The new (2020) pro cycling season is nearly upon us. I know this because social media is chock full of … More
Over the course of nine northern winters I’ve spent a total of one hundred and fifteen quid on my winter … More
It’s a plod, at best. Cadence is low. Mind flitting from thought to thought, a-wandering, a depressed butterfly for whom … More
I’m not against people. I mingle with them regularly with barely any ill effects. Some of my best friends, in … More
Humans, as you probably know, have a whole range of emotions at their disposal. Some experts suggest there could be … More
The temperature was hovering around zero, and there hung a fog of frozen moisture in the air, forming droplets on … More
There’s one ride each year when everything has changed. It’s a smell in the air and just a hint, that’s … More
As I was wrestling with the neoprene of my ineffective autumn gloves, he’s let me flippin’ tyres down. It’s not logic and science, and nor is it the puncture fairy. It’s secret option number three: sabotage! What other explanation can there be?
“See what I did there,” he says, clicking down to another lower gear, “I’m really glad I’ve got thirty-two teeth … More
Three of us headed up there recently with a plan: park up, lay claim to Great Dun Fell and Hartside by bike – two of the jewels in the Cumbrian crown – and get out again without anyone attempting to serve us a “Cappuccino” made with instant granules.
By chance, about ten years ago, I acquired a bike. Nothing illegal happened, but neither did I pay for it. … More
Cyclists – at least many of them – like to prove, measure, rank, and judge themselves in relation to other … More