The Sufferfest might be horrible, it might make you wish you had a better vocabulary of Russian swear words but there’s no doubting how effect it is as a tool for training. Sure, sitting on your bike inside a room, might make you look like a bit of a spaz to non-cyclist friends but we all know there’s a reason why we are doing this.

The weather has been pants most of January, and with the hectic snow and cold around at the moment, there isn’t much chance of me getting out. Thankfully those sadistic shits over at Sufferfest HQ have devised a way to burn that mid-life tire off, even in the darkest of months: The Tour of Sufferlandria

Pretty simple really: Ride 9 stages as you would do any major cycling event, but from the discomfort of your own home.

• Saturday, Jan 26th: Hell Hath No Fury
• Sunday, Jan 27th: The Hunted
• Monday, Jan 28th: Extra Shot + Fight Club
• Tuesday, Jan 29th: A Very Dark Place
• Wednesday, Jan 30th: Angels
• Thursday, Jan 31st: The Wretched + The Long Scream
• Friday, Feb 1st: The Downward Spiral
• Saturday, Feb 2nd: There is No Try + Revolve
• Sunday, Feb 3rd: Local Hero

The course is carefully balanced between agony, misery and despair. So, yes, the Tour of Sufferlandria is a worthwhile target for anybody looking for an early season goal.

I’m not due to fly anywhere during this period and the bike has been serviced and ready to be abused. Let the pain begin. Oh and how cool is that poster???

Looking back, 2012 wasn’t too bad a year. Sure, I spent a large chunk of it inside an aluminium tube, but weirdly enough not as much as 2011. On a training front, this had more impact towards the end of the year, especially seeing as I was flying roughly every fifteen days.

I had a great race in Germany, an utterly shit sportive in the UK and battered some of the most horrible riding conditions I’ve ever ridden in, doing the Rapha 500. So what changed? Well I noticed that dropping sugar didn’t give me the initial response I’d hoped for and at the same time, finally discovered that the horrible feeling I had when I ate anything with wheat in, actually was something more than just a feeling: yup suffering from Coeliac disease.

If you take that into account, it really did shake things up when it came to training and diet. All the carbs you’d usually expect to have had to be thrown out of the window. A period of exploring what worked and what didn’t ensued, and I think (touch wood), I’ve nailed it. Most gels available will destroy me in an instance, as do most of the energy drinks. I’ve pushed myself to ride on water alone for 80 kilometers, at a decent pace (28+) and then to turn to more natural highs. Biltong, dried fruit and nuts seem to have more of an effect than the sugary shit found in gels.

So where do I want to go this year? tis a good question really as I think balancing work/life and play with riding will continue. I don’t want to race, it no longer interests me. I do want to ride as much as I can, as It’s a massive stress relief tool and with my various jobs getting more and more stressful, it’s a necessity more than a luxury.

I also want to get more into MTB, something that has been itching for a while.

Here’s to 2013, no matter where you are, enjoy the ride.

That time again huh? Seems this year flew past (I guess the irony is that I seemingly spent most of my time flying in a tube rather on a set of tubes). Rapha’s now annual Festive 500 ride is a great way to force yourself to get off that tubby arse and burn off some of the fat most seem to collect during this period. My festive 500 started in Durban, whilst visiting the parentals for christmas. I had the 24th to do three rides before I had to get on a plane and head to the UK. This was the best part as the weather in Durban was amazing

33 degrees, sunshine and blue sky. It does make it easier to do longer distances but it wouldn’t last. After packing up the bike and heading back to the UK, I was greeted with a weather system that could make a hardened man weep. Last year it was incredibly mild and dry, which allowed for more enthusiastic riding, alas this year that wasn’t the case. Rain, rain rain and more rain along with winds meant it would be a struggle to say the least.

 I had to average 55 kilometers a day in order to make the target. This included landing early on the 25th, heading home and doing presents and then heading out for a quick 48 kilometers before riding to the in-laws for lunch (thankfully I have a very supportive wife). She’d already purchased the Rapha winter tights for my birthday and they were coming in handy, along with the hardshell and my mud guards.

As the conditions worsened, so did the Colnago. Full of mud, cow shit and other debris from the road, it became a squeaky ride and tested my patience. There was no point cleaning it mid-challenge, so I lubed bits accordingly and rode like a man possessed. I wasn’t aiming to do stellar mileage, I’ll leave that to the Aussies and Stefan but was happy to finish in one piece. 

Another year done, lost some weight over the period and felt great having that beer on the 31st.

Update

Rapha’s made a cool infographic with some stat porn

Easter Sunday: [√]
Shitty overcast weather: [√]
Tarmac, gravè and mud?: [√]
Riding 100km around Hertfordshire: [√]

Other than gorging your own body weight on chocolate, there isn’t much else to do on an Easter Sunday. Rapha saw the plight of many and decided to offer a social ride with a gathering at the finish to watch Paris Roubaix 2012 and enjoy beer and frites. Their homage to one of the great monuments of the sport, Paris-Roubaix, promised to be an adventure along the lanes, bridleways and dirt roads of Hertfordshire.

The weather would play a key role in this social ride. Would it piss down like every other Bank holiday?, come on.. this is England and you’d be mad to think otherwise. Heading out to Central London early, the weather was showing its face and it was wet. The start saw myself and the rest of the London Phoenix riders take shelter under a shops awning until the start. Now, some clever sods had decided it would be more suitable to ride this on a cross bike. Wise choice you say, well I was beginning to think the same whilst looking at my Colnago Master’s rather skinny and indeed slick tires.

As we set off, the pace was good and we were hurtling through North London. All was going well until we hit that first bit of bridleway. It wasn’t romantic or classic, more like bone-jolting and sliding like you were on ice. Yes, the bike choice wasn’t a good one and this might hurt. Kilometer of kilometer went by and after the fourth bit of dirt road, I was feeling rather smug, HAH, no punctures yet Daniel!

What a dick, my Hell of the North was about to begin. Going down a particular rough bit (funny, a road bike isn’t meant to go over rocks, so I was amazed how far I’d gotten), I heard the dreaded bang and felt my arse shake like nothing else. Problem is, when you are sliding down a steep decline on thin wheels, it’s not exactly easy to stop quickly.

Puncture #1: split in the tube caused by a sharp piece of rock. Hmmm, notice my saddle bag is full of water, that sucks

All fixed and off I go, well for a kilometer or more and ssssssssssssssss, arse.

Puncture #2: split in tube, caused by another sharp piece of rock, this time the split is wide and the tube is trashed. Next!

Ok, new tube, let’s do this. Tarmac, gravel, tarmac, gravel and BANG.

Puncture #3: front decided it has had enough of the abuse. By now, I notice an alarming fact that the water has indeed stuffed all my inner tube patches. Cue loads of cursing and shaking of fists, I’m down to my last tube. Look I’ve had three punctures, surely the gods of cycling won’t punish me anymore?

Thankfully Rapha’s fuel stop was like an oasis. There, alongside the sweets, Bike Food bottles and bananas, were the heavenly sights of Specialized finest tubes. Yes please gentlemen, may I take two? Feeling all smug and with a mouth full of sweets, I was back on track and hurtling down bridleways. Hell of the North, pfft what are people on about? Oh how fate can be so fickle. BANG.

Puncture #4: fucking rocks, my rear tire now has a lovely split in it. Cue me using some of the now wet patches to act as a barrier, I soldier on.

Right near the end, we were supposed to make a loop over the highway and then turn back on ourselves to head to the pub. SSSSSSSSSST, are you fucking kidding me????

Puncture #5: Rear tire now has two gashes in, about 8mm long. I use a bit of plastic bag I find next to me and do a Macgyver (I’m rather happy with myself at this point, you have to laugh I guess). Whilst I’m busy repairing the problem, Rapha’s kind photographer is taking pictures. Then, as I look at the back of my seat, where the seat bag should be, I notice a void. It has decided to abandone ship too.

Five kilometers, 5000 meters is all I needed to ride to get back. I’ve got no tubes left, no patches and my multitool has now gone awol. Honestly, going over that last bit of gravel wasn’t the best part of the day, so when the sign for 1 Kilometer was seen, I was ecstatic.

A fistful of frites and beer was waiting, enough motivation for anyone. Whilst the punctures were a bit mad, it didn’t dampen my spirits at all, in fact it became more hilarious as they racked up. Seriously, 700cc road tires are not meant to bounce over rocks and gravel, no matter how good the tires are. The Colnago rode like a dream, steel is real and my god did it take a beating.

Rapha, hats off to you, you pulled off one of the best social rides I’ve ever done. Pure brilliance and a big thanks to all of the team involved.

Next year, it will be on a mountain bike!

Update:

Those kind folk at Rapha decided I was the winner of the most punctures prize. My prize, the weight of a small child in chocolate!

brilliant

As I sit here in the Mallorcan sunshine, legs feeling a bit tender, it’s been a great week to ponder about. The weather has been great, as you’d expect for this time of year in this region and this resulted in some truly epic rides being ridden.

Sure, it’s a training camp, so you ride hard and long and aren’t expected to take up much of the atmosphere whilst in the saddle. But the problem is, you do and you can’t escape from it. From the bastard climbs of the Colobra to the Puig Major range, you are bathed in some stunning landscapes.

I feel like my strength has increased, especially in the areas I felt I was weak in. That’s the benefit of riding/training in Mallorca, you have the three main areas of cycling available to you: Mountains, flats and descents.

In total for the six days, the tally is impressive:

720 kilometers ridden, 6242 meters climbed and a stupid amount of time spent in the saddle.

Riding with a great group of incredibly strong riders helped, as there’s nothing like a bit of competitive spirit to make you push yourself, even when you are knackered. So if you are thinking about doing a training camp, I can wholeheartedly recommend it.

The way the Spanish embrace cycling and indeed cyclists is nothing short of inspiring. It makes you want to ride and you feel safer doing so. If only that was the case for other countries.