The secret diary of Peter Land, part three...

Tue 19^th April

A friend shows me an article in the Evening Standard magazine entitled ‘The hottest thing on two wheels’. I anxiously turn to the inside pages to see – have they got hold of my blog? Turns out to be about Victoria Pendleton.

Friday 22^nd April

My first puncture - now I am a proper cyclist! I don’t know how it happened, I’ve only poodled around on the bike a couple of times this week and now I find the rear tyre completely flat. Anyway, it’s not a problem for me as Andrew showed me how to change the tube and it only takes about two minutes. First he put the bike up on a frame, except I haven’t got one of those, so I’m reduced to turning the bike upside down and trying to reverse everything he told me. It’s completely straightforward, of course, and two hours and one broken tyre lever later it’s all done and I’m back on the road. However, I’m not sure how confident I shall feel next time I’m sprinting downhill at 40 mph, knowing that it was me that fixed the wheel back on – have I done it properly?

Mon 25^th April

At last a day to train. That’s what bank holidays are for, although not according to Mrs Land, who is eyeing her empty hanging baskets and dropping hints that I’m making sure I don’t pick up on. So, full of the remnants of a bottle of a decent red from yesterday’s barbeque, I squeeze into my gear, put up with the laughs from my house guests who are just surfacing, and get out on the road. I was going to travel north to Cambridge, but the bike needs a service and after the puncture I want everything checked. So, it’s off to the bike shop, which happens to be 26 miles south, next to my office. Despite dozy pedestrians, belligerent traffic lights and third world roads, I’m there in just over an hour and a half, almost exactly 16mph, my best yet. At that rate I qualify to travel in the slowest group to Paris, hurray!

I can’t help thinking about roads, though. In the built up parts of Britain they mark off the area on the left of the carriageway that is not maintained and is therefore too rough and bumpy for cars to travel safely and they call it the cycle lane – because obviously, on wheels 1 inch thick with tyres inflated to 100 psi, bikes are apparently better suited to such dangers. Do they do the same in France?

Wed 27^th April

What goes up, must come down. And now the bike’s repaired it has to be cycled home, so I collect it from the bike shop and negotiate with the security chap to park it in the garage (forgot my padlock again) so that I can wait until 6.30pm to leave the office. The time is carefully calculated to be late enough for some rush hour traffic to have cleared, but still early enough to get me home before dark, as I don’t have lights on the bike. So off I trek and within 400 yards I’m lost, cycle round a bit and find the Old Street roundabout, twice round it as I can’t see the correct exit so in the end just take the one that feels as if it’s pointing north. I know it’s north because the wind is whistling down it. Turns out to be wrong again but I figure I’m going roughly in the right direction so keep going. I enter territory where all the kebab shops seem to be called ‘Arsenal Delight’ or ‘Gunners Supplies’, not the most diplomatic move on my part as I weave between traffic with my Spurs rucksack on my back. Eventually find myself by Finsbury Park, not pretty and two miles west of where I was aiming but at least I know where I am. And the rest of the journey is easy! Except it’s not. That north wind that blew through Old Street badgers me all the way home, I’m really aware that I’m struggling to make progress into it. It hadn’t ever occurred to me that a wind could make so much difference. I am now beginning to doubt the ride from two days ago – did I find it easy because I had a helping wind then? Certainly this run was a lot slower, even allowing for the detours I reckon 14 ½ mph was all I averaged. Let’s hope there’s a north wind in late June, that’s all I can say. Anyway, I reckon I deserve a break from training so I’m off on a 4 day rugby tour to exercise my liver.

Mon 2^nd May

On my return – don’t ask as what goes on tour, stays on tour is the only answer I am allowed to give – Mrs Land has pointed out how untidy parts of the garden are so my day is full. Late on, I have the chance to nip down to join the rest of the family at the swimming pool, only an 11 mile round trip so I decide to get my old mountain bike off the rolling road and back on the real road, rather than getting all lycra-ed up. Having not ridden it for many weeks, it’s a nightmare! I can’t believe how hard it is – the gears are all wrong, it’s heavy and unresponsive, it’s as if I have lost all my power or I’ve forgotten to release the brakes. I get back as exhausted as if I’d done 30 miles, so perhaps that’s a good thing for my training, although not one I’m in a hurry to repeat.

Tue 3^rd May

Discovered that a female former colleague is also doing a Paris ride! That’s encouraging. Obviously I’ve never seen her cycle, but my impression is that she’s just generally fit rather than cycling super fit. I mean she’s tall and lean, looks as if she goes to the gym and so on, but if she thinks she can do over 100 miles a day at the expected pace, I’m confident I can too. I think. We exchange emails and plan to meet for a training ride together in a couple of weeks’ time.

Wed 4^th May

Booked for my first proper ride with proper riders on proper bikes. It’s 50 miles and starts about 7 miles away from me, so that’ll be a 64 mile round trip, this coming Sunday. Bang goes any lie in but it should be a good experience. Also good is the sponsorship, cheques and pledges coming in steadily and I am impressed by the generosity of everybody. I’m busy writing thank you letters, I just hope I don’t let them all down.