Too Cold, I Tried...

 

Cold Feet, Gravel Miles, and a Quiet Step Forward

Today felt like a proper return.

After 11 days off the bike with extensor tendonitis and yesterdays Rouvy ride, I finally got back outside — not on smooth tarmac, but where I actually ride: mostly gravel, cold, uneven, and honest. It wasn’t a long ride by any standard, but it was a meaningful one.

The numbers tell part of the story:

• Time: 1 hour 17 minutes

• Distance: roughly 14 miles

• Average speed: 10.8 mph

• Climbing: around 1,350 feet, at an average climbing speed of 6.6 mph

Not fast, not flashy — but steady, and more importantly, trending in the right direction.

If you’re wondering why my average speed looks a bit… aspirational rather than impressive, a few small details are worth mentioning. First, I’m carrying more ballast than your average cyclist, which means gravity and I are in a long-term, deeply personal and often oppositional relationship. Second, I ride in the Peak District, where “flat” is considered a rumour and every route appears to have been designed by someone who actively dislikes cyclists. And finally, quite genuinely, no matter which direction I leave the house, I’m immediately faced with a 10% climb — it’s less “warming up” and more “being thrown straight into negotiations with my lungs.” Given all that, the fact I’m moving forward at all feels like a minor victory

How It Felt Out There

The foot is still healing. There’s a background twinge that reminds me to stay sensible, but it never tipped into pain. If anything, it stayed quiet as long as I stayed smooth.

What did force the early finish was the cold. My feet were absolutely freezing, properly numb by the end, and common sense won out. I’d rather cut a ride short because I can’t feel my toes than because I’ve pushed an injury too far.

Unexpected Wins

Here’s the part I didn’t expect.

Despite the layoff, despite the cold, and despite riding mostly gravel, this effort actually trended faster than two previous rides on the same terrain. Even better, I picked up:

• A PR on the Collie Peak Trail 8 segment

• A 3rd best time on the HPT – Green Lane to Brickworks segment

I’m not chasing segments, but they’re a useful little yardstick — especially when coming back from injury. They tell me that something’s still there. That fitness doesn’t disappear overnight. That careful, steady riding can still produce results.

Effort, Fuel, and Focus

I rode this as a controlled mix of tempo and threshold, pushing the climbs but never forcing it. With a ride this length, I kept things simple:

• About 500 ml of water

• No food, because this was about testing the legs, not draining the tank

The average climbing speed of 6.6 mph felt particularly encouraging — slow by some standards, but faster than my previous efforts on the same climbs. For a heavy rider, that’s progress you can feel in your legs and see in the data.

What This Ride Means

This wasn’t about heroics. It was about proof.

Proof that the tendon is mending.
Proof that gravel still feels like home.
Proof that fitness is patient — it waits for you if you’re sensible enough to come back properly.

This was my first real training ride with next year’s Dolby Devil 160 km in mind. Short, cold, and cut slightly early — but absolutely the right step.

Next time: warmer socks, a touch more distance, and the same steady approach. Because if there’s one thing this ride confirmed, it’s that progress doesn’t need to shout. Sometimes it just crunches quietly under your tyres.

Check out my ride on Strava here

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.