July

[glaconman]

The first half of July has been a wash-out running-wise.

There was a week in Pembrokeshire that held plenty of promise; but there just seemed like more important things to do. Like building sand-castles with my lad; going for walks along the cliffs; dragging sea bass out of the breakers; and getting pissed.

But tonight I made it out for a 5 miler. 5.19 actually.

One thing I've decided is that I should try to get abit more scientic and actually record my runs: how far I've gone and what time I did it in.

In my own mind I'd love to be somebody who just goes out and runs his bollocks off on a regular basis (like our Spanish contingent). I remember when Obree and Boardman were battling it out for the world hour record. Boardman was the pro who had his own team of scientists analysing every physiological measurement possible. He had technologists building his bike and psychologists coaching him. Whilst Obree made his own bike (using the bearings from an old washing machine) and his only training method was to go out into the hills and beast himself. And I always routed for Obree. He was the eccentric amateur who just did things on instinct. His career collapsed into depression and mental anguish, but that's another story. And possibly another reason for liking him more.

But it's not really working out for me; so I'm going to log my runs. Which is hardly turning professional. Just adding abit of structure and hoping it will help me along the way.

Funny, I never liked Boardman because he seemed to whinge all the time during The Tour and had a pained expression on his face all the time. But now I know why! He was famous for being clean and was probably the only person in the peleton who was experiencing what it was actually like to cycle that race without chemicals. Poor fella. (Apart from Big Mig of course, in case Ana is reading.)

Shame my itv4 reception is buggered otherwise I would have happily watched it this year. I don't like professional sport much any more but The Tour (and cycling is arguably THE most professional sport) still holds some romance for me. And I love the French for holding it close to their hearts.

So this running is still work-in-progress; just a question of keeping the plate spinning. Problem is all the other plates spinning on top of those precarious poles. Getting lathered at every available opportunity probably doesn't help.

BTW if you get the chance watch Ten Canoes ... a great Aussie film coming to your cinema soon.

Other films I've really enjoyed recently: Last King Of Scotland, Perfume, Apocalypto, Sicko, The Illusionist, Black Gold, The Lives Of Others, Munich, Thank You For Smoking, Jindabyne. Some are better than others, but they're all worth a watch for one reason or another.

[Nigel]

Many thanks for that piece, Glaconman.

Timely writing, since I caught some of the ITV4 coverage of the Tour de France last night. ARD and ZDF, the German TV channels have just abandoned their entire coverage of the race because one of the riders failed a testerone test. They said that they had given the race organisers one last chance to get the race clean, and Le Tour had blown it.

Interesting thoughts on Graham Obree, too - contrasting him against Boardman much in the manner of Ovett vs Coe.

If you're a fan of Obree, then you'll definitely love The Washing Machine Post.

There's some great material in there about Robert Millar, too, including a piece on his desperately near victory in the 1985 Vuelta de España.

[glaconman]

Thanks for the links Nigel. My interest in pro cycling has been occassional and fairly fleeting but I do find it fascinating. Coupled with the fact that I've hauled my frame up the likes of Galibier on more than one occassion.

The Millar story encapsulates both the politics and the team nature of cycling which can only be fully understood by following one of the major tours I think.

I read Rough Ride by Paul Kimmage a few years ago which gives you a pretty honest account of the sport from the inside and how cyclists close ranks when their methods are threatened.

I think the combination of exceptional physical demands coupled with professionalism and sporting glory will always lead to the same, sorry place on occassion. For us Brits that place is part-way up Ventoux. Surely the most legendary of ascents on Le Tour.

I guess The Tour is just part circus / part sporting event.

On the running front I don't know much about Steve Ovette, although I used to watch all the races. Peter Elliot was certainly somebody I knew more about and he probably stood in starker contrast to Seb Coe. He was a working class Yorkshireman and had to fit his training around a job (can't remember what: in a steel mill or down a pit or some such). They were great times in athletics.

Conveniently the front-mech has seized on my road bike. That tells you all you need to know.

[Bierzo Baggie]

I’d forgotten all about Obee.

Funny, I never liked Boardman because he seemed to whinge all the time during The Tour and had a pained expression on his face all the time. But now I know why! He was famous for being clean and was probably the only person in the peleton who was experiencing what it was actually like to cycle that race without chemicals. Poor fella. (Apart from Big Mig of course, in case Ana is reading.)

You’re absolutely right about Boardman He was always completely shagged at the finish but seemed to me a lot more “human” than many other cyclists as a result.

Read an interview recently with Eufemiano Fuentes (Dr Blood of Operación Puerto fame). He apparently stashed away bags of blood belonging to half the international peloton. Unsurprisingly this attracted a bit of suspicion. Reading between the lines, his view seemed to be that his blood meddling antics were actually beneficial for the health of the cyclists and the real culprit is the very nature of professional sport itself and its inhuman demands on the human body. He went on to suggest a rest day every 2 or 3 days if pro-cycling was to become “clean” but that this would be impossible for commercial reasons. The conclusion? Inhuman ultra sport (represented by the intensity of modern day cycling) + loads of cash = inevitable doping, perhaps for the whole lot of them.

Interestingly he also considered that the physical demands on an elite marathon runner to be even greater than those on the cyclists with the difference being the marathon runner has longer to recover.

This week I’ve dusted down my old racer and mountain bike, changed tyres and brake blocks..etc… Sod this running lark, I’m off on me bike… now where did I put that bag o’ blood.

[Nigel]

It's good to hear you mention Mont Ventoux, Glaconman, and to see you hitting the carreteras in the Spanish sun, Bierzo Baggie.

I climbed Ventoux on foot once, and visited the monument to Tom Simpson, too, as every cycling fan surely must.

As I recall, it's a pretty and legendary ascent up from Carpentras, passing lavender fields, conifer forest and finally a wild and hostile white lunar landscape. The climb rises the better part of 2 000 m over 24 km.

Having recently dispatched the Côte de Ditchling, it's crossed my mind to ride that famous climb. So just let me know when you've got those bikes of yours ready, and perhaps we can fix an RC ride up there, one day ...?

[El Gordo]

It's good to hear you mention Mont Ventoux...

My contribution? I've consumed many, many bottles of the delicious Cotes du Ventoux from the great Rhone house of Paul Jaboulet Aine.

[Nigel]

Ah yes, Andy - I couldn't agree more.

I love those deep and fiery Provencal reds. Much under-rated.

[glaconman]

It feels like I've just made one of those beautiful, long-ball one-twos; thanks for playing-me-through chaps.

I had one of my greatest day's on a bike in Provence swaying up to the summit of Ventoux. Pumped after a week in Les Alpes and at least a stone under-weight after a recent spell of Gardia picked-up in the Himalayas the scene was set for me to really do myself justice on the greatest hill of them all.

I took this picture an the way down after visiting the Simpson memorial. It was using a throw-away camera but I was mindful to use black & white film. And I gave the neg to my Grandad so he could bleach it and up the contrast in his dark-room. The only reason I tell you this is because I didn't just want a picture of the place, I wanted it to capture what I saw as I cycled through the final few miles up to the summit. I wanted it to try and convey my state-of-mind as I completed what was one of the most memorable sporting experiences of my life.

Ventoux is a difficult hill to climb partly because of it's reputation which starts to weigh heavily in your mind days before you arrive. It's also a particulary difficult climb because of the gradient and cadence of the road itself.

I'd previously ridden some really big alpine ascents: from the bottom of l'Alpe d'Huez to the top of Galibier (via Lautaret) is the best part of 30 miles and (give or take a couple of miles) it's all uphill. But the great thing about most Alpine roads is that they're engineered to cycle up. They traverse up the mountain in a series of switch-backs. So the gradient is never too steep and there's a rest on every bend. And if you're in the mood you can chalk these up all day.

On Ventoux there are 2 distinct sections: 2/3 of the ascent is in woodland then the last 1/3 is on the open mountain. The woodland section is steep and there's no switchbacks. It's not dead straight, it just meanders through the woods. The bends are actually slightly steeper than the straighter sections. So there's no logical restpoint and it's very difficult to get into any rythme.

So you're just working at a very intense rate the whole way up. In and out of your saddle working, working, working.

I can't remember how long the whole climb is: 12 or maybe 15 miles. The point is that when you come out of the woods you've given it absolutely everything you've got. It's relentless.

And now you're out in the sun and wind into this lunar landscape. And the gradiant relaxes slightly. And the road winds through these big bends. And the rest of the climb is all there, layed-out before you up to the weather station. But you'd rather not see it. Because you're spent. And it's incredibly hot and windy and bright and that last few miles is a phenomenal effort that drags it's feet through your parched, heaving lungs.

And then some tw*t gets his mountain bike out of the back of his car, tucks his trousers into his socks and starts to cycle along side you. You've already got 60 miles under your belt, you're hanging out, and there's plenty to go and you weren't looking for a pacemaker. I digress.

Something clicked that day. I knew I'd done well becasue I'd beaten 'Mad' Pete. An ex-infantryman who specialised in running mountain marathons and who managed to abstract and objectify pain in the same way people do with accounts.

Whenever I smell lavender I smell the sweet smell of that day's decent as the moutain reverted back to colour and we headed back to Saut.

What a day.

[glaconman]

Ventoux

[El Gordo]

Fab description.

Thanks.

[Sweder]

An awe-inspiring view of the place G-Man - and a cracking picture to boot.

Ventoux is a difficult hill to climb partly because of it's reputation which starts to weigh heavily in your mind days before you arrive.

I'm finding a lot of really useful stuff on here this morning.
This quote got me thinking about the weight of reputations; I think this is an essential component in distance running, especially when you tackle an established course.

Two Oceans weighed a ton; I'm sure I was half knackered before the off thanks to the weeks - months - of dreaming about the challenge. There's a thin line between respect and fear; respect drives caution and preparation whilst fear simply puts lead in the legs and cold in your heart.

I'll cut and keep this for use in preparation for 2008.