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how fit do you need to be?
today's title is something of a misnomer, because truthfully, there's no right or wrong answer. the qualifier is dependant on how you plan to use that fitness? if you're leading up to a season of road races, a lack of serious training may not be an option. i recall a series of small booklets given free with the comic many years past, the road-going version of which advised that you'd need to be capable of averaging 33kph just to hang on the back of the grupetto. i'm pretty sure there has never been a time when i possessed that capability, but then, i've never ever raced, so that lack has never been a problem.
and though speed is practically irrelevant if intent on undertaking a lengthy cycle tour, there's still a level of fitness required to haul self and packed panniers up a series of continental gradients. training hard on a lightweight road bike to sustain 33kph while planning a two week tour of the loire valley might well result in a misguided use of resources. but in point of fact, for the majority, and this is based on my own perceptions, rather than a concerted level of observation, any form of training is largely unnecessary.
as an ageing old fart, the past year, and for the years prior to that, i have averaged 130 or 160km each week. though the bike has featured a garmin gps device on the handlebars, it's really only there to tell the time, as i don't store any of the recorded data. however, this time, based on cursory observation, i'd reckon that my average speed hovers around the 23kph mark. according to the hospital consultant prior to my discharge, my level of fitness was bound to aid the recovery period, which, as it happens, seems to have proved correct. so, as someone who has never raced, harbours no intent of doing so, and is effectively past the point of voluntarily opting to ride one of the many sportives available across the season, the fitness i have acquired without direct application, seems to have been more than adequate, not only to keep me alive, but to allow me to return to normality a tad more quickly than expected, either by yours truly, or those with whom i work.
not for me, hours in the saddle, plying the highways and byways of this hebridean isle attempting to maintain a high average speed before engaging the service of zwift in the evenings to augment the great outdoors. as far as i'm concerned, i know how fit i want to be; fitness that will allow me to enjoy my cycling for many years to come. it may be that there's an odd level of delusion in using cycling to achieve sufficient fitness to continue cycling, but, as we're all aware, there are many side benefits to be gained even from such myopic tendencies.
my contention, therefore, would be that the majority of us are very much the same; that we all enjoy the sunday morning rides, the obligatory coffee stops en-route and the possibility that our cycling tempo helps justify the often inordinate amounts of money we spend on bicycles, componentry and apparel. this does not, however, condone any relaxation of effort that would turn us all into velocipedinal couch potatoes; unless you depend on riding very fast to earn a living, the probability is that you're already putting in sufficient effort, though as mentioned above, all this is entirely relative. my 23kph might be your 25kph. the mighty dave-t is in his early eighties, riding a brand new gravel bike to cope with islay's disintegrating roads and as fit and healthy as ever he's been. he's enjoying his cycling, despite a reduction in weekly distances and a concomitant lowering of his average speed. what more could a cyclist desire?
so anytime you read of training regimes in the cycling press, online or in print, or are tempted to engage the services of a bona-fide trainer, take a step back, put everything in a realistic perspective and see where you stand (or sit). there's nothing wrong with harbouring ambitions of unadulterated speed even if you've nowhere to put it, but try not to be persuaded into training when, in reality, there's no need. and that goes for zwift, rouvy and their peers too, platforms that engage the social media aspects to have you compete with virtual friends. you might well be able to ride away from your real friends, but where's the fun in that?
monday 12 may 2025
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................kleen eze
it's quite common to pass the village store in bridgend, early on a sunday morning and witness a motorist effectively pressure-washing his or her car with the coin machine installed for that very purpose. inevitably, there are perhaps another couple of vehicles stationary in the tidy queue, the drivers of which have engaged the 'washer' in earnest conversation, apparently oblivious to the fact that they're simply delaying their own opportunity to clean their own vehicles in a timeous manner.
i confess that i have never engaged any of them in discussion to learn whether the car is being washed to retard any possible reduction of lifespan engendered by local climate conditions, or whether it's simply a matter of aesthetics linked to social standing. if you own a 24 plate kia sportage, is it considered bad form to have it parked looking like it spent the weekend on a farm? i know of many who at least partially subscribe to the latter state of affairs, happy to concede that, as long at the bodywork appears in shiny, pristine condition, they harbour no concerns over the interior resembling a council skip.
i guess it take all sorts.
perhaps, however, as cyclists we are no different, aside from the notable fact that bicycles cannot reasonably claim to have an interior of any description. i have, over the years, frequently described the meteorological conditions in which the intrepid velocipedinist must exist if resident in the hebrides. these are conditions, i imagine, that may be seen as more challenging that other uk locations, but at the very least, could be referred to as different. the fact that, as i was reminded while printing a map of jura during this past week, we border the might of the north atlantic ocean, tautologically entails that the atmosphere for miles around, is pervaded by sea salt, marketed to great effect by portnahaven-based orsay sea salt, a natural product that is reputedly saltier than many of its competitors due to a quirk of the surrounding seas.
that salt is unavoidable, and its effects can be very quickly manifest. i have embarrassingly had to return review bicycles after a matter of three weeks on which the stem bolts and brake caliper pinch bolts were already showing signs of rust. cycle along the low road between port ellen and bowmore, or the singletrack road between coull and kilchoman, overlooking machair bay, and you can witness a definite salt sea air haze at all times of the year. add to that the confirmation from portland's chris king components (when two sets of hubs disintegrated) that peat dust is of an acidic constitution, and the likelhood of steel and/or aluminium components corroding is no longer merely theoretical. whether washing the bicycle regularly can stave off the deleterious effects is a moot point, but surely doing something is better than nothing at all?
the big problem remains the aforementioned weather. in winter, i can think of nothing less likely to happen than washing the bike, having returned home cold, wet and shivering, despite the unavoidable observation that its frame is clad in a thick agricultural deposit. "i'll get to it later" is a common response, and one immediately forgotten until about to commence the following weekend's ride. i can only put my hand up and admit that i am that cyclist.
but, and i cannot stress this too much, even as three weeks of pink italy commences, i still view the giro, tour and vuelta, conjoined by the world's road race championship, as hurdles through which to survive until the 2025/26 cyclocross season begins in october. with that in mind, i have always found myself mightily impressed at the cleanliness of the bikes swapped in the pits by riders wishing to avail themselves of something less mucky. never has there been a better sport in which to ride amber sidewall tyres. i am filled with embarrassment and regret as my eyes alight on the sad excuse for a cyclocross bike that greets me in the bikeshed for my weekend rides. granted, i do not own a karcher pressure washer, but manual labour is still a thing (isn't it?).
thus, even six months distant from 'cross season, on return from work on friday afternoon, i was moved to fill a bucket with hot soapy water, grab my green oil massive brush and set about the specialized like a man possessed. wheels were removed and scrubbed, chainstays, fork and seat tube given a thorough lashing, and the cranks removed to get at the parts other massive brushes just can't reach. were that insufficient, the entire fluorescent frame was subjected to a generous coating of polish and a hardy rub down with an old bath towel.
and, of course, with the vigour and relentlessness of a born-again laundromat, i am now unashamedly suggesting that you treat your own bicycle(s) in similar manner. possibly just ahead of a hosepipe ban, if reports are to be believed.
sunday 11 may 2025
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................both feet first
irrespective of its present day nomenclature, i still refer to it as the cycling proficiency test, though i believe it may have morphed into something called bikeability, surely a less descriptive name, even if the end result is the same? and nothing will ever persuade me that it was a good idea to dispense with the triangular enamel badge presented to those who passed the test. we have had discussions on previous occasions concerning the lack of teeth within cycling proficiency, predominantly on the basis that there is no compulsion either to undertake the training or the final test, allowing little junior the luxury of pedalling amongs some of the highest traffic figures on record, entirely bereft of experience.
yet, during the time when i was regularly asked to verify the mechanical constitution of participants' bicycles, if one proved to be in a less than suitable mechanical state, whereby the child had to use another's bicycle to sit the test, the certificate was withheld until the parents could prove they had made good the repair. somewhat conflicting circumstances, methinks. however, one aspect that does appear to have been modified appears to validate my original complaint to the council's road-safety department and the royal society for the prevention of accidents (rospa). their original directive for the cycling proficiency test dictated that a child's bicycle should be suitably sized to allow for both feet flat on the ground while sitting in the saddle. this, i believe, was to ensure they had maximum stability when stopped at junctions or in traffic.
my contention at the time was the design of the mountain bike, even in small versions for primary school children. since both mtb and bmx bicycles tended to sport higher than average bottom bracket heights, the ability to remain seated in the saddle, with both feet on the ground, would entail the saddle being too low to allow for comfortable or efficient pedalling. though not exactly contesting my assertion, neither the council, nor rospa, seemed willing to amend the requirements. however, now that i have, once again, been asked to mechanically check bicycles in advance of cycle training, i note that the demand is now that the child be able to safely remain in a stationary position with at least one foot on the ground.
small victories.
however, mrs washingmachinepost works as a practitioner in the pre-five nursery in our local primary school, and recently related the experience of one of her colleagues who attended a course on cycling activities for the under fives, predominantly using balance bikes. the good news, from my point of view, is that the education authority in such matters is unwilling to allow a graduation from balance bikes to larger velocipedes sporting stabilisers, advice that i have been dispensing for many a long year, often to no avail.
however, one other directive seems highly counter-intuitive, and i do wonder about the qualifications or experience held by those who make the rules. the majority of little kids who ride balance bikes tend to walk those bikes, as they learn to gain a sense of balance. by this, i refer to the intuitive act of moving one foot forward ahead of the other to push the bike along the ground - first the right, then the left (or vice versa). however, according to the information disseminated at the above mentioned training course, children are to be encouraged to move both feet forward and backward together, almost in the manner that a kangaroo jumps.
though there is little doubt that so might also encourage an improved sense of balance, i would contest that it is a sensible alternative. when the child eventually graduates to a proper bike with pedals, the both feet paradigm will be considerably worse than useless. it strikes me as similar to the practice of having small children learn the alphabet phonetically, when at some point in their young lives, they will subsequently have to learn how those 26 letters are really pronounced.
in moments such as these, you have to wonder how humanity ever made it this far in the first place?
saturday 10 may 2025
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................style icon
following wednesday's review of uncle pete's cycle caps, i am reminded that the wearing of a casquette was once the in thing for the intrepid velocipedinist, which entirely narcisstically, i considered myself to be. atop the wardrobe in my bedroom is a box filled with a wide range of superbly designed and decorated casquettes, some of which have yet to be worn while i dither between collecting or pretending to be a style icon. if only i was domiciled in a more urban or city location, there would surely be a ready-made audience for my smug self-satisfied demeanour.
there is a wide range of caps from the prendas heyday of mick and andy, a team z casquette bequeathed by robert millar, and the full series of unworn commemorative caps issued by rapha in connection with an obscure japanese road race. all of this notwithstanding the knowledge that i wear such headgear 'neath a helmet, only displaying their magnificence while supping froth at debbie's. of course, there's the lengthy, yet unresolved discussion over whether the absence of a recognisable audience for such velocipedinal magnificence exists in a small hebridean isle, but let's not sully this conversation with mere detail.
though it has not reared its ugly head for a number of years, always humming in the background is the persistent question as to whether cycling is the victim of fashion we all secretly know to be the case. though i have not ventured as far south as london town for many a long year, when last i visited, it was a less than difficult task to observe members of the london peloton dressed head to toe in rapha, quite frequently from the winter range when, in my humble opinion, it wasn't even close to the temperatures that would necessitate such apparel. in which case, i could only assume that dressing thus was principally at the behest of fashion victimisation.
sad to relate, my observational acuity rarely stretched as far as checking whether one cycle marque was more fashionable than another, though if i had to nail my colours to the nearest mast, the kneejerk reaction would probably utter the word canyon.
however, it appears that the fashion meme goes deeper than the label on your bibshorts, or the name on the downtube, evidence for which, should such be required, was provided by an article published on cyclingnews.com from the word processor of will jones. he recently participated in what has been billed as europe's biggest gravel race, the traka. aside from the ineptitude of the naming paradigm, mr jones was wont to conclude his report by saying, "while there was a lot i liked about the traka, one thing that really gave me the ick, was that every single rider had a super fancy bike and super fancy kit.
"don't get me wrong, i love a cool bike [...] but this was different to the interesting tech i so often see at races like paris-roubaix where performance is the only goal.
"here the race hq was less gravel race and more something akin to girona fashion week. normally one would see some oversized pulley wheels or a carbon chainring [...] but things like that were so ubiquitous that they just sort of became meaningless."
i have not attended any gravel events, partly out of location, location, location, and partly because, in truth, i don't really want to. and though it may be somewhat of a sweeping generalisation, my suspicions persuaded me to reply to the friend who sent me a link to the above event report, saying "gravel is less and less about gravel and almost everything to do with fashion. like mountain bikes in the eighties. for those who were still in bobby sox or shorts in the 1980s, mountain bikes sold by the truckload during that decade of introduction, mostly on the basis of 'cool' paint jobs, anodised widgets, and because it was the fashionable thing to do. i mean, who wouldn't want to be seen aboard a bicycle with the words muddy fox on the downtube?
the truth, however, remarkably few of those mountain bikes rode over anything higher than a speed-bump.
britain is not blessed with the endless kilometres of gravel to be found in north america, yet the gravel bike is probably the most frequently purchased genre of bicycle on this side of the pond. as i type this, i have, on the arm of my chair, a review copy of the latest bikepacking publication from the inestimable, markus stitz, a book subtitled 15 gravel bike adventures in the heart of scotland. the obsession is seemingly inescapable. the recently well-reviewed sea otter cycle expo in the california revealed a substantial number of gravel bikes, many of which a gcn reporter endlessly referred to as cool, even though most were simply road bikes with greater tyre clearance, decorated in a variety of pretty, but doubtless fashionable paintwork. the imposition of front suspension engendered suspicions of the mtb revolution but with drop bars.
of course, we all know of my disparaging pre-disposition towards the gravel thing, but it does concern me that gravel seems to be sailing perilously close to the superficiality that arguably accompanies any instance of fashion. a bit like the bradley bubble cycling boom of recent years, it will be interesting to see what remains when the novelty wears off. of course, britain's potholed roads may further degenerate into disintegration, in which case we may soon all become fashion victims.
friday 9 may 2025
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................uncle pete's handmade casquettes
daniel wakefield pasley, the very man who invented the rapha continental in portland's fair town almost twenty years ago, was once very much of the opinion that the casquette (cloth cycling cap) should be worn with the peak positioned upwards, an opinion with which i wholeheartedly disagreed. it may be that our disparity of choice was heavily influenced by meteorology and socialisation, but the disparity existed nonetheless.
the pacific northwest, in which portland town exists, does have a notional reputation for being on the receiving end of substantial precipitation. after all, it's none too far from seattle, a town with an even stronger reputation for rain. however, it's hard to convince anyone that scotland's west coast is not the historical home of rainfall; along with ravaging winds, even during the sunny period currently being experienced in the hebrides, i doubt there are many who book a holiday here in order to acquire a tan. more likely rust.
the hebrides is in receipt of more rain than seattle or portland, and for the intrepid velocipedinist, it's the peak that offers succour to the brave, particularly if, like me, you wear prescription glasses. but even if your shades are of a neutral disposition, usually worn to fend off sunlight, there's still a bonus to be gained from keeping the precipitation at bay. and in the days between the onset of winter and the arrival of spring, the sun is frequently low in the sky, reflecting off wet roads. once again, the peak assists in such matters, at least partially deflecting the glare from disintegrating road surfaces.
the majority of the sunday peloton, on these shores at least, are in the encouraging habit of wearing a helmet, 'neath which, it has become customary for one or two of us to wear a casquette, occasionally undecorated by sponsors' logos, but in truth, just as likely to feature those of the professional peloton, or those of the manufacturer. i certainly subscribe to such practices, as much for delusions of flandrian attributes as pragmatism. for the above mentioned helmets are frequently replete with air vents into which all sorts of flying insects are wont to travel, corraled by the imperious velocities at which we travel (more likely driven by a galeforce headwind, but that's considerably less admirable).
hence the casquette.
but what is often seen as a simple marketing tool, either handed out by the publicity caravan preceding a grand tour, or acquired from retail to ascribe clandestine fandom of a professional wearer, has rarely been on the receiving end of specialist care and attention. the majority are one-size-fits-all, though it turns out that's not always true. for many, it's a trivial item of apparel, upon which it is deemed not worth lavishing too much attention. unless, of course, your name's uncle pete.
pete van der woude features an impressive range of highly decorous, handmade cotton caps on his etsy store. the only input needed from eager customers is a choice of fabrics and the necessary head measurement to build a custom cap free from bunching elastic and pressure points. uncle pete very kindly offered this service to thewashingmachinepost, returning a beautifully made blue casquette lined with a red and white striped fabric. i am a confirmed wearer of casquettes (peak down at all times) at all times of the year; in fact, though i would sensibly never leave home without my helmet, the same applies to a casquette: belgian winter style in colder climes, and the more regular offering at other times of the year.
uncle pete's handmade cap can be summed up by stating i more or less forgot it was there; the peak is of a dimension that is easily the equal to hebridean sunlight (it hasn't rained yet - remember where you were when i said that), but not so large that it interferes with forward vision. many of us pay close attention to the jacket, jersey and bibs worn on each ride, yet simply grab the nearest casquette when leaving the room.
time to offer the humble cap some love.
uncle pete's handmade cycling caps
wednesday 7 may 2025
..........................................................................................................................................................................................................a matter of taste
as my recovery process successfully continues, i have, once again, opted to undertake participation in activities that were once quite commonplace in my daily life. the cycling distances continue to increase, slowly but surely, though the velocity at which these are accomplished have often been embarrassingly low and relatively static. however, that is hardly the object of the exercise at present, and i'm quite happy that the numbers remain in double digits. after all, what have i to prove?
as my regular reader will be well aware, i harbour a double existence incorporating not only velocipedinal activity, but the odd smattering of percussive duties on seemingly random occasions. two such occasions arose a matter of weeks past, with the band organiser contacting me in a rather circuitous manner, not having wished to speak directly in case i was medically unavailable. i confirm that mrs washingmachinepost would have preferred that to have been the case, but it's a truism that if i refrain from pushing forward every now and again, i'll never know if i'm getting better. therefore, i agreed to two successive evenings in a local hostelry, providing my renowned yet pale representation of gene krupa.
in point of fact, the most onerous part of any gig is manhandling the cased drumset into and out of the venue; playing the drums themselves i find to be bordering on therapeutic. however, i am fortunate that not only is/was my son happy to assist, but that he is in possession of a large enough van in which to transport the drums to and from pretty much any venue on the island, always assuming his workload allows. thus, having assisted greatly with taking the drums in, ahead of gig number one, he was instrumental (pun intended) in helping me collect them again on day three, and transport them back to the croft.
this is the same lad who, until becoming a father, was happy to join the sunday morning velocipedinal throng on its perambulations of the hebridean countryside. nowadays, he cites a full order book as a reason not to pedal, but in this instance, he suggested that we drive to debbie's in bruichladdich for a coffee and a toastie prior to collecting the drumset. why would anyone say no?
keen to re-acquaint myself with the once regular sunday repast, i ordered a cheese and tomato toastie, washed down with the requisite soya latte. after all, no-one in the golden jubilee hospital had advised agains the pleasures of caffeine (though i have adhered to a self-imposed moratorium on double-espressos and ristrettos, once the common fare of a thursday afternoon respite from work). having waited several weeks to enjoy a sunday coffee and toastie, i cannot deny a certain level of disappointment when the actuality took place. none of this, however, could be laid at the door of either the toastie or coffee. it was just different, for whatever reason.
that reason became manifest over this past weekend. having ridden as far as blackrock over a week ago, a location only 5km from bruichladdich, the only sensible option (to me at least), would have been to ride to debbie's on saturday and possibly sunday, given that between blackrock and bruichladdich, there is nowhere of particular note. saturday's ride allowed me the long-missed luxury of a soy latte and a double-egg roll, all the better for having reached there under my own steam. and again on sunday. this confirmed something of which we've probably all been well aware for decades; that though evidence suggests that nothing is ever worse after a bike ride, coffee and toasties are decidedly far better after a bike ride.
this had me now viewing the civilians in debbie's in an entirely different light, feeling just a soupcon of pity for them all. for while debbie's is undoubtedly the source of the finest coffee on the island, and toasties that are every bit as good, none of those who arrived there by car, by motorhome, by truck or by van, are experiencing such victuals as they were undoubtedly meant to be experienced. however, given that this only serves to inculcate smug feelings within the sensibilities of the velcocipedinally inclined, perhaps we should just keep that information to ourselves?
tuesday 6 may 2025
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