There is no better way of experiencing what a country has to offer than by going for a bike ride. You get to see first hand the countryside, the architecture and, if you have enrolled in one of their most popular sportive’s, meet the locals and observe how they like to ride to their bikes. In Italy they like to ride their bikes fast, just like they drive.

I travelled to Bormio in Italy with my friend Anthony and a group of his bike riding mates from the UK to participate in the Granfondo Stelvio. They had organised everything and I was incredibly fortunate to just be able to tag along. Great roads, good company and all I had to do was ride my bike.

Travel broadens the mind and it also highlights the differences between cultures. I have ridden in France, this weekend was the full Italian experience. Having spent the day amongst the locals here is what I observed:

Style
A MAMIL (Middle Aged Man In Lycra) would seem to be a generic look regardless of their nationality. The Italians just do it with more style and panache. From the coordinated club casual wear, down to the team kit, there didn’t appear to be a fashion faux par anywhere.

Fluro
The Italians love fluro colours, yes it may seem a little contradictory to talk about style and then mention fluro in the same breath, but somehow it seems to work. The brighter the kit the better from what I could see. If it was you or me wearing it we would look like some sad 80’s throwback, on a well groomed Italian with designer stubble they get away with it.

Bells and Whistles
Italians like their bikes. I have not seen so much expensive carbon on a start line before. Normally on these mass participation races you get a segment of hardcore cycling enthusiasts who ride their steel bikes and do so with pride. I only saw one steel clunker yesterday and it turns out the rider was from London.

Food
Only in Italy could you be greated at the top of a climb with a man with a tray of focaccia and pizza. I almost looked around for the red wine and was willing to call it a day there and then. It doesn’t matter if you are on top of a mountain there are standards to uphold and at every rest stop the food and drinks were marvellous.

Steep
The Mortirolo may only be 11km in length but it is brutally steep. Lots of switchbacks have you weaving up the mountain on a single track road. Then once you are near the top, the road becomes a concrete path; super steep and slippery. Most people have the sense to get off and walk. There are a few riders who demonstrate their strength and bike handling skills and ride up this “goat track” and there are others like me try to emulate them and fail. For a while I was looking good, shouts of bravo from the other walking cyclists echoed around me as I ground my way upwards. Then I lost traction, hit a rut and next thing I am on the deck. Fortunately I was going so slowly you couldn’t say I crashed, I just fell sideways. I am not sure what the others were saying as I lay on the ground still clipped into my cleats, but I sprung up, dusted myself down and pretended like it never happened. I even thought about trying to get back on but opted for the far safer option and started to trudge to the top with the others.

Mountains
Nature may be accountable for the stunning scenery but at some stage somebody has to decide to build a road up it. The Stelvio pass is as picturesque as any. An iconic climb for any cyclists and it does not disappoint. A 20km climb, it tops out at 2,750m with snow still on the ground. Any other nation would have left it to its own devices. The Italians built one of the highest paved road in Europe up it. Tunnels, numerous switchbacks and crazy Italians climbing and descending (once you complete the race to the summit you have to rug up and descend back down) only adds to the fun.

It can be difficult not to make generalisations and revert to nationalistic clichés when you describe different cultures. The reality is that these observations are grounded in the truth and that is why they stand the test of time.The Italian bike riders (men and women) like to ride with determination and intensity. I have never been overtaken on the descents by so many people. I am at best a cautious descender. I can normally hang onto a bunch but not this lot. Maybe it’s their superior bike handling skills or familiarity with the the mountains, either way they race down them as though their life depends on it. This passion was evident all day. Without understanding a world of Italian, if you listened to some of the conversations going on in the bunch you would have sworn there was about to be a punch up, then there would be a cheerful “ciao” and riders would move on. They were probably discussing the quality of the focaccia at the last stop.

All bike riders love riding their bikes, the Italians just seem to do it with a little more style

Hitting the town after we all completed the race. Cheers gents!

“A sense of achievement, relief and a sore bum”, is how Robyn described how she felt at the finish line.

There is something immensely satisfying about setting a goal and then working hard to achieve it. Particularly when the goal is to ride 235km and climb three big mountains in a single day to complete the 3 Peaks Challenge.

Personally this was physically and mentally the hardest of my three 3 Peaks rides. It’s the longest I’ve spent in the saddle and having to think and stay conscious of what Robyn needed and not to just take care of myself was mentally draining.

Normally I just ride my bike. Yesterday I was Robyn’s Super Domestique.

These events are not the sort of thing that you can do on a whim, it’s just too far and too strenuous. It takes preparation, planning and a strategy.

Our race strategy consisted of a number of principles.

1) Start slow and finish fast

We positioned ourselves at the back, the very back, of the 1,950 starters. This would allow us to descend the 25 km down from Falls Creek in relative safety and control. So at 7:15 am after passing a few riders we effectively had the mountain to ourselves. By the time we started the first real climb of the day, up Tawonga Gap we had already started to pass the back markers. Our plan was to ride through the field for the next 12 hours. Our feeling of calm and control was disrupted when the Lantern Rouge riders came merrily past us. There is a time limit for this event, you have to complete it in 13 hours or you don’t get your finishers jersey. These are the guys you must beat at the end of the day and they were riding to a predetermined schedule which had them go out fast on the anticipation that the back markers would all be finishing slowly. We took a deep breath, stuck to our plan and spun up the first climb without breaking into a sweat.

2) Conserve as much energy as possible

After riding around for six months looking at my back wheel and my backside, another 12 hours wasn’t going to hurt Robyn. She was to stay tucked in, drafting behind me as I towed her around. This was working well until 20 km before the second big climb. I had a rush of blood to the head. I thought that I had dropped her as we got caught up with another large bunch of riders. Given that our first rest stop for the day was just before the start of the climb I set sail to get there as quickly as possible, so I could get everything ready for when Robyn arrived. I cranked it up with a few riders sitting behind me getting a free tow. Having to ride within myself is what makes this physically and mentally demanding for me. Having given myself permission to cut loose it was game on. The closer we got, the faster I went. Then all of a sudden Robyn appears next to me, hardly able to speak she screamed for me to slow down! She had been following my instructions to the letter and had been hanging on to the back of the bunch for dear life. I immediately sat up, she tucked in behind me and normal service was resumed.

3) Stick to a carefully planned nutrition strategy

If you want to, your approach to what you eat can become all consuming. Low fat, high carb, protein rich, electrolite full, a whole industry has grown up to support the fanatical endurance athlete. Our carefully thought through strategy was to eat whatever you could carry and enjoy.

Thickly spread Nutella on flabby white bread wraps, cheese and salami panini, whatever tastes good is on the menu. This is augmented by countless energy bars and gels and an energy source not found in any well read cyclist magazine. It’s amazing what a tin of baked beans and some Homebrand rice pudding can do for tired legs.

4) You do not walk!

It doesn’t matter how steep or how far you have ridden, you do not get off and walk, you just have to keep on peddling. The final climb of the day is after 200 km. In total it’s a 25km climb back up to Falls Creek. The first part is a 9 km ascent at an average gradient of 9%. By the time we arrived at the climb we were now riding with lots of other cyclists. It was carnage! People were pushing bikes, sitting down and occasionally just stopping in the middle of the road unable to go any further. It’s a bloody hard climb. Trying to ride this with Robyn was just not possible. Different gearing means that up the steeper parts I just have to climb at my own pace. Every couple of kilometres I’d pull over, stop and wait for Robyn. As I’d look expectantly down the mountain a procession of cyclists would drag themselves past me. It wouldn’t be too long before Robyn would appear riding at a consistent tempo with her game face on. I know it was hurting but she wasn’t going to show this to the other riders. Robyn did not stop once.

The Result

Our strategies got us round in 11 hours and 48 minutes. We are now the proud owners of matching his and hers finishers jerseys. There has already been talk of next time! Sub 10 hour matching jerseys really would be a unbelievable achievement.

Post Race Celebration – Beer and Chips!

The time you enjoy wasting, is not wasted time!

I was delighted to read this because over the last 2 years I have spent 969 hours on my bike covering a total of 24,361KM.

This started 2 years ago when I completed the Three Peaks Challenge down in Victoria. This is a one day ride covering 230km and climbing 3 big hills for a total days climbing of over 4,000m.

In 2013 I went over the “easy route”, because of fires on Mount Hotham, this year I was back there riding the proper course.

You have to complete the event in less than 13 hours to qualify for a finisher’s jersey. In 2013 I was happy just to get around as it was my first real attempt at climbing some serious mountains. This year I went gone down with the intent to go under 10 hours. This is significant because you get a special jersey telling the world this is what you have achieved.

I have always ridden my bike for the sheer pleasure and have enjoyed getting fitter and faster without the need to think about my performance in relation to times and average speeds. I am just happy to be out and about seeing the countryside.

When you target a time it all changes. The same thing happened when I ran my one and only marathon.  I got a little too focused on a time and haven’t really run since due to the resulting knee operation I had to have.

So as this event got closer and the training intensified I was aware that a similar pattern was playing out. Being on my bike was no longer the escape that it used to be, with schedules and fitness to monitor it took on a bit of a different demeanour.

I am not sure if taking your bike back to the UK over Xmas counts as commitment or stupidity. I even took a turbo trainer with me and it didn’t register at the time that getting up in the dark at 6.30am on Christmas Eve, to sit in my sister’s garage for an hour, pedalling in the cold and listening to the rain was slightly bonkers.

Last Sunday I got to see if all the training was going to pay off. I had gone down to Falls Creek trusting that I had done enough work and to enjoy myself regardless of the result. If all went well then a sub 10 hour should be achievable.

So at 6.45am on Sunday morning I found myself waiting with 1,850 other for the day to start. Even though I have ridden my bike for nearly 4 years now I still feel a little out of place with the rest of the Lycra clad bunch. When I am riding on my own it feels very natural, riding with a group of people is a little  more taxing for me as I have to concentrate. On a day like today, where working  with others was going to be critical to get a good time, doing my own thing was not a good option. So I positioned myself in the middle of the 9-10 hour group with the intent of giving it a red hot go.

I can honestly say that for the next 9 hours, 6 minutes and 4 seconds I thoroughly enjoyed myself. There were times when it was tough, but no harder than other days on the bike, and all I could think about was how fortunate I was to be able to indulge myself like this. Even on the last climb of the day, which comes at 200km and is 9% for 9km, I just kept pedalling away knowing that it was going to flatten out at some stage, it always does.

My time was way beyond my expectations and puts me well inside the top 10% of finishers. This in itself is a bit of a surprise given I only ever consider myself as a keen, middle aged codger, who likes going out on his bike for a pootle around.

The weekend’s effort can be nicely summed up by a couple I met out on a training ride earlier this month. In their 50’s, she was a retired Iron Woman and he was an Ultra Marathon runner, their philosophy was simple, “The race is the reward for all the time you spend training”.

I loved their approach and adopted this mentality on Sunday, maybe that’s why it felt such a good use of  my time.

How do you measure the strength of your marriage?

Do you have open dialogue, date nights, do you invest in quality time to focus on the positives and how you complete each other?

Personally I have found spending 273 hours and riding over 6,000km with my missus this year has been a good test.

It started in January when Robyn rode her push bike up Mount Buffalo. This was a 20km climb with 1,000m of climbing and could be seen as an achievement, even if it did place her 1467 out of 1492 on the Strava leader board.

For those of you not in the know, Strava is a website that allows you to compare your bike data to others. Don’t join, it’s a pain in the arse. What used to be enjoyable rides, where you just appreciated being out on your bike, become drag races as the red mist descends and you pursue PB’s over a range of different segments. It is an addiction that once you start you can’t give up and I noticed the other day Robyn had that glazed look as she took off up a hill for what looked like no apparent reason, the look of a person with a Strava habit!

A couple of weekends ago Strava was not on our minds as we turned up to Stromlo Forest Park near Canberra at 6.30am to participate in the Fitz Challenge. A sportive of various distances and a challenging ride. We had selected the traditional 165km route with 3,000m of climbing and though there weren’t any real mountains, there were some steep hills with 9-12% gradients. This was the culmination of all those hours on our bikes. It’s fair to say that we had done our homework, in fact we were so prepared we had ridden the bigger climbs twice that year. It really does make me wonder if we have too much time on our hands.

The course was not going to be a surprise, riding in a big group ride would be a first for Robyn. The people who turn up at these events always fascinate me. Predominantly there are a lot of middle aged men of different sizes. There are a few ladies but they are definitely in the minority.

The bike is a great leveller and the styles range from those dressed like professionals in their club outfits, the Rapha poseurs trying to look cool in their overpriced kit (we fit in here and all I can say is it is very comfortable and washes so well!), to those still getting good value out of their cycling kit bought back in the 90’s! This crowd are my personal favourites as they are the hard core of the cycling community, often riding some old steel bike, they are the purists and normally display a large amount of facial hair to go with it (the men and the women).

This chap was not playing by the same rules as the rest of us. Dressed in a safari outfit he could climb, he put many Lycra clad warriors to shame.

So after a safety briefing that talked about the perils of going too fast down the hills, telling us that the police would be on the course and that there was an 80kmh speed limit of the Fitz Hill descent, to which he also remarked “good luck with enforcing that”, a gun was fired and we were off.

There is always lots of nervous chatter at the start of these events as the bunch sorts itself out. It’s only when you hit the first hills you get to see the different levels of rider, those who can climb take off and those who are a little underdone start to puff. We were in the last third of the pack, a deliberate effort not to go off too fast and then have to limp home. It was going to be a hot day so we were going to try and pace ourselves.

It was all going very well, then I had a puncture. We had only been on the road for 45 mins so by the time I had fixed it even the slowest riders had passed us. We were now the last pair on the road. Like the seasoned domestique that  I am I hit the front and with Robyn tucked in behind and we set off to catch the field. By the time we hit the first real climb of the day we had collected a few back markers and by the top of the climb had found our rhythm.

In the middle of nowhere the devil appeared

The big challenge of the ride is Fitz Hill after about 75km. Its steep at a 10.5% avrg for 2.5km and it was getting close to 30oC when we arrived. We knew it was going to be tough and as agreed I took off to see if I could get a PB (damn you Strava) and I would wait for Robyn at the water stop at the top. Half way up people were already off their bikes, having to push them the rest of the way as they couldn’t physically manage it. I got to the top and watched as every shape and size of Lycra clad looney summited. I didn’t expect to see Robyn as soon as I did and as she came towards me I could see that she was literally towing half a dozen very red face blokes behind her. Clearly a little challenged by being out climbed by a woman they were clinging to her back wheel as if their life depended on it. A few even put in a supreme effort to go past her at the top so they were not beaten. As they fell in a heap at the water stop, Robyn just sailed past them and kept going.

And so it was for the rest of the day, starting literally from the back meant that we spent the rest of the day riding through the field. The joy of riding your bike over 6km, 16km or 160km is that you always get to test yourself. All the hours of training were paying off and as we rode beyond the 100km mark Robyn was riding at the same pace as when we started and hovering up the field as we made our way around.

The organisers of these events go to great lengths to tell you it’s not a race and then give you a timing chip and publish your position. Robyn was 253^rd out of 479 starters. A great effort and a demonstration of her endurance, strength and her all round ability to ride a bike.

Robyn was rightly pleased with her achievement and the discussion on the way home was around what her next challenge was going to be. I had wondered if she would stop riding her bike with such commitment after this event, it goes to show after 20 years of living with somebody you can still be surprised and delighted.

Robyn’s mum and dad’s farm is at a place called Ungarie, in Bland Shire, NSW, Australia. I love our escapes to the country and had never really registered the Shire’s name until the Bland Shire was recently twined with the towns of Dull (Scotland) and Boring (US).

We are back for a week over the school holidays and with time on our hands we have been following and inspired by all our Northern Hemisphere friends who have been enjoying summer and their bikes. There are people cycling the Tour De France route, others spending their leisure time climbing big mountains and a few new recruits to cycling riding further than they ever had before for very good causes.

It doesn’t matter what they are up to the photos always look fun and inspiring.

Rural NSW,  is so different to where I grew up, open spaces, great big skies and normally hot. We do have winter in Australia and it can get cold,  yesterday Robyn and I ventured out into it.

Robyn has been training hard over the last 6 months and we are taking every opportunity to put some km into her legs for her big ride in October. It’s amazing how quickly you can adapt, we had ridden our planned 200km route 10 weeks ago when we were last back on the farm. At that time it was a significant achievement for her, this time round it was not quite so daunting.

This part of “The Bush” is relatively flat and uncomplicated. Our route needed us to make a mere 6 turns in 200km of cycling! Not a navigational challenge, but one of mental stamina as you basically just sit on your bike for 8 hours pedalling.

Just Like the pro’s

In warmer weather this is quite pleasant, yesterday the Tour De Bland, as Robyn christened it, lived up to its name. The novelty of having a short winter means that I don’t normally mind rugging up in my winter cycling paraphernalia. The reality is that if it starts off cold it will normally warm up and you end up stripping everything off as you get too hot. It can be difficult to plan for this as temperatures can go from just above freezing to 18oC in a couple of hours. You don’t want to be carrying too much gear so you layer well and if anything prepare to be a little cold first thing as compensation for not having to lug it all around for the rest of the day.

Yesterday’s forecast was to start out just above freezing and peak at 16oC. Well they got the temperature for the start right. Greeted by cold dense fog we set off at 7.30am. I felt great waves of nostalgia for all those winters growing up in the UK. Robyn and I pedalled along deserted roads side by side discussing this and our time we lived in Dublin, concluding it was a tad too dry to be what the Irish call a “soft day”.

Having just made this observation the grey mist surrounding us turned into drizzle. Half an hour later and I was secretly questioning if we should just give up and go back. Nostalgia is only good for remembering not re-living.

Cold hands and toes now reminded me of why I moved 10,500 miles in the first place. I had a good look at Robyn, if she was thinking about going home she didn’t show it. So I did what any dutiful domestique has to do, I hit the front, took the pace up a little to try and keep warm and we rode in a grey cacoon for the next 80km.

90km on a flat straight road in a wet mist, staring at my arse demonstrates Robyn’s commitment to the cause. We arrived at Condoblin just after 11am. The local cafe had the fire going so we took up residence in front of it.

One for the Rapha catalogue
Condo Cafe, roaring fire and City meets Country.

It was  obvious the temperature was not going to get out of single digits for the day. Everything had warmed up but our toes were still a problem. I concluded we needed oversocks. The $16 we spent on two pairs of Size 12-14 workman’s socks was the best money we have spent on any cycling kit. We squeezed them over our cycling shoes and sat on the floor in the newsagents using a borrowed knife cutting holes for our cleats.  The locals were very interested by now and what followed was a quick demonstration of cleat technology to a small collection of the Condo women’s institute before we were waved off into the mist.

Back on the road, now with warm toes, life was getting easier. A tail wind for the next 70km and we flew to our next stop, Tullibigeal.

Best $16 we ever spent

Tullibigeal has a cafe and seemingly the only spot of sunshine in the whole district. We refuelled and headed for home. No sooner where we back on the bikes and the sun disappeared, the low grey cloud appeared and we made our 5th turn of the day into a headwind.

I had recently noticed that Robyn had made the final transition into a tragic cycling bore when she started to get interested in her cycling data. We had made good time, we were 1.5km per hour faster than last time we rode this route. It may seem insignificant but over 200km ride this adds up to big chunks of time. The headwind was going to threaten this.

Now was Robyn’s chance to learn to draft properly. The idea was for her to sit as close as she could on my back wheel to keep out of the wind while I bought us home. I was to keep the pace up and as an added incentive I wasn’t going to stop if she couldn’t keep up.  She could either work hard, hold my wheel and fly home or work hard and pedal into the wind on her own as her average speed plummeted.

What an incentive! Robyn now has no qualms about drafting, she was so close she could see the stitching on my shorts.

A final right turn and the 3km finishing straight had the Tour de Bland nearly completed.

Robyn held my wheel as I gave it everything, then like Mark Cavendish she pulled out and rocketed past the finishing line, doing its best farm gate impression.

Cold, grey, damp and miserable is how I had described the Tour De Bland when we were in Condo. A warm shower, a few beers and all the downsides of the day are being forgotten about. Sometimes the journey itself may not be the most interesting,  what you do along the way, who you meet and the final destination make it all worthwhile.

Normal Service has been resumed. The view from next day’s recovery ride

200km does not look like much of an effort given the size of Australia