I was expecting to be in the slowest heat, so was surprised to find myself shoved halfway up the field in Heat Three. Peregrine was sandwiched between one of the many, many Giants and an Edinburgh Bike road bike and I set up my transition area using my plastic box to keep Peregrine from swinging round far enough on the scaffolding pole to fall off:

It was quite windy. That wasn’t going to matter in the pool.

The swim felt okay, save for the usual problems encountered when swimming in a lane with 4 other people who have underestimated their swim time while I have a tendency to over-estimate mine. Mum told me later that the tri chap sitting next to her in the spectator area told her I was a good swimmer, and noted that I was even doing tumble turns, which pleased her no end. I managed to keep count of my lengths, but there was someone banging a float on the pool wall with 2 lengths to go in case I didn’t.

T1 went more smoothly than NYD, helped immeasurably by not having frozen fingers and dispensing with the jacket, although that broken finger still aches and makes pulling my shoes on quite painful. The number belt was a bit awkward – next time I’ll put it on back to front and pull it round instead of fumbling to fasten it behind me. The bike leg wasn’t as fast as it should have been. I overtook about 6 people, particularly on the long uphill section. The tailwind down the end straight was glorious, although at those speeds the agricultural roads produced seriously uncomfortable vibration. The guys on full carbon bikes with deep rims must have really suffered.

T2 and then the run. I had the Suunto foot pod to nag me into keeping to my aimed target of 30 minutes for the 5k, but I ended up walking a couple of times on the 2nd and 3rd laps as my injured back produced serious cramping in my left shoulder. The run was hard. It felt harder than NYD, partially because a three lapper is so demoralising: at the end of lap 1 all I could think was I had to get through that twice more. Wasn’t helped by being overtaken by nearly everyone (or so it seemed), all of whom were yelling “Keep going!” as they sailed past. I appreciated the encouragement but it didn’t make me go any faster.

Results:

That’s a PB for the swim. By quite some way. And I came in under my targetted 30 minutes for the run. Plus I did the whole thing nearly 10 minutes faster than the NYD tri, so I’ll try not to get too downhearted by my total time being only 15th from last.

I seriously need to work on my running. I wasn’t quite the slowest but I wasn’t far off it. At least I didn’t get overtaken by someone on an old clunker on the bike leg!

Here’s a pic of me at the end:

For other pics, mostly taken by Mum, see the Flickr photo set.

Activation Portal comes with a STICKER!

Bingly beep tat! Where shall I put it? It’s too big to fit on my tank hat.

I used to love Monkey Dust. It was the sort of biting satire that no one seems to do quite like the British. Ivan Dobsky — utterly brilliant. I remember thinking that space hoppers were pretty creepy as a kid. There’s always been something demonic about that expression. Mr Hoppy showed that I wasn’t the only one to have thought so.

The following sketch is pretty much indicative of the general attitude towards cyclists in the UK and, you know, many of the folks out there on two wheels seem to be doing their level best to keep that attitude prevalent.

Shame on you!

This is bloody funny, though.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAOHhV1EFe4]

I recently rediscovered the track Walk Like A Panther – the All Seeing I version. Ended up buying the album, Pickled Eggs and Sherbet. The album’s pretty good.

I just like this song. The Tony Christie version is the best.

Marie has set up home
With a woman half my age
A half-wit in a leotard
Stands on my stage

The standards have fallen
My value has dropped
But don’t shed a tear
Some walk like they own the place
Whilst others creep in fear

So try if you can
To walk like a man
But if you don’t come near…
You’ve got to fly like an eagle
Prowl like a lion in Africa
Leap like a salmon home from the sea
To keep up with me
You’ve got to walk like a panther tonight

The old home town just looks the same
Like a derelict man who has died out of shame
Like a jumble sale left out in the rain
It’s not good
It’s not right

The standards have fallen
My value has dropped
But don’t shed a tear
Some walk like they own the place
Whilst others creep in fear

Try if you can
To walk like a man
But if you don’t come near
You’ve got to fly like an eagle
Prowl like a lion in Africa
Leap like a salmon home from the sea
To keep up with me
You’ve got to walk like a panther tonight

Where did you leave your self respect
You like look like a reptile
Your house is a wreck
Your existence an insult
And stains that are suspect
Cover your clothes

The standards have fallen
My value has dropped
But don’t shed a tear
Some walk like they own the place
Whilst others creep in fear

Try if you can
To walk like a man
But if you don’t come near
You’ve got to fly like an eagle
Prowl like a lion in Africa
Leap like a salmon home from the sea
To keep up with me
You’ve got to walk like a panther tonight
Walk like a panther tonight
To keep up with me you’ve got to walk like a panther…

Just for the record, I make great soup.

Lots of bingly beep music at Psyshop. Shame they don’t have Altom’s Groove Control in stock. I really like Hologram. But Alien Project’s Activation Portal should keep me amused on the turbo.

Sitting at East Kilbride train station waiting for a train to take me back to Glasgow and from there back home via another change at Haymarket. This is what the end of the world will look like. Note the local zombie, standing there with typical zombie glaekit vacancy.

How much longer do I have to sit in the cold until a train comes? Bloody ages, that’s how long.

There’s something depressing about the empty track stretching away into a single line of parallax.

Hence I come down on the Italian side in the war of component manufacturers commonly known as the Campag vs Shimano debate.

How can anyone fail to be bowled over by how gob-smackingly beautiful that is?

I love my bikes.

Yesterday I rode home from Perth (Gmaps reckon 28 miles – having driven it I can assure you it’s 30 – 32, which means I’ll have to check Fingal’s rollout because he’s reading short too).

This isn’t really very far. I’m used to distances of 50 – 125 miles. Or I was. A series of illnesses and injuries have kept my bike mileage down to pretty much hardly anything for about 6 months now. Plus I’ve been finding that getting evening and weekend rides in now that I’m living in the frozen north is a million times harder. The weekends have been plagued by gales and freezing rain or snow; the nights have had the same, only they’ve been dark as well. It’s amazing how much difference a decent commute can make.

I really miss riding to work. I miss the riding for the sake of doing something: not just pelting round in a loop for “training” or to “keep fit and get the miles in”. Riding for utility purposes. That’s what got me into cycling in the first place and it’s still my first love. The bicycle as a workhorse: performing a function that is useful and contributes to your daily musts while at the same time providing all these other benefits.

Traffic jamming, quite possibly my favourite sport, is only a real pleasure when it’s for utility. If the ride is being done for the sake of the ride alone, one might as well avoid the serious traffic because it will only hinder progress and lead to inadequate time in the appropriate heart rate training zones. Traffic jamming is a by-product of finding the most efficient route from A to B and sticking to it. It’s like playing Rez or Wipeout for real. Locked in to a single route, girl and bike sweep effortlessly around the hazards: the inert obstacles, the herbivores, the carnivores and the occasional domesticated beast. I don’t have the option of shooting down the hazards (we can dream). The principle is there, though. They’re out to get you, whether by intent or ignorance, and it’s only by your own prescience, skill, lightning-quick reactions and agility that you’ll make it through with the Hi-Score. It’s skating the thin edge between maximum speed and recklessness.

That just doesn’t happen on training rides or those leisurely Sunday pootles round the coast stopping occasionally for a coffee and a flapjack. There’s nothing that puts a grin on my face quite like running down a congested mass of fuming cars and fuming drivers, baking in their own juices on a hot summer’s day. Traffic-jamming is doing the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs — in the Really Real World where the hatstands live.

There wasn’t any traffic jamming on yesterday’s ride. The levels of traffic in Perth were minimal and by the time I got back to Kirkcaldy the rush hour was over. At the same time, however, I took the most direct route: the same route I would take in the car. And that’s the key thing for me to consider a ride utility cycling. It’s about riding to get from A to B and not being diverted round a 6 mile loop just to avoid a particular junction or make the distance up to a nice round number.

I need to ride to work more. I miss it.