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What was I thinking? After the painfest of the first Outlaw tri I said I was never doing another. After the near death experience of baking my arse off at my second Outlaw tri I said I wasn’t doing another and meant it.   The swimming (2.4 miles) bores me, the riding is painful and boring (112 miles) and the marathon (26.2 miles) at the end, on dead legs, is just an ordeal. Not doing it. No way. Then I got a motorbike and that was that. Never swinging my leg over a pushbike again!   *sigh* Here’s my new pushbike: My life had just become work and sleep. I hadn’t done a run since the 2nd of August, no pushbiking for years, no swim for longer.  The running was the last to go because I actually enjoyed that. But the bit I enjoy is when you are pretty fit and you start pushing it, and making gains. In this job, on my shifts, I couldn’t train regularly so I was always struggling to get going, never improving. I didn’t know I was low of mood, it was just how it was. On a whim I decided to get back into triathlon for a New Year’s Resolution.. On the 2nd of January, 5 months since my last run, I went out and did a 5 mile test run. The run was easy, getting my arse out of the door was the huge challenge. As soon as I got back I was buzzing. Really up for it. I went out the next day for a 4 mile run, then yesterday for another, knocking 30 seconds a mile off the time of the day before. I just can’t help myself. That is so bad. I was trying to take it slow as 90% of injuries are “too much, too soon” I was thinking “getting back into tri”, no specific deadlines.  Tonight I enquired about “improver” swimming lessons, the last two times I was so crap I was too embarrassed to go a tri club for tuition. So I stayed crap. And thrashed about for 2.4 miles, then got out of the lake in the last dozen. Looking at a 1½ miles long lake is a terrible sight when you’re a crap swimmer. I’ve bought a decent bike, I’m looking into swimming, (training and pool times), and I’ve done three runs. Half an hour ago I Googled the Outlaw 2018. It’s not sold out yet. Oh god! TEMPTATION! 29th of July. That’s 29 weeks. It’s do-able, but massive. I want to commit right now. I’ll be gutted if it sells out and I think I can do it. I’ll have a trial week. See what training I can do around work. I could totally do this. If I can train. Oh wow. This is more like it! The terror of a vast and seemingly impossible task with a fixed deadline. Now, I feel alive! Later, Buck. Quick PS, as usual I was suffering […]

I was resigned to selling my bikes after the police bust. I can’t say I was happy about it, but I was getting my head around cycling and maybe triathlon again. The copper said there was a chance I could do an awareness course, but Mr Google said I couldn’t. I was expecting big points. Even at the bare minimum of 3, I was still thinking I should probably sell my bikes to be on the safe side. I got my letter off the coppers today. 3 points, £100 fine. Or no points and a £79 awareness course! Let me think about that for a second. GET IN! So chuffed. It’s not a done deal just yet, the plod can withdraw the offer right up until me completing the course (booked it immediately, it’s on the  27th January) but it’s odds on I’ll just do the course. Now I have to keep my sensible head on. Another bust means pushbike.   In other bike news, Nathan has pranged his bike. Lost it under brakes. He’s OK, but oddly he managed to smash his clocks and headlight bracket without damaging his front end. Apparently it slid under a crash barrier, the headlight and clocks did not. I ordered some replacement second hand bits and fitted them today. I’ve still got an issue with the indicator coming on but not flashing. Lisa, who obviously didn’t take it well, has taken me up on what I said when he first got the bike, upgrade the tyres. She’s buying him a decent front tyre for xmas. I’ve ordered the rear as well, Nath’s paying for that. Hopefully I’ll fix his indicator and get the tyres fitted tomorrow so he’s back on the road. It’s been costing him £18 each way in a taxi. The lesson here is; don’t crash! Me going on about Nath crashing has been a source of cheap amusement for Wendy, at least. It does feel hypocritical, me saying don’t crash. Bikes, eh? Later, Buck.

Well, it was all going so well. It was a relatively warm and dry day, the first for a few weeks. Good riding weather in other words. So I opened it up a bit. I still haven’t got my plod detector working. Can you see where this going? Busted. Apparently the plod didn’t bust me for crossing the solid white line to get off the sliproad onto the motorway at some speed. I didn’t see the plodmobile, obviously. He didn’t do me for being a bit quick. Then I got held up by some cars in the outside lane. They were doing some speed, but I was full of the joys of traction, so I filtered. Down the white line between lanes 2 and 3 and give it beans. Blue lights and sirens. Shit. So busted. Anyway, now I’ve got to wait and see what I get. Apparently they do awareness courses as an alternative to points, but because I did a speed awareness course a few years ago I won’t be eligible. The plod said I was just being charged with Due Care and Attention, and should only get three points, or the course. Which is a laugh. I was *SO* paying attention. You don’t get to survive that shit at those speeds if you are not very, very focused. Besides the point. I tried googling it, but they changed the law this year. It’s no longer “Offence A = X points and Y fine.” Now it’s judged on a scale, weighing culpability and such. Then awarded points and a banded fining system based on a percentage of wages. Basically, you have no bastard idea until the letter arrives through the door. Because they’ve rebranded DC&A as Careless Driving (again, *SO* not!) the range goes from tailgating to death by dangerous driving. So the range is from awareness course to disqualification, from course fees to unlimited fine and jail. So, I wait and see. Plod said 3 points. I’ll take up to 4. Anything more that and I’m going to have to sell my bikes. If I was to get, say 6. I’d be one offence off unemployable. . I overheard a ‘phone call, someone refusing to give a driver with 9 points a job, “He only needs a speeding ticket and he’s banned.” I said to Wendy when I got my bike that I’m old enough now not to be crashing all the time (once in 2½ years, go me!) but if I started piling up points I’d sell my bikes rather than lose my licenses. I’ve got a plod detector, I couldn’t get it set up. If I’m staying biking I’ll have to sort that out. If not, I’ve already bookmarked a carbon framed pushbike. I’ll ride to work, 18 miles a day round trip, and maybe get back into triathlon for the three years until my license clears. Roll with punches.   Ironically, my other bike news is that I’ve just paid for a Royal Society […]

How often do you get presented with a serious problem and have the means to quickly and simply fix it? Never. It just doesn’t happen in my experience. It’s always a process. A series of token gestures. Often as not a well intentioned disaster. I was presented with the problem of Nathan (my nephew), stuck in a £5.60 p/h job, the meagre proceeds of which (save the housekeeping he volunteered to give his mam) he was spending entirely on getting wasted to tolerate the job. He was taking home between £100 -£150 p/w. Unpaid extra hours, flat rate for overtime, fucking disgrace. He was going to get a bike off his mate so I gave him a jacket and such. Then his mate’s bike got nicked. The solution seemed clear, if Nath was willing to clean his act up, we’d lend him the money to get a bike so he could get a better job. I say “if”, without emphasis in that sentence. When I was in that situation I simply couldn’t have quit. I would have preferred to have lost a limb. It was my whole life. The fact that Nathan gave up the same day that Lisa (my sister) put the offer to him I find nothing short of staggering. Honestly. Stunning. Anyway, he immediately got his shit together. So I tracked down a decent learner bike, and we lent him the money to buy it. He put in for his Compulsory Basic Training, and completed it last Thursday, I went out for a ride with him to get his confidence up, and that was that. He is a biker.   Phase one completed.   Being a methodical sort he was waiting until he was legal before applying for jobs. I put in an application form for him for in the warehouse, order picking, at my works. Then I noticed the actual job was being advertised online so I recommended he applied online as well. Yesterday they told him he had an interview today, (Tuesday). I had a surprise day off so I went with him for a ride, to show him the way. He passed the interview and the drugs and alcohol test, his induction is on Monday! 4 days of training in health and safety, driving a LLOP (Low Level Order Picker), stacking pallets, that sort of thing, then crack on. More money on basic, with lots of extras on top, better job, better conditions, a real full time job, with a pay rise at the end of the 6 month probation. He’s got a bike. And within a week, a decent job!   Phase two completed.   My work here is done. That was easy. How I like my good deeds; quick, easy, and involving motorbikes. Bloody good effort, Nathan. Right, later, St Buck of the Blessed Bike.

I watched a clip via Twitter last night and they mentioned Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), which reminded me of my army days. I got sent to the shrink due to issues and a panel of them interrogated me. They sent me back to my regiment with a letter for my army doctor. The doctor’s was closed so I had it overnight. Curiosity got the better of me and I steamed it open. It was 27 years ago but I know it involved Personality Disorder, I think it was Borderline. Nearly 30 years I’ve dismissed it. Borderline makes it sound like barely a consideration. It turns out that’s just the medical term for an exact condition. One that is characterised by anger, risk-taking, drink/ drug abuse, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and a lack of self esteem. Fuck. 27 years. All the bikes I’ve crashed, the wilful disregard for life and limb, the years and years of alcohol dependency, self mutilation, mental anguish, anger and self loathing. All. A. Fucking. Condition. I thought the individual bits were normal. I thought everyone else was a pussy because they saw a gap that was so tight that if *anything* went wrong they would die and they backed off. I did it anyway. The bleeding I’ve done to try to atone for the unconscionable deeds of my past. Slipping into overdose unconsciousness knowing I might not wake up. If that’s how you are, you rationalise it. Everyone get’s stressed, the self mutilation is a release valve. You’re going to die anyway, why not have some fun on the way? If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention. Etc. All. A. Condition. The whole of my life is a lie. I’m a tad upset, as you can probably guess. I’m going, in another case of hope over experience, to see the doctor. Most of it I don’t actually mind, but there are some aspects from which I’d give anything to be free. Buck.