Turbo daily

A family party and a wet weekend in Wales put a serious dampner on my riding plans. Instead, for the fourth time this week, I lifted the back wheel of my bike into position against a fly-wheel and pedalled myself into a sweaty mess.

Turbo trainers, on paper at least are a great invention, perfect for the time-poor cyclist who doesn't fancy riding in the cold/wet/dark/ice. Yet the reality is markedly different. Without the cooling effect of the wind, the sweat pours off, so you need a space where you can sweat freely - my garage ticks those boxes. Mental stimulation is tough too, which is where the garage falls down as it lacks a TV, radio and an internet connection - vital armoury in the home-cyclist's fight against boredom.

Tonight, in my first hour long session, I hooked a laptop up and watched a music DVD to help keep me going. My regular week-night, half-hour blasts don't afford me the luxury of setting up a laptop so I try and keep boredom at bay with an ipod and pictures of various cyclists stuck on the garage wall in front of me. I know every detail of those pictures.

Here's hoping it'll be worth in the spring.

Winter training

8am and the alarm clock chirps into life, in complete contrast to the body next to it slowly shuffling to the start line of the new day.

My eyes slowly wrench open, breaking the seal that's kept them firmly shut for seven hours. Once again the working week has taken its toll. Not enough rest. Another sleep deficit starts to build up.

It's still dark outside; winter's morning misery.

Into the bathroom and the spare room, washed and dressed, and down to the kitchen. Porrige and a strong coffee to get some fuel in the tank.

I head out to the garage and feel winter's icy blast. My chilblains send a message of defeat to my brain. My brain responds "I never liked you anyway."

I'm out the door. "Just a leg loosener," I tell myself, "tomorrow's the big one." A new village to find and new lanes to discover give me the excuse I need to trick my brain into heading out.

An hour and a half later I'm rolling back home, cold but satisfied.

I shower, I eat, I rest. I glow with post-exercise euphoria. The rest of the day passes. I'll wake up tomorrow and do exactly the same.

New year's revolutions

This time last year I set myself the target of riding from Lands End to John O'Groats in 9 days. This year's ambition isn't so concrete, it's simply to ride more than the 6,450 miles I put in last year.

New year's day is traditionally the day when riders end the 'party season' and start putting in the hard graft.

My party season has had an extension. Training starts tomorrow...