As most cyclists know, rest and recovery is very important. And the more you do on the bike, the more R&R you will probably need........which can make things difficult! It can be a fine line between becoming faster, stronger and fitter, and doing yourself more harm than good. The characteristics of over-training are probably known to many of you, but for those who are not aware, you should look out for the following:
* Slow recovery
* Unexplained loss of performance
* Heavy, stiff or sore muscles
* Mood swings or irritability
* Loss of energy, drive & appetite
* Disturbed sleep
* Chronic injury or infection
It's difficult though - some of the above can result from the everyday 9 'till 5 drag, and what you actually need is to get out on your bike! But, it's wise to bear in mind that over-training is easily done and to keep a check on how you feel in general. For those cyclists who don't compete, it really is better to take a few days, or even a week or so, off every now and then to ensure your cycling doesn't bring you down, as opposed to up! Remember, you are cycling for enjoyment and to keep fit. For racing cyclists, most know very well the importance of R&R.
Where the line becomes less fine is when obvious injury/pain strikes - here, you should definitely employ D.C.O.R (explanation to follow). For cyclists, pain/injury is likely to be muscle or tendon damage, and knees are often a problem. Unlike runners, fractures and other "impact related" injuries are, barring a fall from the bike, very unliklely. Serious endurance runners, particularly fell runners, are a very hardy type. An excellent read on the world of fell running is Richard Askwith's, "Feet in the Clouds - a Story of Fell Running and Obsession". It's a very entertaining book; amusing, well-written and full of stories of very tough runners, running incredibly hard routes in mind-boggling times! Well worth getting hold of a copy if you're into endurance sports. The notion of C.O.R is examined in the book. Essentially, this is the mindset of some fell runners when it comes to pain/injury - Carry On Regardless. How many actually adhere to it when an injury occurs one cannot say, but some certainly do, or have done. And in some ways they have to - the challenges they undertake sometimes require it if they wish to succeed. But, in general, and for my fellow cyclists, I would advise against it. Obvious pain is your body telling you that something is wrong and you should stop doing whatever you are doing, rest and seek medical attention if required. That said, "pain" should not be confused with, for example, the feeling that your heart is going to burst through your chest on a particularly nasty, long climb on the bike (excluding the possibility that you are actually having a heart attack! Let's hope not!), or your lactic acid filled legs screaming at you for mercy. This is just part and parcel of becoming a fit cyclist. Should real pain/injury ever strike, you will know the difference and it if does, D.C.O.R - Don't Carry On Regardless!
Wishing you an injury free lifetime of cycling.
Yours
TPR
Sunday 16 March 2008
Sunday 9 March 2008
A Late Winter Saunter
Hello, fellow cyclists.
What a lovely day it's been in glorious Morayshire! No sign of the impending "Doomsday" storm as yet and plenty of sunshine throughout the day. Splendid.
I felt fighting fit this morning and was raring to go on the bike. Having done a long, steady ride last Sunday, I planned a shorter and more vigorous ride today. 25 miles or so on the lovely, quiet, country roads around and about Forres, Pluscarden Abbey and Dallas. I met up with one of my posse who's always ready for a bike ride on such a fine day. Having exchanged "Good mornings" we set about burning up the tarmac in earnest. These roads are a cyclist's dream - surrounded by beautiful countryside and rarely any traffic to worry about. The miles fly by and before long my partner in crime declares that he must head back home in order to undertake "The Big Shop", i.e. trawling the isles of Asda, Elgin with "her indoors" and the youngsters. Poor chap! No such concerns for me, and, as I bid my friend farewell, I offer up a silent prayer for his safe passage through the trolley invested fruit and vegetable section. One more sizeable hill is all that stands in the way of my obligatory post-ride soup and several, butter-laden, "doorstep" slices of bread. The mere thought of it gives my legs a fresh injection of energy and I tear up the climb like a man possessed! "What!? Explosive hill climbing in early March?!", I hear the old school roadies cry. I'm afraid so - The Pale Rider has little regard for convention (I hope my knees don't pay the price!)
Having given the legs a good work out, I decide to go for an easy stroll in the afternoon; the old railway line from Craigellachie to Dufftown. This really is a lovely walk (or bike ride), particularly on a nice day like today. It's four miles to Dufftown, but I only intend to walk less than half that. This trail makes a good, very gentle introduction to off-road biking; perfect for new mountain bikers of a nervous disposition or for a family outing on the bikes. It's a great ride on the way back too, as it's nearly all downhill and you can really belt along. But, keep an eye out for those on foot!
The old line runs parallel with the fast flowing River Fiddich and the sound of the water is ever present. Many of the trees which line the path and stretch up the valley sides are of great size. I find it humbling to stand close by and look upon such mighty specimens, many decades older than myself. The path climbs steadily towards Dufftown. Moss and tree covered cuttings rise up on either side. It's tranquil and one cannot help but be relaxed by the surroundings. There are several short paths leading off the old line to picnic benches nearer the river and these offer a lovely spot for a summer's day. Soon enough I reach the railway bridge over the river, where I've decided to turn back. Again, this is a great place to stand or sit awhile and soak up the surroundings. But, as beautiful as the scene is, something is calling me back to Craigellachie - a beer in the Fiddichside Inn! I'm soon sat by the open fire, pint and crisps in hand. It's pretty busy with locals, some of whom have clearly been in the pub most of the afternoon! But it's all good-natured stuff. Pubs like the Fiddichside are very few and far between these days and I fear that in the not too distant future they will all be gone, although I hope not! If you find yourself in Craigellachie and enjoy a pint in a real pub, call in.
On the way back home on the high moorland road, the late winter sun casts a mellow, golden glow over the Morayshire landscape. A truely wondrous vista. I hope to see you out there on the bike soon.
Yours
TPR
What a lovely day it's been in glorious Morayshire! No sign of the impending "Doomsday" storm as yet and plenty of sunshine throughout the day. Splendid.
I felt fighting fit this morning and was raring to go on the bike. Having done a long, steady ride last Sunday, I planned a shorter and more vigorous ride today. 25 miles or so on the lovely, quiet, country roads around and about Forres, Pluscarden Abbey and Dallas. I met up with one of my posse who's always ready for a bike ride on such a fine day. Having exchanged "Good mornings" we set about burning up the tarmac in earnest. These roads are a cyclist's dream - surrounded by beautiful countryside and rarely any traffic to worry about. The miles fly by and before long my partner in crime declares that he must head back home in order to undertake "The Big Shop", i.e. trawling the isles of Asda, Elgin with "her indoors" and the youngsters. Poor chap! No such concerns for me, and, as I bid my friend farewell, I offer up a silent prayer for his safe passage through the trolley invested fruit and vegetable section. One more sizeable hill is all that stands in the way of my obligatory post-ride soup and several, butter-laden, "doorstep" slices of bread. The mere thought of it gives my legs a fresh injection of energy and I tear up the climb like a man possessed! "What!? Explosive hill climbing in early March?!", I hear the old school roadies cry. I'm afraid so - The Pale Rider has little regard for convention (I hope my knees don't pay the price!)
Having given the legs a good work out, I decide to go for an easy stroll in the afternoon; the old railway line from Craigellachie to Dufftown. This really is a lovely walk (or bike ride), particularly on a nice day like today. It's four miles to Dufftown, but I only intend to walk less than half that. This trail makes a good, very gentle introduction to off-road biking; perfect for new mountain bikers of a nervous disposition or for a family outing on the bikes. It's a great ride on the way back too, as it's nearly all downhill and you can really belt along. But, keep an eye out for those on foot!
The old line runs parallel with the fast flowing River Fiddich and the sound of the water is ever present. Many of the trees which line the path and stretch up the valley sides are of great size. I find it humbling to stand close by and look upon such mighty specimens, many decades older than myself. The path climbs steadily towards Dufftown. Moss and tree covered cuttings rise up on either side. It's tranquil and one cannot help but be relaxed by the surroundings. There are several short paths leading off the old line to picnic benches nearer the river and these offer a lovely spot for a summer's day. Soon enough I reach the railway bridge over the river, where I've decided to turn back. Again, this is a great place to stand or sit awhile and soak up the surroundings. But, as beautiful as the scene is, something is calling me back to Craigellachie - a beer in the Fiddichside Inn! I'm soon sat by the open fire, pint and crisps in hand. It's pretty busy with locals, some of whom have clearly been in the pub most of the afternoon! But it's all good-natured stuff. Pubs like the Fiddichside are very few and far between these days and I fear that in the not too distant future they will all be gone, although I hope not! If you find yourself in Craigellachie and enjoy a pint in a real pub, call in.
On the way back home on the high moorland road, the late winter sun casts a mellow, golden glow over the Morayshire landscape. A truely wondrous vista. I hope to see you out there on the bike soon.
Yours
TPR
Sunday 2 March 2008
Hard Men
Greetings!
"You Tube" is great isn't it?! Is there anything that's not on there?! Okay, so the screen is miniscule and sometimes it doesn't work very well, but there's certainly plenty to entertain. Yesterday evening I decided I could do with watching something to get me in the right frame of mind for a good few miles on the bike today. Something which would make my intended 50 miles or so seem like a walk in the park in comparison. "Aha! Paris-Roubaix", I thought. A quick search on You Tube and up pops a selection of videos of "the Hell of the North" from the 1980's. Just the ticket! Feet up, crack open a bottle from my real ale collection, dish of salted peanuts in easy reach and let the insanity commence!
There's good old Phil Liggett and an "amusing" American commentator who ups the entertainment factor! Mud, pave, crazy speeds, spills, frills, blood and guts (alright, just blood). Excellent stuff! 130 miles gone, covered in mud and they're still riding at motorbike speeds. Marvel, as the likes of Sean Kelly and Greg Lemond go hell for leather after six and a half hours in the saddle. Gasp, as somehow a rider still has the strength to make a break for glory. Sit goggle-eyed as a rider punctures and just starts to run instead! Hell, almost. Hard men, for sure.
Sunday dawns......to a covering of snow! What?! Well, there was no snow in the videos I watched last night, so perhaps I'm quite justified in pulling the bed covers back over and planning next weekend's ride instead. But, then I think of that well known picture of the legendary Tom Simpson time-trialling through the snow in the 1962 Paris-Nice race in fingerless gloves and shorts, and I realise that resistance is futile. Lying on the floor nearby are my numerous thick cycling tops, warm leggings and gloves. There are no excuses. The bike awaits. "But there might be ice", I half-heartedly protest. "Pathetic!", comes my own response - it's not cold enough.
.....several hours later and I'm almost home. 50 miles plus under the wheels and I'm feeling pretty good. This morning's reluctance long forgotten. Just a few more small hills between me and a pan of hot soup and half a loaf of bread. But wait......if I do that twice more I too can call myself a "Hard man" of cycling!
"No".....I'll settle for the soup!
Yours
The Pale Rider
"You Tube" is great isn't it?! Is there anything that's not on there?! Okay, so the screen is miniscule and sometimes it doesn't work very well, but there's certainly plenty to entertain. Yesterday evening I decided I could do with watching something to get me in the right frame of mind for a good few miles on the bike today. Something which would make my intended 50 miles or so seem like a walk in the park in comparison. "Aha! Paris-Roubaix", I thought. A quick search on You Tube and up pops a selection of videos of "the Hell of the North" from the 1980's. Just the ticket! Feet up, crack open a bottle from my real ale collection, dish of salted peanuts in easy reach and let the insanity commence!
There's good old Phil Liggett and an "amusing" American commentator who ups the entertainment factor! Mud, pave, crazy speeds, spills, frills, blood and guts (alright, just blood). Excellent stuff! 130 miles gone, covered in mud and they're still riding at motorbike speeds. Marvel, as the likes of Sean Kelly and Greg Lemond go hell for leather after six and a half hours in the saddle. Gasp, as somehow a rider still has the strength to make a break for glory. Sit goggle-eyed as a rider punctures and just starts to run instead! Hell, almost. Hard men, for sure.
Sunday dawns......to a covering of snow! What?! Well, there was no snow in the videos I watched last night, so perhaps I'm quite justified in pulling the bed covers back over and planning next weekend's ride instead. But, then I think of that well known picture of the legendary Tom Simpson time-trialling through the snow in the 1962 Paris-Nice race in fingerless gloves and shorts, and I realise that resistance is futile. Lying on the floor nearby are my numerous thick cycling tops, warm leggings and gloves. There are no excuses. The bike awaits. "But there might be ice", I half-heartedly protest. "Pathetic!", comes my own response - it's not cold enough.
.....several hours later and I'm almost home. 50 miles plus under the wheels and I'm feeling pretty good. This morning's reluctance long forgotten. Just a few more small hills between me and a pan of hot soup and half a loaf of bread. But wait......if I do that twice more I too can call myself a "Hard man" of cycling!
"No".....I'll settle for the soup!
Yours
The Pale Rider
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