I'm now working with the charity and tour operator to find another challenge instead – having put in 3 months of training already, I'm not letting it go to waste.
So… hold the donations please! For those who have already donated, please bear with me for a few days while I sort all this out. You will of course be able to get your money back if you prefer, of I can transfer it to my new challenge instead (whatever that may be).
Boo. What a shame.
GUTTED. But I will be back.
Especially compared to last week, when I hadn't been to the gym for 10 days (even though I had cycled to work and back for 5 days in between), felt knackered and found it really hard going.
Today, Liam mixed things up a bit and we've started doing 'super sets' (mixing 2 previously separate exercises into 1). So 10 arm pulls on the TRX were followed by 10 press ups (x3). 10 ab curls on the TRX were followed by 10 tricep dips x 3 (still my least favourite, hate it).
Plus a few new treats mixed in as well - like using a contraption I've always strictly avoided - you put your weight on your arms, hang legs down straight then raise them 90 degrees in front of you - legs still straight. Repeat 10 times, mixed in with 10 exercises where you are sat on the floor, legs straight in front, you lie back 45 degrees and do 10 twists with a 4kg medicine ball.
We finished with a 5 minute warm down on the treadmill, during which I was even able to maintain a conversation.
I walked out feeling energised, rather full of beans and a little bit proud of myself. Oh, and I reached a new PB (personal best) of 133 metres on the rowing machine sets of 30 seconds, with the lever thing (technical term) on level 8. Compared to last week's 126 metres, that's a big gain.
Yes, I am now a gym bore as well as a cycling bore, but I feel great. Whoop whoop! Feels like I'm making progress at last.
Now it's time to start making progress on the fundraising... oh, and yes. It's still bloody raining. Back on the bicycle tomorrow.
Or, I watch the weather through the windows at work. Right on cue at 5.30pm... deluge.
Or even better, the sun is shining, blue skies! I set off, through puddles from the previous soaking and just as I get 10 minutes from home... yup. Downpour again.
Even when I went to visit my brother in Leeds the other weekend (no bicycle)... we would open the front door.
DELUGE!
Close front door.
Rain stopped.
Open front door.
DELUGE!
Close front door.
Rain stopped.
AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Or to be more accurate, my thumb joints. I used to get a painful left thumb joint when I was a barmaid (about a hundred years ago), caused by collecting towering piles of empty pint glasses, in my left hand, supported by my left thumb. Ouch.
I've also always had double-jointed thumbs (well, until I sprained my right wrist quite badly a couple of years ago). Now I just have a double-jointed left thumb.
So I was a bit worried and mystified when my thumb joints started hurting about a week ago.
I asked a few cycling tweeters on twitter about it. And got some good advice back. Mainly to do with my posture, pressure on the handlebars and gripping too tightly.
Turns out Mr-know-it-all at the spinning class may have been on to something.
So as much as I hate it, I stand corrected.
Made a conscious difference in stance and grip today (God, I am boring myself now) but it made a real difference.
Just don't get me started on pedestrians who wait until their green man goes red, then do a dash across the road.
Really? You'd do that if I was a car?
But, after an early night on Saturday (dull, but rather essential) I shuffled off to the gym on Sunday morning and approached the dark room in the corner with all the shiny bicycle machines in it.
I sat next to a gentleman (the only guy there) who kept making helpful comments.... my laces were too long and might get caught... Had the instructor warned me about the dead weight free wheel (or something)..? I was gripping the handbars too hard...
Yes, he may have been trying to be helpful, but he was actually really annoying. Especially as I was trying to hear what the instructor was saying (seeing as she was the instructor, and it was my first time). Grrr.
Anyhow, we cycled and cycled and cycled. Very hard. And for a long time. To lots of loud music, with the instructor shouting at us. At one point, I think I had sweat actually dripping off my chin. Nice.
But the main point is, I survived! It was bloody hard work but it didn't kill me. And while I don't think I could ever call it fun, it will definitely help with the training.
Where I work, Thursdays are a now traditional boozy evening if you choose to partake - x amount of bottles of wine and beer are set out on the 4th floor and it's pretty much first come, first served until the booze runs out.
In my tiny head, booking training sessions for a Thursday means I can avoid this temptation. It also means (in reality) that come 5.15 (ish) I feel like banging my head against my desk thinking, "Why? Why did I book it for tonight when all I really want to do is have a nice (free) drink with the people I work with, when we actually get to talk about real life etc?"
Anyway, due to being away last weekend (and having to wait until payday to book any more) it has been 10 days since my last personal training session. And god did I feel it.
I was hoping that having cycled into work for 3 days last week (54 miles) and on Monday and Tuesday this week (36 miles), that might have helped, but not really.
I felt knackered before I even got there (OK, a late night last night probably didn't help) but even so... I needed more time for recovery between exercises and it just felt like a lot more hard work than last time.
Liam the trainer said I need to be going twice a week apart from sessions with him, so I need to start actually plotting time in for that. He's right as well, time is ticking on.
Mind you, he also said I am still progressing, just not as fast as I should be. (Or as well as I want to.) But silver linings and all that... managed to hit 126 meters in 30 secs on my 7th set on the rowing machine, (I started at working up to 100m on 3 sets). I can now do 3 x 12 reps of the 12kg kettle bell squats, although I find holding the damn weight the hardest thing, legs seem fine while arms go all wobbly.
Hey ho. Hoping to cycle into work tomorrow unless I wake up walking like Douglas Bader. Also a months worth of rain is predicted in the next 2 days. Bloody weather.
Feeling a bit 'bah' and disheartened with everything tonight. And I sound like a right whinger too.
My current nemesis (apart from the weather) - a 12kg kettle bell:
I stop at red lights - and zebra crossings.
I opt for quieter roads even if it takes a few minutes longer.
Yes, I wear a cycling helmet and vomit-yellow jacket. Admittedly, no-one has ever made wearing a cycling helmet look cool, but I'd rather look like a bit of a tit than have my brains smeared across the tarmac.
I sound like a bit of a cycling swot, really.
But anyway, it annoys me when I see other cyclists powering straight through red lights and ignoring people waiting to cross at zebras - they give the rest of us a bad name. (Yes, I consider myself one of an 'us' now). Not to mention the testosterone boys (usually male, sorry boys, but it's true) who barge past to get a couple of vital inches ahead at lights.
In the past week I've seen two accidents, one involving a cyclist and one involving a scooter.
The first was on Friday, in a double cycle lane, just around the corner from work. Some moron on his phone, oblivious to the world, just stepped into the lane without looking either way. A girl on a bike didn't anticipate this (why would she? She was cycling in the CYCLING lane, where she was supposed to be). She crashed straight into him and ended up on the tarmac. Luckily she didn't seem to be hurt, just shaken.
The lane by the way is green, with white bicycles painted on it, which kinds of makes it a bit obvious. If it had been me, I'd have thrown my bloody bike at him.
I was too far away from the other accident (yesterday) to see exactly what happened (I was also right in the middle of cycling across Bayswater Road so I couldn't stop), but the scooter was down, the rider was on the road and everyone was blaring their horns (because that always helps). Hope whoever it was is OK.
Be safe out there. I'd rather be a swot than a squish.
But, I felt much stronger in general and could notice the difference on the bike.
I also noticed the difference in my bank balance.
Personal trainers do not come cheap. Each hourly session costs me £44 if I book them in blocks of 3 (plus of course, gym fees). And I have roughly 4 a month which comes to around £265. Yikes. But I've found it's the best way to keep me on track and motivated.
Plus, I do still have a normal life which requires me to go out, socialise and spend money on petrol, food and boozes - and I'm ashamed to say I'm still smoking. Alas I fear the fags' and boozes' days are numbered. But this is all part of the bigger plan.
(Although I'm a bit worried about turning into a teetotal, health freak/cycle bore who no-one wants to hang out with. Mind you, I won't be able to afford to go out in a few months anyway).
This put my cycling on hold for a bit. Call me a fair weather cyclist and you'd be right. But I have my reasons...
While there are showers at work, there is nowhere to dry a towel and short of draping wet clothes around my desk (which I'm sure my colleagues would love), I'd just have to put them all back on again to cycle home at the end of the day. Bleugh. Cold, wet, clammy shorts? No thanks.
So I didn't cycle to work for around a month. It was frustrating, as it felt as though my progress was starting to slide backwards.
A few dry days towards the end of June helped to get me started again, and I cycled in 3 days on the trot. I also worked out why cyclists wear lycra - when you get wet it dries out a lot quicker, and it's also a lot lighter than soggy cotton/khaki shorts which just soak up rainwater.
My journey time is now down to 55 minutes on the way in, slightly longer on the way home. I can't work out if this is because I'm tired by then, or due to more traffic on the roads etc.
It's all the more confusing as, according to my bike computer, it's 9.1 miles on the way in (14.6km) and only 8.7 miles (14km) on the way home. How does that work?
But anyway, I'm back in the saddle again. And yes, it's still bloody raining.
Along the river to Hammersmith, past the RAPP building where I used to work (for three agencies in total: RAPP in its previous incarnation as WAVV RAPP Collins, and as a freelancer for CDM and DDB Health).
Then over Fulham Palace Road to Baron's Court, over the A4 and up to Hammersmith Road, right along up to Kensington High Street which is my least favourite bit as it gets a bit hairy with buses, taxis, traffic etc. But I can't avoid it as it takes me up to Hyde Park.
Hyde Park is, unsurprisingly, one of my favourite parts of the ride. I go past the Albert memorial and the Royal Albert Hall.
Here's Albert in all his (ahem) morning glory...
Instead of going around the park, I realised it's much quicker to go North from Alexandra Gate, over the Serpentine, follow the path around to the North Carriage Drive and exit at Albion Gate.
From there, I head North East, cut over Edgeware Road and Baker Street, then wiggle across Marylebone High Street onto Weymouth Street, then a right, then a left and past the BT Tower, before heading across Tottenham Court Road, another right and then I pick up a cycle path which takes me to Tavistock Square.
There you go, a stalkers map of my route to work.
But for my birthday at the end of April, my lovely bunch of friends clubbed together and bought me a pair of panniers, the rack that goes on the bike and paid for the bike mechanic's fee to put them all together. Again from the fab folk at Fudge & Sons.
Look now, aren't they shiny...
And to add to the fun, once I'd got past Hammersmith, on the home stretch down Chiswick Mall next to the river, the heavens opened and it started hailing with fury. At first I thought it was funny as they pinged off my cycling helmet and the bicycle bell, but rather quickly realised that they HURT when they pinged off my bare knees. OW!
It didn't all go quite according to plan.
The way in was fine(ish.) Chiswick to Hammersmith, Hammersmith via Baron's Court and Kensington High Street to Hyde Park. I went (what I now know to be) the long way around the park, then exited somewhere on the Eastern side and got a bit lost trying to weave my way through the streets behind Oxford Circus. Had to stop and consult the map a couple of times. Had to backtrack a couple of times but all in all, not bad. It took me an hour an 20 minutes which was slightly longer than I expected but hey ho.
It was the route back that flummoxed me. I naively thought I could simply take the same route back that I'd taken in, but of course, the one-way systems put paid to that. Instead, I became increasingly frustrated trying to find a safe way over Oxford Street then finding a way to turn West back to Hyde Park. It's a lot easier to plot on a map than it is to negotiate your way through taxis and buses - while also keeping track of street names, other cyclists, pedestrians and cars - when to be honest, you don't really know where you're going.
I arrived home after about an hour and a half. Hot, sweaty, tired and grumpy.
But also a bit relieved - at least I'd proved to myself I could actually cycle the distance. 9 miles each way. My legs didn't fall off. And I didn't get run over.
But after a month of once-a-week sessions, I felt stronger and fitter. I could do more repetitions of each exercise. And I needed less rest time inbetween them.
I was still crap though. I'd still emerge from the gym scarlet in the face with shaking arms, but I knew I was making a bit of progress. I hadn't really lost any weight, but I had changed shape slightly. Some wobbly bits wobbled less.
I did pretty much bugger all between sessions though. Cycling-wise, I was still pootling along the river a few evenings a week and at weekends but it was time to get more miles under my saddle.
It was time to start cycling to work...
I was expecting to be re-introduced to lots of machines I'd used previously. You know, the leg machines, chest press, treadmill, things with weights on etc.
But not really. We started with a warm up on the rowing machine (3 reps of 30 secs) and a few minutes on the cross-trainer, then we tried something a little different, involving something called TRX suspension training.
Imagine if you will, a solid metal frame, bolted to the gym floor, from which dangle lengths of straps similar to car safety belts. These are all adjustable and have handholds/hoops on the ends.
A bit like this, to give you an idea.
So, first of all, feet on the ground directly underneath the contraption, lean back on your heels, then pull yourself upright, keeping your back straight and then lowering yourself back to where you were. It's a bit like a reverse push up but you're using your own body weight to work against. Ow. That hurt.
Next up, extend the straps to about a foot above floor height. Now, on hands and knees, gradually put your feet into the hoops, position arms so that you can take your full weight on them and then straighten legs - before bending your knees and pulling your feet towards your tummy, then back to where you were. Repeat. I think I may have uttered 'OH MY GOD' after number one, as my muscles were suddenly brought straight out of hibernation. I couldn't speak after that. I think I managed 3 x 5 reps before crashing in a heap.
If my description above makes no sense, take a look at this instead. (No, that's not me, I'm not daft enough to let someone FILM me when I'm puce in the face and gasping for air). And I wouldn't be able to speak and do it at the same time.
Oh but the worst... the tricep exercises. So there is a small metal bench, about 10 inches of the floor. Sit on this, legs out straight in front and shuffle forwards a bit so that your arms are behind you, then lower your bum down to just above the floor and then pull yourself up again. And repeat. ARGH! After about 8, my arms folded. The rest I did with bent legs which still hurt like crazy. Not fun. This was officially THE WORST ONE.
We then worked out I'm rubbish at push ups, had terrible upper body strength and could barely do a sit up.
But something happened during all of this. Although I couldn't quite do as many repetitions of everything as Liam wanted me to, I started realising that actually, I could do some of them. And having someone next to you offering support, especially along the lines of 'Just one more, you can do it,' makes one hell of a difference. And even he seemed quite happy with what I'd done.
By the end, my arms were shaking, sweat was running down my back and I was bright red from the tips of my ears to my toes. But weirdly, I felt pretty good (looking back, he may have caught me during an endorphin high). Either way, I signed up for a block of personal training sessions.
So back to the (groan) gym I went. But this time, with an agenda.
I re-joined a local gym I'd belonged to before I moved away from London. Now, two very good things happened.
Firstly, I was told I qualified to re-join at exactly the same rate I'd been paying before (3 years previously), and without needing to pay a joining fee. Bonus!
The second good thing was that during my induction, the trainer, Liam, asked what I wanted to achieve. I mumbled about general fitness and wanting to lose some of the doughy bits around my middle, then casually mentioned that '... and I need to be able to cycle 400km in about... ooooh... 8 months'.
Liam didn't laugh or call me stupid. He looked me up and down, weighed me, and said 'Yep, we can do that.' And started explaining what else I needed to strengthen. (Pretty much all of me as it turns out.) Or in his words, 'The cycling will take care of the cardio and your legs, I just need to take care of all the other bits'.
All. The. Other. Bits.
Hmmm.
He booked me in for a free training session the following week.
I knew I wanted to get fit, but I didn't want to return to pre-tried (and short-lived) regimes that just revolved around the gym and/or running. I get bored with the gym very easily, and never particularly enjoyed running, although I could survive a 5km route at one point. I also wanted to stop smoking.
Looking back to exercise that I'd really enjoyed doing in the past, I remembered cycling. Rewind a little further to around 3/4 years ago, when I was living in Strand on the Green the first time around... I had a Specialized hybrid that I loved, taking it along the towpath to work in Hammersmith, to Teddington and around Richmond Park with other cycling pals, and up the Grand Union Canal from to meet friends for lunch halfway between Brentford and Rickmansworth.
Sadly, the Specialized was stolen. I replaced it with a cheaper Claude Butler which I positively hated from day one. Add in a couple of housemoves out of London and between East and West Sussex, chuck in stupidly long commuting hours that left me wiped out and... I just stopped cycling.
So I started looking for another bike. I'd moved back to Strand on the Green by this point and knew I wanted another Specialized. The fab A Fudge & Sons bicycle shop in Chiswick had ordered me a couple of Specialized Ariels to try - one with disc brakes, on with V- Brakes, so I just had to wait for them to come in. But I also knew I need a challenge to keep me interested and a target to aim for.
On Monday 12th March - a grey, cold, blustery day - I was having a quiet morning at work. So I was browsing through the Transport for London cycling website and ordered a load of free cycle maps (cheers Boris). Then I had a look through their 'events' section, which was linked to... this (scroll down to the Kenya link). And I started to get goosebumps.
But Jesus, 400km? And looking at the dates, it was 400km in 5 days. Could I even do that? I don't think I'd done any serious exercise for about a year at this point. But with a good 8 months until the trip, it should give me enough time to get my arse into gear, right?
I thought about it for a few days, during which time I bought my new Specialized Ariel (disc brakes). My first spin was from Chiswick High Road down to the river, along to Richmond and back home to Strand on the Green. In the rain. And I started to get excited about a Kenyan adventure.
So I got in touch with the organisers to find out more. My first question, perhaps bizarrely, was 'How fast can lions run, and can I cycle faster than them?' But then as my friend Matt pointed out, I didn't need to outpace the lion, I just needed to cycle faster than a few other people...
Joking aside and with questions answered, I signed up and paid my deposit on March 19th 2012.
The adventure had begun.
