Glen Clova and Glen Shee

This was a brilliant trip, spectacular roads, tough hills and incredible descents. It was cut short slightly as the mountain bikers finished before us and it was getting dark. Although I'm not sure if I could have managed much more with how exhausted I was by that point.

Switzerland

Hitting the hills (and the lakes) for a few days. Smooth roads, twisting and turning, respectful drivers, tons of water fountains, and as a result its basically heaven for the roadie.

Nice

Over the Glens

Quite a new one for today. I agreed to go with Jamie to Stirling for a road ride. After much debate, we decided to not bother doing a loop around that city and then have to wait for mountain bikers, so we ended up opting to ride from Stirling all the way back to St Andrews. We were both over-confident enough to start our ride with a painfully steep hill all of 2 kilometers into our ride; with a nice average of over 9% our legs were screaming with 110 kilometers left to ride. Some sweeping and rolling hills allowed us to recover for the 3 blocks of serious climbing that lay in front of us. After skirting the A9 we started to head up into the misty glens, passing Gleneagles (the town, not the resort), and the scenery became more and more stunning. It felt as though we had been transported many miles north west, into the heart of the highlands. I always love riding somewhere new, especially when the roads get exceptionally twisty. After a fast descent through the thick cloud we turned and began another long climb deeper into the mists--these roads were incredibly quiet, often experiencing 1-2 cars for every time we turned onto a new road. After pushing relatively easily to the top of the glen we plummeted down a twisty, dirty, white knuckle descent. This continued until a quick coffee break before the spin home.

Winter Almost in the Rearview Mirror

It's been a long, snowy winter. Sorry for not checking in more often, but here are a few pics of the past months. Mud, snow, cold. Nothing too new. Managed to hit Bear Mountain for the first time, a famous training ground for NY based cyclists (including Big George when he was a kid).

Turmoil

The cycling world is in chaos. Rome (the UCI, our lovely empire) is burning. Everything is upside down then thrown in a blender to get thoroughly mixed up. At the same time, the level of work is rising while temperatures and daylight is dropping, quite rapidly. I bundled up against the wind and cold and set off not knowing exactly where I was going; a first, as I have become well-acquainted with the roads of the East Neuk. And yet, that feeling of adventure soon pervaded my psyche: light butterflies in the stomach coupled with an excitement to find hills unclimbed, descents, turns, and just roads unridden. I couldn't wait to see what awaited me; I'd picked roads that looked as squiggly as possible and hoped that they were paved; if not, at least I had 25mm tires on. I was looking to take my bike over whatever lay under my wheels, tackle whatever laid before me. Despite their polarizing nature, I think the only medium that captures this essence of cycling, this adventure anymore is the Rapha Continental. We've all seen the Tour ride up the Tourmalet thousands of times, we've all seen the peloton tackle the Trouée d'Arenberg. These are usually unobtainable for the average cyclist, they lie in far off lands to be ridden only by the best of the best. But the Rapha Continental discovers roads, routes, climbs, that are everywhere, they inspire me (personally) to go look for a new road; because maybe, just maybe, you will crack a grin wider than you could descending the hairpins of Alpe d'Huez.

Mind Games

We all (should, at least) check the weather fastidiously among other things before throwing a leg over. Plot routes, figure out how to keep the cold and wet out as long as possible, last minute tinkering with the bike. Throw the water bottles in their cages and boot up the computer and that's when the mist starts. We've been at this point frequently before: literally steps away from that first revolution before setting off and yet all the plans thrown out the window. I've changed every piece of clothing before in order to make sure I'd stay warm and something resembling dry. I've chopped off 20 miles of roads, turned around, or even just sacked the whole ride. Thankfully today just a mist, lucky I gambled on the wet weather clothing. As I spin towards the sports center, the mist intensifies, becomes heavier, until it's drizzling. Can't let down the other guys now. Get to the sports center and I realize its plenty cold with no sun. Oh well, I'm here now, can't change anything really and after I get the legs pumping and the blood flowing I'll be plenty warm. Now it's raining. Not drizzling, not misting, not damp, not humid. Just rain. And plenty of it. The roads were practically submerged at some points. The legs warmed up just as we hit my favorite little ribbon of road; quiet, rough, wet, and twisty. The perfect road can completely change your mindset: after that, it was all extensions through mud, puddles, hills all the way to a glorious cup of coffee and a warm shower.