Flatlining

Still waiting for the book to arrive which will transform my training methods and drag me screaming into the 21st Century.

Brian claims that his method will make me faster, whilst allowing me to train less , and more slowly. I'm not sure that I could actually train more slowly without going backwards; and training less would simply involve staying in bed all day, but I'm willing to suspend disbelief.

So, in the interests of science, I dug my heart-rate monitor out of my running-gear drawer and strapped it on. Brian, who's a similar age to me, says his programme restricted him to less than 130 bpm on all rides.

This can't be right. I hit 150 putting my shoes on and barely dropped below it until I was sitting in the cafe afterwards. When I even approached a hill, a series of beeping alarms went off. I half expected a lugubrious Danish masseur to appear and say "Bjarne, look what you're doing to yourself, we are your friends, we can help".

(The previous line will only make sense if you've seen Overcoming -- which I recommend you do. It's very entertaining, especially now we know what Bjarne and Ivan were really up to).

Clearly this hi-tech training lark is more complicated than it seems. No wonder Chris Boardman always looked worried.

More from the Catford Hill Climb tomorrow.

Welcome to the 21st Century

Curses! Looks like I might have to ride from Paris to Roubaix after all. I was hoping that -- after an Xmas stuffing myself with turkey, pudding and Newcastle Brown -- I might have a couple of tentative stabs at long rides then give up quietly, sneaking my bike back to the cellar and putting my feet up.

But Brian -- at the consistently entertaining Washing Machine Post -- has come up with some 21st Century multi-platform, social media shiznit that won't let me off the hook that easily.

First, he's told everyone on his blog about my plans. Then, he's recommended that I buy a book that will help build my base fitness level via heart-rate monitors, exertion levels, interval training etc.

I've got a heart-rate monitor somewhere, a relic of my marathon running days, but I've never been exactly scientific when it comes to training. I've always trained by "feel", loosely translated as riding a bit until I'm puffed and stopping for a cake -- which is probably why I'm so ludicrously slow.

If you've ever seen the film Overcoming -- you'll remember two things. First, the implacable physio Ole Kaare Føli, and his valiant efforts to stop Bjarne Riis's big bald head from imploding under terrifying stress levels. Second, poor old Carlos Sastre -- CSC's loveable Spanish nearly-man -- as he struggles in an unequal relationship with his power meter.

"I think maybe computer is more f*****ng clever than me" is his considered verdict, and I sympathise.

But it's time I moved into the modern world, so as soon as the book arrives I'll be mapping out a proper plan and doing intervals till my face turns blue.

Brian's training for London to Paris, I'm training for Paris-Roubaix -- we'll be comparing notes across the blogosphere.

I have a horrible suspicion that there's no going back now.