I had a slight moment of panic when I recieved in the post a set of vintage Campagnolo C Record downtube shifters for the Walvale classic bike restoration. They came in no less than 18 teeny pieces and as they were vintage they didn’t come with an easy to follow assembly instruction manual.

After 15 minutes of the now well recognised mechanical frustration, I determined the correct order of assembly.

For all those that go after me I thought it might be useful to write down how to assemble a Campagnolo frictional gear shifter.

The photo shows the individual components laid out in the order of assembly with each part also oriented as they should be put together.

So, part A sits on the braze-on part of the down tube followed by B and C. D goes in flat side up pushed down of the protruding part of the frame. E is flat side down. Then F, G, H followed finally by the D-clip screw.

Job done, or at least almost done. I haven’t wired it up yet but that will follow in another post.

I’ve read somewhere that these frictional Campagnolo shifters were not the most reliable and have a tendency for losing the friction setting so you have to repeatedly tighten up the D-ring. I’ll report back when it’s all working.

*UPDATE*
I had some amazing assistance on the Retrobike forum and want to link back to the post as it should form a useful reference for those who may also struggle to match together the parts from a disassembled friction shifter.

On the same forum, one of the members uploaded a scanned copy of the original instructions which you can view here: Campagnolo Record Friction.

My new project arrived in a box last night. It’s a thing of beauty but is destined to cause cursing and consternation in the household.

I’m not known for my mechanical skills but I am known for flitting from one project to the next with only a book for guidance.

The book didn’t help me much last night. Mostly because it was upstairs under the bed while my workshop is in the front room. I spent two hours with my fingers trapped under the saddle guide rails trying to attach it to the seat post. I scared the kids with my swearing but finally achieved some success only to discover, as I collapsed into bed, that I’d attached the post in a back to front fashion.

This is going to be a palaver of monstrous proportions.

The bike is an old custom build from Walvale Cycles in Liverpool. It is made from Reynolds 531 tubing, although there are no transfers and it has 3/4 chromed forks and rear triangle. I haven’t found out much about Walvale Cycles, they are mentioned in Classic Lightweights but aren’t famed in the same way as other frame builders such as Holdsworth, Dave Yates or Mercian.

My plan is to source some classic campagnolo components and recreate the dream bike of my youth.

Today’s task was to fathom out how to shift the rust marks from the chrome.

I’ve had impressive results with fine steel wool and oil but I may attempt the aluminium foil and coke trick tomorrow.

By the end of day 2, I have a frame that is beginning to look rather like a bike. I’ve attached every component that required only a few turns of an allen key. I’ve got the stem, handlebar, seatpost, saddle and the brakes attached. I haven’t ventured anywhere near cabling so of course nothing works but I’m already feeling as though I’ve missed my vocation in life. I’m clearly a bike mechanic at heart.

Now I need to return to ebay to find some wheels, I haven’t a clue what I need and what will work with the rest of the components but I need wheels urgently. It won’t be til then that I can confirm that this bike will fit me.

My enforced rest from running was initiated by a trip to a pub.

Me and my good lady gathered around a couple of pints of Wandle, pulled out the Moleskin and jotted down a recovery plan to rid me of plantar fasciitis for good and set me right for my already deferred entry to the VLM.

The Plan allowed for 4 weeks of proper foot rest – icing, gentle stretching. It included core training sessions and a bit of cardio in the form of cycling. I have a feeling it might have mentioned a diet but I can’t remember that bit.

4 weeks came and went and I was still limping so I introduced yoga and ibuprofen.

Some 8 weeks of sitting on well endowed backside has had some effect though, an additional 5lbs of lard have been added somewhere and the feet are somewhat more springy – success and failure in equal measure.

Cue the next phase of The Plan – time for structured re-entry into the running world.

I think The Plan might have specified gentle walk/runs but somewhere between home and the start of the Wandle Trail I made the mistake of programming the Garmin. I felt heroic. I set the interval beeper to 5 mins run with 1 min walk – 20 of them! That is 2 hrs of hardcore running with a teeny bit of walking thrown in.

That 1 minute walk is pure torture no sooner has breathing calmed down sufficiently to swig water than the garmin beeps at you to start up again.

I’d happily have ignored it’s little beeps and followed the beat of my own drum but Lynn was with me and she’s not a quitter. I’m leaving her at home next time. I was shattered at the end.

I got home, slipped into my ice bucket and that was it for the next 36 hours.
Completely crippled again. I was forced to drag my sorry body around the house on my hands and knees and could only handle the upright position with the aid of my long discarded hiking poles.

Square one again.

Originally published on my warriorwomen blog.

I’ve been using The Stick ever since I suffered with a painful muscular injury to my hamstrings.

It has a very simple design – a slightly flexible plastic stick around which a set of plastic spindles can independently rotate. It is these spindles that work on your muscles to ease out knots and release tension.

It’s extremely effective and a superb substitute for daily massages for those not lucky enough to have a full time masseuse on hand.

You can use it almost anywhere on the body but I have found it particularly useful for the larger muscle groups such as the calves, quads, hamstrings and buttocks. It can be incredibly painful when you first start using it but you can control the pressure and it’s amazing how quickly the muscles loosen up and stop screaming.

I came across the Posture Pro and Footeez at the The Running School, I was just preparing for a high intensity blast on the treadmill but I was suffering from a niggling cramp in my calf. I was quite concerned that I was going to do myself a mischief so the running instructor had me sitting on the floor with the blue nobbly gadget under my calf. The trick is to roll back and forth using your body weight to apply quite forceful pressure to a defined spot. I found it to have a miraculous effect, clearing the knot within a minute or so. I bought these two the very same day.

I find that The Stick is ideal for routine treatment as a preventative measure while it is worth rolling out the Posture Pro when rapid remedial action is required. The Posture Pro does take a little bit of getting used to and is tricky to use without giving you carpet burns on your buttocks as you roll to and fro.

The Footeez is similar to the Posture Pro, another knobbly hard plastic cyclinder but is specially shaped for foot rolling. I use the two interchangeably to relieve the pain of plantar fasciitis. The podiatrist recommended the use of a golf ball for focused massage of the PF which is a far more economical method but I find it quite irritating. It’s hard to apply sufficient pressure to the heel region without the golf ball shooting out from under your foot and scuttling across the room. I soon get bored of retrieving it.

Originally published on my warriorwomen blog.

The enforced running respite has resulted in a very slight improvement to my plantar fasciitis pain so I’m motivated to keep up with the recommendations from my podiatrist.

I’ve stuck to the stretches, swapped the running with cycling and been wearing the temporary insoles in my trainers. The only remedial action left to tick off is pool running or aqua jogging.

I hunted around for aqua jogging classes in the local pools but couldn’t find anything at all. I imagined groups of frustrated (ex)runners bounding up and down the lanes.

A couple of weeks ago I found myself next to an empty exercise pool while on a weekend treat at the Sanctuary. The opportunity was too good to lose so I dropped in, grabbed one of the buoyancy tubes as substitute running belt, and attempted the run motion.

I now know why there was a distinct absence of organised pool running groups – this is definitely a solitary experience. You bob around mostly on the spot and may as well tuck yourself away in the corner of the deep end and try not to raise too much concern as you flap away in a frustrated doggy paddle.

I attempted a few different styles with the body either upright or sloped and felt as though I was either cycling or swimming but not running. I discarded the flotation aid to see the affect of adding some realistic arm action. I bobbed around, just millimeters under my nostrils and managed 20 mins without drowning.

It was by no means as exhausting as running, I was exerting myself but I could hold a conversation whereas I can barely gasp out a greeting when I run on land. You do move a little bit so its not entirely on the spot running. I was circling a pillar in the middle of a pool and it probably took me 4 mins a lap. The scenery didn’t get any better but I suppose treadmill runners are used to that sort of drudgery, a waterproof mp3 player would have helped.

It was moderately satisfying and helped delay the stir crazy impulses but by golly its boring.

Originally published on my warriorwomen blog.

When it came to packing for our honeymoon escape, Lynn made it abundantly clear that running gear would not be required.

I don’t know if it’s my inherently sulky nature or my winning smile but as usual I got my own way and after sneaking a bag of sporty regalia into the boot of the car I managed to hijack a planned walk into a run/walk combo.

I don’t get walking. We had a beautiful route planned along the South Coast Path but to walk it would have taken forever. With a relaxed run you get to walk up the impossibly steep bits, run past the boring bits and arrive at the pub long before the hikers have chance to nick the best seats.

The route really was a beauty. If you are planning a trip in the Cornwall vicinity I’d strongly recommend checking out the website of the SouthWest Coast Path where you can download maps and instructions for a myriad of local walks.

Having packed our gear in rather a rush and under cover of darkness, it was no surprise that I forgot a few vitals such as bumbag and hydration pack. I had emergency pint and ferry money jangling in my trouser pocket and we had to survive on the hottest day of the year with a 330ml recycled bottle between us. I assumed there would be loads of supplies on route but should have smartened up when the birds of prey started to circle above us the moment we hit the trail.

It was stunning yet desolate and most signs of civilisation were now in ruins. A tap in the local graveyard saved us from shrivelling up in the sun.

We ended the run stumbling into the pub for a pint of Tribute, it could so easily have been 2 pints but we had rivers to ford and it would be so much easier with a few coins for the ferry service. I left the GPS running for the river crossing in a vain attempt to boost the pace stats which still remain shamefully sedate.

Great day though.

Originally published on my warriorwomen blog.

It’s my bithday soon and for a gift my mum wanted to send me off for dancing lessons – she’s worried I’m going to embarass her with the first dance at the wedding. I managed to persuade her that I was beyond redemption, wouldn’t be attempting anything beyond a pitiful shuffle and that I’d get far more benefit from a little running tuition.

So, I had my first session at The Running School in Battersea today. It’s a six session course and the first involves a polite form of running character assassination.

I was recorded from rear and side while giving it my all on the treadmill. From first glance at the video I thought I had a remarkably tidy gait but then Patrick started sharing his wisdom.

The inquest suggested I had excessive rotation, my feet were crossing over, my hips dropped on foot strike and I basically bounce up and down on the spot. It’s a wonder that I ever get to the finish line.

I was feeling a little despondent but Patrick seems very confident and assured me he could make a runner of me. I will watch this space with curiosity, I’ve seen the before and after videos and can’t quite place myself in the after shots.

I left with homework instructions to practice one-legged cantering. Hard to explain but you look like a plonka and it increases the merriment in the household no end.

Originally published on my warriorwomen blog.

We set off in the direction of adventure and the uncharted waters of the eastern wedge of Mitcham Common. Unfortunately it didn’t prove to be entirely virgin territory and we had to endure quite substantial size-related abuse from the native youths walking their bull terriers.

It’s easy to overlook these scrub-like triangles of Mitcham Common, they can at times seem so grim and macabre that you want to hurry on by. I’ve grown quite fond of the area but there is always a sense of foreboding as you round another corner of the undergrowth.

It was a successful run today and despite finishing in a very peculiar and concerning shade of red, I did at least feel on form. Good job really, I’ve been slacking with Juneathon and the Great North Run is only round the corner. Training needs to step up a pace.

Originally published on my warriorwomen blog.

I have so many wrist and arm gadgets that I am holding out for an implantable chip so I can discard some of the clunky adornments. A chip for blood glucose levels, body temp, steps walked, calories input, distance travelled. It will be ANT enabled and my body can spill it’s beans when ever I switch on my computer.

In the meantime I have to get used to being called the household Lab Rat.

A new gizmo arrived yesterday for me to try out – The Trion:z Double Loop Bracelet.

It’s one of those magnetic bracelets typically associated with chronic sufferers of arthritis but re-styled for the athletic world. The Trion:z brand has managed to deeply embed itself within the sporting fraternity and you’ll see the coloured bands on the wrists of triathletes to golfers.

As with most of these “alternative” therapies, you’ve got to tread incredibly carefully when making any health claims. In fact I couldn’t find any on the leaflet that came with the bracelet. There was an emphasized quote, stating that Michellie Jones wouldn’t race without her Trion:z but it didn’t explain why.

Why won’t she race without it? I am puzzled.

What am I supposed to feel now I’ve put this thing on?

Reading the techy section of the website suggests that the bracelet is going to release negative ions which will inhibit the effects of the positive ion producing technology all around us.

I haven’t noticed any problems from the positive ions so far so I decided to check it out on the treadmill. Fan on, treadmill turning, iPod on – I must have been in positive ion hell or at least I might have been if it wasn’t for the bracelet of wonder.

It was an uneventful run but quite pleasant, no headaches but then that’s normal. No epiphany but maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough.

It’s quite a nice bracelet though and as it’s designed for sporty types it might not get a stinky as my Link of London friendship bracelet. I think it can stay for a while and take up valuable wrist real estate until the next must have gadget comes along. Who knows, the negative ions might surprise me.

Last night saw two less than eager runners imbibing carefully measured doses of liquid carbs. It was the night before the much anticipated Kingston Breakfast run and we were supposed to be having a nightcap but ended up winding each other up.

For some reason the Kingston race had been declared a music free zone – the organisers had specified a no personal stereo rule and I was pissed off. Then Dan cast the killer blow when he announced that the race was also t-shirtless.

I only run for t-shirts and Stella and I always have my headphones plugged in!

One more pint of the carb load and we had hatched a plan. We were to sleep through the 5am alarm, rise just as the Kingston race was finishing and head across to Richmond Park for our own 8 mile race, followed by booze and pies by the river. Far more civilised.

It was a glorious day for running round Richmond Park, full sunshine and a tiny chill. I opted to run clockwise and sent Dan in the opposite direction so that we could meet mid run and swap notes.

I’d been running for 1km when I spotted a couple of walkers up ahead. Walkers always trouble me as I feel the need to compare my speed to theirs and it never feels flattering. I came up alongside them and felt a firm punch in the side of my arm. Turns out one of the walkers was my boss. We swapped our pleasantries and then I had to carry on and face the tricky task of running ahead of someone you know is going to check your arse out for wobbles.

I had to pick up my speed to get out of the wobble zone but then of course I started to heat up and was threatening to explode. I had to push on and on until I felt I’d gone far enough to be out of sight. It shattered me and I had another 8k to go.

I finished with 12k on the clock and staggered to the nearby ice cream van for a teeny 99 while I awaited the return of Dan who was pushing on for an 18k target.