Kicking it off, Again!

 

Resetting the Compass (Again)

It’s been a while. Not in a “busy week, missed a ride or two” kind of way — properly off the bike.

Almost two months, in fact.

It started with a lung infection that flattened me for three weeks. Not the dramatic, heroic kind — just the slow, grinding sort that drains you of energy and leaves you staring at the bike like it belongs to someone else. Just as that began to lift, I managed to pick up two separate stomach bugs, because apparently my immune system decided to take the term off as well.

The result? Since January, I’ve managed four rides. Four!

Not exactly the steady, disciplined build-up I had in mind for this year.

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The Dalby Devil Question

Which brings me, somewhat uncomfortably, to the Dalby Devil.

Six weeks out, and if I’m being honest — properly honest — the idea of rolling up to the full distance feels… optimistic. Not impossible, but not sensible either. And at this stage, sensible probably needs to take priority over stubborn.

So I’m seriously considering the shorter route.

There’s a part of me that resists that — the usual internal voice that says, you signed up for this, just get on with it. But there’s another voice, quieter but probably wiser, that’s asking a more useful question: what actually moves things forward from here?

Because this isn’t just about one event. It’s about the bigger picture — getting fitter, staying healthy, and building towards something sustainable, not just surviving a single day out.

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Time, or the Lack of It

As if illness wasn’t enough, real life has decided to join in.

We’re heading into GCSE season, which means I’ve got over 200 assessments waiting to be marked. Evenings are disappearing into piles of essays, weekends are starting to look suspiciously like extensions of the working week, and the neat little idea of structured training has taken a bit of a knock.

And just to round things off, my wife is away for ten days over the holiday, which leaves me firmly on childcare duty.

So the training plan — such as it is — has been simplified dramatically.

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Back to Basics (and Indoors)

Tomorrow is the restart.

Not a grand return. Not a heroic session. Just the simple act of getting back on the bike and turning the pedals again.

Realistically, for the next couple of weeks, that’s going to mean ROUVY. Shorter sessions, fitted in where they can be, working around school, marking, and parenting. Not ideal, but far better than doing nothing.

There’s something oddly reassuring about that. Strip everything back, remove the noise, and what you’re left with is very simple:

Ride when you can.
Keep it consistent.
Don’t get ill again.

Everything else can wait.

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Where I Am Now

Fitness has slipped. That’s unavoidable.

The lungs are better, but not quite right. Energy comes and goes. Weight has crept back up slightly, as it tends to when riding disappears and recovery becomes the priority.

But — and this matters — I’m not starting from zero. The base is still there, somewhere under the fatigue and frustration. It just needs uncovering again.

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What This Phase Is Really About

This next block isn’t about peak performance. It’s about re-entry.

• Rebuilding routine
• Reintroducing effort
• Relearning what steady progress looks like
• And resisting the temptation to overdo it in week one

Because that’s the real danger now — not doing too little, but doing too much, too soon, and ending up back where I started.

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Looking Ahead

So, six weeks to Dalby.

Maybe the shorter route. Probably the shorter route, if I’m honest.

But that doesn’t feel like failure. It feels like adjustment. Like choosing to stay in the game rather than forcing a performance that isn’t there yet.

The bigger goal — Kielder, later in the year — is still exactly where it was. If anything, this just reinforces what that will take: consistency, patience, and the ability to absorb setbacks without letting them derail the whole thing.

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A Simple Plan

For now, the plan is deliberately uncomplicated:

• Ride tomorrow
• Keep sessions short and regular
• Use ROUVY as the backbone
• Build gradually, not dramatically
• Get through the next ten days without losing momentum

That’s it.

No grand statements. No heroic promises.

Just a quiet reset, and a steady return to doing the work.

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Because in the end, this whole thing isn’t built on perfect weeks.
It’s built on coming back — again and again — until the gaps get shorter and the rides get longer.

And tomorrow, that starts again.

Follow me on Strava - https://www.strava.com/athletes/534469

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.

Christmas Cracking

 

Finding Shape in a Messy Week

This week felt a bit all over the place — not disastrous, but definitely untidy. I rode three times, indoors and out, with mixed results and fluctuating energy. The kind of week that doesn’t fit neatly into a plan, but still adds up to something useful if you look at it properly.

26/12 – Boxing Day, Outside and Honest

I kicked things off with an outdoor ride on Boxing Day, which already felt like a small win.

• Distance: 13.92 miles

• Elevation gain: 1,309 feet

• Time: 1 hour 22 minutes

• Weighted average power: 192 watts

This was probably the strongest ride of the week. The power was solid, the climbing unavoidable, and the effort felt purposeful rather than forced. It wasn’t fast — it never is round here — but it felt like proper work, the kind that leaves you tired but satisfied.

Gravel, gradients, and no hiding places. Exactly as it should be.

27/12 – ROUVY and Structured Suffering

The following day was a ROUVY session — Hilly Base Intervals.

• Distance: 9.64 miles

• Elevation gain: 864 feet

• Time: 58:02

• Average power: 132 watts

This was more controlled, more measured. Nothing heroic, but a decent aerobic session that ticked a box. I’m still finding it hard to fully commit to very rigid plans, but this felt like a sensible middle ground — structure without overthinking it.

28/12 – When the Tank Is Empty

The third ride was also on ROUVY, and this is where the cracks showed.

• Distance: 3.5 miles

• Elevation gain: 565 feet

• Time: 30 minutes

• Average power: 135 watts

I cut this one short due to a complete lack of energy. Not soreness, not pain — just nothing there. One of those sessions where every pedal stroke feels like it’s being negotiated individually.

Stopping was the right call. Digging a hole for the sake of a tidy training log never ends well.

Fuel, Recovery, and Small Experiments

Post-ride, I’ve been experimenting with a simple recovery drink:

• Frozen bananas

• Milk

• A tablespoon of collagen powder

Nothing fancy, nothing Instagram-worthy — just something cold, easy to get down, and vaguely helpful. Whether it’s making a measurable difference is hard to say, but it feels like a small act of care, and sometimes that’s reason enough.

Plans, or Something Like Them

I’m still struggling to follow a very specific training plan, so I’ve signed up to ROUVY’s weight loss plan as a framework rather than a rulebook.

Alongside that, I’ve set myself a simple, realistic goal for the coming week:

• 2 × 30-minute rides

• 2 × 60-minute rides

• 1 × 3-hour+ ride

It’s loose, but it gives the week shape. At the moment, consistency matters more than perfection.

The Weight Bit (Because It Matters)

Mid-afternoon, after a ride, I weighed in at 274.5 lb.

That little sad face is doing a lot of work there.

It’s frustrating, obviously — but it’s also just a data point. One reading, at one time of day, influenced by fatigue, hydration, and probably a Boxing Day buffet somewhere in the background.

The danger would be letting that number overshadow the fact that I’m riding, climbing, and putting in work. Weight will move when the habits settle. For now, the habits come first.

What I’m Taking From This Week

• Outdoor riding still delivers the most value, mentally and physically

• Energy management matters more than stubbornness

• Loose structure is better than no structure

• Stopping early is sometimes the smartest training decision

• Progress doesn’t announce itself — it accumulates quietly

This wasn’t a perfect week. It wasn’t even a particularly tidy one. But it was real, and it moved things forward in small, unglamorous ways.

Next week is about rhythm — not intensity, not heroics — just turning up, again and again, and letting the bigger picture take care of itself.

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