Day 10: Monday 10th January 2011

Work was a stretch today. Back a week after the Christmas holidays and I already feel like I need a break! The weather did very little to inspire me today. It was not, it must be said, a fine day. Driving from Kendal first thing the windscreen wipers scraped back sleet and rain fell almost incessantly all day. When I eventually pulled in my high-vis jacket and pushed my iphone into my ears the rain was falling steadily and offered odd glimpses of white-grey sleet as it slashed at my face. I will admit it was a struggle, a massive force of will that got me to venture from my front door in such foul weather. I have little to say about the experience. Almost nothing of the local scenery was evident, the fells that usually rise up on my right as I reach the half way point were shrouded in cloudy mystery and even the lights of the villages seemed muted after over a month of crisp dry days. I managed to knock 3 minutes off my time so now, unfit as I am, I can manage 4 miles in 44 minutes.

Day 9: Sunday 9th January 2011

The large egg shaped bruise on my leg sustained during a comedy back flip off my bike yesterday was causing me some grief as I decided what I was going to do for Operation 360 today. I was determined to get home, see my parents, and almost as importantly see Barrow Raiders’ opening game of the season (albeit a friendly). So it was decided as I arrived back in the mother country (or Barra as we tend to call it) I resolved I would run to Craven Park as fast as I could – it would be short but it might be effective if I ran fast enough. Unfortunately the stiffness and bruises of Saturday rather stopped me from achieving much except a rather sedate jogging pace and the 2.5 miles jaunt took 29 minutes. Still – exercise it was!  

Day 8: Saturday 8th January 2011

I have been looking forward today all week. For today is the first time in 2011 that I got out and did a proper mountain bike ride. The sport that this whole adventure is really about. I said that I fell in love in 2010, this is true, but it is more honest to say that I fell in love twice. And one of those defining events involved me, a bike and a hill; for 2010 was when I realised that throwing myself down fells and rocks on the back of a bike was what I loved to do. With incredibly alacrity Amy slid 3 mountain bikes, 3 rucksacks and a pressure washer into the back of her Volvo whilst J and I installed ourselves in the remaining space. The trip to Elterwater was stunning; once we left the sunny hollow of Kendal behind the Lakeland fells opened themselves up in snowy, expansive fashion and the glimpses of the Langdales, over the waters of Windermere and as we approached our destination, were something truly special. Especially given that it is two years this week since J’s close friend died in a tragic accident in those stunning but unforgiving fells. There was a sense looking over at the snowy tops that we were able to be somehow closer to him as we set off towards Little Langdale and up a rather strenuous hill.

Sliding between sheets of ice and large rocks I made something of a hash of that first ascent and once again I was fired with the desire to improve, to get fitter and stronger so that I don’t need to stop start on a bike.  The tarmac descent towards The Three Shires was a little hairy given the dots of ice scattered at random intervals but through a freezing ford (where I went axle and ankle deep) and up another hill the effort all began to make sense. The descents were free and the views were magnificent. I had a truly magical time picking a line through ice covered descents whilst the snow began to fall on us and the Langdales frowned down through the deep purple snow clouds. The descent of Iron Keld was great fun and I am already looking forward to having a second crack at that when the weather improves. I imagine it is fast,grassy heaven without the ice and snow.

Back at the car Amy’s pressure washer showed it’s mettle and I am now on a definite saving up mission for the same. The bikes washed and cheese and pickle sandwiches devoured we made our way, after a quick nine mile blast back to Kendal just as the light was fading. The day was all it promised and I was as deeply in love with my beautiful Specialised as ever.

Day 7: Friday 7th January 2011

Okay, so I admit it. The plan to rise at 5am and sprint energetically around the environs of Kirkby Lonsdale did not materialise. In fact I got up, peered at the icy lane outside and went straight back to bed. I am not sure what I envisaged as a replacement for today’s activity but luckily it came in the shape of a turbo trainer. These nifty little devices (and they are surprisingly small and certainly nifty) enable you to strap your bike into a treadmill and pedal furiously in your own front room. So installed in the familiar surroundings of a friend’s living room I spent Friday evening – at least for the duration of at least one soap opera – pedalling, panting and generally looking rather foolish. At least it meant Operation 360 continued, and I do have the promise that I can use said turbo trainer when my mate goes skiing in February.  

Day Five and Day Six

Day Five: Wednesday 5^th January 2011

It is not a pleasant task that faced me today. A long drive over to Derbyshire and the poor, sodden, flooded wreck that was once my house. Technically it is still is my house as nobody appears to want to buy it and are even less likely to be inclined my way now every wall, floor and ceiling is utterly waterlogged. The loss adjustor was professional, calm and utterly unmoved as one might expect and even under the circumstances I managed to shift my distress long enough to wonder if he had even smiled when he was a baby. I was so certain that his decision would be a final judgement about whether I can claim on my insurance that I was utterly horrified when with a snap of his clipboard he announced that he would be ringing my insurers so they could decide what would happen next and if they were going to honour my claim. I actually felt weak at the knees and I assure you there was nothing romantic emanating from clipboard boy. When I got back to Cumbria I was relieved to be invited for a swim, something indoors and sedate to allow operation360 to continue in the face of financial disaster. Here was something I could control! So off we went to the Castle Green Hotel in Kendal and enjoyed 30minutes of uninterrupted exercise (albeit Iwas slightly self-conscious about the fact it was the 5^th of January and the place was heaving with a truly eclectic group of people all wearing their best ‘I actually come here all the time, not just in January’ looks). The pool is lovely, small but perfectly formed and the menthol steam room with its slightly acid trip lighting is a perfect way to unwind. Top marks to Castle Green and to Operation360 for finally managing to chill me out!

Day 6: Thursday 6^th of January

I awoke to a fairly grim, slate grey day and I was worried that my planned evening run would take place in pouting rain but on my departure from work I saw the cloud beginning ot part and stars trying to assert their pinprick authority. Once in my high vis jacket and kitted out with more bike lights that Halfords I set off towards High Casterton avoiding as many major roads as possible. This is not just a personal safety decision but a firmly held belief that the laughter that the sight of me running might induce could cause some sort of hysterical seizure in others and for drivers that could prove somewhat dangerous. The route is pretty during the day and is moody and brooding after sundown. My headtorch picked up the glowing eyes of sheep and a wider glance around showed the Yorkshire Dales glowing a faint but beautiful purple in the light of a tiny crescent moon. Despite being a huge fan of cows (not in any weird groupie way, I just like cows) the shock of breathing very heavily the length of a newly fertilized field literally took my breath away and I wondered idly what my friends in That London might make of that kind of pollution whilst they were out running! The only real downside of tonight’s run was a rather large puddle / small flood near Casterton itself; despite my best efforts to clamber along the wall in the relative dry in the end I had to admit defeat and with a slightly camp giggle I launched myself at the water. Even I was surprised it was ankle deep and I did not much enjoy the final one and half miles of four with very very wet feet! Still, it is all grist to the mill and I am almost at a week!

Day Four: 4th January 2011

Day Four: 4^th January 2011

In a very strange and rather unexpected way I felt almost relieved to be returning to work this morning. I felt in need of routine, of the incessant laughter that my job brings and of a way to stop thinking obsessively about my love life. Even I am getting tired of it and it’s my life and lack of love. I knew that in terms of exercise the day was going to prove tricky. The possibility of getting onto the fells was zero and even a quick blast on the nearest hill was unlikely after my final meeting overran by 30 minutes. I would have to be content with something less satisfying, something less, Lakeland. Spinning it had to be.

Spinning is an odd experience. Particularly in the bar of the village rugby club. The clientele are eclectic to say the least and the instructor wears a permanently forlorn expression, his furrowed eyebrows shrieking that he has proper qualifications and was certain he was destined for Harlequins before he moved to Cumbria, with every quizzical raise our efforts elicit. It is clear, not least from the name that spinning was created by somebody under the influence of something not entirely legal. Dance music pumps out as strange stationary bikes with huge hand brakes are mounted and then ridden at terrifying speeds. Only there is no speed, or at least none in the conventional sense. Eyebrow man barks that we are to ‘really go for it’ whilst he gets up and checks something behind the bar – it is amazing how vulnerable you feel as you pedal furiously on the spot as a man strolls casually behind your furiously wobbling backside. By the end of session I hate Florence and the Machine and lean against the bar top in a way that only students on a particularly messy bar crawl usually employ as a technique for staying upright. I hear myself agreeing to go again next week and eyebrow man’s face creases into a smile as he pops my fiver into a pint glass. Even in my painful, exercise engendered fug I wonder if his choice of receptacle is a joke, pointed or even metaphorical. The effort of considering a polysyllabic word is too much however and I slink from the bar into the cold Cumbrian air with a resigned huff. I actually quite enjoyed it…

Day 3: Monday 3rd of January 2011

Day 3: Monday 3^rd of January 2011

What I was aiming for today was something quick and fun that I could feasibly do before work if I wanted to. So there was the challenge – under an hour and not so exhausting that I would spend the working day in a post-exercise fug. I am very pleased to say that I have found a work in progress. 47 minutes, 6.3miles and a nice range of bridleways. The drawbacks being a little bit too much road work for my wide tyred Specialised and a forward looking eye at the frosted ground suggests it might be a wet and muddy thriller when the weather finally warms up and winter turns into the Cumbrian deluges we know oh so well.

Heading out over Devils Bridge, swerving between the Bank Holiday bikers and various families looking slightly bored with the beautiful expanse of the Lune heading for Lancaster I hit the first hill and realised that my legs need some serious work. The fields opened up towards Brownthwaite and I thoroughly enjoyed the blast over

Bents Lane

past the Andy Goldsworthy sculptures even while the sky never wavered from a slate grey gloom.

All in all, not all that exciting, despite my surprising a whole hedge of goldfinches, but something of a success and day three feels like a bit of a hump!