Wimbledon Hill and I

Wimbledon Hill has meant many things to me. It has defined my relationship with my bike. And with myself. There are hills that are difficult to get up… But I manage it most of the time. There are hills that only super-fit triathletes would attempt. One of these hills is on the cycle route from London out to Reading. I like to call it The Hill Of Resting because all you can do is get off your bike and rest.

But Wimbledon Hill is different. It is difficult. But not too difficult. If you get into the right thought process, you can just about get up it. If you think you won’t do it, then you might as well not try, because you’ll give up so quickly. But if you can talk yourself into believing you can do it, you’ve crossed the first hurdle.

There are a few things which need to happen to get up Wimbledon Hill.

1. You need to believe you will make it.

2. You need the traffic lights at the bottom of the hill to be on green.

3. You need to look down at the road and not look up to check your progress until you go past the second drain and are in sight of the Cath Kidson shop.

4. You need to stand up to approach the hill but sit down after the first drain.

5. You need to keep your speed up.

Once you have worked this out, you can attack the hill every time, because you have a method. But all it takes is the slightest inclination that your legs ache, or you feel lazy today, or you’ll never make it… and off you climb, feeling like a let down and convincing yourself that next time you’ll do it.

Life is a bit like Wimbledon Hill. Occasionally it is like the Hill Of Resting. Realistically, I will never alleviate world hunger single handedly. It is more than likely that I will end up pushing my bike up the hill, making small efforts here and there where I can but unable to attack the whole thing alone.

But sometimes it is like Wimbledon Hill. It’s hard but going for it and having a method could see you through, so long as you don’t hop off with a faux injury, saying you’ll do it next time.

My efforts to be greener have so far been a little more like a gentle incline, the long slow hill in Richmond Park from Roehampton Gate to Richmond Gate (minus the steep bit at the end, of course). I quite like Richmond Park and a gentle incline is at least heading in the right direction.

But the other day I decided to jump in with both feet and attempt a little Wimbledon Hill. I put my money where my mouth is. I went looking for things I care about, causes and projects that I feel passionately about. While I couldn’t be at the abolitionist march in Austin today, I donated some money to the organisation leading it. I also read up about the British Red Cross and, remembering someone in my neighbourhood who needs help, gave them some money too. I bought two books from the Friends of the Earth website. And in town last night, meeting a friend for dinner, I saw some street musicians and emptied my purse into their guitar case.

I may be a little short at the end of this month but I’m going to ride it out. I felt poorer financially but better for it. Lighter. Like I’d emptied my pockets and now I was more relaxed. The money had been given wisely and I was absolved of the responsibility of spending it.

And that was also my Wimbledon Hill, being ok with giving money away again. I used to do it loads when I didn’t have much, because I didn’t have anything to lose. But then after a while, the bank and the government wanted all that money back. And you have to keep hold of it. Think before you spend. Withhold frivolity. Watch the pennies.

And this past few days, for my one good thing every day, I have given money away in a useful way. And it has been fun. Try it.

Falling off my bike whilst moving at high speed

The first time I fell when moving fast, I was cycling along the side of the road through Brompton, on my way into London. I was in the cycle lane and there was a bit of a traffic jam. The cars were stationary but the cycle lane was clear so I was cycling quite fast. I was approaching a section of the road that had a Keep Clear sign, for cars to turn into a car park on my left. As I approached that section, I looked but nothing was turning so I kept cycling. All of a sudden, a big jeep thing swung quickly into the Keep Clear section and across my path into the car park. A millisecond before it would have hit me, I pulled on my brakes and skidded around so I was side on to the car. By the time it had disappeared into the car park, I had fallen sideways off the bike and skidded along the tarmac road, leaving the majority of my leg skin there. As this fall was post-cleats, the sudden pull of my body off the bike had been too fast for the shoes. I stood up, in my socks, and noticed that my cleats were still attached to the pedals on my bike! People rushed over, offering support and cursing the jeep driver. I stalked after him into the car park, in my socks, pushing my bike. I caught up with him and poked my head in the driver’s side.

“Are you going to say sorry?” I demanded.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” The man seemed worried.

“You just pulled in front of me and I had to brake really hard and I came off my bike.”

“O god, sorry! I didn’t see you.”

“EXACTLY!” I said, self righteously.

“But I, I didn’t see you.”

“Thats not ok. That doesn’t excuse you,” I ranted. “Why weren’t you bloody looking!?”

After a long rant, I mounted my bicycle, awkwardly because of the shoes on pedals and because I now realised that the seat had been shunted out of place, and flounced off, as best I could given the situation at hand.

The next time I fell off my bike whilst moving at speed was a similar situation. The cars were still at a set of traffic lights but the cycle lane was clear so I was cycling quite fast. A lazy mother was dropping her child off at school and instead of driving her into the school car park, she had obviously told her to jump out at the lights. The little girl, not looking of course, opened her car door just as I passed and almost knocked me out. I was thrown clean off my bike and onto the pavement. The edge of the door had ripped the skin between my little finger and ring finger apart and was bleeding all over. My arm felt broken and my leg had taken a bit of a pull in the wrong direction.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I yelled at the little girl. In hindsight, this may not have been the best thing to say to a little girl.

Shell shocked, I struggled to my feet as the Mum came around from the drivers side and asked me if there was anything she could do.

“I think you’ve done enough!” I snapped, as I got on my bike and gingerly cycled away.

I had a bruise on my arm from shoulder to elbow which was deep purple and yellow and lasted for weeks. It wasn’t broken but I couldn’t really use it for the next two days.

Bloody kids.

Falling off my bike whilst barely moving

My first big fall happened whilst moving at almost no miles an hour, on a pavement, with no-one around. My friend Joe and I were cycling to his home in Reading so had just set off on our epic adventure early in the morning. My bike was newish and I was itching to give it a trial run on a long ride. I was having one of those monthly spacially unaware days (women, you know what I mean) and as I cycled around a little bollard thingy on the pavement at a dead end road with no cars or pedestrians, I just went a little too slowly to stay upright. Something about my spacial unawareness made me totally unable to cope with the situation at hand and I just wobbled slowly toward the bollard, crashed the front wheel sideways into it and fell on the ground. The brake was broken for the whole ride and I grazed my leg.

The next falls were all after I’d had different pedals fitted and had started wearing cleats, shoes that have little blocks on them which click into a space on your pedals. The fall I had whilst cycling in the busy centre of London was because I hadn’t yet worked out how to get out of them while moving slowly uphill. It’s harder than you think because of your weight being on them. So as I got to a red traffic light, I couldn’t unclip and I fell, in front of the dozens of people waiting to cross the road and looking uncertainly at me to see if I’d stop and let them across. I was going no miles an hour. There were no cars. There was no almost-collision. I just went slower, slower, slower, right down to a halt, then fell off on to the ground. The handle bar turned sideways and stabbed me in the boob so I had a bruised boob for weeks afterward. And people really looked strangely at me. Someone hurried over and asked if I needed help but I just brushed her off, rather gruffly and stalked off, pushing the bike, mega embarrassed.

The next fall was similar to this. I was cycling slowly uphill so couldn’t unclip and was cycling with a friend who had looked down to adjust his gears and drifted sideways into my path. I braked, a natural reaction to stop the inevitable crash. But I hadn’t unclipped. So I fell in the opposite direction and really bashed up my legs, hitting the curb. My friend didn’t even realise any of what had happened. He just looked down to change his gear then looked up and I’d fallen on the ground.

Another time I had a plastic bag with some stuff in but I had a new bike with very short handlebars. As I turned a corner, the bag swung into the spokes and stopped my wheel dead. I tried pushing down on the pedals to keep moving but I ground to a halt then fell sideways into the road. To onlookers it must have looked very stupid. I turned a corner, stopped, then crashed to the floor. Again, no-one was around, no cars, no pedestrians. Nothing had jumped into my path. I just fell on the ground.

Maybe this is why I am not the world famous sporting star you probably all expect I should be by now.

The reality (?) of mobile phones

It’s my guest blogger’s turn to take over today. Enjoy!

 

Last week I went to the supermarket. Nothing strange in that except what should have been a straightforward, weekly event for me turned into a nightmare. How so?

Let’s begin with the car journey: it’s less than 1 mile. There is one set of traffic lights on the route. It is red when I get there. I’m second in the queue. I wait, like everyone else. Light goes amber then green, outside lane moves off, my lane doesn’t. As I look at the driver in front, the person has a mobile phone held to their ear and is obviously not paying attention to the traffic lights. After a couple of seconds I beep my horn and they wake up and start driving. I’m not convinced they finished the call but at least they put the phone down.

Now I’m approaching the supermarket entrance. A lady is walking back and to and side-to-side on the pavement. She is actually shouting and doesn’t see me trying to get past. As she turns round I see she is on the phone. She is having an argument in raised tones. She is telling the person on the other end: “You get out of my house RIGHT NOW!!” and this is followed by words I can only represent by ******* being said many times. She is blocking the pavement and I have to walk into the road to get around her so I can get to the trolley area. That’s two mobile obsessed people and I haven’t even got in the door yet!

I have a list. I grab my trolley and move quickly inside. I know exactly where I’m going and which aisles I need to be in. I speed through the first three aisles grabbing everything I need. I turn the corner into aisle 4 and, as I make my way down to the shelf I need, I see a problem. I can’t get to it. There is a person talking on their mobile phone but holding their trolley at right angles to the shelves so it is actually blocking the aisle. Why do people do that? I can’t get past. I wait a bit but no reaction.

Time for tactic no.2 – crash, apparently accidentally, into said trolley pretending to be looking the other way. Person looks round and moves trolley out of the way. They don’t stop the phone conversation. I carry on. Soon I’m at the last aisle and heading for the freezers as my last stop. I finish there in just a couple of mins with the items on my list going swiftly into the trolley. Time for the checkout. My bags which I’m going to re-use to collect my green points on to the loyalty card are ready, my bank card is ready, money off vouchers are ready. This supermarket has 15 checkouts but on a Monday morning at opening time (8.00am) they have only one or two with staff. Today it’s one but fortunately for me only one person is in the queue. It’s 8.25 and I’m doing well and should make it back home before the roads get clogged with school traffic which they will by about 8.40am. The person in front begins to unload their trolley and then I hear this ringing noise. Yep you’ve guessed it – their mobile phone! Now if I’m emptying my trolley onto a supermarket checkout belt answering the phone is simply a non-starter. I’ll get to the call later. (Just like if I’m talking to someone face-to-face and my phone rings, I don’t answer. That person is who I’m giving my attention to and I would consider it rude of me to just expect them to wait while I answer a call.)

However I’m not this person and they answer the call and then carry on a discussion while trying to put all their stuff onto the belt. Not surprisingly they now start moving more slowly so they can concentrate on what is being said. The fact that there is a person standing behind seems to be of no importance to them. Then they proceed to stack the trolley with the checked items from the cashier one-handed! The conversation goes on. It’s payment time and now out comes the purse, again one-handed, and then much fumbling through to find the right card to pay. Did they apologise for holding me up? What do you think? Oh well. Finally I get out and to the road near my house. I’m just too late to beat the standing traffic. The tailbacks are caused because there are two lollipop ladies, who are of just a few hundred yards apart on this road, who help children to cross safely. Of course it’s not them I’m complaining about. It’s their job to help the kids over the road and if they weren’t there the kids wouldn’t be able to get to the school. So there it is.

I’d been out of the house for less than 1 hour and FOUR yes 4 people had thought their phone calls were more important than letting the world go about its business in an unobstructed way. Let’s be honest – the calls weren’t that important. Not one of them was an emergency call. No-one dropped their bags and ran to the hospital or drove round the next corner on two wheels. Even the lady telling the person to get out of her house stayed where she was. Going shopping shouldn’t be that hard should it? But that day it was.

I’m sure you’ve all got examples of how people get so wrapped up in their phones that they don’t realise what’s going on around them. That’s why there was a question mark behind the word “reality” in the title of today’s post. I really do wonder, when answering their mobiles, if people actually just go into a different world – a mobile world. It’s a world which says, “Look at me, what I’m doing is more important than anything you folks in the real world want to do. You’ll have to wait because I’m on my phone!!” (Maybe for some it’s even a case of “I know it will wind you up if I take this call so I’ll take it in order to wind you up!”)

Most of the time it’s not a problem but there are a number of cases where accidents, sometimes fatal, have been caused by people using mobile phones inappropriately. Honestly would you want to be responsible for something like that. Of course you wouldn’t. And that’s what I tell myself every time the phone rings when I’m driving. Leave it. Get to it later when I stop or pull over if I think it’s something I have to deal with there and then.

I’ve been having a few thoughts in this direction and will run them by you next week. I think I may be onto something.