Carb-heavy equals fast cycling

Mr Weenie has an addiction. We rarely talk about it and, if I'm honest, I'm an enabler.

Unable to prepare his fix himself I often find myself doing it for him and I often end up indulging myself. Yes, Mr Weenie and I are pancake fanatics. There, I said it.

Last night we had a light supper of baked potatoes before moving onto pancakes and this morning I flew to work. I'm talking nearly 20mph on average, having to screech to a halt at traffic lights, overtaking any other cyclists and generally whizzing around like a banshee.

I left slightly late this morning and arrived at work earlier than usual.

Pancakes, food of the cycling Gods?

A way to display those bunions...

So, I'm out with the fabulous T for lunch when I realise I need to go to Boots. As I'm searching the new layout for those essentials every girl need (razors, aspirin, hand cream etc) I am stopped in my tracks by a display for 'Snowflake party feet'.

For those of you not familiar with Scholl Party Feet, they are basically squidgy rubber things that cushion the ball of your foot when you're wearing high-heeled shoes. I had thought they were the kind of accessory best described as 'discreet'. Apparently not.

'Snowflake' ones boast GLITTER. Yes, you too can flaunt your bunions with pride as you twinkle your way across the dance floor. Don't wait for that possible Mr Right to discover your various physical foibles after several months of committed relationship, get them out in the open first off so you can always say 'Well you knew I had ugly feet when you met me!' when he cites it as a reason for leaving you several years into a seemingly happy marriage.

Honestly, what next?

Car-bike interface

It's finally happened: I've had an accident.

I can't go into full details yet as, although I'm fairly sure nothing will come of it, but it involved rain obscuring visibility, a late indicator because someone was lost, wet leaves causing skiddage and Reg and I survived with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.

Lessons I have learned:

• Wear hi-vis, it's ridiculous looking but makes a massive difference.
• Leaves do not care about you, your new brakes or your welfare, they will still increase your braking distance considerably.
• Traffic wardens will attempt to ticket drivers who have pulled over to see if you're ok.
• Lying in the road is very embarrassing.
• My handlebars are magnetically attracted to my inner thighs and determined to cause massive purple bruising therein.
• I don't swear when under that kind of pressure.
• The driver will be in shock and incredibly distressed.
  
• Sometimes shit happens.

The Fat One, the cat-shaped dustbin

My commute in this morning was completely non-descript and unworthy of note. The usual idiot drivers, a couple of Tour de Commuters huffing and puffing to pass me and me pootling for once so I don't damage myself before tomorrow night's FNRttC (oh the excitement).

So the cats....

My darlings were on top form last night. Bounding around, play-fighting, meowing for food five minutes after feeding and begging for cheese. Mr Handsome begs for cheese to fit in but The Fat One loves it. All types, blue cheese, feta, cheddar she'll eat it all. She also loves couscous, chicken tikka masala sauce and butter. She'll even eat peas.

Is this normal?

We rarely give her these things because they are, after all, people foods, not for pusses. But her bottom continues to expand at an alarming rate. I won't leave any food out and plates are scraped and rinsed off before being put in the sink just in case.

I don't know of any other cat with this type of dustbin for a stomach mentality. She was dumped on a pet shop at around six weeks old and in our care has never known hunger or neglect. She did suffer a horrible bout of Campylobactor as a tiny but was treated successfully.

I'm at a loss as to her fatness, when she sits looking all cute with her paws neatly placed together all the eye is drawn to is the alarmingly pear-like silhouette she casts.

Any theories?

Happy days and marshmallow caterpillars

Fortunately for her friends, family and self S completed her first solo commute unscathed last night and got home safe and sound.

Unfortunately for me and my faithful readers it means there's little to blog about in terms of exciting cycle news.

However, off topic but equally important is my discovery of M&S Colin the Caterpillar marshmallows. Billed as 'He is what he eats' they're developed on the premis that he's eaten chocolate, strawberries and vanilla and the caterpillars are in segments of these flavours at random. Mmmmmmmmmmm

I am currently dealing with the stress of having moved house, a horrendous week at work and my looming 27th birthday. But, magically, marshmallow caterpillars are having a Prozac effect. Hooray!

Different

This morning I wasn't looking forward to my commute.

I was very tired when Sox slipped past Mr Weenie and invaded the bed at 6.30am. He decided it was time for breakfast and that kneading me awake was a way to get it. When that didn't work he licked my ear and headbutted my face. Then he opted for the lie down on the maid and purr tactic. He purrs like a motorbike and the vibration is incredible.

I finally got up at 7.30am and got his biscuits out. Splodge skipped over and, although a little wary after last night's telling off for bringing two mice in, she too got down to some serious wolfing of biscuits.

I dug out my shorts and packed my panniers, had some breakfast and unlocked Reg. It was a bit chilly and I was knackered, but that's not why I wasn't looking forward to my commute.

Last night my right hip flared up and I was in bed by 9.30pm. Although the pain is more ache than agony, it makes me tired and I should have known it was coming as my left knee has been aching for a couple of days. My body subconsciously shifts my weight to my left side when my right hip is about to flare so, weirdly, the first sign is my 'normal' leg starting to hurt.

Lying around only makes the problem worse and so I had to get on Reg and go to work. I nearly made myself late by putting it off. I swung my leg over and hit the pedals. Managed to get onto the Uxbridge Road only slightly less quick than usual and soon settled into my ride.

The route was the same but the experience was different.

I'm not disabled, not able-bodied, not an eco-warrier but I don't own a car, not a racer but I like speed, I'm a girl who only likes pink on her cycling gear, a soprano who enjoys singing the octave below, in fact, maybe it's just me that's different.

Oh well, enough of this deep thinking, roll on the commute home....

On a non-cycling topic...

The singing at the wedding went very well and I wore a very ladylike silk dress for it. I was tempted to cycle, given that I know the route from Clerkenwell quite well but resisted.

Whoop!

I'm up to nine official followers!

Someone bring me some trail mix with only blue M&Ms and any peanuts with the shells on picked out because I am a STAR.

* Update: I'm on 11!!!!

Officially an athlete

I knew yesterday was a bit weird. Having set off from home at 8am on the dot I walked through my office doors at 8.50am. Then, when I cycled home I left at 5.20pm and arrived home just after 6pm.

Now I often tell people it's around 45mins on my bike to get to work and it normally is: 45 minutes of actual cycling and at least 10-15mins sitting at traffic lights. So if I got home in exactly 45mins it means I actually did around 10 miles in half an hour. I feel sooooooooo smug.

This morning I was a bit slower at 50mins but it's still hugely encouraging. When I started to come all the way it took me over an hour once I was actually on my bike. I'm not ashamed to say that when I realised how quick I was last night I actually hissed 'Yes!' as I swung into the drive.

It's also encouraged me hugely with regards to the Brighton ride next week. I'm still a bit nervous but I think I'll be ok. Talking to my sister about it I had an epiphany. I've never succeeded at anything using my legs.... ever. My hip meant I wasn't allowed to run long distances and I never tried anything that involved foot and leg co-ordination as it was a hiding to nothing. Having spent a big chunk of my life in hospitals, being tested, having physio, changing painkillers and being X-rayed I can't believe I've actually discovered a sport I can actually do well.

If I get all the way to Brighton I'm actually a bit worried I'll actually cry.

Gosh, it's almost Oscar-worthy in it's sob-storyness isn't it!

Keep your legs looking young.....

My previous post was repeated on the company intranet so doesn't really count.

I've just been discussing legs with a colleague, he knows someone with calves fatter than their thighs, and as we were giggling about it, it made me look down at mine as I'm in a skirt today.

I'm wearing a plain knee-length floaty skirt, canvas low-top trainers and white socks folded at the ankle. As I scanned the area I saw bruises from when my pedals have smacked into my calves on wet days and being hit by my bike falling over while locking it, scars from the cuts caused by glass in my canal fall in April and various grazes and scrapes sustained while out and about. And that's when I realised. I have the same legs I did when I was 10 years old. They're just a bit longer.

Hilarious.

** Update: I now also have a bruise on my forehead after hitting my head on the roof of my company's shiny new bike racks. The racks I campaigned for for months. Fail.

If you give free maintenance, they will come........

So the company has held two bike days for the different sites after the cycle network (I'm an admin) lobbied for them and I nagged all and sundry to attend.

Thankfully both days went well (even with today's rubbish weather) and Reg was one of many bikes that got their brakes tweaked, tires pumped and chains oiled. Thank God people actually attended, thank the Lord above in heaven as I was truly panicky about it all! Why does no one ever email you back or post saying they'll attend?????

And it turns out people actually read my weird cycle newsletter emails, who'd 'a thunk it? Loads of people came up and were like 'Are you Rachael? Oh my God thanks so much for setting it all up'. I felt a bit like a movie star, a bit of a twee one in my high-vis yellow and one with big Chris Hoy thighs, but a star nonetheless.

It also turns out that people have been checking out my posters and stuff as at least one colleague is planning to take the London Cycling Campaign 'Bike Tube' into central London for a conference o Thursday. It's beautifully simple, supervised mass rides into London, picking people up at set points along the way.

I know it shouldn't be but the strike is an important cycling event, how bizarre!

Hooray... booo.... BMI sucks

Among the many things lost in the flood was my anti-baby pills so today I toddled off to the family planning clinic feeling like an irresponsible teenager and worrying they'd send me to the STI clinic by mistake again (this did actually happen, on taking my sexual history the nurse just looked at me, laughed, and asked what the hell I was doing there, I felt like such a prude).

I had a lovely doctor who weighed me and revealed I've lost a stone in two months. Hooray.

The doctor made me weigh myself twice to be sure and congratulated me on my achievement. She then beamingly turned to the body mass index (BMI) chart and proudly pointed out that I after all that hard work and slog, all those rainy rides and forcing myself into condom-like shorts I am now slap bang in the middle of the overweight category.

Seriously. Why do I bother?

She then took my blood pressure and said it was 'worryingly high'. Was I stressed?

Well, my father's still recovering from a major stroke, my arthritis is playing up, I'm hugely stressed at work because I had to take the day off work on Friday for a massive leak that's ruined my bedroom, forced me to move all my belongings into the living room and sleep in a room that smells of mould, damp and wet plaster and you've just told me that even though I've lost a stone all it's done is taken me out of obese and put me in the merely overweight category.

No I can't think of anything, everything's f***ing peachy thanks.