Afan, I'm afraid

Sarah Brown is one of my favourite people to go on cycling adventures with. I’ve enjoyed her ever entertaining company on many a muddy, off road trail. We’ve cycled halfway up the country, joyously overtaken lycra-clad men to their dismay and our amusement, found some super tea shops and generally covered a lot of miles on two wheels. So, when she invited me to Wales for a 40th birthday/New Year mountain biking extravaganza, I jumped at the chance. I’ll tell you one thing I learnt about Sarah last weekend though: she’s either completely disillusioned or a massive liar! “You’ll be able to do this Egglet, it’s easy”.

Sensible Stopping

When you have set yourself a challenge, or been set a challenge or even just told a few people what you're planning to do, the pressure is on for you to complete it. Once I have my head set on doing something, I want to see it through to the bitter end and the idea of having to give up - whatever the reason - fills me with dread!


As I have discovered in the last week though, stopping can be the most sensible option. I was feeling massive excitement and slightly nervous anticipation about doing the South Downs Way on mountain bike. A goal of mine for ages, this would be one to tick off the list. I was feeling particularly smug as I managed to cram everything I needed (including a sleeping bag, spare clothes AND vast amounts of food) in an 18 litre sack; small and light enough to make for a very comfortable ride.

Moors Valley Singletrack

The word singletrack strikes fear into my very soul. I struggle staying straight and upright on a lovely spacious byway let alone weaving in and out of trees on a track that is only just wider my handlebar. However, as is customary in my general life, excitement comes before fear, so I always agree to these things and just have to deal with the consequences.


Lyndal had said there was a great little loop of singletrack at the nearby Moors Valley Country Park. I had gotten excited and agreed before I realised I have absolutely no singletrack skills, but she reassured me and promised me it was "not technical at all, just flowing and nice". I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not. However, the loop itself is only 3 miles so I figured I could bail out after one loop if it was too scary.


We headed over from Ringwood on some great, wide forest tracks. Then when we were inside the country park she pointed out a little blue sign leading into a bit of track that looked like it had been made by a small deer that had gotten lost. 


I gripped the handlebars and immediately failed to keep up with the others as I cautiously teetered along. The trail was built quite recently and whilst the ground is in good shape (i.e. free of ruts and other nasties) the people who have built the trails are definitely not mountain bikers; most of it is lined with big slabs of rock to trip over, who thought that up?! Not only that but there are some sharp bends on the course, ideal for practising those handling skills.. but almost every one is around some sort of tree so leaning into it is out of the question!

Weaving around the trees

Nonetheless, after the first lap my confidence started to build and I started to push a little harder. By the third lap I knew that I was improving because I was almost hitting more stuff (and therefore must have been going much faster) and scaring myself a bit more.


Despite the trees and the huge rocks, it's a great little trail to whizz around on and once I'd gotten used to the narrowness of the thing I found it thoroughly enjoyable.


The highlight of the day however, came as we sat down to eat some lunch. The place was packed full of families and people out for the day, enjoying the sunshine. From where we were sat we had a great viewpoint of a tiny little humpback bridge. We happily munched our sandwiches and watched countless children ride over the bridge and fall over, or fall over on the little dip just next to the bridge. It was the best lunchtime entertainment one could wish for in a country park.


As we headed off for our final loop, we decided to tackle the tiny bridge. Lyndal went first. It was as she went through that I realised how tiny it actually was, her handlebars only just squeezed through the gap and she had a minor moment of imbalance, but managed to recover nicely off the other side. I was already giggling at her little stumble as I attempted the humpback of hell. I did a much worse job than she had done, and very nearly fell off as my handlebars bumped against the sides. By this point though I was laughing so much that as I came off the bridge I was completely off balance, hit a tree and hit the deck.


Jim, who was behind me, saw the whole thing and was wetting himself. Every child in the vicinity got their revenge.

Jim showing his hardcore extreme skills

Stuck in a Rut

I had a little chuckle to myself this morning as we set off on our mountain bikes. All of about four seconds had passed and Mike announced that he had a puncture. I didn't chuckle because I am mean, I chuckled in a happy way because the first mountain bike fail of the day was out of the way and it had fallen to somebody else!


It definitely wasn't Mike's first flat; a very speedy change later and we were on our way. The sun was shining this morning, Spring is definitely in the air and it felt great to be back out after I've been holed up all week with a cold.


Another brilliant moment came from Jo, who had been struggling to drop into a smaller gear   as we climbed our first hill. In fact we'd climbed about three hills before she realised that you need to press the other lever to change down. Genius.


We were being led out of Salisbury by Pip on some great (and incredibly, dry) trails that I had never ridden. Before I knew it, we had popped out over the top of a hill and were rewarded with a cracking view of Stonehenge. After stopping for a quick munch and enjoying the view, we headed off down the hill.


The next bit of trail we hit was really rutted. Rutted trails are the worst. They lure you into a false sense of security as they start off shallow and flat and smooth and make you think that you've made the best route choice. Then gradually they get deeper and before you know it you can't get out, then you have to try SO hard to keep pedalling in a straight line because even the slightest deviation will result in one of your pedals hitting the side and that will be game over. I think it must have been a mountain biker who actually coined the phrase "stuck in a rut".

Nothing like a cold compress to soothe
a bump on the head. We should be more worried
about the lack of a left leg though..

I realised fairly early on in this cruel rutted game that I was going to get stuck in a deep one, so I made a break for it and tried to get out over the left lip. My tyre skidded against the side and the bike dropped. I managed - in true Egg style - to hit nothing but my head. In fact, I even managed to hit a bit of rock at such a perfect angle that the point of impact was just below where my helmet sat. 


My fellow riders were on hand immediately with plenty of reassurance and a water-soaked-buff to apply to my sore head (yet another brilliant use for a Buff!). Once I'd recovered a bit and realised that I knew what day of the week it was, we set off again at a nice, easy pace.


Suffice to say I did my best to stay out of all the ruts for the remainder of the ride. For the record (and before I get a call from my mum in a panic), I'm pleased to report that an A&E trip wasn't necessary. 2011 could still be the year of no hospital visits. Fingers crossed people! 

Bike Faff

I am not a fan of faffing. I'm the one that sits tapping my foot, quietly building up inner rage whilst waiting to leave or go somewhere whilst someone faffs away, looking for this, checking for that. I even go so far as over-preparing to reduce any risk of morning faff; clothes are always laid out the night before, mental preparation is done for breakfast and the alarm is placed in some far away place to avoid the dreaded snooze.


Now don't get me wrong, I do love my cycling.. but.. compared to pretty much any other sport I partake in, there is a ridiculous amount of faff involved. If I want to go for a run all I need to do is stick my trainers on and I'm out the door. An impromptu cycle involves a helmet, bike shoes and a initial weather assessment (i.e. peering out the window) followed closely by an in depth clothing and glove assessment at the bare minimum.


Then of course you have water, snacks, the secondary weather assessment (which involves tottering about outside for a minute to gauge how hot or cold you might get) which then can change your clothing and glove options, what lenses to put in your glasses, finding ingenius places to safely store your phone and keys, the "should I wear a hat?" debate and the whole ensuring your machine is in fact roadworthy bit.


By the time you've found a spare tube, taken your pump from your other bike, sworn at your presta valves because they're bent (again) and take four attempts to pump up and eventually lifted your bike over all the other crap in the shed/garage/hallway you then look up and think "actually I should just check what the weather might do later". The tertiary weather assessment involves either managing to catch a forecast on the TV or quickly loading up a website to check. Even though this is a compulsory step in the bike faff routine, it's a completely and utterly pointless one because the weather report will ultimately always be wrong and no matter what it says you'll decide you don't trust it and end up searching for either sun cream or your tiny waterproof.

It is now you realise that you've lost an enormous chunk of time through pure, unadulterated faff and you are in a bit of a bad mood. The true faffer will decide at this point that another 15 minutes isn't going to make the blindest bit of difference and will put the kettle on. This for me would be the point that I start thinking about what time I might get back, will it be dark? Perhaps I should bring some lights? You spend another few minutes hunting for batteries and so it goes on.

The moral of the story is to keep EVERYTHING bike related in a box by the door, remember to always pump up your tyres, clean and lube your chain after a ride (as opposed to before the next one) and check the weather every hour whilst you're at work so this doesn't eat into riding time.

Now, who's ready in 15 for a ride?

Mountain Bike Skills For Riding Up Hills

As you know from numerous blog posts such as: "Roxy and the Nettles", "Egg and the Dangerous Black Cow", "Flatness", "STC Duathlon 2010" and "Battered, Bruised and Blinkin' Dirty", my degree of success in all things mountain bike related is slim to none. A ride is considered a triumph if I fall off no more than twice and only have one puncture.


Fortunately I'm not the only one out there lacking off-road finesse, so we arranged a basic mountain biking skills course with our local instructor, Colin.


Once we had spent the best part of an hour discussing the intricate details of changing an inner tube, we grabbed our bikes and headed for the dangerous and demanding terrain of.. a car park. In a moment of sheer comedy genius it was in fact the car park of a Medical Centre that we would be learning the essentials. Thankfully none of us needed medical attention as we mastered the ultimate biker's balancing act of the track stand (read "mastered" as "tentatively tried with lots of squealy noises").


We then rode into Shaftesbury and were faced with Gold Hill; famous for being the hill in the Hovis advert. It is a gloriously picturesque cobbled street. So quaint it is, that at first you don't notice the ludicrous steepness of it. After briefly admiring the view, the realisation hit that we were expected to cycle up this monster of a slope. I gritted my teeth and went for it. As the incline increased, the gears dropped and I was trying desperately to keep my bum in the saddle. I knew at this gradient if I tried to stand up I'd end up wheel-spinning and falling off - and the members of the public that were currently looking quite impressed would know I was actually a big loser. The tilt of the slope was so severe that it felt I was perilously close to falling backwards. I fought to keep the front wheel in contact with the ground on the last, even steeper section and breathed an enormous, wheezy sigh of relief as I topped out.


Once we'd all gotten to the top, Colin told us - with a massive smile on his face - that we'd be going back up it again later and we'd all find it loads easier apparently with our new "going uphill" skills. Everybody looked like they had just lost the will to live. 


We went on to learn all about correct gear selection, body positioning, the 'neutral' riding position and weighting and unweighting of the front wheel. This all culminated with us heading into the forest to practice our cornering on tight bends and moving about on varied terrain. It was all going so well until I somehow managed to lean the wrong way and perform what I thought was a wonderfully delicate slow-motion tumble into the leafy. forest floor.


The day finished back at the hotel with another dose of cakey temptation. I quietly ate my apple and pretended not to care that everyone else was enjoying big slabs of chocolate loveliness.


Despite not managing to stay upright - based on my aforementioned grades of accomplishment - the day was a resounding success with some excellent new skill acquisitions. Four hours absolutely flew by and as we overran we didn't have time to repeat Gold Hill with our new found ascending know-how - gutted!

STC Off-Road Duathlon 2010

I'd agreed to take part in the off-road duathlon on a whim a few weeks ago. The tiny powerhouse Nicky Yevko and I had decided we would enter a relay team with her completing the run legs and me on the mountain bike.


"17km on the bike... easy Sunday morning" I was thinking to myself. Oh how wrong I was. I woke up this morning and peered apprehensively out the window to discover it had been a wet night. I knew it was going to be a slippery, muddy course. I loaded up my belly with a suitably large breakfast for a cold, soggy November morning.. then ate a bit more.. then I was ready to go.


Fortunately the sky cleared and we had lovely sunshine to race under, it was still bloomin' cold though and I was hopping about like a mad thing to stay warm whilst I waited for my team mate to finish the first run. I didn't have to wait long, the Yevko is a running demon and she put us in a good position.


Sadly when it comes to mountain biking I am not a speed demon. I'm barely even an able-to-stay-on-the-bike demon. After no more than five minutes I'd managed to stack it, skidding out at the first sign of deep mud. As far as things to fall into go, thick mud and leaves are definitely up there with the best of 'em and as soon as I'd managed to uncleat my feet and peel myself out of the filth trap, I was away - amused and unfazed. I remained amused and unfazed the second time, and the third time too. The fourth time I managed to throw myself off in quite a spectacular fashion and as luck would have it, fellow Tri-Club member Sean Dukes was right behind me so I even had the chance to cheer him on from the ground as he whizzed past (after checking I was alright, obviously). At this point it was almost impossible to get back on the bike so I ran her up the hill and jumped on again when it flattened out.


As soon as this first bit of particularly slippery trail was over I regained my balance and pedalled my heart out along the drove (which is nice and solid and flat), cruising through endless puddles and loving the feeling of mud in my eyes, ears, mouth.. and possibly nostrils. 


The route then veered off into the woods and there were a few members of the public out for their Sunday lunchtime walks to avoid. If you time it just right you can coat them with a fine layer of foresty sediment - very enjoyable.


There was a classic moment on the woodland trail where I was headed straight for a puddle (as is customary on a mountain bike) and it wasn't until it was too late that I realised it was deeper than I expected with a high ridge on the far side. I sped up and hoped the motion would carry me straight up the lip rather than over the handlebars. Luckily, it did. I did however, hit the ledge with such a force that an enormous stream of snot shot out of my nostrils. Once I'd finished chuckling to myself I managed to wipe it all from my chin so as not to horrify the next marshall.

Bring it on Jon!

Out of the woods and down a superb bit of trail cut into the side of a hill, superb that is, until you hit the switchback and it quickly shoots uphill again. Once this bit was over though it was back onto the drove and before you know it, you're sailing down the last bit of singletrack and out into the village. Once I was back on the wonderful hard road I powered up the legs and flew as fast as I could back to the transition area. Nicky was waiting eagerly and was gone like a shot before you could say "high-five".

Thankfully there are no pictures of
what I looked like from the front

I cleaned myself up - which mainly involved washing dirt out of my facial orifices - and felt the heat rushing back into my legs. Armed with a flask of coffee and slightly disappointed that I couldn't scoff down the fun-size mars bar from my goody bag, I headed outside to cheer people over the finishing line. Nicky came sprinting in like a true pro and was barely out of breath. I was thankful we were on the same team..


All in all a great local event and definitely one to do next year. I think I might have to get myself some winter tyres that provide a bit of grip, or I could just learn to ride a bike properly (mountain bike skills course coming up in a couple of weeks, clear your diaries so you can visit me in the hospital).

Two-timing with the Lady of the Night

Those of you that regularly read my blog will know that I really love my bikes and cycling, so much so that I have what some will consider to be a slightly unhealthy relationship with my two-wheeled lady friends.



Bianca - my road bike - is sort of like my wife. We spend time together nearly every day doing the same mundane things. I know she's reliable and trustworthy and we're very comfortable in each other's company. Occasionally we'll have fun days out together or sit having tea in a lovely country spot. Every now and then we might have a little tiff but we forgive and forget and just make our bond stronger. I'll admit, I think about going for a younger, hotter specimen with a deliciously smooth and light body but really she's all I need and we have plenty of good times.


Roxy, on the other hand, is my bit on the side. She's mucky, curvaceous and absolutely wild. I sneak out with her for nights of breathless excitement and I know I can go to her when I want a bit of pure filth. She is however, completely uncontrollable, we definitely need to spend some more time together so I can learn how to handle her.


We did go for a naughty night time adventure last night and I couldn’t tell if it was her or me, but something wasn’t quite right. It was harder work than usual and I finished the ride tired, achy and a little bit unsatisfied. A closer inspection revealed that it was in fact her, so grimy she is that everything is a bit clogged up and with all the rough riding (more specifically, rough falling over) we’ve been doing she’s gotten a bit battered and bent out of shape. She’s going to get a pampering this evening before we head out for another dark and dirty session in the forest.


After last night’s hard effort I felt huge relief this morning as the ride to work with Bianca was superb – my quickest commute yet. Obviously the most satisfying moments come when you stick with what you know! The day was further brightened by the Thursday morning weekly weigh-in; I’d managed to lose another pound. The banning of cake, chocolate and biscuits is obviously having an effect, though the weight loss could well be due to the stress of not having them in my life rather than the actual calorie depletion!

Battered, bruised and blinkin' dirty

I went out on Saturday morning with some folk from the Tri Club on the mountain bikes. It was an absolutely marvellous ride through some great bits of trail around the outskirts of Salisbury. It was however - as every mountain biking endeavour should be - extremely mud-ridden. Without even a slither of exaggeration, we were riding through knee deep pits of murky, chalky sludge and it was brilliant.

As per usual I did manage to throw myself off (but just the once) and very nearly took a fellow rider out with me. I dusted myself off and got back on the bike. As I got riding I was aware that my arm and leg were hurting a bit but I couldn't see any of my skin through the filth to make an assessment and I didn't want to appear like a girly wuss so I kept schtum.

When I'd finished blocking the shower up with dirt (sorry Liz) I looked down to find an enormous bruise on my leg and a fairly decent one up my arm as well. I breathed a sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge that I am not a girly wuss.

I made up for the fantastic calorie-burning effect of three hours of mountain biking with lots of food, wine and excessive dessert eating on Saturday evening. Despite that I am still just about on target with my weight loss goal for the month - fingers crossed! I did peer longingly into the vending machine at work today, armed dangerously with a pound coin, but managed to escape without buying anything.

I also saw the physio yesterday who gave me some drills to get me back into the running, but this is definitely going to be a slow process (boo!). He also did a bit of acupuncture after routing around to find the most painful bits of my body. I have had some acupuncture before but had forgotten just how much it hurts, what ensued was 20 minutes of groaning, squeezing anything nearby with a vice-like grip, extreme foot tapping (because this help the pain?!) and profuse sweating - lovely.

In other news.. I am also well on track with the mileage, and have cycled 196 miles so far this month - just got to keep it up! I have a feeling my fun post-work longer rides will be much less regular as it gets darker and colder but with some more mountain biking on the cards for the month I reckon I'll get to the 500!

Egg and the Dangerous Black Cow

Last week a friend of mine, AJ, updated his facebook status to "loving night time mtb-ing!!!". What a brilliant idea, whole new hours of potential saddle-time.. I was very envious and demanded information immediately. One week later and I'm loading the mountain bike into a car at dusk and carrying a selection of torches, none of which I am convinced is going to be bright enough to allow me to see where I'm going. 


After carefully analysing, I selected my brightest light and attached it to my helmet. Not really ideal and/or comfortable, but necessary for getting through this experience alive. I turned it on and realised I could actually only see about 10 metres in front of me. Fantastic. That is not a whole lot of reaction time when you're hurtling down a gravel trail in darkness.


The boys told me it's not hitting a hole or a bump I should be worried about. What I should be worrying about apparently are black cows, because you can't see them and you'll be in a world of hurt if you hit one. I thought I'd have to be pretty unlucky to hit a cow and went back to worrying about bumps, holes and other obstacles.

We set off, and I quickly realised that I really couldn't see much at all. Every descent was a blind act of faith. If I kept up with the boys then I could see more from their mega lumen beams, but for the most part I held off and maintained a slightly steadier pace. Towards the top of the first hill I had started to get accustomed to riding in darkness and just as my focus became more relaxed, guess what? I had to swerve to avoid a black cow which was staring at me with it's demonic glinty eyes and taking up a good proportion of the track with it's general massiveness!

I had a camera mounted onto my handlebars and unfortunately, like a ghost, you can't see the cow on the footage. You can however hear my gravel skid and exclamation of "cooooowww". Now I knew that there were indeed dangerous creatures out in the forest, I think subconsciously I pedalled a bit quicker and lost a bit of the worry about aforementioned obstacles.

For the next few miles I thoroughly enjoyed myself in the same way any adrenaline junkie enjoys being in a constant state of slightly scared. We whipped through some really nice bits of track and then, with a gentle reminder from Ady, I remembered what was coming next: Heartbreak Hill.

This hill is a nightmare. It goes on forever and it's made entirely of sand. Hit it too fast and you'll come to a dramatic halt and fall off, hit it too slow and you'll come to a very undramatic halt and fall off. What you need to do is get into a low gear and spin for your life whilst trying to keep going in a straight line. I've been up this hill in daylight and made it to the top before so I had confidence in my ability. However, at night all your peripheral vision is gone and with it, your sense of balance and direction. In true Eggy fashion I came off twice, both times enjoying ear fulls, mouth fulls, glove fulls, bra fulls etc of sand. I finally made it to the top. The rest would be plain sailing!

It actually was. I only had one chain coming off incident, which I liked because it was the first time it has ever happened when I've managed to un-cleat my foot in time not to fall off - success! After the last awesome bit of down and the last horrifically steep bit of up, we were done.

Verdict: exhilarating way to enjoy trails, just watch out for the cows.

Pedalling Passion

Since stopping running whilst the niggle in my knee clears up, I've really embraced cycling in all it's forms. In fact, I've gone bonkers, I just can't stop turning my legs in circles!

Mountain-biking, road-biking, attacking the hills, spinning and even time on the turbo trainer - it's all just fantastically enjoyable and I can't get enough.

I started my new job today and the idea is to commute by bike. It's about 10 miles, a nice distance to boost the metabolism in the morning and before I feast on dinner in the evening. I didn't cycle in today though as I needed to recce the bicycle storage situation and more importantly, the showers. There would be nothing worse than rocking upon my first day like a sweaty, bike-grease-tattooed wreck. 

The bus journey home was painfully slow. I found myself daydreaming about cycling, eyeing up each gradient the bus trundled over and imagining how much better it would be to do this journey sat in a saddle. I reckon it could even be possible (with the odd shortcut) to beat the bus into town, and that could well be a game I play when I'm more familiar with the route.

The other reason I didn't cycle in today though, was that I have had a serious pedalling overload in the last few days. From Wednesday to Saturday I cycled and span every single day, culminating in a 62 mile New Forest bonanza with Nicky on Sunday in the glorious sunshine. It was a brilliant ride with the occasional(!) hill thrown in. One in particular sticks in my mind: Ornamental Drive. It is very likely that this hill is so called because people should really only look at it in all it's ornamental loveliness rather than trying to pedal up it's relentless 14 degree kicker!

After a jolly good stretch and a cuppa, I decided that Monday should be a cycling-free day, just to give the legs a bit of a rest. So I had a very leisurely day and decided I would hit the gym after work. As I walked through at 18.58 I glanced into the spinning room at the 7pm class, all lycrad-up and ready to go. There was one bike left, sad and alone. I nearly kept walking but I just couldn't resist that big chrome wheel. I must say though that this is probably a better failure of willpower than my usual cake-fest..

So the commuting commences tomorrow. I am very excited about fitting in lots of extra bike time and imagine that by the time the deep, dark winter arrives I shall be a mighty pedalling machine, ploughing through the rain and snow like a tank. Let's just hope my legs don't become the size of one!

September Highs

I like the start of new things; fresh starts, new motivations and clean slates. After a pretty slacky August I'm super keen to get back on it, set some new goals and get myself into a wonderfully healthy routine. Having settled nicely into my new abode and with my new job starting soon, I'm feeling particularly chipper and in the right frame of mine to make some positive changes.

Having been notching up the alcohol units, having a LOT of lunchtime cake and giving in to a few bags of cookies in the last month, it was time to assess the damage. I tentatively stepped onto the scales this morning and was quite relieved. Yes I'd put a bit of weight on but not loads, and I haven't stepped back over to the dark side of my 9 stone barrier - phew!

As a bit of a detox, I've decided that September will be a teetotal month, not a drop of wine in sight.

The new goal is to hit 8 stone by Christmas. The idea behind this being that when I gorge and party "Cameron-style" over the festive period the inevitable weight gain will probably bring me back to a perfectly healthy weight. Or if I dance enough like last New Year's then I may even be able to maintain it! On paper, at two and a half pounds a month, this should be very achievable but will just take a bit of perseverance and discipline!

I have also now completed the "endurance" phase of my leg program, and am moving onto the strength phase. So I should be back running at the start of October. I am absolutely gagging to get back out there, hair blowing in the wind, sweat gently trickling down my neck.. I really do miss it, more than I miss cookies when I don't have any (and that is a lot). However, the focus for September will be get strong enough to crush nuts with my buns and have calves of steel.

I also want to keep up a bit of variation sports-wise. Do a bit more climbing, a few weekends in the hills and on the mountain bike and maybe even try some new stuff. I haven't decided what new stuff yet but I'm open to ideas!

Today however, I am heading out on the mountain bike as it's a lovely, sunny September day. And my goal for the day shall be: don't fall off. I'll keep you posted.

Flatness

As is the case so regularly in my life, plans have changed last minute. We had to postpone the hike due to unforeseen circumstances so now I have four days off and lots of ideas of how to fill them.

Today I headed into the New Forest for a spot of mountain biking. I feel I have deserted Roxy since I first got her and when the opportunity to go out with Lyndal from the Tri Club arose I grabbed the chance. I asked her how long the ride would be and she said it was around 14km. "Is that all?!" I thought. Always keen to get out and do as much as possible I said to her maybe we could add on some extra if we're both feeling lively. She agreed.

Despite being keen to get out and spend some time in the saddle, I was still filled with nervous anticipation. I'm really not at all confident on the MTB, but Lyndal reassured me we wouldn't be doing anything technical, just a nice friendly loop with a few hills.

We set off and were grinding uphill almost immediately, my thighs were burning within ten minutes. Probably wasn't a great idea to do a spinning class this morning before heading out.. you live and learn.

At the crest of the first hill and gasping for air I forgot for a moment how scared I was about the downhill and I flew down the first bit, absolutely crapping myself when I hit a few bumps. However, after that I started to ease up. The thing with the New Forest is that loads of the paths are very gravelly, so you can't brake when you're going down unless you want to skid out of control. You have to just let gravity do it's thing and try your very hardest to avoid anything that might launch you into a concussion.

After some more heavy undulations and a hellish hill of sand that required hardcore spinning action just to keep from sinking into the depths we had done our loop. Brilliant! It was all going so well! We decided to do a little bit extra.

In that little bit extra I managed to hit the deck twice. The second time hurt. I made a very ridiculous decision to cross from the path I was on to the path that Lyndal was on via many dead bits of tree. Roxy wasn't keen on the idea and she threw me down into a little patch of thorns. A bit winded, I got up and dusted myself off, pulling a thorn or two out of my battered limbs.

We went on, and I suddenly felt like it was really hard going. Whenever this happens to me on a bike I never think "ooh maybe I'm tired". Like a bad workman blames his tools I always think there must be a problem with the bike or I must have a flat. In this instance, I was sure I was looking flatter than normal. Lyndal had a peek and assured me my tyres looked fine - bugger, it was just me then.

The last part of the trail was full of muddy puddles which I thoroughly enjoyed. You always feel like a rugged, hardcore mountain biker when you're caked in mud. Knackered, we got back to the car. At the other end when we got the bike out, guess what? My front tyre was as flat as a pancake. A closer inspection revealed a massive thorn, meaning I had in fact been riding deflated since the dead tree incident. Part of me was a bit annoyed that I hadto sort out a flat, but most of me was actually pretty happy that I wasn't just weak and tired for the last bit of the ride!

I patched her up and with aching calves, headed to Tesco where they are doing a ridiculous offer of half price Ben and Jerrys!! Quite frankly it would have been sheer stupidity not to stock up. Here's a major success story for you though, it's been in the freezer all afternoon and I haven't even unwrapped the plastic.

I'm a health queen!