Ale-ympics Countdown

Well done to all the WHW Flingers last week.  But for those expecting reports here of mega-mileage weeks and tales of running derring-do, please CLICK AWAY NOW… In fact, I’ve done so little running this year that I’ve scarcely needed a shoe repair, and I’ve had to lay-off the 40 sweat-shop midgets in my cellar, whose dainty needlework once made the Billys ©®™ brand the dominant force in West Lothian running shoe manufacture.  Life has been busy nonetheless, what with commuting to work, thinking about cutting-edge designs to launch my future bike-building empire whilst at work, and then all remaining time spent trying to get Sara to bed before us.


I have done some running spectating though, and the weekend before last I managed to combine a cycling trip to rummage for parts at the Bike Station with the short onward hop over to Holyrood Park to watch the big race of the weekend – no, not the London Marathon - rather, the best race in the World (second only to the Black Rock) , the famous  (Video thanks to Porty's Peter Buchanan).  The race is advertised as 240m of climb but actually more like double that.  I felt a bit guilty that I wasn’t taking part but the Bogtrot is a savage wee beast and though my bike commuting-enhanced thighs would have coped OK with the uphills, my correspondingly shrunken hamstrings would have been crucified on the descents without any acclimitisation.  I therefore settled for taking pleasure in watching others’ pain.  And suffer they did - bloody marvellous!

A decent fridge: Must-have kit for HBT drinking challenges

What I am better prepared for is HBT drinking challenges, the next mammoth one of which is the 2012 Ale-ympics.  This kicks off on May 5th after the Edinburgh to North Berwick (the third-best race in the World) and in the remaining 2012 hours before the Olympics, the club will attempt to imbibe 2012 different  British real ales.  That’s all fine and easy in the early days, when the shelves of Morrisons and Tesco produce point-scoring bounty a-plenty but after a couple of weeks, it becomes a major barrel-scraping trawl of obscure micro-breweries from Somerset to the Outer Hebrides to ensure that no promising ale goes un-quaffed.  The last similar such challenge a few years back required the consumption of 1331 different beers in the 1331 hours between the 50th birthdays of founding club comrades  Big Dick(less) Wall (see rear-of-field humping in above video) and Robin YP “Triple Ton” Thomas (see pre-race safety briefing in above video).  The challenge culminated at the Paisley Beer Festival,  when the Brown Hordes descended upon the peaceful hamlet, sweeping aside bemused local crusties to mop the few dozen beer types required for victory. Other than achieving our target with less than an hour to spare, this epic evening was notable for two things:

1. It was YP’s 50th birthday and his parents thoughtfully brought down a lovely birthday cake, into which we miraculously managed to secretly shoe-horn a real pig’s trotter (let’s just say it was past its sell-by date) without breaking the icing.  The cake-cutting ceremony was superb!
2. We were chucked out of the festival for me and Dick mooning at the live webcam.  As we were forcefully ejected from the beer hall, the screams of an angry bouncer were ringing in our ears - “that camera is linked to the Police!”  Unfortunately, the offending image was captured by a club member watching at home on his computer, so there’s a photo of my arse still floating around somewhere in cyberspace.

Ah, happy days!  And with the inevitably massive post Ale-ympics hangover encroaching on the sporting event itself, what better time to have it than during the first few days when they inflict the joys of synchronised swimming, modern pentathlon and show-jumping upon us?

Bambi Goes to Work



Bambi joins the commuter ranks



Watched Horizon “Playing God” the other week about genetic engineering. There’s a spider which extrudes a continuous thread that’s stronger than kevlar, every time it moves. American scientists have managed to implant the thread-producing gene in goats, which thereafter produce the requisite protein in their milk. It can then be extracted and spun into a wonder-thread for practical use (surgical stitching, for example). I was thinking I could do with some of that for my DIY projects. It’ll probably be a wee while before it’s available in the likes of Poundland though, so until then I’ll make-do with man’s own wonder DIY alternative, nylon tights.


Bespoke luggage rack

Since my last post, when Bambi had the wobbles, she’s been stripped-down and re-engineered, with stiffened down-tube, chainstays and beefed-up head tube joints. The mods have been fairly simple, comprising strips of bamboo glued to the sides of the tubes to increase lateral stiffness, all held together with generous lashings of tights, superglue and epoxy. I've also ditched effeminate trappings such as gears, though the single-speed gear I’m using is relatively modest 69 inches. That means my legs are just a blur at anything approaching 25 mph but on the plus side, I can get up reasonable hills. Beefing things up, of course, cocked-up lots of critical dimensions and it took another couple of weeks’ bodging to achieve adequate clearances for tyres, chainring and cranks.




Bye-bye to sweaty backs







Drilled brake levers save 2 seconds on my morning commute



Surgically-enhanced Bambi’s maiden voyage was a West Lothian Clarion club run and I’m pleased to say, handling is now much better. She’s still fairly whippy compared to a steel frame, say, but I’m no Chris Hoy and for all practical purposes seems fine. One feature of a single speed bike is that for hills, there’s no lazy option of crawling up in a granny gear. On the “Climpy” climb from the A71 to Forth, I really had to commit to the cause to avoid grinding to a halt. On the way up, I was given constant reminders of my neglected trunk strength and at the top I was a heaving mess - but it was a nice feeling of satisfaction getting all the way up. For general riding, it’s also pleasant not having the distraction of gears, with their attendant hassle of constantly changing up and down and never being quite satisfied with the gear you’re in - with a single speed, you’ve got what you’ve got and just happily get on with it (commuting home into 50mph headwinds excepted, perhaps).

I’ve added my garden cane pannier rack as a finishing touch and Bambi’s now been pressed into commuting service. I have to say, it’s quite a buzz to be riding about on something a bit different - and I’m certainly given a wide berth by startled motorists.  I've racked up a couple of hundred miles with no major problems but it's still early-days and I need to be a bit cautious for obvious reasons. So I’m packing a few extra tools and will be keeping a close eye on frame joints for the time-being - we’ll see how things go in the next few weeks.

Bambi Update

Finally got to ride the bambi last weekend! Building it wasn’t without its cock-ups and challenges but has been a really enjoyable process.

I had an old steel frame in the garage which

was a bit knackered but good enough to donate its joints and a few other bits to the cause, so I used that as a donor. I did this one the easy way and used the existing frame geometry, cutting out a tube at a time, leaving a stub at each end and then “springing” the frame to fit over or inside the new bamboo tube as required.
When I finally got the frame tacked together, it was 60% the weight of the steel one – a useful kilo lighter - but when you factor in the weight of glue and other bits and bobs to be added, the saving wasn’t quite so impressive.

The superglue/nylon tights joint wrapping worked a treat. I ended up using 300 ml of glue, which would have cost about £200 for branded stuff but I went to Poundland and got all I needed for a tenner. Superglue was invented for sticking back together squaddies in Vietnam battlefields, so it’s supposedly non-toxic on the skin . But you do need a well ventilated area if you’re using lots of the stuff, as it gives off horrendous fumes as it reacts and I’m sure glued together brain cells can’t be particularly healthy.

Took it for a spin round Murieston to see how she handled. It’s not totally anorexic in the weight

stakes, but still light enough to be pretty nippy. Vertical stiffness, braking and fit were all perfect, but it’s still too flexible laterally, and I could feel the twist when powering the pedals out of the saddle. I shouldn’t really be surprised, as the bamboo tubes were about the same size as the original steel ones, and I probably need something about the size of the chunkier tubes you get on aluminium bikes. It would be fine for tootling about but I’m not really happy with it, so it’s back to the garage I'm afraid, to stiffen up the main tubes. For that, I’m simply going to glue on bamboo strips to the sides. As this will add a bit of weight (but hopefully not too much), the bike’s going on a diet and I’ve belatedly decided to eschew nancy-boy gears and stuff, and convert it to a single speed. And as my research on how to do this revealed, there’s a whole murky world out there inhabited by the weird sub-species of single-speed and fixed wheel enthusiasts - things can only get sadder!…..

From this...

via this....

to this...

A few left-overs.....

Bambi in all her glory.  Shame she'll have to be uglified to beef her up

Robbed!

A wee shout for Trotter FGM Steve Cairns who apparently finished 4th in Sunday's Kielder marathon. Except Stevie was 3rd at 15 miles with a 6-minute cushion to 4th, and no-one overtook him for the rest of the race. Turns out the aptly named Rob Sloan jumped on a bus, leap-frogged the leaders, hid behind a tree until the first two had passed, then trotted in for a "podium finish", thus ruining Steve's glory moment. He had the cheek to deny any wrong-doing when Stevie confronted him, and was even interviewed by the local media, sporting his bronze medal.

Fortunately, witnesses spotted the bus hopping and tree hiding, and the results have now been rectified. Stevie normally sorts out his problems with an Uzie 9 milimetre when on security duty down the airport, so it's perhaps fortunate for Sloan that Steve didn't have his work gear with him. Although denied of his podium glory, the silver lining for Steve has been appearances in the Metro, BBC and even Channel 4 news, and no doubt a forthcoming appearance on Opra. And Sloan has now been epxosed as a total prat.

Wombling



"Junk" from the Dump - Who said the '80s had no style?



Dumps are boring places nowadays.  When I were a lad (♪cue Hovis music♫), the Mavis Valley tip  was a real treasure-trove of wheels (proper pram wheels rather than the pathetic roller-skate efforts of today) and everything else you needed to construct extremely dangerous, but oh-so-thrilling go-karts, or bogeys as we called them.  Dump trips had the added excitement of running the gauntlet of wee Neds from Milton, who regarded us “snobby c* nts fae Bishie” as legitimate targets.  Nowadays, dumps are all squeaky-clean and have even rebranded themselves as “Recycling Centres”.  So I certainly wasn’t expecting to find anything interesting when me and Sara visited Oakbank with a car-load of junk from a garage clear-out last Saturday.

But there, propped up amongst an assortment of discarded kiddies’ bikes and electrical goods, lay a cracking steel-framed BH Vittoria road bike, its class unconcealed beneath a bit of garage dust. And what a beauty. Spokes all present and correct.  A cracking pair of NKS pedals with proper leather straps. Alloy cranks, chainset and bars.  Weimann brakes with those irritating extension levers so trendy in the ‘80s - but half an hour with a Junior hacksaw could sort that.  Wheels needing minor trueing and hub adjustment, but nothing beyond even my meagre mechanical skills.  A local bike too, its black sticker declaring it was supplied by Pedal Power of West Calder, the 0506 dialling code hinting at its vintage (probably mid-1980s). 

A spare inner-tube tucked away under the saddle would suggest its previous owner was a club cyclist; the shark-toothed smaller front cog, yet pristine larger one (showing where the chain had spent all its life) indicating a poser rather than athlete.  A large frame, so maybe a gangly teenager dabbling in cycle sport before belatedly discovering birds and booze, but now in middle-age too fat to get his leg over (the frame at least)?  Or maybe, with the bike being in such good nick, it was a passion dumping – the murderously vengeful wife, having discovered hubbie playing the field, striking a blow to the heart by carting his pride and joy straight round to the tip?  Well, too late now – should have kept it in your pants mate.

I was impressed by the integrity of the Cooncil worker at the dump - he wouldn’t take a penny for the bike, explaining that they weren’t allowed to sell anything (understandable for public workers I suppose, but no-one would have known) and he was happy for a delighted me to wheel it away free of charge. 

A very perceptive Sara was rolling her eyes as I took off the wheels to get it in the car boot and, sure enough, the price for the bike manifested itself in the grief I got from Gulshen on our return - for coming back with junk, rather than taking it away.  A bit of a dilemma now in deciding what to ride, as I’m quite fond of my old Peugeot but all parts are interchangeable, so I should be well enough stocked-up to keep me rolling through the winter.  My latest acquisition kind of undermines my “need” argument for a new Cycle to Work scheme Boardman, so I’ll just have to bluff my way through that one as best I can.

Sara's New Wheels

Mush, daddy!

Gulshen cancelled her gym membership because we’re skint – (a rare case of acknowledging the difference between “need” and “want”) - then went straight out and blew a year’s gym fees on the ultimate in stroller technology!. And when she sees the shiny new bike I’ll be getting with the Cycle to Work scheme (a shut-and-dried case of “need”, surely?!), with its monthly gym fee-sized payments - which I’ve sort of told her about, I think - she’ll be straight back to the gym to re-join!  Still, the buggy removes any remaining excuses for training sloth and Sara seems to like careering around the block at high speed.  Fortunately she’s young enough to believe that this is all quite normal.

Cross Training

Most of my training in the last few weeks has been on my cycling commute.  Enough, I would have thought, to avoid morphing into a total couch potato.  So why do my occasional runs now leave me feeling like a crocked octogenarian, when everyone’s been telling me how great cross-training is?  Well, I’m sure there are benefits, particularly bike training for hill runners, but only up to a point.  Astronauts are observed to have a considerable reduction in bone density after only a few weeks in space – a case of the body simply adapting to its new requirements.  I suspect that this effect happens, albeit perhaps on a smaller scale, when runners do too much pedalling and not enough pounding.  No matter what sort of cardiovascular system you can upkeep by cross-training, if you don’t do enough of your main sport, the specific physiology and co-ordination that you need for it fade away and you become worse at it, only to become good at what you’re doing instead.  If only human-powered commuting were a sport.

OK, so what about triathletes.  Shouldn’t their cross-training be enough to make them excel at running AND cycling?  Yes, champion triathletes might be very good club-level athletes at individual sport but no triathlete is going to be troubling the 10000m running World record any time soon.  Nor, I suspect, will one be challenging for a Grand Tour win. 

Although runners are generally considered to be poor cyclists and vice-versa, with specific training, some athletes have successfully switched sports; HBT’s Claire Thomas for example – having cracked her hip on a skip and taken to the bike to maintain fitness while being unable to run, she just stayed on the bike and never looked back, now being a successful cyclist at UK level.  And Clydesdale’s Prasad Prasad has gone the other way – originally a cyclist, he’s now taken to hill running with great success.  Perhaps it’s just a case of these two athletes happily finding their true sport - though in Prasad’s case, I’m not sure which sport he’s actually better at.  Perhaps he’d be the ideal triathlete?

Bambi Bike

Aero wheels, 1890s style. Note the back-to-front saddle for better aerodynamics

Historically, I’ve only ever been fit when commuting under my own steam.  Running-wise, I feel pretty ropey at the moment  but at least I’m managing to ward off total decay by  settling into a regular 3 days / 100 miles per week cycling commute.  On the way in, it’s a net-downhill blast, aided by a generally favourable tailwind and a generous 75 mph speed limit on the Forth Road Bridge cycle track (or is that 7 a continental 1? – I can’t tell, it’s just a blur as I pass).  Things are tougher on the way back but it’s all “character-building”.  No real hills to speak of, unless I view my GPS output in potrait rather than landscape, but gradients seem to affect speed more on a bike than on foot.  Anyway, Sara’s unbounded  joy in welcoming daddy’s return soon makes up for those enleadened thighs.

I’ve been looking seriously into bike design over the last few weeks and it amazes me how little things have changed in more than a century, ever since Lawson's "Safety bicycle" (as in the standard design of today, where the rider sits at a low-ish height between the two wheels rather than balancing precariously 5 feet up on top of a "Penny") was popularlised by John Starley in the 1880s.  That’s maybe partly due to the UCI’s luddite stance in banning anything innovative from bike racing (when a punter turned up at a race on a laid-back recumbent in the 1930s and thrashed the World champion, that style of bike was banned forever to prevent further embarrassment) but it must also be due to the fact that the basic “safety” bicycle is just a brilliant design.  There are hardly any decent books on bike engineering nowadays - maybe there’s just nothing worthwhile left to invent?  One of the earliest books on the subject and possibly the best, is “Bicycles and Tricycles” by Archibald Sharp from 1896, a masterpiece which I’ve been delving into a lot recently for inspiration.  And in case you thought that those poncy time-trialists’ aero wheels were a recent innovation, think again – they were thought of 120 years ago and are featured in Sharp’s book.

Pannier rack goes Hi-tec with tights and superglue

I’ve got the DIY bug at the moment and have decided to build my own bike.  This won’t be anything too radical (for the first one at least!) and I’ll be going for a tried and tested “safety” road bike .  My frame will be bamboo – a superb natural structural material  that I became much impressed with on a visit to Hong Kong two years ago – there it is used to scaffold 100+ storey buildings.  I’m convinced that a bamboo bike lighter than any carbon one under £3k is possible.  And yes, bamboo bikes are covered by Sharp too.  To my mind, the key production problem to be resolved will be the frame joints.  Looking around the ‘Net, quite a few folk seem to be into bamboo bikes (including some high-end commercial outfits) and the majority successfully use carbon fibre/epoxy or hemp/epoxy joints.  I may do that too but I also want to try out my own innovation – the nylon tights/superglue joint.  I was a bit worried these might end up too brittle but they worked great on my garden cane pannier rack (well, one step at a time!), providing tough and (so far) durable joints.

Poundland bounty - bike materials and a book on what to do with the finished product

My first rule of DIY is to see what’s in Poundland, so off I trotted.  I picked up a few bamboo torches – ideal for my bike frame tubes, lots of superglue ( 1/20th  the price of branded stuff but every bit as good) and, as an added bonus, Chris Hoy’s autobiography.  I missed this one first-time round and presumably it’s now doing its final death-rattle round the bargain shops before being pulped.  Still, all in all, not a bad read for a pound

My next steps will be to work out dimensions and build some form of jig to ensure that I can construct the frame accurately.  And of course, the bike will need  will need some’ metal bits’ too, so I’ll see what I’ve got in the garage and then off to the Bike Station and Fleabay for anything else.

My work has now rolled out its Cycle to Work scheme, which has to be signed up to in September.  You save the tax and NI, and pay by deductions from your salary over 12 months.  The down-side is that you have to buy via Halfords.  Still, £50 a month would get me a £1k Boardman Team Carbon which I could use as my daily hack to work, saving my bambi bike for weekend posing.

Juaraches, Commuting and Billythebike

Well, as predicted, I’m back to quarterly posts.  Running-wise, it’s been a mixed bag in the last few weeks.  In May, I did my lower back in – managed to diagnose the problem as the twist I have to make with bent back when lifting an ever-growing Sara into her car seat.  A Freddo bar in the kiddie seat lures her to scramble in herself from the other side and has sorted that one for now -  but no doubt it won’t be long before she ups her price.

The Juarache - now they fit properly

Since then, I’ve just been ticking over with training really, which has been quite enjoyable and that’s freed up a bit of time to dabble in shoe improvements.  I mentioned in a previous post that traditional huaraches aren’t fastened securely enough for cross-country twists and turns.  Well, I’ve found a simple solution to that – the Juarache.  My huaraches are made from a 6mm sheet of medium density EVA.  The simple addition of a 10mm wide J-shaped strip of the same material to the outside edge of the shoe makes an amazing difference.  They’re still no use on serious mud of course but with trails generally firming up at this time of year, these make the ideal summer trainer.  And racer, for that matter, as they have an all-up weight of 40 grammes each.  Incidentally, tights make the perfect lacing material for these shoes too.

A book about taking your shoes off - this guy could sell ice to Eskimos

On a related theme, I’ve been reading Ken Bob Saxton’s “Barefoot Running Step by Step” So what can a bunch of affluent, middle-class, over-enthusiastic geeks tell us about a subject which is the domain of Third World experts? Well, for those of us in the fat-fuck, shoe-stuffed "developed" World, un-doing decades of bad habits and re-learning the seemingly simple process of running correctly is actually not that easy.  Like a golf swing or casting a trout fly, running is a skill which is difficult but very satisfying if done well. Where these guys are at is mastering the craft of running - aspiring to time every footfall to perfection and gaining pleasure from that as an end in itself.  – and that’s something I can readily empathise with. I found the book to be a very informative and entertaining read.  If Ken Bob is to be believed, even horses are jumping on the bandwagon and shedding their ironmongery by the skip-load (presumably to the dismay of American blacksmiths) in pursuit of hoofing happiness.  Ken Bob also warns of the evils of halfway-houses such as vibram five-fingers and the like (and presumably my huaraches would fall into this category) for beginners.  His advice is to learn to run properly fully barefoot first, as otherwise the senses are dulled just enough to lull you into thinking you are running correctly when you may not be.  He has a point there.  Not that I’m likely to heed the advice though.  Well, I’m not going to throw away my shoes and do myself out of a hobby, am I?

One thing I’ve noticed with my own technique, the more minimalist I go, is that my left suspension needs a bit of tuning – I land on the forefoot sure enough but my ligaments and achilles seem too lazy to do their job properly and the rest of my foot hits the ground too soon for comfort.  Something I’d notice less in cushioned trainers but which I should work on nonetheless.

On Monday, I’m moving work to Rosyth to build the new Forth Crossing (admittedly with help from a few others).  The new location brings with it fresh commuting possibilities; it’s a 17 mile bike ride or 15 mile run (if I go straight over the shale bing at Winchburgh), so I’m thinking of combining the two, perhaps running home a couple of days per week. I’ll probably need it, as the culinary options around Rosyth Docks don’t contribute much to your 5-a-day quota.

New Forth Crossing. Hopefully it'll turn out like the one on the left

Ayers Rock, Winchburgh - Now part of my daily commute (cheers to Auchinoon for pic)

My employer runs a cycle to work scheme, which starts in September so I’ll look into that.  On the face of it, it looks a good deal – you save about 40% on a new bike – but I’ve heard the rules have changed and you now have to pay up to 25% back at the end of the year if you want to keep it, so maybe not quite so good unless you were planning to splash out a few hundred quid on a sparkly new machine anyway.  In the meantime, I’ll be wheeling out my trusty  Peugeot road bike, which I bought for a tenner from a Leith charity shop 10 years ago, and which can be kept running forever with used parts from the likes of the Bike Station. These guys recycle old bikes into decent machines for the masses and are a breath of fresh air in our chuck-away society. I’m off down there on Sunday to overhaul my wheels.

My trusty vintage chariot.  Oh bugger...I've put that rear wheel on wrong again

Racing bikes have come down in weight dramatically over the years, from the 18 kg Tour de France machines of the early 1900s (which, incidentally, is the same weight as a £60 mountain bike I once bought from Asda, which seemed to have been made from scaffold tubes – those  early riders were tough!) to 6 kg today (if you have a spare £8.5 k or so!).  I don’t know much about bikes but as an engineer, I reckon most of today’s offerings are over-bloated fashion statements which have to be over-engineered in any case to be able to carry the kind of lard-arse fat cats who can afford the pricier stuff. I’ve been thinking for a while now that a billytheshoe-string approach to bike design would produce something better and in that regard I’ve been inspired by Graeme Obree, who whittles away with weird components sourced from around the house, to produce radical bikes while watching the telly.  Now that’s my kind of DIY!  I have a few design ideas floating about my head involving garden canes, beer cans and of course, tights.  Watch this space….

A Brief Fling

As Black Adder would say, “It started off badly (aka a bit too quick), tailed off a bit in the middle, and the less said about the end the better”.

Administration and marshalling of Saturday's 53 mile Milngavie to Tyndrum Highland Fling was superb as usual and a real credit to the organisers – particularly this year with the vast hordes to cater for.  The drop bag system is brilliant and worked well for me.  Everything within a bigger bag; my core supplies for the leg in a carrier bag, with optional extras to the side.  I kept my empties in a carrier bag in my rucksack, so at each change it was simply, bag of empties out, bag of refills in – 30 seconds max, while everyone else was fannying around, sorting out their picnic – felt great!

Sadly, not everything else went so well with my run.  The early miles felt very easy.  First view of the Loch from Conic Hill was stunning.  Enjoyed the descent of Conic – usually deceptively greasy up-top but all pretty firm today and nothing to trap the unwary.  Balmaha in 2:44, 15 minutes up on schedule.  Hmm. Time for a reality check? On the other hand….So I forged on ahead.  Rowardennan in 4:00 – still ahead of schedule but I certainly hadn’t speeded up any.  I was starting to feel a bit queasy by now.  My nutritional strategy had been to fuel and hydrate in a one-er, using a sweet tea / apple juice mix.  That had worked fine in training but the mistake I made in the race was upping the quantity considerably.  I don’t think I was taking on too much liquid as such, but I was probably taking in a higher calorie intake than I could handle during a run.  A lesson here – don’t experiment with fundamentals on race day.

I was in denial heading towards Inversnaid – comparing how I felt 2 years ago in the same section, I was worse this time but telling myself I’d come through the bad patch.  On the scramble section beyond Inversnaid, I was starting to cramp up, a sure signed that I’d over-cooked the early pace for my fitness level.  Jez and Andrew James came past in close formation at about 36 miles.  They both looked so comfortable on the terrain, every movement ruthlessly efficient.

Until now, I had kept a lid on things but shortly after the end of the loch, I donated my drop bag contents and, it felt like, most of my stomach lining, to the Way.  I’d brought some solids as back-up but I couldn’t force anything else down.  I was a spent force by then anyway, so I rapidly concluded that I was calling it a day, and trudged a miserable 4 miles to Bein Glas.  So, certainly not the outcome I’d visualised.  A few painful lessons along the way but hopefully ones I can learn from and apply next time.

As I didn’t complete the race, I can’t give a full report.  I spent many of the early miles with Peter Buchanan of Portobello and boy, can this guy talk!  He writes a good game too, so I would recommend his excellent report of the full race on the Porties’ website HERE.  Peter over-cooked the early pace but did well to persevere and even produced a PB.  Peter’s partner, Yak Hunter, had been psyched-up for the Fling but made the grave error of trusting folk in white coats – a check-up at the dentist resulted in her face being so swollen that she couldn’t run, because the excess weight on her left side would have risked injury or toppling into the loch.

Some great runs on the day from Andrew James and Jez in particular.  Well done too to Kate and Debs, and also to the HBT team winners, most of whom were ultra-virgins until Saturday.  Of folk I spotted, I belatedly realised the orange vest that had passed was Stuart Mills.  Too late to shout "Oi, Stuart, I started off fast and blasted the hills like you said.  Now what, eh?"  but the strategy did seem to be working for him again!  Jack Brown was going well on the climb before Inverarnan but didn't appear in the results, so don't know what happened there. Thomas was going very strongly when he passed me but must have had problems later on.  He finished wearing a fleece – perhaps the day hadn’t been warm enough?  I’m sure all will be revealed in due course!**  Richie looked like a relay runner later on, and pulled off a 20-minute PB, so a careful look at his splits is in order. And John Kynaston had the good sense to turn his race into a training run when things weren’t going quite to plan (now why couldn’t I have thought of that?!), allowing a respectable finish and training plan for June to remain intact.

** Stop Press - All is revealed in Silke's Blog. Now that was a shocker!!

Fling Predictions

1.  Stuart Mills will be hoping this year’s Fling is a 53 miler rather than a 60;

2.  Favourable conditions are forecast and it’s a cracking field at the sharp-end, so the winning times will be sub-7 for the men and sub-8:30 for the women.

3.  90% of the field will start far too fast and will run a sub-optimal race as a result;

4.  I will tell myself to start off slow ‘til I’m blue in the face, but will get sucked into the vortex of early speed folly as soon as the gun fires;

5.  JK will run 9:22:27 (and in over 100 miles of JK "Guess my time" competitions, I think I am within 2 seconds a mile, so don’t let me down John, unless you run faster of course!);

6.  That first beer at the finish will be the best you have ever tasted, even if it is lager.


As for myself, I’m simply aiming to improve on my previous Fling appearance in 2009. I don’t think I’m any fitter than then, as my overall mileage is low, but I think I can race more intelligently this time. Then, I pushed too hard from Rowardennan, and the rough section from Inversnaid to the end of the Loch took a lot out of me. With the wheels having come off by Beinglas, I took 3 hours to cover the last 12 miles. This year, I don’t mind getting to Beinglas quite a bit slower, as long as I’m capable of running the last section properly.

The splits for an optimal race, as a percentage of your overall target time, are:

Drymen           19.8%
Rowardennan   47.3%
Beinglas          75.8%
Tyndrum        100%

So, for an example 10 hour target, your splits would be: 1:59, 4:44, 7:35 and 10:00.

These percentages hinge entirely on the supposition that Jez Bragg knows how to pace himself and ran a "good" race in 2009 (but I don’t think that supposition is too rash, based on his pacing in other Trail and 100k events). There are those who advise that you should run hard when you are feeling good, because you will slow down later anyway (and you certainly can’t argue with Stuart Mills’s results!) but I believe that there is only one physiological optimum for all of us and on the flat, that would be even pace. Now, if only Stuart BELIEVED this were true, I’m convinced he would run even faster!

Whatever unfolds on Saturday, I’m sure it will be a cracking day out. See you all there and best of luck!

Huaraches Revisited

Finally got my Fling entry off last week in the nick of time.  Had been dithering a bit - a few weeks back I picked up a knee injury as a result of a bizarre accident on my commute run to Bellshill.  I stood on a loop of box strapping with my right foot, caught the otherend of it with my left and went down like a sack of spuds, landing with all my weight on my left kneecap.  I tell you, THAT was pain! This happened outside a Tollcross chippie and even the laughter of the baying hyenas inside, who I'd just entertained, lessened slightly when they saw the state of me.  Judging by the state of some of them (whose only contribution towards their 5 a day is the tomato topping on their deep-fried pizza), I'm kind of hoping that I'll have the last laugh, but there's no guarantees on that one of course. I haven't had to stop training but the knee had been uncomfortable ever since, so I wanted to see how that was progressing before commiting to the Fling.  Anyway, a definite improvement last week and faster running actually seemed to help, so it was all systems go and entry posted. Really looking forward to it ....but a 7:00 start, FFS! Still, at least I'm not a Super-Zimmer yet.  It all seems the wrong way round though.  Those who get the extra hour in bed, the elitists, are the ones who are used to pre-dawn workouts in pursuit of their 100+ mile weeks.  They are the ones least likely to be rolling in from the pub in the wee sma' hours, desperately in need of any sleep they can grab, they are the ones most likely to get upset later on, when tourists don't scatter from the path quickly enough on their reckless approach, and they are the ones who'll need the most time to re-hydrate in preparation for the negative effects of their two pints of shandy at the ceilidh.  So I say, next year, set the fast runners off at dawn and give the rest of us a lie-in!

Anyway, on to the main topic of my post. Huaraches seem to be out of favour at the moment.  I've dabbled with them in the past, as have a couple of other WHW bloggers, but I've yet to see anyone toeing a start line in them.  They're an ingenious design and undoubtedly fine for their intended purpose of protecting bare feet from cactus thorns in Copper Canyon but a smooth sole is worse than useless on Scottish mud. Yes, you could add grips but if the sole's too thin, they'll be punching holes into your feet in the first mile. I'm also not convinced that the shoe is connected to your foot snugly enough for fast hill descents or xc rapid twists and turns.

Cutting-edge technology for shoe uppers

For some time though, I've been seeking something huarache-esque but an all-terrain model; virtually upper-less and feather-light but with great grip on mud and a wee bit of cushioning for rocky trails.  What I needed was a space-age weightless super-strong material for the task. As it turned out,there was no need to phone NASA - a eureka momennt in Sainsbury's provided the answer women's tights! So here's what I've come up with, based around a half-inch thick EVA sole:

 








 

Hole positions marked





Careful use of scissors to make holes









Using one leg of the tights, coax it through holes with scissor ends.  Tie a knot at each hole position and repeat, working your way round the shoe





The completed upper. Lower part of low-density midsole will receive a thin layer of med-density EVA



Continental Vertical - still the best bike tyre for shoe grips that I've found





Grips superglued to sole



Completed shoe - conventional criss-cross lacing using another leg of the tights - and a further leg for the rear achilles strap



Tying the heel strap - fan out the tights to fit securely and spread the load just below the achilles


So there we have it.  The weight of each upper is precisely three legs of tights - not sure if that would actually register on scales.  The bike tyre grips make up most of the weight but even so, the all-up weight is less than 5 ounces a shoe.  I took them out for a test drive yesterday round Mid-Calder woods. Just an easy effort but I really attacked all the downhills and they handled impeccably - just a minor tweak required to move a knot from too near my left arch and they'll be sorted.  Not sure yet if I'll wear these at the Fling - they're so light it would be practically cheating - but I'll see how they do in the next couple of days and decide later in the week.

Hilly

Two posts in 2 days – FFS! Don’t worry folks; the initial enthusiasm will soon pass and I’ll be back to 3-monthly reports in no time.
The week after my visit to Sheffield was also fairly hilly, culminating with my Scald Law rollercoaster. This involves a 20-odd minute warm-up from Threipmuir car park to the base of West Kip, efforts up both Kips and Scald Law, descending to the Howe. A few minutes jog on the flat t get your land legs back, then turn and do the course in reverse. A tough session, runable all the way (just) but the long climb back up Scald Law seemed to take forever and my legs were jelly by the end.

Last week I generally kept to flatter ground, incorporating a mid-week tempo session within a commute run to catch my train at Bellshill. With Sunday being Mothers Day, I suspected that Gulshen wouldn’t appreciate me dumping child-care responsibilities on her for most of the day while I disappeared on a long run, so I took the opportunity of a visit to my Dad’s in Bishopbriggs on Saturday to run from there back to Livi. I didn’t fancy the all-road more direct route, so I took the canal towpath to just short of Linlithgow, cross-country from the Avon Viaduct to Beecraigs Loch, then back-roads and paths over the Bathgate Hills and back to Murieston.

As I was picking up the canal at Bishie Sports Centre, I’d miss out on the Maryhill Buckie Boys’ towpath entertainment today but never mind – you can’t have everything. I felt pretty sluggish at the start – perhaps because I was running too soon after stuffing my face at Dobies. (That’s rule No. 1 when visiting my Dad’s – always eat out. He’s 86, lives on his own and does the same shopping every week regardless of what food’s in the house. So there’s lots of interesting little cultures multiplying away in the fridge and bread bin. And we’ve all been stricken with botulism or similar at some point. Except him of course – he’s immune to it all by now. Even the sell-by dates can’t be relied on, ‘cos they don’t always print the year. So, an easy decision – the garden centre café for lunch it was then).

The main canal users today seemed to be pike fishermen. Not sure why there were so many – perhaps a big ‘un had been caught there recently which had lured out the anglers? No-one fishing though at the spot near Cadder where I had caught my “monster” 4 ½ pounder when I was 11. After I had plonked Jaws on the kitchen table, my long-suffering mum had the task of converting it into fish pie which, I recall, was dangerously bony but otherwise surprisingly edible.

A Hill, TFFT! Changing Canals at the Falkirk Wheel

I was geared up for the worst, weather-wise but it turned out better than I could have hoped. I thought the canal part would be pretty boring but it was actually OK - spring sunshine and with a nice breeze giving me a gentle shove in the right direction. After 27+ pancake-flat miles to where I left the canal, it was a bit of a shock to the system to hit the mud and hills of the remainder but the time seemed to go quicker with the more varied terrain. Arrived home just before dark, weary but generally pleased with how things had gone. Just shy of 39 miles total but as this comprised 5 mins walk/ 20 mins run “reps”, I had run about 35 miles (and now I feel so inadequate – all the would-be Fling-ers seem to have ran at least a 40 this weekend!). Nevertheless, my 5 miles per pint nutritional regime meant this was a 7 pinter in post-run replenishment terms, so a pleasant evening was had fulfilling this part of my schedule.

I’ve added a couple of links to my blog that I would recommend to you. Firstly, Ardbruach – the website of Clydesdale Harrier Brian McAusland. I don’t really know Brian but remember him as the specky guy who ran perimeter laps of Huntershill with coach Eddie Sinclair when I was a yoof at Springburn. I didn’t learn until later that Brian is a respected coach in his own right. He is a life-long enthusiast of the sport and his site is a real treasure-trove of Scottish Athletics history and road running in particular. Stuff of interest to the ultra running community includes articles on Don Ritchie, our very own Stottie’s Top Ten Ultra Moments and the sadly now-defunct Edinburgh to Glasgow Individual race. Some of the times posted for this race, particularly those from the ‘60s, are pretty impressive by today’s standards!

Secondly, a link to the Great Ron Hill’s blog which I discovered recently. Ron’s books “The Long Hard Road” Parts 1 and 2, give a unique insight into UK distance running from the ‘50s to the ‘80s. His recent writings give a perspective from further down the field but are still fascinating nonetheless. At 72, Hilly is just as fanatical as ever, still running every day and (it makes me cringe to read) still running through every injury that comes his way. Ron as an M70 isn’t as high up the rankings as he once was, which begs the question - can a runner start out as a kid, train hard all their life and achieve their best in every age group until they croak? I think the answer is probably no, otherwise Ron would still be running sub-3 hour marathons. Guys like Ed Whitlock who now top the Zimmer rankings showed ability as a youngster but only belatedly returned to the sport. But it’s probably not worth worrying too much about these things. We need to enjoy it while we can and all we can do for the future is take reasonable care of ourselves in the meantime.

Great Minds Think Alike

Read in today's Metro that expert Japanese engineers are trying sawdust and shredded newspaper to help seal cracks in the stricken Fukdushima nuclear reactors. I had the same idea for sealing the 200m of joints in Sara's play-dome last year. No-one's been on the phone from Japan but to avoid the same pitfalls that I had - if any experts happen to read this - just make sure that if you're mixing that lot with PVA to make a good gobbo paste, use the WATERPROOF variety. It's a bit more expensive now, but worth it in the long-run.

Ronnie's Owd Cock

On holiday last week with family in Sheffield.  Mother-in-law appeasement took up quite a bit of time, so I only managed four runs but these included a hill session and all of the Round Rotherham race route, so all in all, a reasonable week’s training.

Tuesday was a hill session at the Sheffield ski slope.  20 years ago, this was a regular lunchtime session.  The centre’s expanded quite a bit since then and the bing on which it sits is now extensively wooded, so I couldn’t go my old route but the hill is just as high, so I could still get a useful session in – four reps of about 5 minutes up and down (off-piste of course – these skiers are a stroppy bunch), with about 2 ½ minutes jog interval, with a half hour jog there and back from Hunters Bar.

Thursday saw me on the 07:30 train to Shireoaks, to jog a mile back along the Chesterfield Canal and pick up the RR route at about mile 28 at Turnerwood and I was on the course by 8:00.  The 50 mile Round Rotherham is definitely a race you need to do before you die.  When I did it in December 2008, relentless rain had reduced the course to a Flanders-esque trench-warfare quagmire, with the day being all about mere survival.  Thankfully, today was a total contrast; sunshine, firm footing even over plough and a sheer pleasure just to be out and about.  The course itself is one of stark contrasts, from leafy well-heeled rural hamlets such as Turnerwood (where cyclists are required to dismount as they pass the cottages, FFS!) and the hauntng gothic ruins of Roche Abbey, to post-apocalyptic Tinsley - all interspersed with some road sections and a multitude of paths along canal, river, woods, industrial estates and mugging alleys, radical changes in direction through hidden gaps in hedges, and mile upon mile of  proper cross-country over thick plough and stile in rolling countryside. But hey, without contrasts life would be dull indeed, so this course gets my vote as one of the best there is.

I wish I could take a leaf out of Yak Hunter’s book and take  an album of decent pics detailing every nook and cranny en-route  But what with a photo every couple of minutes, and all those stops for cake and coffee at the slightest opportunity which that repertoire seems to require, how would it be possible to actually fit a run in?  No, I’m afraid you’ll just have to put up with my usual few crappy snaps, snatched whenever I’m too knackered to muster more than a plod.

The RR is a very complex route and one which is impossible to commit to memory after one visit, at least for my enfeebled brain.  A useful feature I noticed this time was the small black and white Round Rotherham route markers which are reassuring to see in moments of doubt, but don’t expect them to spoon-feed you all the way round. I used the strip map from Henry Marston’s excellent site.  It’s generally very good and really all you need to get round, but it’s not perfect and you really have to read and adsorb every word, if you don’t want to end up in Nottingham.  There have been a few subtle changes to the route since I ran it but nothing too drastic.  One welcome change is the A57 crossing, which  now goes via an underpass.  The previous crossing was over the road - picture the WHW A82 crossing but with double the traffic at 90mph. And with the clock ticking away and frustrated runners queuing up like possessed wildebeast contemplating the croc-infested Zambezi – it wasn’t a happy recipe.

Roche Abbey - proof that Christianity did reach South Yorkshire

A zag instead of a zig got me lost for a bit in fields beyond Firbeck but on a training run, that’s no big deal and a bit of common sense and oh-so-clever “sun navigation” had me in the right direction and back on course within half a mile.  My pace wasn’t quick – in fact, I was adopting my 20 minutes run / 5 minutes walk and feed routine that I use for most of my 20+ mile runs – but the time seemed to fly by and I was soon passing through the 12^th Century Roche Abbey, where Robin Hood was said to have taken Mass (yes, I too thought that was bollocks – Perhaps this was where Friar Tuck gained Mass too?).  Once Cromwell had ordered the Abbey's destruction, locals gleefully sacked the place, stripping lead, timber and anything of value in a matter of days - a proud tradition carefully handed down to today's generation of Maltby residents.  Needless to day, I didn't labour this point as I passed through the town.   After Maltby, I was onto a mixture of country road, paths and fields passing through Micklebring and Hooton Roberts.  Old Denaby, mile 47 in the race and 19 miles into my run, saw a return to the industrial zone.  I was soon into Swinton which has, as I observed, the highest dangerous dog per capita ratio on the planet.  Indeed, it would appear that if you’re an adult male here and not strutting John Wayne-style down the High Street with a Rott or Staffie straining at the leash, then you are required to just shuffle along, head lowered in shame.  And that included me of course, tresspassing as I was on their canal and river path stomping grounds, where I had to adopt the submissive “I’m not worthy of a bite from your noble beast” stance, whereby their tattoo-festooned owners would reluctantly yank the snarling mutt aside at the last moment.  It was a bit ridiculous.  They all need neutering to reduce aggression.  That’s the owners – as for the dogs, a muzzle would probably do.



Keppel's Column - unfinished due to lack of funds - TFFT

 From here, it was just a stone’s throw to Wath College, where it did seem odd to be passing the race finish when I still had 12 miles to do on my own run  - but my strong sweet tea / apple juice mix kept me topped-up nicely, and it was only the climb up to Keppel’s Column, at about 31 miles, that I started to get weary.  Keppel was an Naval Admiral who was court-marshalled in 1777 for getting humped by the French.  Astonishingly, he was aquitted (don’t know how he wangled that one – I mean, a humping’s a humping, n’est ce pas?) and in celebration, his mate, big-cheese something-or-other owner of Wentworth Estate decided to build the monstrous carbunkle in his honour but it had to be truncated, sans statue, because he ran out of money.  Whatever the reasons for lack of funds, I strongly suspect that improving the welfare of his estate tenants wasn’t one of them.  A couple of miles more and I had completed 34 miles of the RR route, where I veered west to jog the mile to Meadowhall and catch the tram back into Sheffield.

Satrurday morning saw me heading back out to Meadowhall to pick up the RR route where I left off, and complete the last 16 miles to Turnerwood.  And the day was a cracker – even Tinsley seemed only mildly depressing in the morning sun.  No walking breaks today but my legs were a bit heavy from the week’s exertions, so again an overall steady pace was in order.  The River Don here was once the most polluted in Europe.  Indeed, when industry here was in full swing, Fig trees proliferated along its banks.  Germinating from seeds within sewage effluent, heat from steel mills and factories along the river banks created the perfect micro-climate for the trees to thrive.  Some are still there but have been in decline since the '70s.  On the up-side though, creatures such as fish have now returned in abundance, and a "Don trout" is no longer slang for a floating jobbie.

Posh part of the 'Nolly at Turnerwood

Ten miles into my run, just after Rother Valley Country Park, I passed the derelict part of the Chesterfield Canal, one on the first in the UK.  So in the same year that Keppel's mate was fannying about with his Folly, some engineering of actual use was being done, to link industrial Chesterfield (perhaps as far inland as you can get in the UK) to the North Sea, via the Trent.  Sandstone from nearby North Anston quarry was transported via this canal to rebuild the Houses of Parliament, after they were burned down in 1834.

Passing under the M1 for the final time near Woodhall, a pleasant jaunt over rolling countryside soon had me re-joining the canal at Turnerwood, to complete the Round Rotherham route and a satisfying week's training. 

Ronnie's Owd Cock - Somehow better from a glass

My endeavours this week had earned me a thirst-quenching 14 training pints.  And being on holiday of course, social pints were in order too, so it's fair to say a few ales were supped.  Those of the Barnsley Beer Company were particularly good and I would have to recommend Ronnie's Owd Cock - a superb IPA - as the pick of the bunch.  Despite its excellence though, I just can't see it flying off the shelves at Morrisons.