First Training Ride - Rouvy.

 

First Ride Back After 11 Days — Wakhan Valley and a Grumpy Foot

Well, that took longer than I hoped. Eleven full days off the bike thanks to a delightful little episode of extensor tendonitis — basically my foot’s way of saying, “Mate, sit down before I file an official complaint.”

Today, though, I finally swung a leg back over the bike. Not the gravel beast this time, but my trusty old Boardman road bike, perched on the Thinkrider X5 smart trainer like some ageing warhorse still willing to do its bit. I loaded up ROUVY and picked the Wakhan Valley, Ishkashim – Khorog route in Tajikistan. Because if you can’t climb real mountains when you want to, you might as well sweat all over your garage pretending you are.

Strava link: https://www.strava.com/activities/16724515573

The foot? Still a bit twingey — like it’s clearing its throat to remind me it exists — but honestly, miles better. Pedalling felt mostly smooth, even if I was a bit cautious for the first few minutes. After that, I got into a nice groove: a mix of tempo and threshold, and it actually felt… good. Not “float up the Alps” good, but “yep, I’ve still got some beans to work with” good.

Stats for the ride:

• 12.76 miles

• 43 minutes

• Enough virtual scenery to make me want to book a flight to Tajikistan

• About 500ml of water

• Zero food, because let’s face it — for this length of ride, I’d just be fuelling my guilt

Given the downtime, I’m counting this as my first proper training ride toward next year’s Dolby Devil 160 km. It wasn’t spectacular, it wasn’t heroic, and it certainly wasn’t pretty… but it was a start. And after nearly two weeks crab-walking around the house with a sulky tendon, that feels like a win.

Next step: ease myself back into regular sessions, see how the foot holds up, and resist the temptation to jump straight into overdoing it (again). Slow progress is still progress — even for a heavy, middle-aged bloke with big goals and a slightly sarcastic set of feet.

Hunting for the Right Wheels

 

Why I Chose the Hunt Gravel 35 Wheels (And Why I’m Sticking With Them)

I’ll be honest right from the saddle: I didn’t pick the Hunt Gravel 35 wheels because of wind-tunnel data, pro-tour glamour, or some mystical gravel-guru recommendation whispered across a campfire. Nope — I picked them for one very simple, very practical reason:

They can actually handle my weight.

At 268 lbs (and aiming steadily downwards!), finding kit that doesn’t flinch beneath me is half the battle. Most gravel wheelsets top out well below what I need. But the Hunts? They’re rated over 300 lbs. Finally — something that doesn’t panic when I roll into view.

But the weight limit is only half the story. After six months of riding them, here’s the bit that’s honestly surprised me:
they’ve needed absolutely nothing.
And I don’t mean “nothing… but a little tweak.” I mean literally nothing.

I used to be a bike mechanic, so checking spoke tension is practically a reflex now — like cyclists’ version of checking if there’s still cake in the fridge. But every time I put the tension meter on, the result is the same: even tension, no loose spokes, no wobbles. Considering the state of Derbyshire’s roads and trails, that’s basically witchcraft.

Then there’s the ride feel. They’re stiff — properly stiff — without feeling harsh. Compared to my other wheels, the Prime Baroudeurs and Fulcrum 500s, the Hunts feel… well… less “noodly.” The Primes are decent but a bit flexy when I’m grinding uphill; the Fulcrums are fine but definitely narrower. The Hunt Gravel 35s, on the other hand, give my bike that planted, confident feel that makes you think, “Yeah, go on then — let’s take the stupidly rocky route.”

The internal width is another big win. I run 45mm Panaracer GravelKing TLRs year-round (because if it ain’t broke, don’t mess with the sealant), and the hookless rims give the tyres that nice, round profile without squirming. And yes — before anyone asks — I run them tubeless. Big tyres, low pressures, zero faff. Perfect.

Are they the lightest wheels on earth? Nope.
The most aero? Not really.
Do I care? Absolutely not.

They’re the first wheelset I’ve ridden that doesn’t punish me for being a bigger bloke getting back into serious riding. They’re strong, dependable, stiff where they need to be, and — most importantly — they let me ride with confidence whether I’m out on limestone trails, muddy farm tracks, or my usual Peak District punishment loops.

For anyone my size (or close) who’s struggling to find wheels that don’t feel like they’re tapping out after 50 miles, honestly: these have been a game-changer.

And with events like the Dolby Devil 160 km and the Kielder Triple Crown 200 km on the horizon, I need kit I don’t have to babysit. So far? The Hunts are exactly that.

Week 4: A Pause, A Reset, and a New Target on the Horizon

 

Week X: A Pause, A Reset, and a New Target on the Horizon

The last few weeks have been… quiet. Not in a peaceful way, but in that slightly defeated way where work piles up, illness steals your energy, and the bike gathers just enough dust to make you feel guilty every time you walk past it.

I haven’t trained much — if I’m honest, I haven’t trained at all.
But life gets in the way sometimes, and that’s not a reason to quit. It’s just a reminder that this journey won’t always move in straight lines.

With the fog lifting and my energy slowly returning, I’ve found myself looking at something new: the Dolby Devil 160km gravel ride. It’s earlier than the Kielder Triple Crown, shorter (just), but still a proper challenge — the kind of ride that forces you to respect the distance and prepare properly.

Part of me wonders if entering it might be the spark I need. A mid-season milestone. A reason to stop drifting and start training again.

So next week, I’ll begin rebuilding the routine:

• A couple of steady endurance rides

• Some gentle turbo sessions

• A focus on getting my weight trending downward again

• And, hopefully, the feeling of momentum returning

I’m still carrying too much — 268lbs, morbidly obese by the cold logic of BMI charts, and definitely not built for long climbs. But I am built for stubbornness, and that counts for something.

If you’ve ridden the Dolby Devil, or if you’re a gravel rider who’s tackled other long-distance challenges, I’d love your advice.
How did you structure your training?
How did you fuel your rides?
How did you stop the hills from breaking your spirit?

Drop your thoughts, stories, or tips in the comments. I’m listening — and learning.

Right now this journey feels like starting again, again. But maybe that’s the point. Success isn’t a straight ascent; it’s a messy, winding gravel track — and I’m still on it.

 Let's Begin - Time for an honest look at myself.

There’s a strange kind of honesty in cycling. The road never lies. Every climb, every turn, every gasp of breath reflects exactly where you are — physically and mentally.

At 268lbs and 5'11", the truth is plain enough: I’m carrying too much of myself up every hill. My BMI sits at 38, a number that feels as heavy as it sounds — morbidly obese. And yet, I’ve set myself a challenge that will demand everything I’ve got and more: the Glorious Gravel Kielder Triple Crown, a 200km off-road ride through the forests and fire roads of Northumberland.

The goal is simple to say, harder to do — finish within 12 hours.

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The Machine

If there’s one thing that makes this journey feel possible, it’s my bike. She’s a Titanium Planet X Tempest, understated but unbreakable — the sort of bike that invites long rides and quiet ambition. She rolls on Hunt Gravel 35 wheels and runs a SRAM Apex AXS XPLR groupset, smooth and efficient even when I’m anything but.

There’s something comforting about titanium. It doesn’t complain. It doesn’t flinch. It just carries on. I suppose that’s what I want for myself — a bit more of that calm resilience, that silent strength.

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The Reason

I’m 55 now. Old enough to know the difference between fantasy and purpose. But this feels like something more than just a midlife challenge. It’s a reckoning.

For years, I’ve coasted — too much comfort, too little control. But comfort can be corrosive. One day you realise your body doesn’t move like it used to, that hills feel steeper, and that your reflection tells a story you don’t quite recognise.

So this is my line in the sand — or rather, my tyre track in the mud. A commitment to reclaim health, to rediscover strength, and to see just how far a heavy man can go with a lighter heart.

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The Plan

There’s no secret formula. Just time, discipline, and a bit of stubbornness.

• Training: Around six hours a week — mostly long outdoor rides, with the odd turbo session when the Derbyshire weather closes in.
• Nutrition: A lower-carb approach , focusing on counting calories and fuelling fat adaptation rather than sugar highs.
• Movement: Gentle tai chi to protect my knees and back, and some bodyweight strength work to build resilience.

It’s slow work, but so is any worthwhile climb.

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The Vision

I can already picture it — late August 2026, rolling into Kielder after twelve hours of dirt, sweat, and determination. My legs hollowed out, lungs burning, but heart full.

I won’t be racing anyone but myself. The victory won’t be in the time, but in the transformation.

Because at some point, this stops being about cycling. It becomes about identity, agency, and the quiet defiance of saying, I’m not done yet.

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This blog will be my record of the road ahead — not just watts, miles, and kilograms, but thoughts, stumbles, and small triumphs. A diary of descent and ascent, in every sense.

And maybe, if all goes well, I’ll find that the man who started this journey — heavy, hesitant, and hopeful — will weigh a little less in every way by the time he crosses that finish line.