Goodwill balance in the black - for now

When I said I'd written off December in that last post I didn't seriously think I'd do nothing else of any value for the whole month but that's pretty much what's happened.

Apart from a solitary (and rather uncomfortable and dispiriting) visit to the gym two days ago I've done nothing to maintain fitness, let alone improve it. And I've done plenty to reduce it, as symbolised by Grandma Caunt's most excellent home-made jam tarts, pictured above, consumed by the plateful on our Christmas visit to Sheffield. So 2 January really is going to be square one.

The weather has made it very hard - after the snow we had compacted ice and sludge for several days, followed by icy rain for what seemed like weeks on end - but it would have been relatively easy to go to the gym more and there's always the turbo trainer... But having decided that January marked the official starting point for both training and fund-raising it just felt beyond me to exert myself before then.

There's another factor too: when I'm training three or four times a week - even more as the ride approaches - my absence is going to be very noticeable. This ride is going to ask a lot of my wife Rachael thanks to the childcare implications of dad going AWOL so often and she didn't ask for this extra burden. So being visibly around for a while isn't such a bad idea at the moment.

I suppose you could say I'm building up a feeble positive balance in the goodwill bank before I go woefully overdrawn for a few months.

How fragile we are

We're snowed in! Brighton and Hove has become a winter wonderland, a sparkling playground for children of all ages...or an icy deathtrap, depending on your point of view and your age - or your job I suppose.

The kids have been deliberately falling over at every opportunity, charging around without a care in the world, their little eyes alight with innocent pleasure. We on the other hand, have been tutting at the council's apparent reluctance to grit any road that isn't a motorway, and at the idiocy of anyone driving at more than 15mph. We've also been falling over.

Two evenings ago we were on our way to some friends for what promised to be a boozy pre-Christmas get-together and decided it would be irresponsible to get there any way other than on foot, not only because we wanted to keep as many cars off the road as possible, but also because we wanted the kids to be knackered so we could have a good time without worrying about keeping them entertained for hours - far easier to wear them out beforehand and let them slump, exhausted in the corner while we caroused with our mates.

So the thinking was definitely sound, but we didn't take into account just how slippery it would be. We were making our way carefully down Terminus Road near Brighton station when we hit a patch of glassy ice on a steep corner. I got there first and could tell I was going to fall over several seconds before I actually did. Both legs went from under me and there followed a seemingly endless spell of frantic flapping, involuntary exclamations and wild-eyed terror before my back hit the unforgiving pavement. I was wearing a rucksack that contained two bottles of wine and my camera's flash unit. My first thought was that I'd broken my back, my second was that I'd broken the bottles and that shards of deadly bottle glass were now working their way into my lungs, and my third was that I'd smashed my £150 flash unit. I think I had the thoughts in roughly the appropriate order.

Luckily none of my nightmare scenarios unfolded - I was merely winded. But it could so easily have been worse. I have a history of lower back issues and it did cross my mind when signing up for this ride that I could be tempting fate a bit by committing to such a stern physical test, but I signed up anyway, determined not to be restricted by something that's thankfully not had a huge part to play in my life for several years now (I'm touching wood furiously as I write).

That could have been it though. The big dream of the coming six months could have been up in smoke just like that, before I'd even got started properly. I wonder how many people plan things like this and never get to do them because of silly accidents like the one I had the other day. Pointless dwelling on it really I suppose.

In other news, I've pretty much given up on the training for December. Thanks to the weather and hangovers and seasonal illnesses and festive tendencies I've not been out on my bike or into the gym for nearly a week now. I'm drinking almost every day too, not to mention eating far too much. So when the new regime kicks in on 1 January (well, 2 January actually - we have a tradition of going to the pub on new year's day to toast the night before and the year ahead) it's really going to feel like starting from scratch. But that's okay - it would feel a bit odd if it wasn't like that really.

Chocolate peanuts, burgers and booze

I seem to be heading in two different directions at the moment. Yesterday I went back to the gym after a few days off because of a bit of a seasonal cold. And today I went for a brisk ride around one of my regular loops - 20 miles at 17mph - but then strode straight into the pub with my wife for a pint of Harvey's and a cheeseburger lunch.

After a few hours' digestion time I tucked away the best part of a bag of Marks & Spencer Belgian chocolate covered peanuts, which left me feeling slightly nauseous, although not quite nauseous enough to put me off the prospect of a celebratory bottle of beer in a little while to mark the end of the week - probably accompanied by a few fistfuls of peanuts - and a couple of glasses of wine with my supper later on. I can feel my liver shrivelling at the very prospect...

Try as I might (and to be honest I haven't tried very hard) I've always found it impossible to control the consumption lust that hits at this time of year. I'll lurch from one rich meal to the next between now and the new year, pausing only to drink more booze than is good for me and momentarily reflect on how much nicer it might be to wake up not feeling hungover and slightly toxic (that sounds a bit like Sandy Toksvig doesn't it? Let's leave her out of this). But that never derails me for so much as a moment.

A few years I used to worry about this seasonal loss of control but I don't any more, both because the excesses aren't quite so excessive these days and I generally lay off the booze altogether in January - so that's alright then! Just as well the training proper doesn't start until 1 January.

The other challenge

Preparing for this ride is going to stretch me in ways I've probably not yet come close to imagining. At the moment I can't conceive of how it would feel to ride back-to-back 100+ milers on consecutive days (which is the level we need to get to in training), never mind six 140+ milers on the trot. But the gradual accumulation of endurance fitness is a wonderful thing. What seems impossible today can very quickly become easy within a surprisingly short time. Before I started cycling seriously my best mate Simon told me he'd started covering 40+ miles in rides. I couldn't imagine covering such a distance in one go and thought I'd never reach that level, but within just a few weeks of building up the distances - mainly off-road chugging along the South Downs Way - it became not just possible but relatively easy.

The same goes for the 100-miler I did earlier this year. I started off being comfortable with rides around the 40-50 mile mark and built slowly from there. One of the things I did to build up speed a bit was to head to the local cycle track (in Preston Park, Brighton, just up the road from me) and do a bit of interval training. I started doing three minutes at tempo pace (a pace that's near the top of your aerobic capacity, so you can sustain it for a while but not particularly comfortably) and then recovering for three, then another three at tempo pace and so on. It was incredibly hard work the first time I tried it, but within a couple of months of doing this just once a week - along with road rides at least once a week - I was able to sustain that tempo pace for ten minutes, then 15, then 20. Along with the road rides and the occasional bit of hill work, this set me up perfectly for the big ride and I didn't really feel physically challenged that day until we were at least 85 miles in.

So yes, I know it's going to be possible to rise to the physical side of this challenge. But there's another side too: raising at least £2000 for the Bishop Simeon Trust, the charity that organises the race. I know it'll be relatively easy to raise the first £500 or so of that through hassling friends and family - maybe even a bit more as this is in such a different league to anything I've tried before - but raising the rest will be a different story. To do that I'll need to persuade strangers to part with their cash and that's never easy.

I've set up my page on Virgin Money Giving and if you fancy getting me off to a flying start then please feel free to do so - you'll be able to read this blog completely guilt-free for the next six months if you do! But it's going to take more than a few words on a blog to hit that target and I'm feeling just as daunted by that as I am by the physical challenge at the moment - perhaps even more so because I don't yet have the foggiest about how I'm going to do it. I've got some time to think about it because I don't intend to make a noise about this until at least the new year, but I know the time's going to go very quickly so my fund-raising thinking cap is officially now on.

Hello torture my old friend

I went to the gym again yesterday for my induction session, which was relatively painless and really quite inspiring - as they tend to be I suppose.

My instructor's name escaped me so many times it became awkward asking for reminders so I've given up on that one, suffice to say he was a very nice young chap who clearly knew what he was talking about. I'd taken a list of priorities suggested by my personal trainer mate Neilon and the instructor (let's call him Troy for the sake of convenience) seemed happy enough to use Neilon's list as a framework. An hour later I emerged with the following list of exercises:

• Kettleball swing
• In to outs (using a machine to rotate the shoulder muscles)
• Out to ins
• Side plank
• Plank
• Swiss ball bridge (not elegant)
  
• Superman (where you kneel on all fours and extend opposite arms and legs simultaneously..it's a core strengthener)
• Press ups
• Chest presses
• Bent over row
• Cable row
• Shoulder press
• Tricep extension
• Kettleball squats
• Kettleball lunges

I tried all of these briefly when Troy was explaining what I had to do. I then did one full circuit, with just a single set of each exercise. It all felt reasonably within my capabilities (with one or two notable and slightly embarrassing exceptions - see below) and I went home feeling inspired and determined to fit in two visits to the gym each week from now on. For the record, I used the scales in the gym on my way out and it seems I'm almost exactly 13 stones, which is about 82.5 kilos. Let's see how that changes over the coming months.

I mentioned that there were some exceptions, the most excruciating one being press ups. I don't think I've done a proper press up for about two decades and I very much doubt I could manage a single proper one right now. I explained this to Troy with just a hint of pink in my cheeks and to his credit he didn't look stunned or burst out laughing, he just showed me some slightly easier options - starting with using a bench, or if that was too hard using the window sill, or if that was too hard using the wall, instead of the floor. Having to rely on these lesser options made me feel slightly emasculated in that room full of pumped up young muscle-heads but one has to start somewhere I suppose. When it came to actually doing the press ups during my circuit I could still manage just ten on the bench, which served to reinforce this feeling of mild inadequacy. It's silly, I know, but it's been years since I did anything in a gym that wasn't just cardiovascular and I suppose I'm adjusting to the deterioration there's been in my physical strength over that time. I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm now a middle-aged bloke, not a young man. I've stayed reasonably fit and healthy, but by focusing exclusively on cycling, swimming and walking everywhere, none of which works anything like the range of muscles you'll address in an average session in the gym.

This morning I awoke with a full body's worth of aches and pains. Every single muscle group is complaining at varying volume levels. The worst pains are in my arse area when I sit down or stand up - that'll be the kettleball squats and lunges then. On the plus side there's no lower back pain, which is really encouraging. I have a long history of back trouble but (and I'm furiously touching wood here) it seems to be under control for now.

The other piece of news from yesterday is that I saw my GP, who gave me a clean bill of health for the ride. She wasn't sure about my blood pressure for a minute or two but a second reading showed it's fine. She advised me to include the lower back history, last year's broken arm and a cartilage operation in my left knee from a few years back on my TRAT form, but said I should be fine. So we're officially underway now. The only way is up.

Gym on a whim

I've joined a gym - something I honestly thought I'd never do again. I thought I'd been through too many rounds of the enthusiasm-dogged-persistence-disillusionment-eventual-admission-of-defeat-self-loathing cycle ever to be foolish enough to step again into a smelly room full of testosterone and bulging casual wear and bore myself rigid on some unforgiving machine while being forced to listen to insipid dance music sung by people who spend too much time in gyms. But it would seem I was wrong. I heard about a special deal at a local gym (be warned - bad music starts automatically when you click on that link) and went for it with barely a pause.

My thinking is that, while I've got all I need right here at home to build up my stamina for the big ride (ie a bike and a turbo trainer), I'm also going to need to build up some strength too. Specifically I get sore upper arms and shoulders when I cycle a long way and I'm sure I can address that by toning them up a bit. I'd also like to strengthen my core to protect my lower back – and while I'm at it a bit more strength in the haunches wouldn't go amiss for those tough climbs and end of day sprints (not that I'm anticipating many of them, frankly). In a nutshell then, I'm looking to upgrade my entire body, just like I have wanted to many times in the past.

The difference this time is that there's something specific and unavoidable to aim for and I know the ride will be that much more enjoyable if I'm not in agony most of the time. I've already said that one of the reasons I'm doing this is to give myself a strong incentive to get fitter than I ever have before – this is part of that process. So here's hoping eh?

I'll need to watch them at the club though. There's a boyish enthusiasm about the trainer I met today – and who will be running my induction session tomorrow – that could easily turn into discomfort or even injury for me if I'm not careful. He demonstrated a few of the machines with an endearing mixture of affability and machismo. Showing me how to use an arm cycling machine, he turned the resistance up to six and span away with no apparent effort, chatting about how it would be sensible to use this particular machine for 20-30 minutes, alternating between 'easy' settings and much harder ones for little bursts of effort to get the blood pumping a bit. "Fair enough", I thought, taking over on the machine and starting off, as he did, on level six. Within 15 seconds I was breathless and struggling and an ominous pain was growing in my left shoulder. "I, er, might want to turn it down just a notch to start off with", I gasped, trying desperately not to give away just how much pain I was in. "Oh sure" he said, with a slightly puzzled look on his face and turning the dial down to five, which made no discernible difference to the growing agony in my shoulder. As soon as he turned his back I lurched for the dial and twisted it down to three, which made the exercise bearable for about 30 more seconds, at which point I begged "Shall we have a look at that machine over there? I think I've got the hang of this one now."

It's a sobering thought really. I've turned into one of those people in their late forties who no longer go to the gym to maintain something but to regain something and about whom cautionary notes are probably written in the training manuals that my friend today probably hadn't read. We're prone to believing we're capable of more than we really are, us desperate forty-somethings, and if we've listened to the warning signs issued by our failing bodies at all, we've misinterpreted the signals they send as calls to action – to get back in that gym and show these cocky youngsters that there's life in the old dog yet.

Yes, I'll have to watch that.

Tentative non-start

Yesterday I went for a ride that I'm refusing to call the first training run because that would mean that I've officially started and I don't want to do that this side of Christmas. There's too much distraction and temptation in the way during December so January's the month it'll all kick off. I'll stop drinking for at least that month and really concentrate on building up some miles in my legs.

It's just as well I've not started properly yet because yesterday was hard work. I went 34 miles at an average of 17mph, which is about where I'd want to be at the moment I suppose, but it really felt tough. The weather didn't help - I was going into quite brisk winds for some of the time (and being pushed along by them at others of course) and there were a couple of cold, sharp showers. At least half of the family is mildly under the weather at the moment so I'm probably not firing on all cylinders either. And drinking two beers and at least half a bottle of wine the night before wasn't the ideal preparation. But hey, there's got to be a starting point, right? And the lower that is, the easier it is to make dramatic progress.

I was talking to Madge (my wife Rachael...don't ask, long story) yesterday about the fund-raising challenge and I think that, with her help, I'll be okay on that score. It'll be hard work but as long as I can summon the same enthusiasm for that as I'll need for the training challenge - and, crucially, that I start addressing both challenges right at the start of the new year - there's no reason to think I'll fail at either.

Ah the easy confidence of someone who's not yet got stuck into a challenge! I'll re-read this at times next year and wonder at my hopeless naivety, I'm sure. There's no point approaching it any other way though - it would only give me sleepless nights, and I'm having enough of those as it is thanks to a rather abrupt career change I'm halfway through at the moment (another long story - best left for another day I think).

So it begins

Yesterday I was told I've been included in a small group of cyclists to take part in next year's The Race Against Time, a six-day dash from Land's End to John O'Groats.

Covering the 875 miles in less than a week will mean cycling around 150 miles a day at an average speed of around 16mph. This year I did a 100 miler at a shade over that speed so I don't think this is beyond me but getting through it in one piece will require a lot of training and discipline - and probably a fair bit of luck too.

I'm not exactly sure why I'm doing this. It's probably a mid-life crisis of sorts - I'm probably desperate to prove there's at least some life in the old dog yet - but I see no shame in that. If I emerge from this exercise with a successful Lands End to John O'Groats run under my belt (known as LEJOG among the cognoscenti I gather) I will be both deeply chuffed and entirely indifferent to what motivated me to do it in the first place.

The challenge won't be limited to cycling a long way. Each rider is required to raise at least £2,000 for the Bishop Simeon Trust, a charity that helps AIDS victims in South Africa. I know this isn't going to be easy because my sister is currently raising money for a sponsored trek up Mount Kilimanjaro next year (at the same time as this ride, funnily enough) and I've seen at first hand how difficult it is to go beyond the quantities generated by the initial good will of ones friends and family.

This blog will include details of the fun and games I have while training and raising money. It will be filled with thoughts, fears, observations and anything else that comes into my head as I prepare for the big ride. It will also act as a disincentive to quitting - the more of those I have the better I think.

So, this is where it all starts...