Six Pounds Down, One Ride Up, and a Head Full of Snot

Well. This week did not unfold exactly as planned.

Let’s start with the good news, because it feels important to acknowledge it before the excuses pile up: I’ve lost 6 lbs this week. That’s not nothing. That’s six actual, real pounds — presumably evaporated through a combination of riding, stress, and coughing up what feels like my entire respiratory system.

Now for the rest of it.

The Week That Wasn’t

Between a brutal opening week back at school, a horrendous cold that has taken up permanent residence in my head, and Storm Goretti deciding that Derbyshire needed a couple of inches of snow, training options narrowed fairly quickly.

As a result, this week’s cycling portfolio looks… minimalist.

Ride One: Snow, Suffering, and Solidarity

I managed exactly one outdoor ride — a short 11-mile snow ride, completed at a majestic just over 8 mph, alongside my brother. Progress was slow, grip was questionable, and style points were firmly off the table.

Still, we got out. We stayed upright. We laughed at how ridiculous it all felt. In winter, that counts as success.

(Photos will follow, partly as evidence and partly because no one believes you unless there’s snow in the background.)

Ride Two: HIIT, Indoors, and Questionable Life Choices

The second session was a 40-minute HIIT workout on ROUVY. Short, sharp, and unpleasant — but effective. The kind of ride where you feel simultaneously pleased you did it and annoyed you ever pressed “start”.

I’ll admit here — quietly — that I’m occasionally using ChatGPT to create workouts. This feels either like a clever use of modern tools or the beginning of the end for structured coaching as we know it. Possibly both.

Still, it got me sweating, breathing hard, and momentarily distracted from the cold, so I’m calling that a win.

The Cold (Still Here, Thanks for Asking)

The cold hasn’t shifted. It’s the sort that doesn’t knock you flat, just lingers — dull headache, blocked nose, low energy, and a general sense that your body would quite like a lie down.

That’s probably why the training volume dropped. That, and the snow. And work. And life. You know how it goes.

What I’m Taking From This Week

Despite appearances, this wasn’t a write-off:

• 6 lbs down is significant, even if it feels slightly suspicious

• I still rode — outdoors and indoors

• I didn’t push through illness like an idiot

• Snow miles count double, morally if not on Strava

• Consistency sometimes looks like survival rather than progress

I’ll be posting a couple of photos and a Strava screenshot with this, partly to document the week and partly to remind myself that even scrappy weeks leave a paper trail.

Next week? Hopefully fewer germs, less snow, and a slightly more convincing training log. But if not, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing: turning up when I can, laughing when it goes wrong, and trusting that the long game still works.

Because it usually does — even when you’re averaging eight miles an hour and breathing like a Victorian invalid.

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