Sometimes you can just get sucked along in the momentum of things. Sometimes it’s just exciting to get outside of your comfort zone. I do a lot of sport, but it’s rarely outside of my comfort zone, and even less so as I get older. Until this month.
My immediate reaction was that my performance was lacklustre. 43rd position after such a struggle of a day is certainly nothing to write home about. But the story of the day is (still, sorry) how much I love this race. The passion for it just doesn’t seem to diminish as it throws punches at me but sucks me harder in like an abusive relationship.
No surprises in telling you that the 3 Peaks cyclocross, the 54th edition of which is taking place this Sunday is my favourite race. With any an annual event, it’s always going to feel special. Part familiar, part rare, part scary and part exciting.
Sometimes you just strike it lucky. Whilst the rain tipped down in southern England, our caravan break in New England Bay on the Mull of Galloway was quite literally cloudless for four days. Sun cream, shorts, BBQs and sea swimming. We can’t believe our luck.
We were due a good ‘with cousins’ holiday… and this was a corker. Phil, Anne & family had had their arms twisted that a ski holiday could be affordable and achievable if we drove, and I told them we could. Katie and I had driven to the Alps before (in 2012-13 New Year) and we knew is was kind of no big deal. So we booked a chalet and off we went for February half term.
With immense sadness but such intense happy memories, we have said goodbye to our lovely Elvis today. Dogs are special, close family members and their relationships are deeply family-centered, so I’ll keep this short and sweet, like the blondie himself.
As days to remember go, I’ve trumped most of them yesterday. All thanks to my lovely friend Richard Hannaford – someone who has been in my life since preschool days – I got to see The Wedding Present play live last night.
I don’t do reviews much. Especially not on this site, but I wanted to write a little bit about a gem of a place just across the valley from me that cyclists, runners, walkers, and general cake / coffee enjoyers will find a treat.
I’ve never read The Tale of Two Cities but that incredibly well-known opening line from a novel sums up my 2015 3 Peaks. Okay – it wasn’t quite the worst of times – far from it – but when things are going really well, it seems to emphasise the problems when they come. And they came. But more on that later. I wanted to gather thoughts whilst fresh in my head as usua ...[Read More]
The teens are here. Very weird how it all passes so fast – it never ceases to be weird. Lily… the little baby who slept for hours on end in a pram, got carted up mountains and on countless runs in a 3 wheeler jogger is now a huge giraffe-like girl who does the jogging herself.
I pick my events to blog about. I do quite a bit and blogging about them all like some training diary could get dull. But in my modern era (i.e. since I started blogging in 2004 and started collecting GPS data in 2007) the Golf Ball fell race has been covered with almost obsessive regularity.
I often spend time thinking about my local treasures but so rarely spend the time to sit down and write anything. But today I went a ride with cycling friend Alan Dorrington over Rooley Moor Road and I found the route inspiring enough to speak out.