It shouldn't be this hard.

As usual, with my family, work and cycling life balance up the creek I took to the turbo trainer for a quick 1 hour (can 1 hour be quick/slow?) training session.

Now my motivation has been low for some time, but with good reason. I haven't raced for almost a year, I haven't entered any future events either and I've failed to get to the races I had lined up. So I'm left wondering why I train at all, or even ride my bike since more often than not it is in doors on the trainer.

A friend asked why as I was cyclist my legs were so pale, I replied because it is dark when I cycle at 11pm, and I'm in doors anyway. I could tell she didn't get how I could have a hobby, passion. Especially as I don'thave time to race.

The National 10 TT I had been training for clashed with a funeral, c'ai la vie. All the exciting stage races are held on the weekend of my wedding anniversary so they are a no no, even if I promised to be back for dinner somewhere nice. Apparently I shouldn't even think such a thing. The Smithfield Nocturne would have been very convenient but it falls on my son's birthday.

So I mounted my bike on the turbo with some resignation, wondering why I bother. I could just have a cold beer and some crisps.

I started my current time trial training based on cadence and gearing, and almost immediately found it hard to maintain my usual cadence in selected gears. I struggled on, imagining the sweat pouring off me, splashing into the puddles on the floor was the lactic acid I had building up in my legs.

After 35 minutes I thought sod it. It wasn't working for me, it shouldn't be this hard. I climbed off the bike as if I'd just pulled out of the tour.Then when releasing the turbo fly wheel, I realised the rear brake caliper was stuck against the wheel, doubling the usual resistance.

I'm back.

Back by popular demand - I hope the people talking me into the world of blogging again bother to post some comments!

In truth I haven't so much been away from the blog but cycling or more precisely racing. It's been close to a year since my last race now, apart from a brief spin in the Good Friday Meeting at Herne Hill.

Many may know that you aren't meant to race at Herne Hill unless you have done the induction, which makes perfect sense as track racing is different to road racing in so many ways. I was well aware of this despite not having ever been on a track before. Unfortunately every Saturday morning I turned up for the induction it rained. I now had the dilemma as to whether or not to race on Good Friday, already having entered but with zero experience of riding on a banked track yet alone a race, yet alone a race against the best in the world.


Perhaps I always knew I'd go for it, too good an opportunity to turn down and how hard can it be, as my friend Patrick pointed out.

Walking across the track into the centre was a thrill, seeing the Olympic squad and all ther entourage setting up rollers and tuning slip streamed carbon bikes may my stomach turn. This was rediculous. I put down my half empty rucksack and hung up my borrowed bike.

My mobile rung, it was Patrick from near the beer tent. I went to meet him, I needed to get some perspective on what I was about to do. He summised that the banking (which now looked very steep) would be forgotten once I was in the thick of the racing. I believed him.

As luck would have it, beofre my first race, I snatched my first few laps of a track, fine on the relative flat in the centre, but a little uncomfortable the higher I went. Then my race was called, in a panic I put on Patrick's helmet not mine and headed to line up. I figured I'd start right at the back so as to not cause anyone a problem right from the gun. Someone chose to hold the rail behind me, well that's his look out I thought. Then he tapped me on the shoulder, I turned round and the rider asked how often the sprints were, I said 'every 5 laps I think' then turned back round. I looked to the sky and almost said a prayer, Gold medalist Ed Clancy was starting behind me.

Once we were off without incident, I kept a low profile getting used to the change of speeds and the banking. The pace wasn't too bad, I could manage moving up from the back to the front in less than a lap. Apart form a brief spell on the front to stretch the legs, I decided to keep well within my limits and having gained a little experience see if I could may be pull something out of the bag in the other two races I had entered.

Of course it then rained and the day was over almost before it had begun. My wife turned up late, so she has still never seen me race! Yet alone against the GB team.

I was a little deflated when I got home, I could have put a little more into that first race, seen what I capable of. Never mind. Pat confessed he thought I was mad to even give it a go, as did most of the Paragon. I little fun, but now I need to enter some races with the serious intension of winning.

And teach my little boy a few more card tricks.