Donna Summer, Bernard Sumner (New Order) or Anne Summers?
Sure as eggs is eggs, it's not the British summer.
On a recent ride into work, getting soaked again it dawned on me that at 08:30 on an August morning in Britain I had my lights on, my feet were cold and the sky was a bruise. On a morning like that I began to wonder why bar staff (Kiwis and Aussies) come to the UK where everything is expensive and the weather is shit.
"What not to wear" - sounds like a programme fronted by Trinny & Susannah but is in fact a debate that takes place prior to each ride. Opt for short sleeves and armwarmers, expect monsoon. Go for a long sleeve jersey and kneewarners, expect something tropical.
With this in mind Mrs H and I headed north to a bike race last weekend. En route we passed other bikers with the ability to receive a lobotomy and then ride for 100 miles on their own up and down the A19....... In the sunshine. Their turning point on the road was about 5 miles before we got to the bit of road we were due to ride on. We arrived at the race HQ, collected our numbers and then proceeded to get soaked dashing back to the car. End result, the race was cancelled due to torrential rain. It wasn't safe to race with the spray generated by passing vehicles. So we headed home, back to the sunshine to replicate the race on a static trainer on the patio in the sunshine. WTF?
I'd always loved the fact that with bike races, the race goes on. No break for lunch, no rain stops play. Think of Bernard Hinault at the 1980 Liege Bastogne Liege race (pic left) when he had to be prized off his bike at the finish cos his hands were frozen to the bars. Snow stops play, bring out the covers, let's pause for lunch.... doesn't happen.
On to Sunday morning. Get up, look out of the window and it's throwing it down. Plan for today was 1 tough hour on the bike, a 10Km race (run) at Tholthorpe and then a steady ride home. Things always look better after breakfast. The sun came out, the run was a scorcher and the tan was topped up on the ride home.
At least you know where you are with British autumn.
Sure as eggs is eggs, it's not the British summer.
On a recent ride into work, getting soaked again it dawned on me that at 08:30 on an August morning in Britain I had my lights on, my feet were cold and the sky was a bruise. On a morning like that I began to wonder why bar staff (Kiwis and Aussies) come to the UK where everything is expensive and the weather is shit."What not to wear" - sounds like a programme fronted by Trinny & Susannah but is in fact a debate that takes place prior to each ride. Opt for short sleeves and armwarmers, expect monsoon. Go for a long sleeve jersey and kneewarners, expect something tropical.
With this in mind Mrs H and I headed north to a bike race last weekend. En route we passed other bikers with the ability to receive a lobotomy and then ride for 100 miles on their own up and down the A19....... In the sunshine. Their turning point on the road was about 5 miles before we got to the bit of road we were due to ride on. We arrived at the race HQ, collected our numbers and then proceeded to get soaked dashing back to the car. End result, the race was cancelled due to torrential rain. It wasn't safe to race with the spray generated by passing vehicles. So we headed home, back to the sunshine to replicate the race on a static trainer on the patio in the sunshine. WTF?
I'd always loved the fact that with bike races, the race goes on. No break for lunch, no rain stops play. Think of Bernard Hinault at the 1980 Liege Bastogne Liege race (pic left) when he had to be prized off his bike at the finish cos his hands were frozen to the bars. Snow stops play, bring out the covers, let's pause for lunch.... doesn't happen.On to Sunday morning. Get up, look out of the window and it's throwing it down. Plan for today was 1 tough hour on the bike, a 10Km race (run) at Tholthorpe and then a steady ride home. Things always look better after breakfast. The sun came out, the run was a scorcher and the tan was topped up on the ride home.
At least you know where you are with British autumn.
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