Happy Christmas!

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
Mark Twain

I should live more like this.

We set ourselves some rules as follows:

• all the named lifts on the trail map must be ridden (this rules out the tiny travelators in the learner areas, but includes every chair and T-bar)
• closed lifts can be ignored, but you can’t choose a day when you expect half the lifts to be closed due to weather
• lifts must be ridden all the way up but if there’s a midstation you can ride it in two halves (if you fall off a t-bar or button lift, this still counts if you’ve had three decent shots at it and as long as you get out of the gate)
• downloading on the lift doesn’t count as riding it
• throughout the day, a trail of each colour must be ridden (green, blue and black – Canada doesn’t have reds)
• a photo must be taken at each lift, including all the riders participating (except for the photographer)
• no splitting up to cover the lifts separately

Whistler Blackcomb is the biggest ski area in North America, but these rules are achievable. Modifications may have to be made for the larger areas found in Europe.

At Whistler Blackcomb it’s possible to purchase a Fresh Tracks tickets which gives you early access to the mountain and a buffet breakfast in one of the big restaurants on the hill. We decided this would be a fun start to the day and we were right. The breakfast was good and it felt really great to be in the mountains so early. The light was beautiful.

We headed off from breakfast a bit late, but kept up a good pace throughout the day. Some of the runs on Whistler were closed still from the Olympics, which meant our route wasn’t ideal. This is the route we took with times of when we got on the lifts.

Whistler Village Gondola (7.30am, followed by breakfast)

Olympic Chair (9.02am)

Garbanzo Express (9.14am)

Emerald Express (9.31am)

Harmony Express (9.46am)

Symphony Express (10.11am)

Harmony Express (10.34am). Again. We would have avoided the duplicate using a different route if more of Whistler were open.

Peak Express (10.50am)

Creekside Gondola (11.35am)

Big Red Express (11.47am)

Peak 2 Peak Gondola (12.12pm)

Glacier Express

Showcase T-bar

Horstman T-bar

7th Heaven Express (1.28pm)

Jersey Cream Express

Catskinner Chair (2.08pm)

Crystal Chair (2.39pm)

Excelerator Express (2.58pm)

Solar Coaster Express (3.11pm)

Magic Chair (3.33pm)

Wizard Express (3.44pm)

Blackcomb Excaliber Gondola (4.04pm)

The top lifts on the hills close at 2.30 and 3.00 and the bottom lifts close at 4pm. Note that we got on the Excaliber Gondola at 4.04pm. This meant we were thrown off the lift at the midstation, which according to our rules meant we FAILED! We failed literally by half a lift and a matter of four minutes. We certainly wasted that time in multiple locations, including getting our photos taken at the top of 7th Heaven (doh!), so we know we could have done it.

That said, we did get some nice photos, and we did get on every lift in one day.

My highlight was probably the last hour when we thought it highly unlikely we would make the last lift in time but picked up the pace to try it anyway. Our legs hurt like hell, but our spirits were high. Catherine also liked this part of the day because we did a lot of long continuous runs without stopping, despite hurting so much. Sarah’s highlight was wearing her tiger ears and the amount of joy she brought to us and people we saw on our travels.

Good times.

Exceptions to this are when I’m ill enough to not go to work, or for big events such as long-lost friends coming to town, family birthdays etc. Balance is important as well.

And I wish I could get the same rhythm with developing my running. That one’s tough for me.

This is the one Sarah made:

And this is the one my mother (and I) made:

I laughed very hard. More pics on Flickr.

me: excuse me, are you stealing that bike?
- he looks at me blankly
me: hey, are you stealing that bike?
him: what are you saying?
me: show my your key then.
- he starts to pull away on the bike. I follow him.
me: what are you doing? You’re stealing that bike. Give it back. Get off.
- he keeps moving.
me: hey! that’s someone’s bike. You’re fucking stealing it. Get off it.
- he keeps moving and I follow him into the road. I push him and he doesn’t fall but he gets sort of trapped, on the bike, against a bollard on the side of the road. He hits me, on the arm, I think.
me: give it back! You’re stealing that.
His friend, shouting from up the road, on another bike: hit her in the face.
- He looks at me like he’s considering it, but won’t do it.
- I realise I’m carrying my lock.
Me: Give it back.
- I hit him on the arm with my lock. He grabs my lock, but doesn’t take it off me.
His friend: hit her!
- I realise there are a group of friends and they are cycling towards me.
One of them says: get her bike!
- Another one kicks me as they cycle past. I get distracted and head for my bike. They escape.

I get back to my bike and a guy comes up and says he just told Waitrose security about the kids and they said the bike racks weren’t their responsibility.

A woman with a bike says I shouldn’t have confronted the kids. What if they’d had a knife?

I swear about Waitrose security. I swear about the kids and the pure front of stealing a bike in front of everyone.

A woman in a car says she saw the clippers the kid used.

The woman in the car drives off. The man who spoke to security goes back in the shop. The woman who told me not to act locks up her bike and goes into the shop.

I get a bit shaky and scared and want to cry. Adrenaline. I decide to not hang about, as those kids know exactly what I look like and exactly where I am. I head off and a couple of minutes later I pause for a moment to cry as the adrenaline rushes through my body, before cycling home and emailing Waitrose about their security policy.

So.

Was I right to confront potentially dangerous kids (a group of about 5, probably about 16-years-old, I would guess) when they were obviously breaking the law?

Or, from the other perspective, why didn’t any of the other people intervene to help?

I am fairly certain that about a year ago I would not have acted with such confidence and aggression, although I think I would have said something. It was obviously not what the guy was expecting at all. I attribute this change to my taekwondo classes. I was not phased by being hit or kicked at all – far worse happens in class – and the way I moved towards him, shouting and assertive, was, in retrospect, very similar to how we are taught to attack when we do sparring training.

And do I think I did the right thing? Yes, I do. But I worry what would have happened if one of those kids had actually gone for me seriously. I had wrongly assumed that all the other people there would help, or in some way protect me from serious harm. I’m now not so sure that would have been the case and that depresses me perhaps more than anything. Those kids thought no one would do anything, and I think they would have been right if I hadn’t acted. They don’t need to carry knives. They just have to have everyone else think they are and they can do whatever they want.

The lead up to the tournament all started a few months ago when a couple of people in our club suggested we could compete in the sparring competition and said that they were keen. With the dutch courage of a pint inside me after a good training session it seemed like a great idea and we all started to talk seriously about who would go and what it might be like. The timing of the tournament meant that Sarah wouldn’t be able to train properly for the sparring and would be going straight into a heavy couple of weeks at work immediately after, so she opted out of the sparring, but decided to enter the patterns competition. (Sparring is like fighting, and patterns are set combinations of moves that help you train and demonstrate your technique.) Of the rest of the club, one of the blue belt men decided to spar, and another yellow belt woman decided to spar.

In the weeks leading up to the competition we started to train for it, doing things we’ve never done before. I had never really worn body armour before, and certainly never tried to spar. Most of the work we had done that was similar was very controlled with pads – for example working in lines while one person holds a pad and the other person kicks the pad. The first time we put on body armour and actually started kicking each other I was shocked. I was suddenly completely out of my depth and I hated it. It’s not normal to have someone kick you, and it’s not normal to kick someone else, and the whole thing made me feel inept, unfit, physically shocked, and like I wanted to run away from the whole thing. After that first hard session I gave it some serious thought. Was this what I really wanted to be doing? I decided, though, to give it a few weeks. I’d had over a year of taekwondo training, and enjoyed nearly every moment of it. A couple of weeks of hating it (if I continued to hate it) would be fine, and I needed to give myself a chance to see if I could do it. To me, this decision was crucial. On some level I was already committing to the tournament, even though I had still not said I would go.

The following week was hard as well, but easier than my first shock. I don’t know if my partners were gentler with me or if I was already getting used to the experience (I suspect a bit of both), but after that lesson I mentioned my reticence to my instructor. He pointed out to me that it’s sometimes good to go outside your comfort zone, and I found that really useful. It reinforced the idea of the challenge, but I was still scared that this was maybe a move too far.

As the next three or four weeks went on in the lead up to the tournament I realised that the challenge, for me at least, was twofold. On the one hand, this was a simple physical challenge about technique, speed, fitness and awareness. On the other hand, it was very much a mental challenge of overcoming fear, embracing the experience, and committing to trying my best. I signed up for the tournament and tried to succeed in both areas, training harder and concentrating on thinking positively and without fear about the experience that was to come. Lessons were tough, with some good sessions and some sessions where I felt I would never be ready, but as we all trained together I felt more and more supported by the club as a whole and my instructor. It felt to me as if I was being given a platform from which I could do my best, and it was my choice about how to perform and how hard to push myself. As we trained I also began to really see the sparring as a demonstration of all we learn in class – a coming together of the kicks, the fitness and speed that we train for, and in a sense a really great test and application of that training. I was surprised to begin to enjoy the sparring in its own right for those reasons.

When the weekend of the tournament came, we all travelled to Glasgow on Saturday and spent the night in a hostel ready for an early start on the Sunday. The day was structured with the pattern competition first in the morning, followed by the preliminary rounds of sparring, with the finals after lunch. We weighed in and milled about until we were let into the hall, which was laid out with three sparring rings along the length of the hall, and benches all the way along and up the wall where we could sit and watch. Sarah was up first from the group of us. She was confident and ready for it, having had some last minute practice with our instructor. She was called up and did her pattern with three of the other eight people competing at that level. She did really well and got a bronze medal!

I was next up out of the group, having been drawn before the other two for the sparring. One of the drawbacks of being a woman is that the categories for sparring are decided by weight only, rather than belt colour and weight as it is with the men. This is because not enough women compete, I think, but it results in the circular effect of not many women competing at lower grades because the chances of being paired with a black belt are quite high. And, indeed, that’s what happened to me and to the other yellow belt woman from our club who competed. The sparring works in three rounds of two minutes each, and the first person to reach 12 points, or 7 ahead, is the winner. One point is allocated for each significant kick to the body, and two for a kick to the head. (We wear lots of padding – head protector, gum shield, body padding, arm guards, gloves, groin guard, shin guards and feet protectors!)

As my turn came around I warmed up and got some last minute advice from my instructor. In the event, that advice flew from my head as the adrenaline kicked in. We both entered the ring and bowed, then prepared to spar. The referee told us to start, and we went for it. My memory of it is incredibly vague. I remember making contact with her, but my first clear memory is of her kicking me on the left side of my head. It knocked my head sideways but didn’t knock me down, and I remember thinking I was ok and I would not show any fear or reluctance to carry on. And, in fact, I didn’t feel any fear or reluctance. The referee counted to eight as they always do when someone has been kicked in the head, and I glanced at my instructor who signalled to keep my guard up, which helped me refocus, and we carried on. I think I restarted fairly aggressively, but didn’t manage to make much of an impression, and the next thing I remember was another kick to the head, this time to my face against my mouth. Again, I was shocked, but again I was ready to come back, but at this point the fight was stopped because my opponent had reached seven points and I had failed to score at all! We bowed, shook hands, and I shook hands with her coach, who said something encouraging, and that was it. All over in about 90 seconds.

As I walked away from the ring I found it difficult to talk and a few moments later found myself with tears streaming down my face – not from pain, but from the combination of the adrenaline and the shock of having someone kick me in the head for the first time ever. It was really pretty embarrassing! And that was it for me. A month or so of training and it was all over in 90 seconds. But the others were still to come – we could only watch and cheer them on. They both did really well, but didn’t get through to the next round, which was disappointing.

For the rest of the day we watched the sparring and saw some amazing skill, especially in the finals. The day was rounded off with the medal ceremony. Sarah got her bronze medal, and the other two who sparred also got bronze medals because of the way the numbers worked out. I didn’t mind not getting one because I was so pleased with what I felt I’d achieved.

It might sound weird, but even though I failed to get through even one round, I felt incredibly proud of myself. I had been terrified of sparring, and hated being kicked, but trained and faced that fear so that when a large black belt woman kicked me the head I was ready to come back for more, and not back down. I may have lost on the day, but, with the support of my instructor and the people in my club, I certainly won a big fight with myself over that month or so.

The bike specs say that the bike can be fitted with SKS MudMax/Xtradry mudguards but I didn’t want to do this because I wanted to fix a rack to the back for a bag, and I wanted to protect more of the frame from mud, and I’d also heard that the front mudguards that fit to the frame rather than over the wheel are not that useful.

Initially, I wondered if I’d really need mudguards, but one rainy day in London soon put me straight on that – I borrowed Sarah’s bright yellow jacket and when I got to work it was covered in mud. I have inadvertently tried several scenarios, so let me share them here. As I see it, there are three main criteria for success:

1. The mudguards must stop me getting covered in rain and mud etc. from the road
2. The mudguards must fit the frame
3. The mudguards mustn’t get in the way when the bike folds

There’s an additional factor which is, of course, that it would be nice if the mudguards were in keeping with the look of the bike.

Raleigh Flinger Clip on Mudguard

At £6.99 my first attempt and an emergency first purchase.

1. Rain protection: Better than nothing, but not enough protection. Nothing at the front = wet legs. No protection for the frame.
2. Frame fit: Not really an issue, but it could go further back, to give better protection.
3. Folding: Doesn’t get in the way at all.
4. Other things worth mentioning: Mind bogglingly easy to fit and looks in keeping with the bike.

SKS P65 Chromoplastics full mudguards

By far the most expensive option (£26.99 ish), and considered the best mudguards available. The P65s are very wide, but that width is right for the Big Apple tyres that the bike comes with.

1. Rain protection: Really good protection.
2. Frame fit: Yes, fine.
3. Folding: They don’t really get in the way, but the pedals hit the front guard a lot and scratched it up quickly. The guards don’t like taking the low level punishment that the bike takes when I fold it and haul it into my cupboard at home.
4. Other things worth mentioning: They took a couple of hours to fit and were a bit of a struggle to get right. I’m not great at that stuff, but I’m not awful. I didn’t take to them at all. I became convinced that the mudguards were rubbing or affecting the bike’s performance (I now think this was just me being tired and all in my mind), and I didn’t like the way they looked. It felt like I’d put a leash on an excitable, fun puppy and it felt cruel!

Blackburn MTN1 Rack

It’s just a rack, and I use it for my pannier, but it has a shelf which claims to be usable as a mudguard. I tried it.

1. Rain protection: Minimal. Obviously it doesn’t protect the frame at all, and it didn’t protect me from the wet on the road enough. Nothing at the front – wet legs.
2. Frame fit: Yes, fine.
3. Folding: Doesn’t affect folding.
4. Other things worth mentioning: It’s a nice, light rack that I think looks ok with the bike.

SKS Adventure Set

My current choice (£9.99), in conjunction with the rack.

1. Rain protection: Good at the back, and ok wrap around to protect some of the frame. I have not managed to fit the front guard yet because…
2. Frame fit: The front guard’s bracket requires the guard to come a long way from the wheel (unless I’m missing something obvious), which means it would hit my front foot and also clash with the lock I carry under the bike frame. I need to work on getting this to fit, but if I can manage it, this one may be a winner.
3. Folding: Just the rear so far, and it doesn’t affect folding at all. The front might be a different story.
4. Other things worth mentioning: I’ve had to tape it to the rack because it kept hitting it as I rode and the noise was driving me bonkers. I think it looks pretty good on the bike.

SKS Beavertail

I’ve not got these but I was passing a load of locked-up bikes the other day and saw last year’s Jack sporting a set. It looked like a good fit, even on the front wheel, but it’s impossible to tell if they worked out of the box. If I hadn’t already tried all these other options, I would try the Beavertail.

Hope this is useful to someone. It would be good to know the expense of three sets of mudguards can be spared someone else!

Joes Kitchen

Next to Borough tube.

Probably the best of the bunch, with Cantina a close runner-up. Pancakes are pictured above. This has a nice diner feel to it and a clean, wooden decor. It’s not cheap, but is the cheapest of the places we found! Importantly, the pancakes tasted good, and were nearly what I was expecting from a stack of pancakes. I got two decent sized pancakes, with the right amount of maple syrup and some powdered sugar on top. Decent coffee and excellent orange juice.

The Garrison

Bermondsey Street

This is a gastropub with a bit of attitude, and normally Sarah and I stay well clear. The pancakes were actually one large, thick pancake cut in four, which I still think is odd, but it was served with clotted cream and maple syrup, which worked well. The coffee was ok, and the orange juice was great.

The Table

Southwark Street

The most disappointing of the places visited by far. I had high hopes because it’s a cafe in an architecture firm, and I was expecting to enjoy the venue and the food. The pancakes themselves were WAY too sweet for my taste and the venue is a bit soulless. The pancakes were actually one huge, thick pancake and toppings were already on the pancake and also too sweet. I had bacon, caramelised banana and maple syrup (all in one), and could only manage about a quarter of the pancake. Sarah had yoghurt with fruit and chocolate pieces. The yoghurt and fruit were sweetened and Sarah managed to eat half of it. Coffee was ok, and the orange juice tasted like it had been sitting there a while.

Cantina del Ponte

Butlers Wharf

I think it’s Cantina, or it’s one of the other posh restaurants down that same stretch of river… anyway. They don’t actually do pancakes, but do amazing, I mean amazing, hotcakes. They are served with maple syrup and just perfect in every way. The coffee and juice were good, too. The only downside was that it’s a but posh for us, but they served us and were very nice about it, too. Get there early because they stop doing breakfast at about 11.30 so they can make way for the lunch crowd.

Of those suggested, I dismissed Creme de la Crepe on Green Dragon Court by Borough Market because I was after pancakes for this research (but it sounds good for other purposes) and Giraffe, because it’s a bit of a trek from my flat and doesn’t sound nice enough to bother making the journey.

I still want to check out Tinseltown in St John St, EC1, but I need to lose some weight first. The research has taken quite a toll on my waistline!