Miracle cures, vertiginous slopes, quizzology and a sudden fondness for caravans

It is a little while since I last wrote a blog post. For those who are following my fortunes, you may recall I left you with the dramatic cliffhanger with your hero (!) incapacitated with a crippling bad back, a diagnosis of sciatica and the prospect of a suspension in training and the worrying thought of putting back on all those pounds I had lost sweating (and freezing my nuts off) on countless training rides. Cue lingering look into camera, pained expression and a thumping Eastenders ending.... 'Dum dum dum dumdumdumdum'.(Forgive the over long sentence).

Well, things have moved on a touch.

1. Miracle Cures

Sciatica...inflammation of the nerves at the base of the spine...causing painful, shooting pains in the lower back and down the legs. Occasionally incapacitating and needed physio.

I was looking at a long lay off. Two days of agony and a trip to the doctor and I was worried. Every lifting action caused a pain to fire across my back and down my legs. It was agony. For two days.

I didn't actually do anything to treat myself other than not to bath my children for a couple of nights (boy did they smell!....Actually my wife and our care workers took care of that activity and were soundly soaked, then punched, kicked, headbutted and elbowed by our boisterous and over excited twins as they were dried and dressed - I should get sciatica more often). I had a bit of a lie down and rubbed some Deep Heat (and its Indonesian miracle cure counterpart, 'Counterpain'), in the affected areas.

What d'ya know? On the third day the left side was pain free and fully operational. The right side had a weak twinge, but hardly noticeable. By day 4, all signs of pain had vanished and I had the back of Geoff Capes (though a little hairier - I know, we've shared and compared) once again. Miraculous. I put the temporary injury down to a combination of pushing a little too hard on the bike (always a silly thing to do) and sitting on the saddle in such a way that I pinched a nerve or two.

Anyway, right as rain and I decided to tackle a nemesis that loomed large in my thoughts and had done for many a year.

2. Vertiginous Slopes

If you look up from the bottom of your stairs, it doesn't look too difficult or daunting a climb, does it?. You probably climb it 10 or more times a day without too much discomfort. If you were to take a bicycle and attempt to ride up it (forget the stairs,imagine it were a smooth tarmaced road), you'd fall off / backwards / move so slowly you'd fall off or backwards / become so breathless and exhausted after 2 metres, you'd just give up, get off and walk.

The truth is, anything over a 5% gradient (that is you gain 5 metres in height for every 100 metres distance travelled), is considered by the casual cyclist as 'getting tough, making me blow a bit, causing the knees to tremble and rapidly increasing the heart rate'.

When you get to anything over 10% (i.e. 10metres in height gained for every 100 metres covered - I hope you are following this), road atlases start to indicate steepness with a dreaded > an echelon to be scared of. At this point many cyclists will, if they haven't pre-planned an alternative route to avoid such unpleasantness, attempt a few perfunctory pedal pushes, select lowest gear, struggle a bit more and accept the inevitable. Time to get off and push.

As you scour the atlas for amazing cycling routes, full of beautiful tree lined, bendy roads, past babbling brooks, through scented orchards and past idyllic cottages with duck ponds and village greens and games of cricket unfolding to polite applause and cucumber sandwiches on roads flat as a pancake, there is one sight that all cyclists fear among others.

>>

The double echelon. For roads (therefore slopes / hills) over 15%. (Come on do the maths...15 metres gained in 100 metres covered...well done, have a biscuit). Such hill climbs are the stuff of nightmares for the lay cyclist, the weekend amateur, the charity cyclist and indeed, many of the professional cyclists. Bikes and people were not meant to propel themselves against the inexorable pull of gravity, heaving and panting, straining and swearing up ridiculously angled slopes....I mean, whose bright idea was it to build a bloody road up and over this great big Berg? Why not drill a hole (aka a tunnel) or go round it...like in Switzerland? Hang on...the Swiss have a penchant for going upwards too.

There are many such climbs dotted throughout the UK. And one of them lies around 12 miles from my door.

Ankerdine Hill

Ankerdine Hill is not quite Mont Ventoux or Alpe du Huez. It isn't 30km long and doesn't have 21 switchback corners named after famous cyclists (who have won the stage up Alpe du Huez in the Tour de France). But what it lacks in length (around a mile or so), it makes up for in steepness. As you approach the village of Knightwick and spy the turning that takes you down past the Talbot pub and a sharp 90 degree right hand bend at the bottom of the climb, the sign reads;

Ankerdine Hill 17%

I expect the regulars in the Talbot take a sip of their Old Speckled Hen as another cyclist turns the corner and starts the climb up the hill, look at their wizened drinking pals and not a word passes their lips - just a sad shake of the head and a sorrowful look of pity in their eyes. They know what is about to happen.

And so it was that I found myself, not 3 days after being crippled with sciatica, attempting to climb a 17% hill on 42 year old legs and in full knowledge of what was before me. I had driven up the hill many a time. In fact my old friend Simon used to live half way up the hill. It is a beast in a car, a nightmare to walk up, but to cycle up it......

Ankerdine Hill was a categorized climb in the 2008 Tour of Britain (could have been 2007, but who's counting). The professionals skipped up it, with barely a puff of their cheeks and just an occassional rise from the saddle to 'dance on the pedals', to make it look as if it was 'quite tough'.

Quite tough. I managed to start well, but within 5 metres I was changing down the gears to one comfortable enough to allow me to keep moving forward. This I did well for another 100 metres. I made the stupid mistake of thinking 'this isn't too bad', before looking up and ahead of me the road just took off. A kink in the road and the road lifted, as if shunted vertically by a cataclysmic seismic event.

So, this is what 17% is like then? I had very quickly shifted gears and was soon in my lowest gear, legs pedalling frantically, thumb trying again and again for an even lower gear, which didn't exist.

I settled into a rhythm, relaxed my grip on the handlebars, sat up and began to breath more steadily. My progress was both painful and slow, but to my surprise, the months of regular training on the bike had built up stamina, fitness and strength to a point where I managed to succeed in climbing the whole of Ankerdine Hill without stopping. Something I had never thought I would do. Job done. Smug grin displaying fly-caked teeth from being gritted during the steepest sections. Happy as Larry, whoever he is.

I then considered what I had witnessed at the end of a stage of the Tirren Adriatico race a few days before. Cadel Evans won a stage into Macerata...typical stage race...178km of racing finsihing with a 2.3km climb up 18% slopes into the town centre. Those Italians loved building towns atop lofty hills. While I wheezed and panted my way up 17%, Cadel and the boys were dogfighting with each other up slopes most of us would simply get off the bike and wait for a bus to take us up. They were sprinting UP the slopes, they were attacking and counter attacking. At the back of the peleton, it looked like the other cyclists in the race had suddenly encountered a 20cm layer of treacle through which they were obliged to cycle. UP. UP . UP. No one got off, well at least the cameras weren't there to record that indignity.

There are other, steeper climbs - the infamous Kemmelberg in the Ghent - Wevelgem classic race...20% up and down (nasty crashes) COBBLED roads. But the UK has it's fair share too. Last year's Tour of Britain concluded a long stage through Wales nd over the Brecon Beacons in Swansea...a nice finish by the sea...must be sea lvel? No. Gentlemen, today you will be riding up Constituiton Hill....'what...no way, you're having a laugh..say it's not true...'

Nearly 30% up a cobbled street...reputedly, the steepest in Britain. Now that's cruel.

Thankfully, my route to Dublin steers clear of Swansea, though there will be plenty of > and even a few (not too many I hope) >> hills along the way. I am looking forward to meeting their acquaintance.

3. Quizzology

In my continuing efforts to raise money for Scope, I held a charity quiz night last Saturday. A decent turn out of 50 people came along to listen to and try to answer some fiendishly difficult questions I posed over a number of rounds...sport, entertainment, the arts, music etc.

It was a very successful evening and the half time break was filled with some fantastic fish n chips provided by the Golden Gourmet. If you are ever in Worcester, pop along and see Paul in the Golden Gourmet for the best fish n chips in the city (that is a long way from the sea).

The quiz raised £400 for Scope and was a fun evening with good friends and new friends. I couldn't have done it without the help of my partner in charitable crime, Simon Whitton - he of previous blog posts, my ever faithful and willing Passpartout. Simon came up from Cardiff and gave me unstinting support throughout the evening.

I had two new Passpartouts at the event also. Dan and Nathan Coll were absolutely brilliant and ran the bar, collected the fish and chips and helped the whole evening go without a hitch. Their prize for helping in organising and running the quiz was a Scope T-Shirt each. In fact Dan, as a member of the support crew with Simon on the trip to Dublin and back, has had his very own red Scope T-shirt made for him. Now, you can't say fairer than that.

A huge thanks to Simon, Dan and Nathan. I owe you a big night out on the curry.

However, the evening was made even more amazing with a generous and extremely welcome offer.....

4. A Sudden Fondness For Caravans

Every now and then something happens that completely restores your faith in the goodness of people. There are some wonderful, kind and helpful people out there in this often selfish, cruel and unkind world.

At the end of the evening, Simon presented me with a business card from one of the guests at the quiz. It said 'Mike Lake, Director, 3 Counties Caravans'. I was a bit confused, but Simon explained that Mike was offering to help us in our challenge.

I had spoken to Mike before the start of the quiz and had taken along a wall map, on which I had highlighted the route we are going to take in June. Mike was very interested and gave me some sage advice about the route in Snowdonia.

So, I was taken aback when Simon said Mike was going to lend us a Motorhome, with a tank of diesel, for the duration of the trip. We were intended piling everything in the back of Simon's Ford Focus and if required (ie, getting on and off the ferries), cramming the four of us as best we could into the car. In addition, we were planning on taking tents (at last count 3 for the 4 of us as Simon is world-renowned for his snoring and needs to be in one of his own. In fact the BBC monitoring service in Caversham thought his snoring was a bombing raid on Tripoli).

A motorhome will enable Simon and Dan to drive in comfort and for us to sleep soundly in comfortable berths, stock up a fridge and prepare breakfast and countless cups of tea. Luxury!

I will be cycling over to see Mike at his company on Friday and am looking forward to inspecting a motorhome and imagining what it will be like....(to be overtaken by a grinning Simon and Dan in their motorhome as Oliver and I struggle up yet another 15% climb).

I am very grateful to Mike for wanting to support us in our challenge. I was, for a short while, speechless. Gestures like this don't come around that often. Mike, if you are reading this, many thanks. We will look after her and I promise Oliver and I won't sit in the back the whole way and get out from time to time to pose for 'look we are really cycling up this mountain' photos. We will be cycling and quietly cursing under our breath at the lucky b*st&$ds ahead of us in the motorhome.

As a result, I have now begun to develop a much greater fondness for caravans, Winnebagos, motorhomes, camper vans and the like.

Jeremy Clarkson, James May and Richard Hammond would not be impressed.

What a pain in the....back!

Why is it when you finish what you feel to be an excellent training session and are feeling, fit, strong, positive and optimistic for a huge physical challenge to come.....BANG...something just slaps you in the face and brings you crashing back down to earth with a painful bump?

Following a short, enjoyable ride out on Friday, I took to the road on Saturday for a 20 mile round trip to Upton-Upon-Severn. The wind was strong and full in the face on the route south out of Worcester, but I flew back up the other side of the River Severn with a boisterous tail wind pushing me up the hills with minimal effort. Fun, a great work out, some strong miles in the legs. All cushty......

Until sometime late afternoon on Sunday I felt a little stiffening in my lower back. Easy to dismiss at first, but then it got worse and not possible to ignore. I went to bed thinking I'd sleep it off and all would be hunky dory in the morning.

The alarm rang out at 6am and I could feel I wasn't right. One attempt at sitting up confirmed it....a sharp pain in the back. Maybe it'll be alright in a minute, just a bit stiff after a sleep that's all. Er, no.

I made it down stairs and somehow managed to get my daughter changed and dressed, but then tried to lift her to put her in her seat. That's when my stubborn 'man-denial' gene was over-ridden and I put 2 and 2 together and realised 'You have a PROBLEM!'.

Rini helped me get Louisa and Milla fed, dressed and ready for school - which is no mean feat by yourself and with an incapacitated husband. Once they were safely on the bus, I had to go and have lie down. A massage from Rini definitely relieved the pain, but unfortunately the pain has stayed.

I still refused to give in and cycled (very slowly, very gingerly...but still overtook some slowcoaches...I'm a fighter me) to school and back. I spent the day grimacing; getting in and out of my chair to write on the board with a barely contained 'ow!' every time my backside fought gravity to stand up.

I couldn't lift the girls or give them a bath and am still suffering now. My back hurts, a lot. Is it the end of the world..or at least, the road? No. It can't be. I've been injured before. I had plantar fasciitis (as painful as it sounds) in both feet, which feels like walking on glass due to small tears in the tendon that runs from your heel to your big toe. This injury happened after the best run I ever had..typical. It took time to get better, but it has.

I had severe neck pain, caused by instability in the neck muscles after whacking my head on the frame of the car. Ever the Captain Clumsy, that's me. I needed a lengthy period of physio and acupuncture; but whilst not 100% right, I am 90% there. Almost pain free, but with lots more flexibility.

And now this. I need to recover as soon as possible. I'm cycling to Dublin and back in June..that's only 3 months away.

I don't wish to put my training back and I don't want to lose fitness, nor put on weight I have worked hard to lose. But the body is saying..."Mate, you are 42...not 24. You get barely 5 hours sleep a night (6 on a very good night), lots of broken sleep...you put all your energies into caring for your daughters and rarely get time to rest, or recover. You're tired, but still you insist on training and taking on these extremely hard, physical challenges... you asked for this."

To an extent, I agree. But I am prepared for the setbacks, the injuries, the pain and suffering for one reason. By putting myself through this, I am raising money for Scope, helping people with cerebral palsy have a more comfortable life and a better quality of life.

So, it's off to the doctor for me. I can hear him saying..."Yes Mr. Frobisher, you have aggravated your lumbar muscles, over flexed your spine and put pressure on the muscles...I'll contact the physio and you can make an appointment."

I've only just been discharged from the physio with my neck. I expect they'll recognize me and greet me with a friendly 'hello' when I walk through the door again. Cue painful manipulation, agonising deep muscle massage, acupuncture (surprisingly pleasant) and repetitive, tiring exercises.

Now, bring me my Deep Heat.

Are you being served?

The great Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi (Mahatma to you and I) was a wonderful proponent of offering up salient and timeless quotes; pearls of wisdom, little nuggets of incisive, purposeful gold, life's truths, that resonate and hold true as much today as they did in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

One of my favourites was something I first came across when working as the Customer Service Development Manager for InterCity West Coast trains in the mid 90's.

"A customer is the most important visitor on our premises.

He is not dependent on us. We are dependent on him.

He is not an interruption in our work. He is the purpose of it.

He is not an outsider in our business. He is part of it.

We are not doing him a favour by serving him.

He is doing us a favour by giving us the opportunity to do so."

...and so to contrasting experiences in the past week or so.

1. 'The Ugly': The Post Office, St. Peter's, Worcester

We are in the process of obtaining Indonesian passports for Milla and Louisa, who are eligible for both British and Indonesian citizenship until they are 18, when the will be required to choose whether they wish to be British or Indonesian. Sounds complicated, it is.

This involves a fairly extensive round of form filling, passport photos and documents dispatched to the embassy in London.

So, laden with all the appropriate documents (x2) I visited our local post office in St. Peter's - a post office serving a community of a significant size. Indeed, St. Peter's has it's very own behemoth in supermarket form, Tescos; a place that is open from 7:30am - 12pm with the cash till ringing continuously. St. Peter's is big.

The lady behind the counter, a middle aged woman with a bookish face eventually looked up to realise I was waiting to be served. The only customer waiting. To say her manner was brusque and officious is, frankly like saying Colonel Gaddafi has been a 'little bit harsh' on his own people.

Our exchange was memorable;


Me; "Good morning. I'd like to send these documents to London please by registered mail and include a special delivery envelope, pre-paid so they can return them please."

(Mrs Postman Pat gets two Special delivery envelopes)

Me; "Er, I don't want 2 special delivery, but to send..."

Mrs. Pat; "Registered delivery is special delivery."

Me; "That's not what I meant, I just want to send it so they sign for it..."

Mrs. Pat; "Well, you need recorded delivery. Just fill in the address on the special delivery envelope....oh, if you can sort yourself out over there, so I can serve the gentleman behind you"

I moved over, filled in the address in 30 seconds , turned round and Mr. Gentleman-Behind-Me had about 8 big parcels, addressed to Ireland, Estonia and all over the globe. Which had to be weighed.

I wasted another 15 minutes of my life listening to old Mrs. Vinegar Knickers telling Mr. Parcels that "I can't lift them...I won't if they are heavy...I've just had an operation, so I am not lifting anything!"

Mr. Parcels.."But, but..what do I do then?...."

Mrs. Vinegar Knickers, "Just put them on the scales.!..oh, they are not heavy".

Each bloody parcel had to be weighed, stamps applied and passed through to the increasingly bored and exasperated Post Office Customer Service Assistant of the Year, 1862.

By now, blood pressure rocketing, veins on head throbbing in frustration, I was ready to explode. Aha! My turn again.

"I've filled them in. Do you have an envelope I can purchase to put all the documents and the special delivery envelope in please?"

Mrs. Postman Tw*t "No. We don't sell them here."

Me; "You don't sell envelopes!....but this is a Post Office....I need to send my documents...you haven't got any envelopes.....RIGHT! I'LL HAVE TO USE A SPECIAL DELIVERY ENVELOPE THEN!!!!"

Cue more address filling (but there was no way I was moving this time) and the immortal words;

"Just put your card in...no the other way up (idiot!)...that's £11 exactly please".

ELEVEN POUNDS of the Queen's money!! To send some documents, which were not valuable, but I needed to know were received in London. 11 pounds. £5.50 for each special delivery envelope. Ridiculous. But the fact I had to pay such a large sum of money is nothing to the fact that;

• The Post Office doesn't sell envelopes in a sub post office serving a community the size of metropolitan borough of London


• I had to endure the worst kind of officious, odious, arrogant, presumptuous and p**s poor customer service outside one of Stalin's gulags
  

I should have cycled there myself and delivered them in person.

"The Good": Church House Farm Campsite, Llangain, Carmarthen, Wales

Ying and Yang. Black and White, Shoddy Customer Service and Excellent Customer Service.

To quote Issac Newton's third law of motion; "To every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."

For every Mrs. Postman Pat, selling stamps and dispensing gruff, obnoxious service, there are people like Mrs. Freeman.

In the planning for the cycle trip to Dublin, I am organising 4 campsites in Wales, Ireland and England in addition to a night in a hotel in Dublin.

The Internet is a wonderful thing. However for everything you need information on their is a vast quantity of ideas, suggestions, recommendations, together with contrary opinions, warnings and people giving their two penneth on anything and everything.

After a considerable trawl, I decided on a campsite just south of Carmathen in south Wales, the end of the first day of hard cycling in June. 114 miles over hilly and then mountainous terrain. We will need a welcoming, friendly place to rest our aching legs by the time we roll in to the campsite.

I rang the number and Mrs. Freeman listened to my request and informed me of someone else doing a cycling trip for charity who is going to stay on the campsite. She was genuinely interested and impressed at what myself and Oliver are going to do.

I enquired how much it would be for the night.

"Well, it's ok...because you are doing it for charity, I'll waive my fee, it would normally be £24...but there's no charge."

"We can camp for free?...That's really kind of you...I never expected that...thank you so much. We are really looking forward to coming to Carmarthen."

Amazing how different people can be.

3. The Bad / So-so / OK, but wait and see.

Jury is out on this one. I have had some t-shirts designed and printed and two cycle jerseys printed for the trip. They cost a lot of money, which Oliver's company has kindly provided us the money for in sponsorship. They look really good. The t-shirts are a stand out red with a cool design on the front. I'm really happy with them.

The cycle jerseys look good too, but I have a gripe. The name and SCOPE logo on my shirt are wonky. Sloping at an angle of 25% upwards, whereas Oliver's is spirit level flat. Perfect. Is it that difficult to get something as critical as my name and the charity's name straight? Especially when they cost a lot of money.

I won't name and shame as I will be returning to the shop tomorrow to ask them to put their mistake right.

I hope they will take Mahatma Gandhi's words of wisdom and apply them to me. I expect to have my customer status respected and reaffirmed and the problem rectified without fuss. I do not expect the antithesis of Gandhian principles as displayed by Mrs. Postman Pat.

We will see. Come on Gandhi!