The Cycling Curse in Two Parts

1. www.newtube.com
They do say when it rains it pours....please allow me to pour my heart out. I didn't realise what a challenge I was quite taking on. Up at 8am Saturday morning, estimated set off time was 9am from cycling friends house. 8.30am phone call received informing me trip to Brighton has been cancelled due to unforseen circumstances. Forward and upwards. Dressed as stylishly one can as a biker chick, I decided to set off on my own anyway. Half a mile down the road I seemed to be slowly down dramatically pushing forward into the wind I realised that a wheel was down. My first puncture to my morale, I mean bike.
Went to Evans and spent an hour learning to change a tyre. Just what one wants to do with freshly painted rouge noir nails. It was all about the new tube.
Set off for the second time....face gritted with determination....
2. You will meet a tall dark semi-pro cyclist
About the same distance as the first attempt, I heard the slow release of air and then felt the slow halt of the bike to stop. I started to wheel the bike home, the rubber part of the wheel came off and a grating noise of the metal to ground was horrid. Took out the phone and dialed emergency help line, mum and dad. No answer. Finally got through, burst into tears and tried to explain what had happened. They were nowhere near....I was told to put the bike on my shoulder and walk the half an hour back to the flat. This was too much to think about and the sobbing went up a notch to hysteria.
Through watery eyes a man came out of nowhere and ask if I was ok.....was this not obvious? He then offered to walk with me and wheel my bike all the way home. We chatted about bikes, got some tips...he said London to Paris was easy. Sure.
What doesn't kill you....only makes you stronger.
Happy cycling xxxxxxx
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Crash....

Realised our blogging has been a little slow on the screen. Jess and I had one of those board meetings you can only imaging high powered journalists have, smashing the glass of water down screaming "stories,¥!!#!". So as any good writer would do I went looking for a story, the best stories however find you. The pavement in my case.
I hope you're sitting comfortably, this may take a while.
Spent the weekend working on the shop floor of a wonderful department store called salads. The summer weather was in full swing outside as the the hail fell down. Leaving work I borrowed the boss's umbrella.......I am afraid the umbrella's handle did not live to read the rest of my story. Lesson one, never a lender or a borrower be.
Monday lunch, I mounted my Specialized pal and pedaled to HSK. Found the exact model of the late model that had met his fate the previous Sat.
This is where the story turns....please play apropiate thunder sound effects and piano pieces in minor now.
A bear jumped out of Hyde Park, snatched me off my bike whilst a pigeon flew away with my umbre.....ok ok that's not the story...
The umbrella was swinging on my handlebars, the sun was warming my face and victory songs were playing out in my head, this was a success story....the umbrella got caught on the pavement, only through a slight imbalance of the bike causing the umbrella to not be its perfect 5mm away from the street. The bike made a dramatic halt, I flew over the front of the handlebars, there was nothing I could have done. I immediately tried to stand, my foot was caught, bewilderment took over. A nice lady came out of her taxi, concerned and worried she helped me to my feet. She lent me her tissue to mop up the streaming blood that was apparently coming from my head. Now who said the london population are not friendly...oh wait she was Dutch.
To my horror....I looked down and the new umbrella was broken. Strike 2.
Cycled back to work and spent a good half of the afternoon meekishly wearing an ice pack.
Went back that evening to replace umbrella 2 only to find out they had sold out of black ones....
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My first ever Spinning experience!

I was up at 6 am today to go spinning with Sophie at Virgin Active on the Fulham Road. Never have I been confronted by so many waif-like Chelsea wives, senile, yet extremely energetic elderly men and city slickers. We had THE most beautiful instructor!

Now we know why the old codgers get themselves out of bed in the morning for this gruelling experience.