What's in a menu?

What’s in a Menu?

The heading seems simple enough, what’s in a menu? Well a bit more than I bargained for as I made a bid to begin completing members choices for the extensive menu on offer for Christmas lunch at the Cherry Tree restaurant.

Constant eyeing of the list tells me that despite frequent posting there are still hard to reach members who have not yet indicated their preferences.

Bright idea!

Having printed a few flyers of the menu I decided that I would join the A ride on an easy Cheshire jaunt to Knutsford and hand them out to those who have not yet sent their details. I have in mind Dave Hession and Bob Hodgins, surely these two would take advantage of an easy ride.

I made my way to Four Lane Ends, not wishing to ride from the town centre and suffer the ignominy of grovelling off the back while wending up Derby street and St. Helens road. My recent diet regime has seen my weight soar thereby making anything of an upward inclination an acute aerobic exercise bordering on anaerobic.

 I arrived at the crossroads and was soon joined by Charlie Whittle, on his bike, surprise, surprise, as the night before he was adamant he would not be out on his bike and would only meet me to take a menu.

Soon other A ride participants arrived looking lean and mean, at least the downhill start to Atherton should be easy, well easy ish, as I had chosen to ride a fixed gear steed for the outing.

I had chosen a gear that normally would keep me in touch on an easy ride, high enough to twiddle in comfort and just about low enough to keep the others in sight on hills a fair bit less than steep.

Having chosen the ‘right’ gear I soon found even on the flat my knees were imitating the up and down cadence of a bee’s wings, others around me were pedalling at a far more leisurely gait, ah well, good for the ‘suppleness’, only trouble was I was feeling like I was in time trial mode. So much for easy paced winter tick over effort, much vaunted in the cycling mags.

 We followed the GPS to Knutsford via Little Bollington and Rostherne, taking in Tatton Park, sighting of the red deer with huge antlers adding to the attractiveness of the park.

On a morning that was expected to be foggy and frosty, I had dressed accordingly, lots of merino wool, base layers, other layers, top layers, longs over shorts, neoprene socks over other socks, overshoes and tucked inside of my shoes I had added little ‘hotties’, little sachets that emit warmth for a claimed five hours or so. As it turned out the morning was quite mild for strenuous cycling which meant that attired as I was I arrived at the supermarket cafe well and truly wet with sweat, soaked but warm.

After a nice break we got back on the bikes, as a precaution I had my painkillers and red bull beforehand, dicky knees, despite being well wrapped against the cold are troublesome after an extended stop.

The sight of Bernard and Mike on the front as we left Knutsford was an indication of a hot pace developing and so it proved, no prisoners taken. A couple of cyclists ahead in the lanes proved an irresistible target and the pace was upped accordingly. The cyclists we passed dropped into our wheels but later one of them shot past us then dangled just in front struggling to maintain his momentum, a motorway bridge quickly took his legs and he was back in the pack.

As we dropped down Broomedge at speed I extended my thoughts to Hollins Green, today had given me a more than useful bit of training, I decided to drop off the group and ride home at a more civilised pace, enough’s enough as they say.

I passed the word to Charlie who declared he would drop off with me but the only trouble was he had Danny Leech’s water bottle in his carrier, and Danny was up the road by now. Charlie began to chase and fortune intervened, someone up front had punctured so the group came to a halt, a bottle that may never have been returned was duly delivered.

With a smile on my face at the announcement of puncture, I rode past at a leisurely pace, much better than eye balls out stuff. Charlie joined me and much to my surprise so did Brian Timms then further up the road we were passed by Danny and William Cocker. The latter pair disappeared up Holcroft lane at pace while I sought the shelter of Charlies back wheel.

I made it back to Lovers lane where I left Brian and Charlie, I was on my own, I could now switch off completely. I know not why but when I switch off and ride more slowly, my legs begin to go on strike and I am reduced to a slow crawl, I’m sure this was not on the menu.

At Daisy Hill I decide to make use of the bigger sprocket on the other side of the back hub, surely the going will be easier, it was but only on the flat bits where I rolled along as if just finishing a time trial. Another reason for rolling along was the fact I needed to recover to attack the short but steep Meriden Grove, I have to keep face with neighbours possibly looking on, being on fixed gear of any size requires a monster effort to crest the top.

Phew, made it, and once inside a pint of hot milk from the microwave, wonderful pinnng machines are they, and a collapse into the armchair.

After several drinks of tea, coffee and hot cordial I eventually relieved myself and discovered the reason for my lack of ability to rotate the pedals, dehydration, the peculiar orange dark colour of my pee told the tale.

Though a cold day, the need to drink is still a necessary requirement, being over dressed, over worked and overheated I paid the penalty, knackered, allied to this state is of course, fitness, or lack of.

So you see I bit off a bit more of the menu than was wise, in future the post box may be a wiser option.