Beware the Ides of March!

Infamy!  Infamy!  They've all got it infamy!  These are the immortal words uttered by Vladimir Putin during his non war proclamation to all his fellow countrymen (and women) at his 'come to the football stadium comrade and have a free day off work else you will be shot as a traitor' holiday event in Moscow today.  So everybody did.  

Here, look at this.  I've found the most recent TV News broadcast of NATO, the EU, the UN and everybody including the PFJ declaring their full support to president Zelensky as he and the Ukrainian people are crucified by Vlad the Impaler (who we see entering the scene right at the end).  It's how it seems to be to me.....

How about this one of Sir Keir Starmer in Parliament at Wednesday's PMQ's getting really really annoyed with, er, something...  I love Monthy Python's Life of Brian.  Pure gem...!

Today is the Ides of March - the 74th day of the year - an important day in the old Roman calendar.    Putin is yet another autocrat following in the footsteps of Julius Caesar who was assassinated on this day in 44 BC.  A day that became a turning point in Roman history.  Stabbed to death by 60 toga clad men.  Led by a cheery fellow called Brutus who methinks was too keen to get his chopper out!  Fnar!  Where's fecking Brutus when you need him nowadays?

Now I've never had a Chopper.  My cousin Gary though, a spoilt kid perhaps, well, he had a Raleigh Chopper.  One like this.

The lucky lucky bar steward.  A number of times back in the early seventies as poor children we were dragged across York to my auntie Margaret's house to drool over lots of things including Gary's bike.  As hard as we begged there was no way he was going to allow me nor my younger brother to have a ride on the damn thing.  Nor would he let us play with his train set.  Nope, not even would he get his Captain Scarlet or UFO tanks out.  Both with spring loaded guns with proper tank tracks built for scooting atop carpets and over legs.  Nor would he share any other drool worthy toy that he had - and we didn’t.   No, no..., it might have been some 50 years ago or so since those days, but no - no I do not bear any grudges....  

No, really I don't...  

The spoilt fecker!  :-)

Nuff said about that little episode in my young Oliverian life...

You may recall how I've recently written just how good and strong my legs have been?  Chasing racing snakes all over the place?  No, not the young ones, you know, the old crinkly feckers with spindly legs and non-functioning slippy glands.  Yes, over the last few weeks I've bagged a few.  Taste horrid when cooked and are damn difficult to keep in the pan.  Anyway all done without knee pain.  I rightfully thought that Ma Boy and Our Lass had given up complaining about my rides out because whatever they said or did would not affect my plans to do the John O Groats to Lands End ride later this year.  

I was wrong.  I must have been out riding when they left home to trawl the hunting and gun shops looking for something shiny, pointy and new with which to destroy their bedroom walls.  

There I was earlier this week on the final leg of another 40 mile loop out of York.  I'm just about to enter the homebound stretch from Bramham to Tadcaster and all of a sudden - *YEOWW!*.  WTF!  Oh the pain under and to the front of my kneecaps!  Both of them.  The power drained from my leg's.  My body switched into limp mode to get me home.  I stopped in Tadcaster to rest them but - ooh did they THROB!  

It's whilst I'm sat at Tadcaster bus station contemplating locking the bike up and getting the bus home that I look down at my knees and catch a conversation between Ma Boy and Our Lass.  He says, 'Look, I've got a knife!'.  He pulls a flick knife out of his bedroom ceiling with a sharp *twinge* to which she says all Crocky Dundee style, 'Neya-ha-ha-ha!.  That's not a knife..., THAT’s a knife!' as she withdraws with a twist her 12 inch sharks tooth doom inducing implement from her bedroom wall.  Oooohhhh !  I slumped back on the bus shelter seat.  I could have melted on the spot.  

Now I can handle pain.  No, really I can.  Like last month with my most recent visit to the dentist cos I thought I'd busted a crown.  Ok, so I've not been for a while and yes there was a small area of gum disease that needed treating.  

Now my fantasy has always been to be laid flat on a fully articulating chair with two beautiful women, both of whom are preparing to set about me.  But no, not like this.  The hygenist was probably in her late 20's, ginger hair, blue eyes and determined.  Nursey was also in her 20's I guess, slim, with dark auburn hair.  Both wore rubber and masks and were preparing to have a bash at my gums.  Fnar!  

I knew what was coming.  I reached over, grabbed her by her testicles and said 'we're not going to hurt each other are we?'.  The sadistic fecker totally ignored me and got stuck into my sensitive bits with her ultrasonic wand.  Damn.  She's inserted it at the wrong end.  I’m sure of it.  Oooohh I did squeal!

Or the time when I had a toothache one very very long Bank Holiday weekend in Amsterdam that necessitated a visit to an emergency dentist some 20 years ago.  A Turkish sadist who had no conception of numbing gums before any procedure.  He proceeded to perform a root canal whilst his Bulgarian wrestler of a nurse, who had been fastened into an ultra big ultra tight and about to explode uniform, pinned my arms to the chair as he dug in whilst lilt-fully saying 'zoon be done, zoon be done..'  Like that bloody 'is it safe' scene from Marathon Man with Sir Lawrence Olivier and Dustin Hoffman.

Yes I can handle it.  But the problem with achy knees is that it does not matter how much pain I can tolerate and what I want to do, the computer always says 'NO!'.  As hard as I try to stamp on the carbohydrate throttle my body totally refuses to rotate my legs enough to go over 10 MPH, even when downhill with the wind to my back.

Yesterday I stood and stared at Koga.  A bike with the inertia of a planet warped to her back wheel.  She looked up at me with sullen eyes.  She knew she was hurting me.  Feck, I have to sort things out PDQ.  The JOGLE thing is less than 12 weeks away!

Now I'm pretty sure that it's not an Arthur Itus problem cos what's the chance of both knees failing at the same time?  It HAS to be the bike set up.  Yes, I've lowered Koga's head to give me a more forward leaning position but surely that's not the problem issit?

Here's a good video which describes the different ways to set up the riding position for all riders.  I rate these boys from GCN and their channel for all good things regarding two wheels.

Ok so I've rechecked my saddle height and position using both the KOPS and the HOLMES method.  

Now surprisingly my saddle height was not too bad at all.  Perhaps 10mm too high.  I had put it that high to avoid feeling like a clown on a bike with my arse down and knees up.  OK, Wayne.  Set it right.  

The GCN video also said it was very important to have the saddle dead level.  Now for some time I've had mine higher at the back to avoid the pressure on the most important part of the garden at the back of the house.  Which as you may recall resulted in that extra horrid love bite from Brooks just before Christmas right in the middle of my perennials.  OK, Wayne, try again.

Today I finished the set up.  The saddle is about 10mm lower and is now dead flat.  During the set up I also check the position of the knee over the pedal and noticed that previously my knee was perhaps 40mm plus forward of the pedal shaft.  Now after the first set of adjustments it's probably within 20mm.  I then adjust the saddle fore / aft position and move it backwards some more.  My knee is now within 10mm of the pedal centreline.  Ballpark.  Time for another test ride.  

That's better.  The first thing I notice is that the ache in my knees is no longer preventing me from getting a blob on.  But it now it feels like my arse is jutting out over the back of the bike.  Perhaps I'm a bit more head down as I cycle along but doesn't actually feel too bad.  

However another old problem is back.  It feels like Ma Boys are now heaving a medicine ball to each other Chuckle Brothers style as I whizz along.   I swear I can hear them saying 'to me to you - to me to you..' on every rotation of the pedal.  Oooh, not painful but such a funny feeling.  It's like a pair of bloody Bulgarian wrestlers have materialised in my pants with big hands and a rather large bottle of baby lotion and are again getting friendly with ma boys and the dog.  

I have an adjustable stem on Koga. So I raised her facial features about 10mm or so which lifted my shoulders slightly. That eased the greasy game of tiddlywinks being played in my pants.

By Jove, I think that's it. I did 25 miles today.  Chased down two sets of racing snakes with Koga.  Both had snuck up and overtook me whilst I was away with the fairies grumbling about my knees and contemplating the importance of this day today.  Firstly an old crinkly one sped past with high speed legs and later another 2 riders from one of Tadcaster's cycling clubs greased past.  The lass wearing a lycra vest emblazoned with Tadcaster Triathlon Team in large letters across her shoulders. Nonetheless I pressed on, easily caught them and chatted as we rode together.  All of them wrapped in black Lycra riding razor blades.  Me in baggy cycling shorts with new tight XXXXXL undershorts riding a 5 bar gate with tractor tyres.  Not bad Wayne, not bad.. 

Yeah the knees are sore still but the limp home mode never materialised after 25 miles in the seat.  Perhaps things are getting better.  Unlike Vladimir Putin, I for sure don't sense anyone circulating near my knees with their knives out.  

So what have I fixed?  For sure I think that the original forward tilt of the seat and the lowered handlebars had rotated my body forward which resulted in my knees being well forward of the pedal centreline.  And so I guess cos I don't really know but Occams Razor tells me this must've been the cause of stress on the knee joints, putting excess pressure and tension on the tendons between the kneecap and shinbone.   Ask any architect about mechanical stresses caused by things that stick out….  Yeah the position of the seat and bars for sure was the cause...

I think Ma Boy and Our Lass have scared themselves silly with their new weaponry as they've not used it today.  I truly hope that over the coming days they do keep their knives sheathed and out of their bedroom walls.  Ooohhh!

Finally I made it up the stairs to have hot sizzling blissful sex with my shower.  Ma Boy and Our Lass, whilst still feeling sore, did not complain too much on the way up.  Good.  I climbed out of my new Fat Lad at the Back XXXXXXXL cycling underwear and poked them with a stick.

To my surprise there's no sign that Hairy Melon had problems munching her chocolate digestives today!  Even with numb lips!  Yay!  Another problem solved!

Sadly though, 'cos of the new seat set up I think I've ejected my testicles somewhere on the ride.  

I'm currently walking around the house like I've shat myself and talking quickly like I've been sucking on helium all day...

The Ides of March.  Yes.  Beware!

Ciao for now..