Morning climb

I arrived at the office, ready to take on my stair challenge for Lent.

Our office is on the third floor and so I've decided to get rid of my normal podcast to give me a little travelling music. 

Decided by fruit-based God of fate, my phone picked:

So far, so good. I mean it could have been much worse... trust me. But then a bad song may force me to walk quicker.

Anyway, was a little breathless come the top. And red faced. And cursing the colder weather for my thick winter coat.

But I know it'll get better.

The WTB has had an exciting day. She's been out with her mum and sister to hunt for 'the dress'. 

It has been found. Huzzah. Good news all round.

So, for the other part of my lent deal. I've chased some things for the big day and the bike. Once I'm home tomorrow night I'm hoping I'll be able to saddle up for a wee bit and get Monty some air.

Talking of the wonderful machine, I may get Monty a bell. The WTB asked why...

...

Um...

The only thing I could think of was: What else would I ring?

I think that should win that fight for now.

Surely every cyclist has one? 

They're cool, right? 

Right?

Stag daze

This weekend has been crammed with both work and play, and a couple of times these have crossed over.

As well as a rewarding day at work today, I spent Saturday walking round Oxford with my best man, my best woman and their partners.

It was a stunning day. It included pubs, a trip to an ice cream parlour (with a waffle of filthy proportions), pubs and getting stuck in a revolving door at the Ashmolean.
For those who haven't been, the city's a maze of different streets, colleges and historic buildings. AND, it's packed with bikes. My newly established cycling envy found a new playground.

Anyway, we got a fair bit sorted with notes taken and a few ales sunk.

It's given us more things to think about before the big day. The countdown, in our heads, is getting quicker. The heartbeat of the wedding is getting faster and louder every day. It's exciting.

Tonight we've looked at colours and plants. It's the small things you didn't expect, the things that sneak up, that can cause mishaps.

I think we've got all of them covered. Only time will tell...

Balancing act

If you're ever learning a new skill, then my advice is the day before you start don't have too many drinks.

Sadly, I don't take my own advice.

It has been quite a busy few days. On Friday I payed a flying visit to Cornwall to catch up with my niece before she turned two. Saturday saw me tackle some wedding bits, complete some housework, cook and fit in a small gym session with my friend Timi.
On Saturday night we decided to blow off some steam.

I don't know if this is a sensible thing or a stupid thing but we ended up playing drinking games with wine.

I know.

It's stupid.

The WTB and I didn't stumble home too late but, come the morning, the mild hangover and the extreme Thai Red Bull were having an influence on our mental state. It was cold. My head ached. Dehydration had it.

Really, it was the perfect condition to start my bike riding quest.

After struggling down to the bike store, Monty was brought up, the saddle changed (to something a little more forgiving) and I was ready for my debut scoot-weeeeee-balance session.

You know what? It was fine.

I'm not saying that within a couple of days I should be up and running but, in the words of the WTB, my balance was better than expected.

It really was fine. I can keep my legs off the floor for a bit so that's given me a bit of confidence.

Monty is a bit of a beast so I also had a go on Diana, the WTB's Dawes (see what we did there? I told you I like to name things).

Diana and Monty – together at last

Diana is a bit smaller, bit lighter and I find it easy to get my leg over with her...

Ahem

We did about and hour and while I still had some mental blocks – at one point I just couldn't get moving – I had, and this is the good part, fun.

I know it'll be a challenge, I know it'll get harder, but I could get used to this.

So next time you're hungover, dragging your body around and not making much sense, try learning a new skill.
Pick up a trombone and give it a play.
Write that novel.
Learn to juggle.
You'll be surprised how good it makes you feel.

Or just go for a fry-up.

Stepping forward

Is there a better dance than the Birdie Dance?
I've been thinking about the whole concept of the 'first dance' at our wedding and I'd like to narrow it down to either the Hokey Cokey or the Birdie Dance. Or Superman by Black Lace.
I'm not sure what the WTB will say.
I'm hoping it is yes.

Please excuse the delirium, I've got a day off on Friday after working on Sunday. It'll be nice to recharge the batteries.

Now we count down to Sunday and Monty's time in the fresh air.

The bike riding is becoming a mix of the elephant in the corner and something I feel I'm rabbiting on about. Whatever it is, the large flop-eared animal is dominating things at the moment.

To take my mind off things I'm going to the gym on Saturday. It'll be the first time in ages and I'm quite looking forward to it. It'll be something different

Then, come Sunday morning, it'll be on with the padded pants, gloves, helmet and we'll head to our top secret cycling spot for lessons.

If you happen to be passing through Cheltenham on Sunday and spot a grown man throwing a temper tantrum while covered in cuts or, if things go badly, you see a bike being thrown across a footpath, be sure to ignore me and pretend it didn't happen.

Looking back and falling down

I guess the one thing I know will happen on Sunday is that I will fall off.

I will fall off and probably be a crumpled mess on the floor as the WTB looks at the sack of shame beneath her. And she giggles. She is one of those people who find You've Been Framed! hilarious.

So, no doubt, she will find my accidents very funny. And I use accidents in the plural - there will be more than one.

While my mind is probably playing tricks on me, and the WTB won't laugh too much, I have to face the facts that falling off is part of riding a bike whether you're a learner or a seasoned professional.

I think I can deal with the pain. It'll only be a few knocks and bumps leading to scrapes, scabs and weird marks on my legs/arms/torso. But, as with most things, it's the anticipation that's a killer. If I could only have a timetable of accidents planned out, then I could prepare. "Ah 2.05pm. I'll hit my ass in a minute. Time to clench."

As I prepare to get back on the bike, I can see all those moments I fell off in the past. The failed attempts at balancing. Those times I nearly had it... and then realised I didn't have it and the ground was getting closer to my body at an alarming rate.

But with those memories are fresh thoughts of enjoying bikes. Of going on boozy rides with my brothers and wobbling back in. Ideas of riding to work. Jaunts with the WTB. Dashing round town with a long list of errands like the Sultan of Cycling. Getting fit. Being in a decent shape for the wedding.

It's time to be confident about this.

While I may still be the sack of shame on the floor, I've just got to 'grow a pair' and get back on.