How wrong could I be? Things started off OK. I was in no hurry, and after a brief battle mapping a route with Bike Route Toaster I head off down the A5 to St Albans and off down the lanes to Welham Green. The sun was shining, there were plenty of other cyclists on the road. All was well. I skirt just north of Potters Bar and come in to Cuffley from the south side. A garage still stands where once was a Volvo dealership where Mrs OLN worked. I stop at the train station, refuel, and take the obligatory photo as evidence of being there (or my bike being there at least).

It wasn’t until I turned and went up that short but steep hill towards Hatfield that things hit me. The legs were never going to make that hill and I didn’t even try, instead opting to clippetty-clop my way up to the top. The road between the top and Brookman’s Park felt like I had concrete for legs, only slightly distracted by the passing of the affluent housing in Brookman’s Park. But it was short lived as I slowly made my way back to St Albans and along the planned alternative route via Harpenden. By this time my bladder is filling with sports drink and flapjacks and I am desperately looking for a public toilet (I can’t walk into a pub in Lycra) to no avail. Under the railway bridge on the north of Harpenden things get worse as the first PF visit for the bike and for this year hits the front tyre. With apathy I find an area of grass and slowly find the small shard of glass that caused the sudden loss of air and patched over the hole in the inner tube. It wasn’t long until I was back in the saddle, but despite the rest still lacking energy.

Some four hours after leaving I am back home, showered, and collapsing on the couch. How did I get this unfit?

Cycle clubs are odd things. Dunstable – I believe – doesn’t have one, but there is one in Ivinghoe and another in Luton. I’ve come across the Luton CC on my travels as they ride in a peloton of blue and white on carbon racing steeds, and usually doing five to ten miles per hour more than me. Imagine me turning up with my cheap Aldi Lycra and panniers bolted to the back? I often thought of creating a Dunstable CC or similar. No heirs nor graces, but a fortnightly ride from the centre of Dunstable to somewhere  in the Chilterns and back, but thoughts of how to best pitch this often leaves the idea on the already full back-burner. It’s difficult to pitch such an idea right as you’ll possibly get the MAMILs on carbon steeds, MTB crazed youths, shopper bikes, trials bikes, young and old, pensioners and psychopaths, or just cold waiting in Ashton Square for no one to turn up. Once on the road there’ll be a myriad of skill levels and road competencies, fitness levels, and goals. It all sounds like too much hard work.

Yesterday I was contacted through the blog by Matt who in some way is linked to Cyclingbuddy. A kind of dating site for cyclists, but without the sex or the cost of a quiet meal for two (well, at least I hope). It’s in beta at the moment and has a few rough edges but lets you put some personal details on the site that say’s, “Woo-hoo! I’m here with a bike and ready to ride.” It looks like a good idea, and whilst most of the site’s log and route mapping is more than I need (I already have Endomondo and Garmin Connect – who needs a third) the though of perhaps finding a like-minded cyclist who’s a Dunstable hill dweller may just help up the saddle miles to the level of respectable.

Interested? Take a look at Cyclingbuddies here.

Recently The Times has launched a campaign “Cyclesafe” to provide better safety for this most vulnerable of road users, on the back of one of their own being in a coma due to an accident outside of their offices in London. Whilst I fully support any campaign that looks to make things better, generally for all, I can’t help but think that The Times has waited until the proverbial horse has bolted. Had they campaigned since the beginning of popular cycling their cyclist probably wouldn’t be in a coma now (I know it’s a silly thing to do, but they have waited until one of their number has been impacted before deciding that there’s a problem).

Quiet often the answer is sought after in segregated cycling areas. Completely separated road from the cars and lorries. You know, the ones that take you down one of Dr Beeching’s former railway lines that have been converted into cycle-friendly routes. But I’m sorry, I don’t subscribe to this way forward. Whilst I have never experienced the delights of the Nederland cycle infrastructure (something for One Loose Nut’s Bucket List), my experience of UK cycleways is less than pleasant. Many are made from gravel or a pink hardcore material that doesn’t work well with 23c tyres. Fine for shopping bikes or dual-suspension mountain bikes, but not for me. On one occasion the rain came down mid-route and the hardcore softened and released fine particles of wet grit that melded into chain oil and every nook and cranny of the bike which took an age to clean. On the same day the route returned to a better tarmac covering in Welwyn Garden City, but introduced overhanging bushes from gardens just at head height for garroting cyclists, and the continual stop-start ride as at each junction from the local estates I had to give way to the motorist. In the end I resigned to going back on to the road with the cars assured that at least one of the must of grumbled under their breathe “We pay for him to have a cycle path yet he rides on my road.”

Locally I have the NCR6. Currently closed in Dunstable due to the introduction of a guided busway, but to the north I can go down Sewell cycle path. Gravel, horse poo, broken bottles, syringes, and one of those places that you know that Miss Marple would find a body one day. At the end of the path is… er… countryside. Where the NCR6 then joins the road network, but only in the form of small and sometimes hard-to-spot signs telling you that you’re on route 6. If you’re lucky it will tell you that you’re heading to Leighton Buzzard, but only if you’re lucky.

Now don’t get me wrong. I have been on some paths that buck the trend. Things are getting a little better in small pockets of the country. But I think that we have to face up to one fact: roads are not dangerous. In fact cars are not dangerous, nor are lorries, buses, coaches, or bicycles. It’s only when you add humans to the mix that that things get exciting (read ‘dangerous’). Because whichever form of road user you are, the road is safe, unless the human chooses to use it in a manner that introduces danger. Speeding, jumping red lights, talking on the phone, drunk driving/cycling, racing, or just sheer incompetence (or stupidity). As a cyclist you can minimise this risk through many ways. Change your route, ride more defensively, slow down, lights on, bright clothing, or best of all, ‘PEDs’ (Perception, Evaluation, and Decision – take out any element of this from your ride and you increase your risk of being hurt).

I could Google some statistics on road safety and cycling, and have recently been tweeting (follow me on @oneloosenut) news links that are cycling related – and most seem to make cycling seem dangerous. But new normally reports the unusual, and not the usual: exceptional weather, earthquakes, civil unrest, England football successes, and cycling deaths on the road. Most statistics will point to the same – the benefits to you of cycling far outweigh the risk of any injury that you may sustain on our roads.

So if you ride, ride some more. And if you don’t ride? Why are you reading this (oh, and go out and get yourself some two-wheeled fun)?

Wherever possible this ritual gives me another opportunity to use the bike. At the time of day everyone else is heading home and the queue off of Meadway takes and age. And with no parking area outside (except for the owner) the bike can be locked up to the bins out of sight. Hell, if I am lucky I remember to take my helmet off before they start with the scissors.

The return journey is darker and as I get to Langdale shop the Friday night fish shop car parking chaos is in full swing. Cars on the path part block the road in and out, and as I come through some herbert in a silver Astra decides that he won’t wait for the cyclist and gesticulates at me as he goes through. Red mist decends and I chase after him. Pointless in some ways, but there was always the chance that he would get caught up in traffic at the next junction. Sadly it was not to be as my quarry disappears from view. Grrr (again). I return to Langdale shops only to have another car pull out in front of me then proceed to brake hard and park his car on the path. Double grrr. I head home for coffee… or something stronger.

The ride goes well with no embarrassing sweat patches on shirt on the back or in the pits, and only the battery giving up after fifteen minutes was a concern. The company’s cycle to work rack (you can see that this was a recent introduction to the car park) was another one of those that confuses me – no matter what you do you can’t use one lock to secure the bike you can’t do the whole thing: put the bike in front wheel first and it won’t let you lock the frame; rear wheel first, you can lock the frame and the rear wheel, but not the front. Grrr. Mine was the second bike in the rack with a car park full of cars. Somehow the Cycle to Work Scheme hasn’t taken off at this site yet.

Post meeting and I’m back home, and despite the enjoyment of the ride I suddenly take a turn for the worse. Man Flu like I get aches and drowiness. Perhaps the four miles that I’ve done are too much. Four and a half miles in the bag.

Please don’t get me wrong. Relatively 2012 has been a good year compared to last year. I feel better. Better in my head. Probably just like Einstein did a few months before his theory of relativity popped out; however, the only thing that it relative to this blog is cycling and weight (or weight loss to be precise). And if I was honest with you those golden opportunities of going for a sunny ride on Saturday were exchanged for croissants and an “Oh, I will go for a ride tomorrow” only to be replaced on Sunday by sausages, rain, cold and snow.

So I think that I have two options: 1) Regroup. Rethink my strategies, goals and desires and start doing things that will achieve them; or, 2) Lower my expectations (and therefore stand a greater change of feeling the smile of success). For example, I could target a limit on watching television to sixteen hours per day. Or target watching every F1 race live (which would only require a Sky subscription).

Regroup it is then. And if you see me sitting on the couch – give me a prod.

“Two rides in one week” I hear you shout. Well yes. Somehow I managed to build up enough motivation to drag the bike out in the dark, put on some layers and a silly hat for under my helmet, and headed of for another hour of zone two riding. A good ride and nothing really to report. I rode out north of Dunstable and headed along the A505 to Leighton Buzzard where I hit 28 minutes and turned around to come back up the hill for home. As with Sunday the Garmin bleeped to tell me in a Brucey-esq kind of way that I need to go “higher” or “lower” but no Dolly Dealers to be seen anywhere.

I also had the pleasure of the Dunstable Massive as they shouted something out of their Mum’s old Corsa (MkI). As is the norm you can’t hear what they are saying.

Back home and happy Garmin tells me that the leaving temperature was 19c (just out of the house) and it hit a 2c low just before coming back into Dunstable. Nearly bootie weather.

The pre-ride preparations on Saturday were the usual: drink beer, drink wine, eat peanuts, channel hop, moan that there’s nothing on TV, go to bed late. Sunday morning comes, and as expected the only movement is from the bedroom to the sofa. Post breakfast I dress in Lycra… and return to the sofa (the theory being that if I’m in Lycra I will eventually succumb to the bike. And by two o’clock a miracle happens – the bike is brought out of the house.

Not only is it out, but I have now mastered heart rate zones and I am going to do a Garmin workout in zone 2 – improving endurance. For me this is to keep the heart rate between 140 and 153 bpm throughout the whole ride. Furthermore, I am going to cross off the first of this year’s goals – ride in a five ‘o’clock direction for ten miles (i.e. Leverstock Green in Hemel Hempstead). So off I set, three layers keeping me warm and a smile on my face.

I set off down the A5 and keeping in zone 2 is a doddle. The road is flat and not many reasons to stop. Once in Markyate things change as I head towards Gaddesden Row I get a short, sharp 120ft climb and the heart rate rises above 153 and the Garmin starts bleeping. Eventually, even with granny gear engaged, I still can’t get the heart rate back down until the top where I start a downward run and the heart rate falls below 140 and starts beeping again. I peddle faster, and the heart rate goes back into zone, but my speed is now greater than I would usually desire. And so the journey continues in the same vein: slow granny gear up-hills and mad descents. Regardless, working with the zones takes the focus and pressure of riding speed, and most of my time is spent listening to bleeps and riding faster or slow as Garmin commands.

Pleased to be in Leverstock Green I find that my front light hasn’t been flashing and the battery has died. I have a spare so change it, before a quick slurp and the ride back home – mostly covering the same roads that I came on. By far the steepest hill is the one in Markyate, and the return downhill was plain bonkers. Anyone watching from their house must have thought that there was an emergency for me to attend.

Back home I am happy that at long last I have been for a ride that was longer than around the block, and feel that I have had a long workout. Hell, I have even done 30% of the #12×100. Everything is put away but when I go for the battery pack for a recharge, it’s not there. Instantly I have a feeling that I have left it at the post where I changed it over. I jump in the car and make my way back, now in the dark, to Leverstock Green. I get there, and it’s not there. I re-trace my route back to the road and there in the road are the remains of my battery, now flat in more than one way. Now you may think it is odd to travel all that way for a battery, but this is a Hope Vision 2 Li-on Battery. A sealed (well, it was) unit with a princely price of £53 to replace. Not the smartest thing that I have done whilst on the bike. Per mile, this has cost me a little under £2. Hopefully I will learn from my mistake.

Finishing on a positive, the five o’clock ride and ten-mile distance has now been done and can be crossed off the list.

Well I would be, if it was open.

January 1 was not so much of a “no cycle” day, but more of a “no anything” day after celebrations ended at about 5am. So come the 2nd the bikes are out and ready for the year’s first ride. But with the whole family in tow (the youngest quiet literally) we head into town with the idea – not shared with any of the other family members – that we’ll pass two play areas and head down route 6 to a new play area in Houghton Regis. All was going well until we get to Grove Gardens and find that the NCR6 between Dunstable and Houghton Regis is closed due to work on the new guided bus way. Bum!

I manage to coerce the family that we’ll do the route via the industrial estate, and somehow manage to get to our intended destination, albeit later than planned. So late that we have half an hour before needing to head back home again in time for our next appointment. But the return journey was slower (and up hill) and the cold from the wind was not pleasant. Our youngest on the tag-along is cold and we split so that I can get her home quicker.

Back home and warmed up I feel a little guilty on putting the family through this, but blame the Dunstable – Luton guided bus way for ruining what should have been a pleasant ride down NCR6.