No, not ‘Genesis’ the cycle brand. The thing it was named after – the first book in the Bible. I’m preparing a talk on Genesis 2:18-25 so all effort is pouring that way, and not on the blog. It’s a fine passage for understanding how the relationships between men and women are dependent between on our relationship with God, and that only when all our relationships are impenetrably bound up with God do they truly flourish and make sense. It’ll be up on the Christ Church Endcliffe site before too long.
Fitness/cycling plans however are, at last, drawing into some sort of focus. They’ll probably hinge around The Cheshire Cat ride in March; something in May, a week in the Alps in June; the Hathersage Hilly Triathlon in July, some time off in August, and the Phil and Friends Peak District ride in early September. Plus, ideally the loss of around two stones of excess poundage along the way, ideally before I have to lug it up and down the Alps. Part of my fitness plan was a tryout with British Military Fitness on Wednesday. As I had been priding myself on the lack of development of my upper body since before marriage, (although it’s development of girth since has been less than edifying) and my legs have had little more than a few spins in the last year, an hour of BMF has left many muscles feeling clearly rattled in the last two days. Boy, are they making me know it. I did manage to make it upstairs to bed last night, but only after an extraordinary effort, and looking less graceful in doing so than Frankenstein’s monster would have done. One more week and then we’ll see if it’s going to be a goer.
Finally, cantilever brakes. Forget what I said in my previous post. The ones I’ve put on the Kaffenback are about as useful as a chocolate fireguard. This is how I have found this out: when I travel downhill (Sheffield is almost exclusively made of hilly roads) I’ve tended to find that my brake levers run out of travel as the hill runs out of road, but, alarmingly, before my bike has run out of forward motion. They’re about to be junked for some alternatives from Planet-X again which I’m hoping might hold off death until old age. I would tell you what they’re called, but it’s a bit embarrassing for posting on a blog such as this. Given some of the names of their other products, though I should not be surprised. Fortunately they’re a local firm – not just South Yorkshire, but Sheffield as of this weekend – and they sell nice, good value stuff, so I’ll forgive them my blushes.
This could get expensive. I’ll (literally) keep this blog posted.