Potholes and Pain

They are back. Fact. No denying it. No avoiding them - regrettably.

The cyclists worst enemy. Not dogs, not great big juggernauts trucks whizzing past 50 cm's away from your elbow.

POTHOLES

As a geography graduate, I learnt and fully understood the principle of 'freeze thaw'. Water penetrating cavities in rocks, which then froze and expanded, widening the fissures in the rocks.

The sad fact is that 'freeze thaw' is alive and well in the roads of Great Britain. Not even a year has past since the last major 'big freeze' crippled the transport networks of Britain and left our local authorities with a huge headache in the form of roads broken apart with cavernous potholes. The coffers of the council road budgets were bled dry repairing the myriad holes that sprung up in January 2010, during the last big freeze....but then nature decided it would reopen old wounds, so to speak, and a month long Arctic freeze saw the roads split apart as if sat on the San Andreas fault during a 7.6 Richter scale earthquake. Poor local authorities.

Not to mention the poor motorists caught unawares and plunging into huge holes with a mighty crrrrack! Damaged wheels, suspensions, body work, wings and sills all adding up to a mammoth insurance claim, a heap of misery and a shock as the next premium from the insurance company rose by 56%.

But for the humble, green, environmentally friendly cyclist, the potholes are a treacherous scourge. We have already forsaken the relative safety and evident comfort of our cars to try and save on fuel, reduce congestion, keep fit and do our bit to help the planet. Noble and satisfying actions indeed. In our daily cycling activities we face a host of dangers, not the least of which are potholes. In fact, I have compiled a top 10 of dangers for the cyclist;

Coming in at number 10; DOGS

Vile, loathsome beasts that unsettle (and often unseat) cyclists. Unpredictable, snarling animals that think nothing of scaring the living daylights out of you with a vicious growl, a thunderous bark and a lunge at your freshly shaven calves.

A non mover at number 9; PEOPLE

Always ready to leap out from a pavement just as you are within 'I can't break or swerve' distance. Deaf to the sound of a hastily rung bell, or in another audio world as the MP3 blasts JLS in their ears. People also have the habit of 'filling' a cycle path by walking down the middle of a shared cycle / walking path and then shouting insults as you remind them it is actually a cycle path they are on.

A climber at number 8; RUBBISH

Broken glass, bottles, plastic bags that clog your spokes, uncollected bin bags piled up at the side of the road, ripped open by dogs and rats, cans of fizzy pop ready to puncture your wheels. Rubbish is everywhere and it is...rubbish.

Down this week at number 7; FELLOW CYCLISTS

Not the respectful, traffic light obeying cyclist. No, the 'I ride a BMX without a seat, I nicked from outside Tesco' chavster....and 'I'll ride on the paths if I want, run red lights and put everyone in my way in grave danger.' Idiots.

At 6; TREES

Trees? You may laugh, but the random twig or branch sticking out of a bush or tree can leave a nasty scratch along your cheek as you zoom past at 20mph....hence the reason to wear sunglasses too...which brings me on to....

In at number 5, a new entry for; FLIES and assorted INSECTS

Lung bursting climbs necessitate an open mouth, air gulping facial expression...the open cavity is a magnet for flies and other insects to hone in on, nestling at the back of the throat, causing immediate coughing, gagging and retching and an inevitable swallowing of our 6 legged friends. Horrible.

Up 3 places this week at number 4; CAR / BUS / TRUCK HORNS

You are happily cycling along, minding your own business, when some kind soul, frustrated at the fact they can't pass you for at least 50 metres and has to sit behind you at 20mph, oggling your Lycra clad backside, decides it is a good idea to snap you out of your reverie with a loud blast on the horn. This inevitably makes you jump out of your skin and a terrifying duel ensues to prevent you wobbling all over the place, taking a tumble and eating tarmac for lunch.

Into the Top 3 now, pop pickers...at 3; TRUCK DRIVERS

Call it skill, call it great judgement, call it downright impatience and stupidity....your average road haulage lorry driver is a carefree chap who gladly passes you on a narrow stretch of road at his requisite 56 mp/h, with barely 10cm of clearance. He's so close you can smell if he has cleaned his teeth or not (usually not) and see which CD is in the CD player (usually Barbara Streisand or Liza Minelli). If you are really lucky, he'll toot his air horn for that extra scare factor.

Just missing out on the top spot this week at number 2; CARS, THEIR DRIVERS etc

Here is a box, a box on wheels. Take normally mild mannered Joe Average, a man who would not even look at a goose, let alone say boo to it. Place him behind the wheel and press 'go'. Instant maniac. Aggressive, pumped up, adrenaline fuelled speed freak who cares not if you are on the road. This is the man who'll pull up level with you, wind the window down (presuming it is an electric window or if he has an obliging passenger) and hurls a mouthful of expletive ridden abuse. "F**kin' cyclists, shouldn't be on the f**kin roads, get out of the way you stupid t**t!".

Our hero returns home to a home cooked roast dinner, a hug for his smiling wife, a kiss for the 2.4 children, a browse of the evening paper, a glance at the weather forecast and a calming cup of Horlicks.

Meanwhile our cyclist is still reeling from the encounter with the grey suited salesman in the Mondeo road bully and shaking from the near collision caused by the driver who aggressively overtook and immediately slammed on the brakes.

....so now, the moment we've been waiting for, a new entry, straight in at number 1;

POTHOLES

They are everywhere. From the list above, it is obvious how much concentration is needed just to stay on your bike. Add to that mix, tiredness, hills, wind, rain, darkness, cold, heat, sweat, numbness, saddle soreness and it is a wonder anyone cycles at all. The last thing the cyclist needs is to be extra vigilant for potholes.

Potholes are not mere cracks. They are wide holes, 6 inches deep and 12 inches across. They don't just let the cyclist pass over with an ungainly bump and a heavy landed on the seat which damages the already numb and saddle sore 'love spuds'.

Potholes are graveyards for bikes. The road equivalent of a Ray Mears animal trap, lying in wait to ensnare the cyclist who takes his eyes of the road for a second.

Avoiding potholes is a fine art, and one that needs a lot of practice. Uphill avoidance is not difficult. The problem is on the flat and more significantly on the downhills. If you spot a pothole at the last moment, you are faced with two stark choices.

1. Accelerate and hope you can ride over it; that your momentum carries you over without the front wheel plunging in and cartwheeling you over the handlebars;

2. Swerve and pray you don't swerve into Joe Average overtaking you or unbalance and cause a disastrous wobble that sees you picking bits of road out of knee, thigh, elbow and bum grazes.

Until you have hit 40mph on a long steep descent, riddled with potholes, you haven't experience sheer terror and nerves frayed like an old rope. Your knuckles turn white, your grit your teeth until they are caked with dead flies and when it is all over, you change your Lycra shorts for a clean pair.

So, please Mr County Councillor, I would ask you to think of us cyclists. The people who free up the cities from traffic, reduce pollution and reduce the NHS budget through a healthy, active lifestyle.

STUFF THE BUDGET; ACT NOW and FILL IN THE POTHOLES!

If you don't do this one act, then you may find the cycling community post sweat stained and pube laden chamois pads from our old cycle shorts to County Hall.

As my old history teacher used to say in encouraging the boys to play the perfect cricket forward defence - 'You must sniff the leather'...(of the ball as it strikes the bat, your nose pressed down towards the willow in your hand).

Please fill in the potholes or you may be required to do the same.

Cricket, Snow & Biscuits

Welcome to the 2011 Frobiland Blog.

Happy New Year. 2011 is here and like many, my New Year's resolution has been made. Mine is simple; to see less of me and be a slimmer, faster, healthier version of myself. What's yours?





The most common question asked of me these days is;

'How are you?

It is not a loaded question, a question to trip me up, but one that usually demands only one answer 'I'm fine'. But at the moment I have three answers;

Answer Number 1

'Tired, but ecstatic

I'm tired, but ecstatic. For the last 7 weeks I have been setting a punishing schedule of 'burning the candle at both ends'. I have been sitting up into the small hours, getting to bed around 2am and then struggling to get up at 6am. Why?

To be honest it hasn't been a struggle. It has been a joyous, wonderful pleasure to watch in amazement as the England cricket team have humbled, humiliated and completely thrashed Australia, in Australia - for the first time in 24 years. Records have tumbled, superlatives have been exhausted, the English fans (the Barmy Army; a legendary force of fat, bald 30 / 40 something men, roasted pink in the scorching sun, sozzled with beer from 10:30am onwards every day, and singing 'til they are hoarse in support of the England team) in dreamland and disbelief and a nation, once meek and feeble in the face of the old enemy, now proud and dominant again. Marvellous.

The cricket has been the best, most sustained and exciting period of sport I have watched for years. The 2005 series in England was incredible, but this series was unsurpassed in how England played and how they 'took it to the Aussies' who, in the words of Dad's Army, 'didn't like it up 'em'. Australia's heads are hung in collective defeat, embarrassment and disappointment. I shouldn't gloat, but it doesn't get better than this. Actually, after the misery of the last 24 years, I should gloat, gloat until there is no more gloat left in me.

Answer Number 2

'COLD!'

I am cold. The whole country is cold. It has been cold for as long as I can remember...I am thinking hard to the last time I felt warm...er, no, sorry, I can't remember.

December was the coldest on record since records began. We had snow on the ground for 2 weeks. Not just a pathetic 2cm, but a whole foot and a half (45cm). Of course the country ground to a halt; roads, railways, airports all shut down - even the biggest shopping centre in the UK closed its door...armageddon for a month. And still we persist in the notion that we don't really need to do anything differently....oh, don't worry about fitting winter tyres on your car, you won't need them...never snows in Britain.

We have very short memories in the UK. By the time spring arrives, the Arctic sub zero conditions will be pushed to the back of peoples' thoughts and the planning and preparation for next winter will be forgotten...until we are snowed in again in November (winter is getting earlier each year...we'll soon be putting the Ugg boots and ear muffs on in July).

Cycling has not been a good option for a few weeks. The bike was covered in a foot of snow and the roads were totally lethal skating rinks. There is nothing more certain in life than this - cycling on an icy road will end in a painful heap on the floor, usually after 2 metres of cycling.

Even when I have been able to get out on the bike, it has been so cold that you need to be dressed like Michelin Man or Mr. Blobby to be able feel any protection from the windchill. How on earth do people live in Greenland or Northern Siberia?

Answer Number 3'

'Hungry!'

5 months from now, I will be in final preparation and packing for the 'Le Tour de Trois Nation'. 650 kilometres of stunning scenery, energy sapping climbs, painful, aching bodies and litres of sweat. Cycling for a week from Worcester to Dublin and back. Mountains, mountains and more mountains. I can't wait, but my legs are less than enthusiastic about it. They'll come round to the idea.

5 months to get back into shape, tone up and as Steve Miller, our genial host for 'Fat Families' on Sky1 says...'Melt that lard'. Not that I am anyway near overweight, despite the Christmas and New Year festive season. I was restrained as to my chocolate intake this Christmas - knowing that what I put in I would have to burn off come January and that would mean extra miles on the bike or extra miles pounding the streets jogging.

That said, the Frobisher waistline could do with shedding a couple of inches and as my lovely wife Rini points out (regularly), the only leftover from the Christmas turkey is on my neck, and sagging towards my chest.

With each of my challenges, I embark on a strict diet that consists of the following restrictions;

• A biscuit ban. Did you know that 1 chocolate covered digestive contains 3.9g of fat, which is 6% of the RDA (recommended daily allowance)? Me meither, but I just read it on the packet. Food for thought, literally.



• I am allowed 2 biscuits on a Saturday and Sunday - boy do they taste good.



• Chocolate limitations. Yes, my old friend Mr C.H.Ocolate and I are having a trial separation....we briefly reunite at the weekend for a salutary / solitary Mars Bar, before a tearful Sunday departure.

Deprivation. Self imposed this time. It is a bit like being at boarding school and leaving for at Exeat (mid term weekend) break, leaving the Draconian cloisters of the school dining room, stringy meat and lumpy egg, a clear broth tea, powdered milk (I think it was Daz Automatic) and chickory coffee [I jest not], going to my grandparents in Eastbourne for a feast of Viscounts, Clubs, Taxis, cake and superb dinners and the long fateful, depressing drive back to Slopsville, Dover.

• Less on the plate, less in the tummy, less on the scales
  

Bob Marley once sang, "Dem Belly fully, but we hungry"...appalling grammar, but the lyric is a powerful indictment of the rich, greedy few at the expense of the poor, hungry and weak in society.

Although not as socially insightful, I have found recently 'My belly full, but I'm hungry' to be a recurring feeling. As part of the 'Get Fit to Ride' diet, I have actively sought to cut portion sizes down, resist second helpings and - most importantly - learn to ignore the hunger pangs and cravings for sugar in the evenings.

I remember someone saying it is not a bad thing to go to bed feeling a little hungry - better than stuffing yourself with sandwiches and biscuits 20 minutes before your head hits the pillow. Not only that, I learnt a blindingly obvious snippet of information last night.

Drinking water is good for you...but it also helps you lose weight by making you feel full and not hungry.

I don't recommend a 'water only' diet; that would be silly and something only found in 'The Self Help Guru Guide to Becoming Size Zero in 2 Weeks' (published by Claifornian Fad Publications, written by A.N. Idiot). However, I would suggest something not entirely new....3 reasonably sized meals, a healthy intake of fruit and veg (I rarely eat meat, so this is not a problem), cuttting out the snacks and biscuits and drinking 8 glasses of water a day, plenty of exercise and Bob's your thin uncle. Not rocket science, so why haven't I heeded this advice before?

One word - sugar. It pervades everything. Sugar is everywhere and it is addictive. Like most English people, I have a sweet tooth and a tooth dead from root canal treatment in 1996 caused by too much sugar in my diet.

To quote Lord Alan Sugar...'It is with regret, Sugar, ...you're fired'.

So that's it. Together with the cycle training, jogging and weights, Tony's recipe for a slimmer, muffin top free body. The only thing left to do to reduce weight is to shave off all body hair....could be at least 5kg saved. Where are my clippers?

Don't forget to sponsor me in my efforts to raise £4,000 for SCOPE, the UK's leading cerebral palsy charity. Thank you.

www.justgiving.com/tonyseverestchallenge