We’re off to Wales.

We’d talked about it. We’d talked all around it. Talk is cheap. Just like the cottage that we’re renting.

It was settled over a Sunday roast at Pete’s place. We decided not to dwell too much on it because the more we thought on, the more we’d come to realise that hurling ourselves down the Welsh mountainsides on a bike is not really a sane activity for a cold, wet winter weekend.

I know it’s going to hurt. It did the last time I did it a few years ago now, and that was when I was really fit. Fortunately, I don’t smoke and lead an active lifestyle so it should be a tolerable pain. After covering thirty-two miles this Sunday and being able to get up and walk with nothing than a slight case of jelly-legs, I’ll do fine. I hope the others can say the same.

Today’s ride was brought to you by the number Pain and the letter Ow. The route is courtesy of Google Maps.

Well that was, erm, refreshing. Yea. That’s it. Fourteen miles uphill – Escher would be proud.

I’ve seen places with great parkour potential and some spots where I’ll definately be returning with my bike soon. I had an encounter with a bunch of dickheads near the canal who thought they’d try to force me into the water – but managed to weave and speed off before they could make good of their threats. I’ll just be a little more careful travelling through the trashier areas on a new bike. Maybe carrying a big stick would help, too.

I was also testing out a my new full-face helmet today (a Specialized “Deviant” – how apt!) Having taken some nasty falls from my bikes in the past, I think you’ve got to be fucking stupid not to wear a helmet when you ride.

In 2004, I witnessed a hit-and-run in Manchester where a cyclist got knocked of his bike. It wouldn’t have been so serious had the guy not fallen and cracked his head open on a cast iron grid in the road. And I mean open – like a melon. It was messy and I was the only one who could help till the men in green came. Much use they were.

It’s a bit on the toasty side but still well ventilated, and it keeps the mud and crap from flying into your open mouth as you gasp for breath going down the trail. It’s a damned sight cooler than other full-face ones I’ve tried but probably not one I’ll use for general road-riding – you get too hot to quickly. Though I’m not looking forward to coming off my bike, I’m sure I’d be much better protected than with the usual brain-buckets.

I got some decent pedals fitted to my Hardrock Comp bike so that I can use my mountain-bike shoes with their SPD clips. As with most things in life, there are pros and cons.

• Pro: With these shoes, your firmly attached to the pedals and so can power your bike on both your upstroke and downstroke. Great for getting up really steep stuff and for jumping over obstacles (cos the bike jumps into the air with you).
• Con: You really have to remember you have the clips on. Unless, when you come to a complete stop, you really like crashing to the floor like a fallen tree. You only do it once, then you stop forgetting.

Roll on the Autumn. I’m planning on going back to my old haunts in North Wales with some friends – for MTBers Coed-y-Brenin is a name synonymous with excitment and adrenaline.

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I’m sore but buzzing.

I see now that I can make that long haul across Manchester and still be able to walk when I get off the bike. A few wobbles now, but after a week or two of beasting myself, that’ll go.

So I’ve set myself a challenge: 1000 miles in twelve weeks. Giving myself a couple of easy weeks to get used to the bike, that means I must try to do a hundred miles a week to hit my target by Christmas.

 I can do that.