June 2009

April 2011

I’ve been pretty disciplined about my food intake and I’m doing my upper body and core workout when I get in after every commute home. I do it straight away before I get changed and showered. If I don’t it won’t get done. I’m still not carrying any money at work either basically for the same reason as the workout thing. I’m still not in a position to trust myself regarding food or my workouts. Maybe I never will be in a position to trust myself. So at the moment I’m putting myself in a place where I have to do the right thing. That might be cheating myself though. I’ll have to think about that one.

I’m now getting to the stage where I can see an end to the weight loss. Not anytime soon I hasten to add, but there is now way less weight to lose than I have already lost. I’m starting to work out a strategy to cope with day-to-day existence, maintaining a healthy weight rather than losing weight. It’s a dangerous time for a food addict. I still can’t relax about it, not one iota.

The last few weeks have seen me coping with the pedalling, exercising, sensible eating and general living despite a few properly hectic things going on at home, which due to a stupid superstition I’m not mentioning out loud for fear of hexing it. Suffice to say in a previous life I would have stopped all forms of fitness and healthy eating and reverted to type because of the distractions. I am pretty proud of that I must say!

Much to my disgust I haven’t managed a proper mountain bike ride on my Marin since February, but I do have a couple of major trips planned. It has all been commuting on my rigid Specialized Rockhopper along the towpath and NCR5 or via the roads on my Giant Defy. There haven’t been too many leisure pedals unfortunately, but the 30 days of biking challenge (Google it) has made me get out every day in April so far, even if it’s just a bimble around the block with my four-year-old son Dan, who is now fully proficient on two wheels without stabilisers. I’m a very proud dad I hasten to add!

The Rockhopper is actually wifey’s bike that I pressed into service after the death of my 20-year-old Ridgeback. So I’ve taken advantage of the Cycle to Work scheme and ordered a Charge Mixer 8, which will then become my commuter of choice for the towpath and the winter. (Wifey really wants her bike back!) I’m intending to get it fitted with a belt drive so I’ll have a pretty maintenance free commuter. I’ll keep you all up to speed on how the conversion goes. I really hate the weekend ‘clean and lube the bike’ chore. Hopefully, belt drive, disc brakes and hub gears will put the maintenance to minimum.

As is usual you can find me daily over on www.massivemtber.co.uk wittering on about the usual random happenings and even with the odd video of life threatening incidents out on the mean streets of Birmingham during my commute.

The weight loss has kick started again; I’m now 1lb short of a 7 stones loss. This is entirely due to my mega food management, that’s business-speak for not being a pig and watching what I eat! Basically, I’ve returned to what I did at the beginning of this program. I pedal to work, do my work while drinking plenty of water, pedal home, and then have a proper cooked dinner. It sounds harsh but it works for me. I’ve no doubt experts will be saying that’s not what to do.

As I’ve read quite a bit on the subject now, I’d tend to agree with them on the face of it. But even if I have the smallest calorific intake during a working day I don’t lose the weight. I guess the human factor, ie everyone’s different, holds true for weight loss too.

The heart medication I take has to be kept up unfortunately, which did come as a disappointment at my scan last week. The enlarged heart wall needs to be supported by the drugs, probably forever according to the specialist I saw. But my BP is normal, as is my cholesterol and my resting heart rate is 50bpm, which as the specialist said is quite remarkable for an old, fat bloke who pedals a bit.

The bike commuting is going well. I’m now totally in the groove and have a good few routes, using both my road bike, the Giant Defy 2 on the er, road, and my rigid MTB – a Specialized Rockhopper – along the canal and NCR5. I tend to pedal one type of bike over one route until I’m terminally bored, then swap bikes and crack on again on a different route until boredom sets in again.

With the rugby season drawing closer to an end, my Marin East Peak will be getting its tyres dirty more often at the weekend. There are still the bridleways of Worcestershire to explore. I didn’t quite fit that in last year, but this year will see me do it for definite! It’s always the most two-wheeled fun I have, as much as I enjoy the road bike and MTB commuter.

I hope this year carries on as it’s started, with more weight loss and enjoyable pedalling; the weight loss and biking more than make up for spartan food regime. I’m looking forward to being able to adjust what I eat to maintain a sensible weight rather than lose it. I’m not sure how far away that is yet, but I’m looking to be doing that by the end of the year.

As always, you can follow my daily travails over on www.massivemtber.co.uk.

I’m writing this half way through November, which means my winter commuting is already well under way. Last week was 5 days of torrential rain and flooded towpaths to pedal through and this week it’s been severe frosts and ice. Which means streaming eyes and a river of snot to contend with. Where does all that liquid come from?As part of my weight loss goal I took the big step during the autumn to sell my car. This just forces me to use my bike more. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no eco Nazi, we have the family car to use for the kids etc, but it just stops me from jumping in my car if I don’t fancy a pedal. Which in all fairness wasn’t too often anyway.

A summer of constant road bike usage is now over then. I’m delighted to be back down the canal and NCR5 on my Ridgeback MTB. Which is all commuted up with rigid Kona P2 forks, Schwalbe puncture resistant tyres, full mudguards and lights that are good enough for a pitch black towpath.

Interestingly, I’ve been single speeding it lately; I haven’t changed gear on my Ridgeback in about 3 weeks I think. This came about by monitoring my heart rate using my Garmin Edge 500 after reading a fascinating article about HRZs and weight loss on another blog: http://philsroadbikingblog.blogspot.com/2010/10/target-heart-rate-training.html

We all know that when pedalling we always (well I do) go as hard and as fast as possible, all the time. While this is getting you cycling fit, it isn’t, much to my surprise, the best way for weight loss. You need to keep your HR in zone 2 or 3 rather than 4 or 5, which looking at my stats was what I was doing.

Long and slow is the answer for weight loss. So the relatively flat route of NCR5 and the towpath is the ideal territory for single speeding and a correct HRZ. I just have to work hard on the last 3 miles home as it’s all uphill!

On to weight loss, I’m now seeing the number 16 on my scales that of 16st 8lb, just 4lb off a weight loss of 6st. As I thought, the weight loss is starting to slow now. I get the odd static few weeks then another couple of pounds drop. This can get a bit disheartening. I don’t think winter helps either, it’s almost like you go into hibernation mode! But, I have no targets, just continue being hyper disciplined with the grub, carry on commuting every day, which is about 130 miles a week, and see where it goes.

Crap weather, loads of layers, filthy bike, even a raging head wind to pedal against is all preferable to being stuck in a car getting all frustrated at the lack of progress.

Off topic slightly, I was fantasising recently following yet another marathon cleaning session to get a week’s worth of canal grime off my Ridgeback, about my money-no-object, bombproof, low-maintenance commuter.

Obviously there’s no right or wrong just personal preference for the conditions I ride in. I’m sure you all have different ideas for different conditions so don’t shoot me down too hard!

But here it is anyway:

TI 29in MTB frame

Carbon rigid forks

Hydraulic disc brakes

Hub gears

Belt drive

Mavic rims

Schwalbe puncture resistant tyres

Full mudguards

Brooks saddle (all 3 of my bikes have a Brooks)

Top end, maintenance free, sealed head set, BB and hubs

Ancillaries to suit

Apart from proofing the saddle every now again, what will need looking after?

Anyone got a couple or three grand they’d care to donate to a good cause?

You can follow my daily travails at www.massivemtber.co.uk

This pedal over the mountains behind Machynlleth and Aberdyfi was the personal target that I’d set myself since I started this fat to thin by bike thing back in June last year. If you read my first blog I said about getting back into Snowdonia; this was the route I had in mind while writing that. For me it was a really big deal, a kind of marker of progress and a small insight into my biking and fitness future. Forget about the two road 100s and other road miles, they’re about getting fitter – I’m an MTBer, this is what I’m about.

I’d last pedalled this exact same route back in 2000 with my mate Wilksee and it was my last ‘proper’ MTB ride on proper mountains. I knew it was a big deal as there were some crippling ascents and very technical surfaces to negotiate. Was I fit enough? Last time it had nearly done for me – would the last year of towpath bashing, city commuting and English hills be enough to prepare me for Snowdonia?

There was a nice little warm-up on the road to get to the start of the trail behind Bryncrug. I started climbing at about 0700hrs. I knew that there was an hour and 15 minutes of off-road climbing to get to the top. This was on rocky, muddy, flooded and Land Rover rutted trails too. Maybe I was being over-ambitious. I’m not that far off 47 years old and am still obese. The first 10 minutes were murder! What was I doing?

I resolved that I was going to pedal it all, even if I kept stopping for a rest. At least it would give me plenty of photo opportunities and chances to take in the stunning scenery. Of which there was plenty. Southern Snowdonia is a bit of a secret in MTB circles (outside of trail centres like Coed-y-Brenin, which isn’t too far away). It hasn’t got the rugged grandeur or gigantic elevation of the North, but it is just as challenging and as full of natural unspoilt beauty. I ain’t really a trail centre person anyway, I like wilderness and solitude.

The route just went up and up and up. It got rockier and rockier and rockier. It was tougher than I remembered, or was it age and unfitness? I did take plenty of pictures (read have a rest) and really took it steady, I couldn’t have gone any quicker anyway!

Just when I thought the trail couldn’t get any steeper or rockier, it got steeper and rockier. I tried to pedal it, I really did, but I just ran of skill and spun out on a wet rocky surface and toppled over. I couldn’t get back on and pedal again despite three failed attempts, so my ‘pedal all of it’ resolution went crashing back down the valley and I walked until the trail got easier. I consoled myself with the thought that if I recalled correctly me and Wilksee walked this bit 10 years ago too.

By this time I was well above the tree line and the sun was just starting to peak up past the mountain ahead, and I knew that once the light flooded down the valley behind me then there would be a truly staggering sight. I wasn’t wrong. The myriad shades of green, the purple heather and varying shades of grey on the granite outcrops, all with Cardigan Bay as a beautiful blue-grey background, took my breath away. This was a sandwich stop if ever I saw one. With just a couple of curious sheep for company I had my breakfast and a good guzzle from my CamelBak.

Now I knew that ahead it was, for this trail, fairly level, but this was when the flooded paths started to come into play. By flooded I meant above the hubs flooded and with the bottom of the ‘river’ totally invisible, rocks or tyre-sucking mud could be lurking there just waiting to catch you out.

As you only get wet once, then you may as well get it over with. I rode the first flood of about 30 metres without any dramas, just with the inevitable soaking – so what, it was warm and sunny, enjoy the cooling water I say!

After about four or five of these ‘rivers’ to negotiate the downhill started: granite outcrops, shale, streams crossing the trail and mud all to be ridden before the bottom down by the village of Pennal. But the rivers had one last booby trap for me.

After the first descent the trail levelled out and the longest ‘river’ so far was in front of me. For some reason I didn’t like the look of this one so I tried to find a route around, there wasn’t one, so man up Chapman and get on with it!

I took a run at it, kept in a reasonably easy gear to keep spinning and just work my way through, then the path below my front tyre dropped and I was caught in water as deep as the front wheel in very cloying mud! I tried to keep going but I hadn’t got the strength to turn the pedals the mud was that sticky. I ground to a halt and toppled sideways to my left. I’m sure it would have looked very funny to anyone watching, but as I’d guessed, I was the only person up here, I hadn’t seen a soul since I rode off the main road at Bryncrug. I dragged myself out of the water along with my bike, which the mud was holding onto, and just waded to the end of the river, what a bugger! No harm done though.

The next descent was the real yahoo, over a firm surface of gravel, ruts, berms on the bends and errant sheep! It was fabulous fun, although very knackering, as anyone who has done a very fast lengthy off-road descent will tell you. Out of the saddle, feet level, arms and legs as human suspension (the best kind) and concentrating very hard on the trail in front. I even got in a few small jumps over some small boulders, what a blast. It was just as well I had front disc brakes as there was a closed farm gate just around a bend that I hadn’t remembered! That could have been interesting with V brakes!

Onto the lane now, the first mountain stage over, but what a lane! A full on downhill to Pennal that got me to 45mph on my full suss Marin. And that was just coasting!

A small bit of main road then off to the next crippling ascent to the Bearded Lake. It started off on Tarmac and a local guy who I said good morning to laughed at me when I said I was going to the Bearded Lake and shouted at me to ‘get in your lowest gear now!’

That caused some disconcertion as for some reason I couldn’t remember this bit of the ride from 10 years ago at all. Ah well, I’ll soon find out! Just around the bend I saw what the local guy had meant. A Tarmac wall stretched out before me, and some local wag had made a sign saying ‘first gear’ and nailed it to a wrecked trailer. I could have done with a gear lower than first gear – although I pedalled this bit, it was at the mind numbingly slow speed of 3mph, I’m sure I could have walked it quicker. I was delighted to see a gate ahead as that meant I could stop this agonising battle with the Tarmac wall.

Through the gate and it was now a forestry section, again uphill but at least I could see where the tree line ended, which meant the trail would only get harder.

It didn’t disappoint, added to the fact that the sun was really starting to come in to effect, and again I had second thoughts as to the wisdom of me doing this ride just over a year on from being 22 stone 4lb! But the top of this particular climb was nearly in view. As were the panoramas over the Dyfi Estuary and south down the coastline past Borth, Aberystwyth, Newquay and beyond. To the North the Lleyn Peninsular was easily visible as were the mountains of northern Snowdonia, all preceded by the area’s largest mountain Cadir Idris. Just magnificent. And this is why I love wilderness mountain biking. And this is why this route is so close to my heart, it has everything you could want out of MTBing in Britain. Okay at 20 miles it isn’t the longest, but with a bit of map reading you can lengthen it or shorten it easily to suit your fitness, ability or time constraints. Perfect.

What can I say? The general wisdom is that every great ride should end with a screaming descent, and this route has it in spades, from the farm at the top of the valley all the way down into Aberdyfi, you don’t have to pedal much at all and with Cardigan Bay spreading out in front it’s one for the memory banks. Okay, I lied a bit about the finish as I had a road pedal of 4 miles to Tywyn, but Aberdyfi is a good place to finish with its tea shops, pubs and cafes, plus a terrific sea view I always classed the ride as finishing there.

So, I’m back pedalling in the mountains after a 10-year gap. What a waste. If ever I knew why I wanted to get fit, and why I hated myself while I wasn’t, then this ride just underlines everything. It wasn’t fast, at just under 4 hours, and with my off it certainly wasn’t technically accomplished, but I’m back as a full-on MTBer.

When I sat at the top having my sandwiches and soaking in the view I tried to think why I stopped pedalling and, even with the inspiration of the mountains, I failed to find a reason. It’s quite emotional actually (well for me) that all I could think of while surrounded by Wales in all its glory was what might have been. How many times would I have pedalled this route if it hadn’t been for my morbid obesity? What other routes, maybe even better than this one, have I missed and may never see when I was young enough to really enjoy them?

All I can do in reality is just crack on and make up for lost time on my bike. Maybe I’ll never find the answers I’m looking for, but up there in the mountains is a good a place as any to find them. Up the top of another Snowdonia mountain there may lie my epiphany.

Fat mountain biker goes ‘proper’ mountain biking in Snowdonia Video Two

Up early, did all of the leave the house all alone admin and cracked on. A bright sunny day no less!

113 miles to kill, I was around 18 years old the last time I did this journey, with my brother on an iron-framed, steel-wheeled ‘racing bike’ with Sturmey Archer hub gears. It had taken us 12 hours!

I wanted to get through Kidderminster before the traffic kicked off, the ring road there can be pretty dicey having pedalled it recently. Mission accomplished no cars at all, then the toughest climb of the journey, thankfully very early in; the climb out of Kidderminster, past Shatterford, towards Bridgenorth. While it did seem to go on forever and have more false summits than I recalled, it didn’t pose much of a challenge. Get in an easy gear and spin. It did seem the only hazard was going to be motorbikes. While the vast majority were riding sensibly, there were a very small few who I had no doubt I’d see again, probably being scraped off the Tarmac and into a body bag. I’m a motorcyclist myself and I can assure you they were being very carefree with their existence!

The next stage of the journey that was of some concern to me was the climb out of the Severn Valley towards Moreville, but it was early in the journey and again I seemed to get up it no problems at all. Things were looking good!

I chose to stop about 32 miles in for my jam sandwiches and a good drink. Again the motorbikes whizzing past me while I was eating were starting to worry me – a group of about a dozen roared past, all the bikes were litre sports bikes, Kwaks, Yammys, Susies and a Ducati, absolutely flying, and this is on a twisty, turny B-road. The other thing bugging me was a cheeky little headwind, just strong enough to be noticed and to be an impedance.

Onwards then, the next stop I’d scheduled in was at Churchstoke to meet my folks for lunch as they were driving from Tywyn to Birmingham Airport to fly out for their cruise. I was looking forward to that. I don’t see them enough!

It was through Craven Arms, a small market town in Shropshire, then turn off towards Newtown, which would take me through Churchstoke for the lunch stop. This was a drag, Churchstoke didn’t seem to be getting any nearer, but the bonus was the scenery – the Long Mynd was looking good as was the surrounding hills of the Marches.

At last Churchstoke. I parked up to wait and was immediately taken up in conversation by a fellow cyclist riding a tourer with panniers. He was clearly a regular cyclist as he was built like one. Not an ex-rugby player trying to be a cyclist like me. Then when he told me he used his bike with a trailer and panniers to move house due to a divorce, I knew I was definitely speaking to a hardcore pedaller. He seemed to be impressed with my journey and was keen to know how it was going and how a big lad like me was coping with the trip. He then spied my Crud Roadracers and was very interested to know how they were in general use – not only was he interested, he started to dismantle them to see how they worked! A bit cheeky I thought, but he stuck them back okay so no harm done.

He went on his way and I got a phone call off Mom saying they were late and not even in Newtown yet, so the unanimous decision was that I cracked on. I had a sandwich and a bottle of Lucozade, refilled my water bottles and set off. Ten minutes down the road they passed me! Obviously Mom’s renowned sense of direction was operating at its usual lack of efficiency!

A bit down the road after seeing Mom and Dad drive past I stopped at the ‘Welcome to Wales’ sign for a piccie, and a cyclist stopped to ask if I needed assistance – he was absolutely gobsmacked when he got the answer to the question, “How far are you going today?” That chuffed me a bit!

This was when the ride got hard: the trip to Newtown up Kerry Ridge was not great, but it was paid back in a brilliant descent into Newtown. That was my best speed, 42mph. The cars kept a respectable distance behind me and didn’t try to overtake, which was nice.

Newtown was rammed, loads of traffic lights with caravans, campervans and cars all heading home. All going nowhere fast. Not me, I was up the middle of the road and through the hold-ups in no time. I was tired now though.

The stretch out of Newtown to Talerddig (dd in Welsh is pronounced th) was horrible, I had to stop at Caersws for 10 minutes’ rest and a drink. It was a steady climb to Talerddig and this was when my morale started to take a bit of a hit. I was always thinking about calling wifey for a lift, getting a taxi, a bus or even a train. On Bank Holiday Monday, yeah right! But I kept turning those fat old legs.

I eventually, after what seemed like an age, got to the Dyfi River. I vividly remember taking time out with my brother by the side of this river at this very spot back in the ’80s, so it seemed right to uphold the tradition and do the same. I needed the rest. Just chilling out here was the right thing to do. A whole water bottle was quaffed and I enjoyed watching the trout swimming below me and wished there was a way to carry my fishing tackle on my bike.

By now at about a 100 miles in my legs were starting to cramp, my calves mainly but my hams were also letting me know of their presence at regular intervals. I got to thinking that pedalling 113 miles for a 46-year-old fat bloke who weighs 16-17 stone wasn’t such a good idea. But I knew now I would see it through. It was the estuary road from Machynlleth to Aberdyfi with the last little haul up the side of the estuary. Granny ring, lowest gear was the order of the day as I churned up it at 8mph, I was now running on instinct. Legs turn, let’s get there.

Aberdyfi was looking good, but it was heaving with Bank Holiday tourists, again the bike was the way though. Four miles to go, with a coastal headwind and rolling topography wasn’t the best way to finish, I was officially in bits. Then I saw Tywyn looking very close, but I knew it wasn’t as close as it seemed – another 15 minutes, the longest of my life, was needed to finish.

Turn left at the Talyllyn Railway, a freewheel down the road and my pain was at end. What an epic.

According to my cycle computer the stats were as follows:

Distance 114.83 miles

Ride time 7 hours 49 minutes 43 seconds

Average speed 14.6 mph

Fastest speed 42.9mph

It was funny, I had to really think about the journey after the event as I’m struggling to remember details. In retrospect, it seemed to fly by without incident, but clearly that’s my mind playing tricks! But, I doubt with my current circumstances that I’ll ever do that kind of distance again. A real milestone for me.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/32195

Fat mountain biker rides 114 miles in a day!

Clive Chapman

Those miles are primarily commuting miles but also mountain bike (MTB) miles and road bike leisure miles, so a bit of a mixture cycling-wise, which is good.

The benefits to me on the health front? Normal blood pressure, no more daily meds (although that’s under constant review), no more snoring, no more sleep apnoea, less aching in my joints, although I still get achy joints due to my past activities. Also, more energy, I’m less self-conscious about how I look (but I still am self-conscious though) and a general feeling of wellbeing.

What can’t be measured is my new outlook on doing day-to-day stuff. Before I’d say, “Maybe tomorrow,” now I say, “Let’s crack on!” I’m doing more things with the family, I’m walking the hills again with wifey and the hounds from hell and I can buy off-the-peg clothes – that’d be due to a 10in reduction in my waist size.

I had two challenges in June: cycling 100 leisure miles off-road on my MTB – I did 163 so I succeeded there – but I failed on reaching the 5 stone lost mark by 2lb, as I said above. A bit peeved but I’m not going to get hung up on 2lb. At the moment I’m at a scheduled rest period, so no cycling for a week. I am doing upper body and core work though. Rediscovering stomach muscles is a bit of a painful shock!

So a year ago it was a very slow six-mile towpath commute into work, and a six-mile commute home that left me totally knackered and virtually unable to speak when I got home. Now I arrive at work after an extended 20-mile loop in on the road bike, or an extended 16-mile route in via NCR5 and the canal feeling totally okay and wishing time would allow me a longer jaunt.

Last weekend I did a 43-mile route with my mate along the canals of the Midlands with no bother at all. Obviously some high-mileage cyclist reading this will be smiling and saying no big deal, but it is a big deal for a still obese 46-year-old. If you think pedalling 17 stone 6lb around is easy then load a rucksack up to that weight and try it!

The year, while very successful, was not without its dark moments, with a mystery malady in February that kept me from pedalling for about two weeks. It may have been the demons playing up rather than any illness; it’s hard to know, as this is more of a mental battle than a physical one. I also had an injured calf muscle that stopped me commuting while it was treated.

But the biggest battle was during the worst winter in years just getting out on my bike to commute to work. Nearly every morning I’d lie there arguing with myself about driving in or cycling in. I am proud to say I pedalled nearly every time – the wimp demon in me won only twice I think.

My battle with food is going my way too. I am still eating sensibly but am aware that the abuses of the past are only a weak willed moment away, and in its own way this is the hardest battle of all. It is just like alcoholism – perhaps I’ll always be an addict in relation to food and it’s something I’ll have to live with and control to the best of my ability.
So what’s in store for year two then?

I’m going to be pretty boring here and just say more of the same. This is a life thing now and I’m just going to crack on. But I do have some rides planned. The Snowdonia MTB loop that I did 15 years ago is scheduled in for September and the big road ride to Gwynedd – all 120 miles – is going to happen before that, dates to be confirmed. I will be going into all of the gory details here of course!

The article above so far is, quite naturally, pretty much me me me. But don’t think for one moment that I did this alone. Not a bit of it. I had and still have great support from my family and real world friends; I certainly couldn’t have got this far without them. But also don’t underestimate the power the internet gave me. I wouldn’t have started this without it, that’s a cold hard fact. And more importantly the support I have received and the words of encouragement I have had on here and my own daily blog have made this battle just a bit more bearable.

So to you my dear reader, a heartfelt thank you – you did more for me than you could possibly know!

Clive Chapman

As I mentioned in one of my previous missives, I’ve been upping the commuting miles considerably of late.

As good as this is, there’s only so far I can pedal in a morning due to the time restraints on my work hours. So last bank holiday, I decided to be up at my normal time and go for a 50-miler. Before I go any further, please remember just who’s doing this: a fat (18st 1lb), broken, middle-aged has-been (or never-was).

The route I decided on was this

With the stats from the ride as follows:

• Started: 3 May 2010, 04:56:23
• Ride Time: 3:48:16
• Stopped Time: 0:09:00
• Distance: 53.48 miles
• Average: 13.93mph
• Fastest Speed: 46.26mph
• Climb: 1437ft
• Calories: 4447

Bridgnorth beckoned. It’s a route I’ve driven and motorbiked on numerous occasions, so I wasn’t worried about navigation or having to read a map. Since I have family duties, I was up at stupid o’ clock to get it done, so I could then crack on at being a dad and a husband, as opposed to a barmy fat cyclist.

The first part of the ride was up the Waseleys then over Romsley Hill, followed by a spell on quiet country lanes down to Hagley Road at Clent. No cars or other traffic were in sight ­ the benefit of an early start. I was also treated to a marvellous display from the local wildlife, with muntjac deer, squirrels, rabbits, kestrels and buzzards all stopping by to wonder what the hell a fat bloke was doing up at that time!

Soon, I’d passed through Stourbridge, which meant the road to Bridgnorth was next. This is a great motorbiking road and a small part of it is known locally as the ‘Mad Mile’. What I wasn’t expecting was just how bloody hilly it is. Combined with a fearsome head wind, it was giving me an unexpected work out. My plan was to stop by the River Severn in Bridgnorth and have my jam sandwiches and a drink, but that idea went out of the window about six miles out. I’d gone into mission mode and decided just to get it done.

I turned left onto the Kidderminster Road and suddenly it all became a lot easier; the head wind was now a helpful tailwind and I got a fair lick on along the 13 miles of the Severn Valley into Kidderminster and out the other side towards Bromsgrove.

What I call my ‘pedalling bits’ were all functioning well: my cardio vascular system, my leg muscles and, er, ahem, gentleman’s area. By the time I reached Mustow Green, though, every other bit of my body had shut down. My neck, shoulders and upper arms were in bits, my hands were numb, my back was aching and my feet may as well not have been there, since I couldn’t feel them at all. They were there, though ­ I looked down and checked! Time for a refuel then.

I sat on the wall outside the Skoda Dealers at Mustow, wolfed the jam sandwiches down, tried to get some life back into my extremities and drank a load of water. I guess I was stopped for about eight or nine minutes, and by now I just wanted to get home.

I carried on towards Bromsgrove and then, about six miles further on, turned left towards Catshill (just before Bromsgrove). But the wind changed on me; the fearsome head wind was back with a vengeance! It’s all uphill from Catshill to my home. Add in the head wind and the last seven or eight miles blurred into a world of hurt. Every crank revolution seemed like a miracle, every yard gained was a victory, and each new one to pedal was another excuse to stop. I really can’t remember when I last had to dig in like that.

I’ve debated whether to mention what was on my lips on the A38 Rubery bypass. In the interests of honesty and journalistic integrity, I’ll tell you that I was panting, ‘Feck, feck, feck,’ in time with every crank revolution! I’m glad I was on my own, since anybody hearing that would have doubted my sanity. But eventually, after what seemed like the longest few miles ever, I saw the end of my road. Salvation. A hot coffee welcomed me back home and, after a nice hot bath, I was normal family man again, not a fat knackered cyclist.

The aftermath wasn’t as bad as I thought either. I was a bit sore for the rest of the day, but I was back commuting again with absolutely no ill effects after a day’s rest. The 20-miler to work is now a breeze and mentally the 50-miler seems to have removed some of the anxiety I felt at upping the mileage.

What’s next I wonder?

Clive Chapman

Monday, May 24, 2010 5.25pm

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First off before I start I would like to emphasise I am no nutritionist or a health professional, what I am about to say should be taken as based solely on my experiences and stuff I’ve learnt about along the way. You could very well be different!

I come from a family of lads; my mum was the cook in her family as a child, because she lost her mum very early on, and as she was the only female amongst her dad and brothers she, quite naturally for the time, (1930s, 1940s) inherited the cooking duties. So Mum was used to cooking for blokes from an early age. And cooking for hard working hungry blokes! Consequently she was used to dishing out what I know now as fairly large meals.

The large meals were not an issue as a child, as being a kid in the ’60s and ’70s I was outside all of the time playing with the other kids in the street, then later on out on my pushbike all the time. Also sports were a massive thing for us at school, first soccer and cricket at Junior School, then at Grammar School, rugby, cricket and Athletics. We were always very active. In school holidays, we left the house after breakfast and never returned until tea time, then back out again returning at bed time. Happy days!

Playing rugby as an adult and the military fitness requirements kept me fit and as thin as I was ever going to get as a short, stocky bloke.

We all get old and ease off, that’s a given. In hindsight I’d like to have planned for the easing off, but as I’ve said before it kind of just happened. So being used to large portions (yes!) I carried on. But stupidly without the excercise.

A typical day was toast (4 slices) for breakfast, dodgy crap filled sandwiches from the sandwich van at work for lunch, probably a take out for dinner at home and cans of beer in front of the telly for supper of an evening.

I once got made redundant and spent some time at home, the eating got worse. Chocolate from the local shop, Ginster’s pasties, regular visits to the chippy for kebabs and other health food added to sitting on my arse all day spelt trouble. I could have got myself back into fitness and proper eating again. I know it did occur to me at the time. Is this a mental condition? I’m naturally suspicious of people using “negative personal circumstances” as an excuse for gluttony, or other failings, but here I was filling my face for all I was worth.

At the weekend it was worse! Watching regular rugby matches meant loads of ale with the lads and a visit to the local curry house afterwards, without a care in the world at the time. But, the more I ate, and I know now, the more unhappy I got, so the more I ate. It seems quite pathetic seeing it written down. This is quite difficult…

This went on, getting worse and worse. I got fatter and fatter, greedier and greedier for roughly 10 years. And totally denying it too, until I reached 22 stones 4lb back in June 2009. I’m 5’ 8” by the way. I could talk about what it’s like being fat, just the day to day practicalities of it, what becomes difficult, how you behave and interact with others etc. But maybe some other time with that stuff.

Enough was enough and I woke up. Why after 10 years of self abuse I should change is beyond me, but I’m very grateful to Frank Kinlan whose own blog about his similar circumstances got me to change. More grateful than I can ever say actually.

Along with a renewed passion for pedalling my diet has changed dramatically too. A work day is three Shredded Wheat for brunch or a bowl of porridge (at work) and for dinner at home one of wifey’s cooked dinners, a meat and two veg kind of thing (sensible portions), plus drinking plenty of water. When I want to reach for the take out menu of an evening after dinner, I attack the fruit and veg drawer to snack on. OK it’s not as satisfying as a balti, kebab or a bag of chips but it works for me!

I am absolutely aware that there are people who will tell me I’m not doing the right thing diet wise, but as I said, this works for me and I’m not feeling hungry and I appear to have enough energy to pedal. I certainly haven’t cut out anything, nothing is banned, it’s just that I have stopped bingeing. My diet does cover all food groups. I think the old saying “everything in moderation” is absolutely spot on for the average bloke in the street.

At the weekend, well Friday night, I do have three beers at my local along with a take out on the way home. This is my reward for a hard week pedalling and eating sensibly.

I’m convinced I had (have) some sort of illness, akin to alcoholism in relation to food. No doctor has ever told me this despite repeated requests for medical help. But I am absolutely sure that I could go back down that rocky road again. Addictive personality? Mental illness? Galloping idiocy? Whatever, I suppose it’s irrelevant, I got myself into the mess and I am getting myself out of the mess. But bloody hell, it’s a massive battle with seemingly no official support network. I’m glad the blogging is a more than adequate substitute. Maybe blogging should be on prescription!

Has cycling saved my life? I believe so. If I had carried on eating as I was, and doing absolutely no exercise then in all probability I wouldn’t see 60 years of age. Maybe even 50 years of age if my blood pressure from a year ago was anything to go by. And to all of you youngsters out there, 50 is not old, trust me!

A passion for push bikes which started when I was about six years old with a kiddies’ Raleigh Pavemaster has carried on through mountain biking as a young adult and all types of cycling now. Two wheels have had a huge beneficial effect for me at my self-inflicted lowest ever point. If ever you feel like not pedalling or easing off, don’t! If you don’t use it you’ll lose it! Use me as an example of what happens when you become a greedy, lazy idiot!

Clive Chapman

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This I was able to do quite a bit recently, pounding my local trails of Clent, Lickey Hills and Waseley Hills. Commuting everyday on my new Giant Defy 2 road bike is just a means to an end – ie losing weight and build fitness for mountain biking.

As I booked a few days off to be with the family over Easter I knew my pedalling would take a back seat due to family stuff. So, after a bit of negotiation with she who must be obeyed, it was agreed that I would be up at my normal commuting time of 5am and I could go out to play as long as I was back no later than 9am for my fatherly/husbandly duties.

This was not a drama for me as I am used to an early start; in fact the best bit of the day for me is the dawn, I absolutely love it. Pedalling down the Bristol Road in Brum at first light, I feel like everything belongs to me – it seems I’m the only person who’s stupid enough to be up and about at that time!

There’s a saying on the Fat Bikers Blog community – going on a ‘micro adventure’ – that really captured my imagination. So I never just go mountain biking anymore, I go on a ‘micro adventure’. I film the ride with my helmet cam and take pictures with my digital camera (although my filming and photography are pretty pants; like my fitness and weight loss, they’re a work in progress).

The first ride I went on over Easter was to the Lickey and Waseley Hills. I did nine miles: I rode over the Waseley Hills and took some good shots, then pedalled over to the Lickeys. After the Waseleys and the slog back up the Lickeys, I had a screaming descent from the top of Beacon Hill down towards the Rose and Crown.

As it was not quite light, my path through the trees was like riding down a chute; very exciting, but not quite as exciting as when I realised I was in fact riding down some steps put in by the wardens to stop path erosion. That concentrated the mind a bit!

The next morning there was a hell of a frost and the sky was crystal clear. I was pedalling at the beginning in the half light whereas yesterday it was darkness. A swift downhill towards Clent then a bit of road work to get towards Walton Hill Clent. The lanes were very quiet and I saw virtually no cars. Then I had a ball-breaking climb up towards the summit of Calcott Hill. Again I had to hike-a-bike! I was rewarded by a fantastic sunrise over the Waseleys as seen from the Clent Hills.

Back to talking about weight loss today, or specifically the lack of weight loss and what I’m going to do about it. The last six weeks have seen me upping my mileage considerably; I’ve been putting in regularly over a 100 commuting miles a week, with the odd mountain bike micro adventure blast on the weekend – family duties allowing.

This has seen zero poundage lost. I am getting fitter, my clothes are still getting more baggy and I’m still having folks come up to me and compliment me on how much weight I’ve lost which is 4 stones 1lb since July last year.

But scales do not lie. Especially digital scales put in exactly the same place on a hard floor every week! So what to do? A new plan with more progressions is what to do.

The first phase saw me progress from a six-mile park and ride to and from work to a full 24-mile round trip from home to work. I’ve been caning that with absolutely no ill effects recently, which no doubt has held my weight loss up.

But I’ve seen remarkable progression. The first full commute home took me 1 hour 15 minutes and I could barely speak when I eventually got there, my record now is 39 minutes and I’m fine on arrival!

During the last few weeks of road bike commuting I’ve recced two 20-milers in to work, I’ve christened them the East Side Commute and the West Side Commute for hopefully obvious reasons.

The West Side Commute is far hillier than the East Side Commute, taking in Hagley Bank, up over the Clent Hills and Mucklow Hill, which is fairly notorious around the West Midlands for not being too easy to get up. The East side is pretty flat with only one climb of note in the Wast Hills.

As this is a marathon not a sprint I’ve broken down my commute into seven-week chunks; six weeks pedalling with one week rest then add a small progression for the next seven weeks’ chunk.

The phase 2 plan lasts 35 weeks. So five chunks then. The first chunk is a Monday and Wednesday East Side 20-miler with a normal 12-mile commute home, with a Tuesday and Thursday bog standard 12-mile each way commute. Driving in on a Friday.

There’ll be small progressions until finally I get to a Monday to Friday West Side commute with a 12-mile commute home. I’ll always be doing the 12-mile commute home as I do like to get home to the family. The bigger mileage will always be done in the morning. The reasoning for this is less traffic, I can spare the time by getting up earlier and anyway, I’m a morning person!

As I said I’m currently hovering around the 100 mile/week mark with my commuting. This will see me do a whopping 200 miles/week with the last progression. The mileage also doesn’t take into account my more important mountain biking and other jaunts I have planned too.

One of which is to recreate a journey I did back in about 1981 to Tywyn in Gwynedd. It’s roughly 120 miles from my house to my Mum and Dad’s. It took me and my brother 12 hours to do that on nasty 1970s iron-framed “racers” with steel chrome plated wheels and hub gears back in the day. I’m hoping me and my Giant Defy can get somewhere close to that time. The naivety of youth and crap bikes versus new technology and an old fat rider, what’s your money on?

The plan above and a stricter note of calorific intake should see me getting the kick start I need to crack on. By my reckoning I need to lose roughly 8 stones, which would take me back to my rugby playing and Army fighting weight of 14 stones. But as I haven’t really set a target I’m just going to crack on and see where this goes. I think I’ve mentioned before that a target achieved is my excuse to stop!

I suppose the last six weeks of treading water has been me getting used to this way of life and to be fair, maybe I’ve been guilty of taking my eye off the ball a bit. I’ve just been enjoying my cycling so much that I guess the main aim of this, kind of got lost amongst the miles of smiles. Especially the early jaunts over my local trails and very early commutes down the towpath. I mean, who cares how much good pedalling is doing you physically when your soul is uplifted by seeing the sunrise over the Waseleys or hearing the Dawn Chorus down the canal, or let’s be brutally honest, just by being on a bike? I know I don’t give it much thought, would you?

Clive Chapman Thursday, May 13

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