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Dirk Hofman Motorhomes
May. 23rd, 2011 12:05 amSome number of years ago, I rambled on here about a trip up to Easy Runner for the purchase of proper running shoes because a decent pair of same are splendidly comfortable and last for a sensible number of years. (See the Sam Vimes theory of economic injustice)
It struck me while watching the Giro (see title) that it was about damn time I went back for another set. It was also an excuse to beetle through #stokescroft to see what there was to be seen, and, well, nice day, bicycle, etc.
#stokescroft looked like Camden from the 90s, only peopled by Nathans of most genders. A fine vibe, but I was on a mission elsewhere. More crap t-shirts and middle-class young women in straw trilbys than you could shake a Twitter client at, mind.
Onwards I went past the Here shop, right at the lights onto Jamaica Street, right on the far side of King Square, left onto Dove Street, round past the flats and about to nip through the back of the BRI when...
... I am only slightly out of puff due to the climb. This is much progress since the last time I was there and had to stop halfway for a hyperventilate. I must admit to feeling rather pleased with myself.
The last time I went to Easy Runner, they made me pelt up and down St. Michael's Hill three or four times in order to check my gait in the progressively more stabilised footwear the nice people handed me. This time, through the magic of increased consumer choice, I got to do it six times before we were all satisfied. Apparently my feet wave at the ankles like someone giving it the Full Rimmer on the wrong set of extremities.
Out of interest, I trundled on up the hill into Kingsdown behind a roadie who was having a lot more trouble than I (and I should note I was on the Courier with only one front cog, so am without any dinner-plate special gear if it all goes a bit HC.) to see what there was to be seen.
Cobbles. And absolutely shiver-up-the-back choral music wandering up the side of the hill from King Square. It was one of those 'shit me only in Bristol wow' moments.
In the evening I was fit only for standing about and smiling peacefully at people.
I keep coming back to a throwaway line that Sean Kelly used when talking (as much as yer man there ever talks) about a particularly picturesque mountain stage in the Giro. It was one of those places where you'd 'just go out to enjoy your bike'. Which, I don't know, maybe it unpacks more for me than it might for someone else.
It's not just about being outside, although that's a splendid thing of itself. Nor is it just about looking at crops or listening to larks having an ascend in the Vaughn Williams style. Then there's the thing about being on a mechanical device which one has fiddled with until one can feel and hear it working as well as one hopes it should, which it is also not about. And the stuff about making all this stuff work by muscle power, a pocket full of fig rolls, a banana or two and a bottle of PSP22... I think it's about all of these things at once in different amounts at different times, but if the set of them are all present and you're firing on all cylinders then that would probably count as quite a good day and, y'know, enjoying your bike.
It struck me while watching the Giro (see title) that it was about damn time I went back for another set. It was also an excuse to beetle through #stokescroft to see what there was to be seen, and, well, nice day, bicycle, etc.
#stokescroft looked like Camden from the 90s, only peopled by Nathans of most genders. A fine vibe, but I was on a mission elsewhere. More crap t-shirts and middle-class young women in straw trilbys than you could shake a Twitter client at, mind.
Onwards I went past the Here shop, right at the lights onto Jamaica Street, right on the far side of King Square, left onto Dove Street, round past the flats and about to nip through the back of the BRI when...
... I am only slightly out of puff due to the climb. This is much progress since the last time I was there and had to stop halfway for a hyperventilate. I must admit to feeling rather pleased with myself.
The last time I went to Easy Runner, they made me pelt up and down St. Michael's Hill three or four times in order to check my gait in the progressively more stabilised footwear the nice people handed me. This time, through the magic of increased consumer choice, I got to do it six times before we were all satisfied. Apparently my feet wave at the ankles like someone giving it the Full Rimmer on the wrong set of extremities.
Out of interest, I trundled on up the hill into Kingsdown behind a roadie who was having a lot more trouble than I (and I should note I was on the Courier with only one front cog, so am without any dinner-plate special gear if it all goes a bit HC.) to see what there was to be seen.
Cobbles. And absolutely shiver-up-the-back choral music wandering up the side of the hill from King Square. It was one of those 'shit me only in Bristol wow' moments.
In the evening I was fit only for standing about and smiling peacefully at people.
I keep coming back to a throwaway line that Sean Kelly used when talking (as much as yer man there ever talks) about a particularly picturesque mountain stage in the Giro. It was one of those places where you'd 'just go out to enjoy your bike'. Which, I don't know, maybe it unpacks more for me than it might for someone else.
It's not just about being outside, although that's a splendid thing of itself. Nor is it just about looking at crops or listening to larks having an ascend in the Vaughn Williams style. Then there's the thing about being on a mechanical device which one has fiddled with until one can feel and hear it working as well as one hopes it should, which it is also not about. And the stuff about making all this stuff work by muscle power, a pocket full of fig rolls, a banana or two and a bottle of PSP22... I think it's about all of these things at once in different amounts at different times, but if the set of them are all present and you're firing on all cylinders then that would probably count as quite a good day and, y'know, enjoying your bike.
