One Loose Nut

…I mean. I was a DINKY. And being a DINKY seemed fine for a time. Holidays, eating out, cinema, but then things changed. And now with horror I read that I may be a MAMIL (see http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-10965608).  I can fight the first M – time is not on my side. A makes me sound like a fine red wine. The second M is a statement – can’t change that. The “IL”, whilst the butt of may jokes, doesn’t bother me. So why when I am categorised as a MAMIL does it seem so wrong?

Strangely a time of year when I thought that I would be out every night has not materialised. Even finding time to post weight updates has been hard. So with a somewhat “I don’t give a damn” attitude I blog a report of no weight loss and no weight gain, and looking at the calendar of events coming up ponder when I will get to ride the bike again. Time to win the lottery I think!

Bad day at work? Sun still shining? Then it’s back in the saddle again. This time it’s a few local towns/villages.

I head west from home, down the hill to Tottenhoe and out through Eaton Bray and the flats of Aylesbury Vale. Through Slapton and the sun’s already setting behind clouds on the horizon and it’s not long before I am in Ledburn. More of a pub than a village, and the pub looked a bit quiet too. I stop, take the photo, curse at Google as it stopped recording my route on My Tracks about three miles back, then head off towards Leighton Buzzard.

It’s not far to Leighton B. Strange place really. Not far from home, but somewhere I rarely visit. No reason to, but as I ride past through the town I respect any town that has a pub called “The Office”. You can imagine getting home: “Where have you been?” – “Oh, I got stuck in The Office love.”

There’s a notable lack of town signs around and I have already looked on Streetview to see if I could find one without success; hence the use of the bus stop board for the photo:

Leaving the town on the Stanbridge Road there are two posts where a sign once was. Perhaps someone has taken them home for some reason?

I can’t be bothered with looping back around to Eaton Bray via Billington, nor Stanbridge, instead opting for the busier A505 and A5 back into Dunstable. It’s getting dark, but it seems like a faster route back. It’s now getting darker still, lights are on, and there’s a few people clearly heading out to the pub for the evening. Me? I’m heading for a shower.

22.5 miles – 1 hour 24 minutes – 15.9 mph average – Map

PS. My Tracks reckons that I hit 54 mph. Cool – but not true (honest Mum).

Perhaps it’s that months beginning with “A” are good for me as the last time that goal #5a was crossed of the list was in April and since then it’s been strangely illusive, but for the second week in a row Mr Salter smiles at me a reports a two-pound loss and takes me back into the happy zone. Perhaps there is a link between this cycling lark and weight loss?

Next stop 12 stone…

Feeling that this 114 towns lark is never going to happen is not good for you. If I am going to do it by the end of the year I need to get used to riding in the dark or get a move on whilst summer is still here. So after work I hit the roads to Langford. What could have been an extra 10 miles on Saturday’s ride is going to be a 40 mile journey tonight. So with lights bolted to the bike I head off with my new Android OS and My Tracks – Google’s mapping software for the phone that I have been playing with.

I cut through the rush hour traffic with little problem and get onto the A6 north of Luton, down to Barton, and across country to Henlow. It rains on me a couple of times, but nothing much, followed by a burst of sun and rainbow. Quiet picturesque really against the backdrop of dark grey clouds.

I reach Langford and keep peddling. It feels like I have almost left the back end of the village before I find the sign.

I stop for a drink, check My Tracks. The stats are good: 18 mph average (moving); mileage similar to the bike computer; elevation on a different planet to my usual source. I put in a marker so that I can compare the homeward bound journey for times and head into the wind to return home.

The return ride is good, but with the failing light the nocturnal Luton Massive hit the streets in their mum’s Saxos and Focus. One, with four of them inside, pass and shout out of the window at me. I don’t know what they said. This was repeated a little while later by another with the same inaudible message. It all pales into insignificance when a brand new silver Astra pulls out from the left of a roundabout. I wouldn’t mind but I had two front lights on and reflective clothing. As I had pre-empted his move I was already on the brakes and moving wide, but close enough to bellow a “Oi!!!” through his window. I’m not too sure if his expression was one of surprise or heart attack as the driver in his 60′s continues his journey away from me.

Back home I am bemused and somewhat disappointed that My Tracks stopped recording somewhere two miles south of Langford. Bloody apps. I’ll give it another go on the next run to see how it goes.

Now with Langford out of the way there’s a few local trips that I might be able to squeeze in before the weekend ahead…

41.9 miles – 2 hours 37 – 16 mph average (cool) – Map

No. Not one related to the football season started, but another goal crossed of the list. This time it’s the number of hours in the saddle. One hundred hours in the saddle passed silently today and without ceremony. I can’t be absolutely sure where it happened as the GPS played up but it would have been somewhere on the B660 Kimbolton Road, probably where I lost half of my paraphernalia out of my back pockets onto the road. Fortunately my multi-tool was missed by two passing cars. As for the big one hundred? Well my derrière hurts today post-ride, but I think that this may be to do with the lack of riding followed by a big ride, although I could be wrong.

The day was always going to be a tough one: lots of family things to do and a deadline to be back home by 1030 or loose body parts. I want to do Keysoe and Langford as I am woefully behind on the villages for the year and clearing all by Christmas is looking bleak, but if I do the two it will be a 70 to 75-mile loop and with the aforementioned risk of losing limbs. So at 05:15 I am in the saddle with dawn only just breaking (where did the summer go?). To add to the darkness it’s been raining too and upwards rain will be a problem. It’s not long before downward rain becomes a problem too and at J12 of the M1 I stop top put on a jacket. I would like to say that it was a waterproof, but it really would not last more than a shower – it’s the added Dayglo that I need so that still-asleep drivers with windscreen wipers going have some chance of seeing me.

North of Ampthill the rain stops and I begin to dry. Bedford Burger King is still as it was over a month ago with no signs of being knocked down or repaired. In Bedford I am overtaken by a Farmfoods lorry (trailer reference T160). As we approach traffic lights and a left hand turn he decides to overtake. Now I am wary of the limited views that HGV’s have and the blindspots down the left, but this guy (or girl) passes, then turns left and can’t see where I am. I put on my brakes to prevent being a statistic and make a mental note not to shop at Farmfoods for a while.

On the road to Kimbolton it seems like a long time since I was this way cycling to Colmworth. My mind drifts into work, home, and all manner of thoughts. There’s little else to keep me entertained. Eventually I reach Keysoe.

A quick drink and check the phone. The GPS is showing Network Error. I seem to be getting this more often now and it’s either the app or Orange (or Android). I restart it, think of going to Langford, but decide that a 60-mile out and back may be enough for me today.

As I ride down the B660 I fumble around for my phone in the pocket and feel something drop out. I park the bike in front of a Driving Instructor’s Mini before running back down the road for my raincoat bag and multi-tool – both missed by passing traffic. Back at the bike it would appear the instructor is trying to find his client who is either still sleeping or has gone away for the weekend forgetting to cancel his lessons. The instructor lets me know that they pay regardless of whether they wake or not.

South of Bedford I pass a MTB’er: me on the road; he’s on the cycle path. As is the norm I offer English pleasantries but no response is forthcoming. Strange. Perhaps bike snobbery is at play. A mile later an I sense someone’s behind me. Close behind. It’s the MTB’er, still not talking but obviously wanting to mug me or overtake me. I put it onto the big front ring and pull away slowly. Very strange.

I am glad that I didn’t go for the extra town. Since Bedford my right knee is beginning to ache. I crawl up the hill before Ampthill and every incline thereafter. Never enough pain to get off, but almost walking speeds coming into Toddington. I coast down the hill to Bidwell and Houghton where I am greeted with a sudden downpour. Best part of 40 miles of drying out only to be soaked again as I am three miles from home. Damn. Still, at least I have my body parts.

59.9 miles – 4 hours 8 minutes – 14.5 mph average – Map