Recently in Cycling Category

Vicki and I spent the weekend in the Bear Hotel in Woodstock just outside Blenheim Palace in order to ride the 60 mile sportive in the Blenheim Bike Festival.

I had hoped to get around in time to watch the start of the Brompton World Championships, but took a bit of a detour which added 10 miles to my distance and also had to stop and call an ambulance for a couple of guys who crashed into each other.

This turned out to be a good thing for me as it was at this point I realised I was on the 100 mile loop instead of the 60 mile route.

Anyway, without the delay, I think I would have made it back for the start of the Bromptons. As it was, I covered 69 miles in 4 hours and 18 minutes, which I was pretty pleased with.

And it was gorgeous route with fantastic weather and the festival itself was pretty cool.

Vicki rode with a friend of hers from work and managed not to get lost and finish within her personal goal time of less than six hours.

Oh, and I also managed to kill the battery on my garmin before I started. But I did track the route with the GPS on my phone and was thus able to provide the lovely map above.

Pics of the day

And here's a video of the Brompton World Championships.

I am, once again, doing a mad cycle ride. This is the biggest one yet. I’ll be starting in Wales, cycling coast to coast across England, popping across the North Sea and then riding for another two days across Holland to reach Amsterdam. I plan to hang out there for a couple of days, take a deep breath (hopefully of air not too laden with THC), and then sprint pell-mell for London.

Did you notice the phrase “coast to coast” up there? This is not an exaggeration. We start in Cardiff on the Bristol Channel. This is so much the Western Coast of England that it’s actually in a completely different nation. Then we head East across the entire nation of England until we run out of land and smack into the North Sea. The plan is to do this section of the trip in just three days.

The only Canadian equivalent would be starting in Hyder, Alaska and cycling until you hit Halifax. So, in a way, it’s as if we were travelling 6,742km over three days! Assuming we didn’t have to stop to sleep or take pictures of enormous easter eggs, we would have to maintain an average speed of more than 187kilometers per hour in order to be able to accomplish this superhuman feat.

It doesn’t stop there, though. We then have to cross the North Sea. Keep in mind that no one has ever successfully accomplished this on a bicycle.

And then there is the Netherlands… This is a country that by all rights should be under the unrelenting suffocation of the sea. At any moment, the dykes could fail and we could all drown. Not to mention the threat from windmills, which are, effectively, gigantic cuisinarts. And the cheese! My God, People! The country is awash in cheese and tulips. To be honest, I’m not sure what the danger is here, but isn’t that the point? Who knows what dangers await in this land of curds and petals?

So, assuming I make it to Amsterdam, which, as we all know, is a city filled with dopers, prostitutes, and museums, I then have to find my way home. The plan is to take five days to get there at, as I have mathematically proven above, 187 kilometers per hour. However, the timetable to return gives us only two days. Again, using almost irrefutable mathematics, this would mean I would have to cycle at more than 280 kilometers per hour. To put this in perspective, this is the top speed of a BMW M5. Let's see Clarkson top that with any of his infernal combustioney toys.

Surely, all this means that you should take out your VISA card and donate a few quid at http://www.justgiving.com/ibcbikeride/.

You can also follow our progress and our preparations at http://www.ibcbikeride.co.uk/.

Well, actually we've been there and back and much has happened in the intervening time. Oh, and far more of us went than are pictured in the above photo, but, hey, it's got a windmill for proof. You can see all the pictures at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tags/bbc2ibc/show/

Personally, my trip was marred by the fact that I am, in fact, a bit of an idiot. As you may know we were tracking our progress on the website using GPS on a couple of mobile phones. On day two the software stopped working. I continued riding with one hand while reinstalling the GPS software on the phone with the other; It was pouring rain; my cleats were clogged with sand from walking on the beach, and I was trying to catch up to the group after stopping to take some pictures. They had turned off the main paved path on to a muddy beach trail. I followed; the front wheel slipped on the mud; my feet remained firmly attached to the pedals, and I fell heavily on my side and cracked one of my ribs.

It was pretty minor -- nothing like when I’d done something similar in January. I could breathe all right and pedalling was fine. Getting on and off the bike was tricky and it took about a week before I could find any position I could lie in that would allow me to sleep comfortably.

Another of our members did go through four tires in the space of a couple of hours so he wasn’t exactly burdened with good luck, but I believe mine was the only injury on the ride.

All in all, there were 20 of us travelling in two groups and it was a fantastic trip. My odometer tells me we covered 320km in three days and to date we’ve raised more than £6500 (including gift-aid contributions), but we’re still looking for more. Last year there were only 13 of us and we raised more than £10,000. We’d like to at least beat that this year. You can still donate at http://www.justgiving.com/bbc2ibc2007/.

I'm all lubed up with Brave Soldier. I've got a one-eyed, yellow bear strapped to my handlebars. My nether regions are encased in Lycra, and I'm about to hit the road. It's all for the BBC's charity Children in Need. You can follow our progress at http://www.ibcbikeride.co.uk/ and donate to the cause at http://www.justgiving.com/bbc2ibc2007/. This year we're in two groups with twice the live-GPS-Tracking fun!

Ciao!

Sponsor Me!

Yes, I know that cycling has a bit of a bad reputation at the moment. There have been one or two drugs scandals. There have been rumours of cycling teams sacrificing kittens to pagan gods and stealing sugary drinks from babies to give to their team leaders. All of this is reprehensible. But cycling can be a force for GOOD.

I implore you. Ignore the pros. Focus on the good in cycling. Focus on the amateurs, especially the paunchy middle-aged amateurs raising money for Children in Need. You can be assured that no one on the BBC2IBC team will be using performance-enhancing drugs. For one thing we’re just too old and uncool. I doubt any of us would be able to score even a hit of marijuana, never mind find a doctor willing to freeze our blood for a couple of weeks and then inject it back into our bodies.

In less than a month, myself and several of my colleagues will be undertaking a cycling challenge even more formidable than the Tour de France. Those drugged up skinny freaks started in London and then cycled to Paris. We will be starting in London and cycling to Amsterdam. Everyone knows that Paris is to the South and Amsterdam is to the North of London. A cursory glance at any map will show you that North is at the top of the map and South is at the bottom. By this logic, we will be cycling uphill all the way, while the “Pros” obviously just freewheeled their way down the map through the French countryside.

Not only that, but despite all their support infrastructure they managed to get lost and cycle around in a big circle. I mean, three weeks to get from London to Paris. They’re either lazy or incompetent. The distance from London to Amsterdam is actually eight miles further than the distance from London to Paris and we plan to complete our Tour in three DAYS, not three WEEKS.

So for this and many more reasons, you should support us be donating as much as you can afford to Children in Need.

We will, once again, be keeping everyone up to date on the website at
http://www.ibcbikeride.co.uk/

We’ll have gps-tracking, and photo and video updates from the road. It’s going to be brilliant!

To sponsor us, please go to
http://www.justgiving.com/bbc2ibc2007/

I give you my word that no kittens will be harmed during this event.

I did it. Yesterday I cycled a stage of the Tour de France. Or close to it anyway -- it's not quite the same route, and admittedly, it wasn't mountain stage, but still... I rode 120 miles (192km) in 8 hours 22 minutes and 7 seconds.

And the important thing is that I achieved my goal. Or rather I achieved one of my downgraded goals.

I started out kind of optimistic. "Top 50%". That lasted until I showed up at the start and saw my competition. Then I thought, "Okay, let's try to be somewhere above the bottom third". Going up the first big hill I had the first of many woman zoom past me. At that point, I thought, "Okay, I can't let her beat me." A bit sexist I admit. Not to mention stupid. I gave up after about five minutes. Then I thought "Okay, but maybe I can be in the top half of the women." After all, I quite like the top half of most women. But sadly, nope. Pretty close though. If I pretend I'm a woman, I would have finished 102nd out of 191.

Towards the end all the illusions dropped away and I remember thinking, "please don't let me be in the bottom 10%". And HA! I trashed that goal. My placing means I finished in the top 75% of everyone who finished. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Lance Fancy-pants Armstrong!

It's Canada Day and, thanks to treeplanting, what Canada means to me is 9 hours a day of brutal physical exertion in the pouring rain. I'm celebrating by doing the London to Canterbury cyclosportive. The route follows the first stage of this year's Tour de France and is about 200km long. The weather forecast predicts vicious thunder storms. So, if all goes according to plan, it should work out to about nine hours of horrific toil in the pouring rain. Happy Canada Day, eh!

I'm testing out a live GPS tracking service. Hopefully, the map above should show my current (or at least recent location). Go to http://www.sportsdo.net/Yanda/ to see the full track.

Giv'er!

On Sunday I ride one of the stages of the Tour de France. Tours are often won and lost by margins of minutes or less (Greg Lemond won the 1989 Tour by a margin of eight seconds) and by the time I get to Canterbury I will be more than six days ahead of Ullrich and the boys.

This year Le Tour begins in London and there is a cyclosportive event that will allow 5000 deluded amateurs like myself to pretend they are Lance Armstrong and do the 200km route from London to Canterbury a week before the real thing. Of course, being as the stage is in the south of England rather than the south of France, it won't exactly be hilly, but it will be long.

I've signed up along with the Crazy Landlord and some of his work colleagues. Our team name is "Tom Waits for No Man". The landlord informs me that he expects a couple of his colleagues to be playing the role of Tom in this scenario, while John and I are likely to be cast in the role of those they won't be hanging around for. I.e. they are REAL cyclists. We, apparently, are not.

I've been working hard to prove him wrong. Yes, I've been doing a lot of cycling, but more importantly (and far easier) I've been doing a lot of shopping. In the past couple of weeks I've bought some "Brave Soldier" scrotal lubricant, six items of blue lycra, a heart rate monitor, and some sickeningly sweet carbohydrate drink powder. Now that's an odd juxtaposition of words: carbohydrate, drink, powder. Surely, they are not all describing the same thing?

Oh, and I also bought a new bike. I had to buy one, you see, because the day after I signed up to do the ride, the frame on my old bike cracked. Admittedly, it has since been replaced under warranty, but if that wasn't a sign from the credit card gods, I don't know what is.

For a while I suffered under the delusion that this might be a turning point in my life, and that after London to Canterbury, I might take up full-fledged racing and would desperately need a carbon-fibre or titanium piece of art weighing less than a dozen pounds but costing several thousand. In the end, I bought a steel-framed light touring bike. It can still take panniers and proper mudguards and is reasonably comfortable for long rides, but, crucially, it has drop handlebars and LOOKS like a racing bike. And that's the important thing, isn't it? Not to look like a complete fool? Although, in that case, perhaps the matching blue lycra was a mistake.

I've also been doing some serious research on the race. One of the first things I discovered is that it is French. So, as part of my training, I've just spent the last four days in Paris eating croissants, pain au chocolat, and big slabs of meat slathered in thick creamy sauce. Unfortunately, this means I've also spent the last four days off the bike which isn't ideal, but training is all about obstacles and sacrifice. Sometimes, you have to let the little obvious things slip in order to firm up your bigger overall strategy.

I finished the Tour de Yanda today. After 124 days (99 cycling days and 25 rest days), I finally cycled the distance of the Tour de France: 3608km. And a day ahead of schedule to boot! It happened at 8:41am GMT under the watchful eye of the Trellick Tower. I immediately got off my bike rubbed my buttocks and took these pictures. One is, as promised, a picture of these same steely buttocks. The other is a picture of my new life -- of the road ahead of me post-Tour. I can't help but wonder if Lance took some similar snaps as he walked away from the podium knowing he would never return.

So far, I've raised:
$65 CAD for the Livia Stoyke foundation
£105 for the British Heart Foundation
£125 for Children in Need
and £565.38 for the British Red Cross
(plus a bit more for the Canadian Red Cross etc.)
There's still a bit of time left for you to cough up some pocket change. I'm still about £160 short of my target amount.

No more obsessively worrying about whether I will attain my goal. No more having to cycle every blinking day that I'm in the same city as my bike. I now have the option to take the tube home from work if I want. Finally, I'm free to drink booze at work again! Freedom at last!

Except now I have a new obsessive worry. It's National Novel Writing Month and I've signed up to try to write a 50,000 word novel by the end of November. To be honest, I think I will need far more enouragement to attain this goal than I did to complete Le Tour. Yesterday was the first day of NaNoWriMo and I managed just three words and I'm not sure they even count as they are the title of the novel. But they are three choice words: "Farts Like Garlic".

Brilliant, if I do say so myself. That phrase can be read many ways.
Right now, it's really just a poem, but by the end of the month it will be a fully-fleshed novel encapsulating an entire world of hopes and dreams and colourful characters.

But for now... ...back to work. I hope the cocktail trolley passes by soon.

(More Pics of the Tour de Tutu)
(How to Donate)

Last weekend I completed the Tour de Tutu: 350km from White City to Dalston via Oxford and Cambridge.

I was getting a bit behind on the mileage for the Tour de Yanda and I spotted that the annual Oxford to Cambridge charity ride was approaching so it seemed a sensible way to force myself to clock up some extra km.

For those who may be unfamiliar with the geography of middle England, the distance from Oxford to Cambridge is roughly the length of 665,000 hedgehogs laid end to end.

But then, how to get to the start? And how to get home to the finish? Well, the sensible solution seemed to be to cycle so that's what I did.

On Friday I left work and cycled 43km to Maidenhead where I'd booked into what sounded like a lovely B&B, the Sheephouse Manor B&B. The owners weren't home when I arrived. I was greeted by the babysitter, a teenage boy. He showed me to my room which was supposed to have an ensuite.

"Thanks," I said, "But where's the bathroom?"

"I dunno," he replied. "I guess there isn't one?"

"Well, is there a shower or something I could use?"

He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Well, I mean, the rest of the house is private..."

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that there isn't a bathroom?" I asked. "Is it all right if I have a look around?"

He just shrugged, then turned around and left.

After a fruitless search during which I encountered several locked doors and several others all marked "Private" I left my special separate B&B entrance, walked around to the front of the house and knocked on the door (which was also marked "Private"). There was no bell.

The boy wonder answered the door. "Hi."

"Hi there," I said. "Look, I can't find a bathroom up there."

"Well, I guess there isn't one," he said.

"I suppose it's conceivable that they wouldn't provide me with a shower -- but a toilet? Surely they don't want me to piss all over the garden gnomes?"

"Oh yeah. I guess you're right. I'll give them a call."

And so it turned out there was a bathroom with all the usual amenities. It was behind one of the doors marked "Private". From that point on the evening was far more pleasant.

The next morning I cycled 67km to Oxford via Marlow and Watlington. The distance should really be about 15km less than this but I took a couple of wrong turns along the way. Still, it was a gorgeous route and a gorgeous day with a very big, not so gorgeous, hill in the middle.

Vicki met me in Oxford and we stayed at the very swish Hawkwell House Hotel. Our room was in the Elm House and had a bathroom which was much easier to find than the one at Sheephouse Manor, floor to ceiling windows, beautiful furnishings, and paperthin walls.

Sunday was the day of the official Oxford to Cambridge ride. The first half hour or so it poured rain but the rest of the day was sunny, yet fairly cool with no wind -- perfect conditions really. Despite riding on my own, I teamed up a couple of times with some other faster riders in mini-peletons and managed to finish the 85 mile course (133km by my odometer) in 5 hours, 13 minutes, 49 seconds. I got to Cambridge much earlier than I expected -- at 1:30. I had arranged to stay at my friend Matthew’s Mother’s house and had told them I would be arriving around 6pm. I lay on the grass a bit, ate some fruit, had a massage, and then popped around to Matt’s Mom’s.

Serendipitously, I arrived just as they were eating lunch. Matthew’s sister had invited six of her friends over and they plied me with food and wine and apple crumble and coffee. I LOVE being plied with food by strangers! I felt like a king. I think showing up in the tutu helped.

After lunch, Matthew’s mother, Rosie, took me to visit Matthew. He had crashed his motorcycle into an oncoming van while in France and was now in hospital with a broken femur and wrist. Despite (or because of) his near-death experience, he seemed extremely chipper. I am reluctant to recommend smashing one’s mototorcycle into another vehicle as a way to brighten one’s outlook on life, but it seems to be working for Matthew.

The next day I cycled 98km home to Dalston. Sweet Mother of Evil Thor and his minions! There was an evil headwind all the way down! About 10km into the ride I used up my remaining stores of glycogen and it was a horrific struggle to make it home. It took me six hours of cycling time.

All in all, it was a good experience and so far I’ve raised about £100 each for the British Heart Foundation and Children in Need. The Tour de Yanda has raised a little over £500 so far for the British Red Cross. I also had some folks make local donations in Canada. Godo, Shantu, and Asmus donated $65 CAD to the Livia Stoyke Foundation and Pidge and Eric donated some random amount of money (I can’t remember how much) to the Canadian Red Cross.

The Tour de Yanda continues, though. It is still no means certain that I will finish it by my deadline of November 3rd. Any encouragement you can spare will help enormously. For “encouragement” read “money”.

(How to Donate)

I've been doing a few random acts of madness for various charities. For convenience sake I thought I'd list them here:

The British Red Cross
The British Heart Foundation
Children in Need
The Livia Stoyke Foundation (Canadian)

In particular, I'd like to put in a plug for the Livia Stoyke Foundation. Livia Stoyke was the sister of a good friend of mine. I think I only met her once and even that meeting may just have been manufactured in my mind from the mythology surrounding her. She was an adventurous, beautiful, creative woman who died in a whitewater kayaking accident at the age of 32.

The Foundation which bears her name focuses on five key areas:
• Fostering the Arts
• Aiding Women in need
• Helping Children
• Alleviating Poverty
• Protecting the Environment

Most of their work is local to my hometown: Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. So, if you live in or come from Edmonton you may want to get involved.

(More Pics of Banff)

The Tour de Yanda has now gone global. I'm in Canada now and have managed to log up some K on three different bikes in two different provinces.

First there was my Father in Law's, Willi's, bike. This took a bit of work to get up and running. Oh, and just to be clear... I didn't mean to say the bike belonged to my father-in-law's willy. My father-in-law is named Willi. Apologies for any confusion. Anyway, this was an ancient beast of a bike with tires as wide as Jamie Oliver's tongue. I put about 50km on it on country roads near their place by Devon, Alberta. It's a pleasant enough area but nowhere near as nice as the Rocky Mountains.

The day after we arrived in Edmonton, the four of us (Me and Vicki and my in-laws and all associated willies) went off to Canmore to spend three days in the mountains. That's where the pictures linked above were taken. I think I may add Canmore to the shortlist of places I might want to live in if I returned to Canada. The thing I like about it is that it has all the beauty and charm of Banff without the tourists. So, if you are a fit, gorgeous, mountain-climbing, mountain-biking, outdoorsy type, feel free to visit. But if you are a bloated, rubbernecking, couch potato tourist, please restrict yourself to Banff.

Sorry, that came off a bit harsh. Anyway... Canmore -- it's lovely; don't go there.

And really, no matter where you stay, everyone should visit Banff National Park. It is truly one of the most wondrous areas on Earth. I'm sure somewhere in the universe there is some place more beautiful, but I think Banff might be tops for this planet.

I rented a bike for a day while we were in Banff and basically rode it to Canmore and back. I'd love to spend some more time riding around the Rockies. The roads are great; much wider than anyone's tongue. The mountain bike trails are great. The views are incredible. The hills might be a bit much, and it strikes me that places to stay might be a bit few and far between along some stretches, but I suspect it would a fantastic trip.

Anyway, I'm in Victoria now, which has been on my shortlist of places to live in in Canada for some time now. This is partially because I have a number of family and friends here, so it might not be for you. On the other hand, it is already swamped with bloated, rubbernecking, couch potato tourists, so feel free to come by no matter who you are.

I've borrowed my aunt's bike which is unbelievably comfortable. It's got a huge seat with a shock-absorber seat post, cushy front shocks, and handlebars so high I feel a bit like I'm riding a chopper. It feels like I'm riding a lazy-boy down the road. Speed is not its main virtue. Still, I managed to sneak in a 38km ride yesterday, mainly because Victoria is so beautiful you can just cruise along for miles without really noticing the time go by.

By the way, it's Vicki and my anniversary today. Feel free to donate to the Tour de Yanda in lieu of a card or gift. And, really, as it is our anniversary, I should stop twittering on and go give some good loving to my lady wife. Ciao.

The official Tour de France started on July 2nd and finished on July 24th. Lance won his seventh tour with a time of 82 hours 34 minutes 5 seconds over the 3608 km. That's an average speed of 43.7 km per hour. Now it is plainly unsafe to attempt those speeds in London traffic which is probably why I haven't been able to clock up the same number of kilometers as the pros during the three weeks of Le Tour. I did manage to do 699km during the same period of time, though, which isn't too bad considering I had to hold down a day job.

And as you can see by the chart, I kept going until I'd finished the total distance. It took me 124 days, 99 cycling days and 25 rest days, which is an average of 36km per cycling day.

(More Pics of Cycling to Berkhamsted)

The Rex Cinema in Berkhamsted is COOL! Vicki, James and I cycled 32 miles up there to see "Sin City" on Saturday. The ground floor of the theatre is set up like a Las Vegas show lounge with beautiful little tables and red plush revolving chairs -- four per table. There's also a bar. We had a bottle of wine while we watched the show as well as some olives and cheese and crackers. And the tickets were £8 each!

We stayed in a rather boring but pleasant enough hotel at Bourne End near Berkhamsted called the Water Mill. The next day we cycled back up to Berkhamsted and checked out Berkhamsted Castle and then went up to Ashridge where I'd been on a training course from work.

It poured rain on us the entire time. Picture an Ocean; now drop it on your head; repeat indefinitely. James and Vicki opted to take the train back to London. However, I am in the middle of this crazy thing where I'm trying to see how quickly I can cycle the length of the Tour de France in order to raise money for the Red Cross, so I didn't feel I could wimp out quite as easily.

It's a good thing I had this bigger goal because I was relying on a borrowed pda and gps unit thing to find my way and the batteries died almost as soon as I left Berkhamsted. "No Big Deal," I thought to myself. "The important thing is to crank up the miles anyway. I'll just follow the signs."

Oh MY GOD, this was a BAD idea! Signs on B roads in England are extremely vague. There seems to be a rule that a particular town can only ever be on one sign and that sign must be some random distance and direction from the town. I got very lost. The good news is that it gave me an excuse to pop into a lovely pub called the Bricklayer's Arms somewhere near Sarrat. I didn't get a chance to have anything to drink there but I'd love to go back some time (if I can ever find it).

Eventually I made it to Watford where I bought an Ordnance Survey map and a pair of dry socks and then found my way to London from there. All told, that day I cycled 55 miles, almost all of it in pouring rain, and about 15 of it without having any idea where I was going.

Now that's dedication! Come on, cough up a couple of quid for the Red Cross!

The sad news is that today is the last day of the Tour de France. I'm afraid I didn't quite keep up. I've cycled just a hair under 700km since it began on July 2nd. The pros did 3608. But I'm going to keep at it. My sponsorship page runs out on November 3rd so that's my target date. The biggest obstacle is that the missus and I are off to Canada for three weeks in August. This might put a small crimp in my cycling schedule.

By the way, if you'd like to stop by and say Hi while we're there, Vicki and I have weekend passes for the Edmonton Folk Music Festival. Stop on by.

Today was not a good day for Le Tour de Yanda. I broke a spoke this morning and had to limp the bike back home. I was forced to journey to White City via a more complicated route. I took an overland train to Highbury and Islington which is near the Union Chapel where I once physically touched Woody Harrleson. It was a thrilling encounter, although he is much shorter than I expected.

At Highbury and Islington I transfered to a Victoria line train to Oxford Circus. I believe this train line is named after Queen Victoria in honour of the fact that of all of England's monarchs, she had the largest caboose and used to make loud "Woo! Woo!" noises when excited. Oxford Circus is, of course, where leading scholars of the day were made to jump through fiery hoops by the great Walvendo.

From Oxford Circus I took a Central Line train to White City and from there, due to the lack of suitable camels, ventured on foot to my office.

All and all, it was quite an adventure, but sadly contributed no mileage to my noble goal of cycling the tour de France.

Ha! Today is the first day I showed those so-called professional cyclists who's got the real dedication. I've been trying to keep up with the Tour de France in order to raise money for the British Red Cross. Admittedly, I've been completely failing in this aspiration so far.

But I think that's because until today the other racers (Lance Armstrong, Jan Ulrich, et al) were slightly outclassing me. Yesterday, I was 1267 km behind the peleton. But today, those wimps had to have a rest day. I kept on trucking. And so, for today at least, I'm a winner. I reduced my deficit by 31 km (only 1236km behind now). At this rate, I'll be blitzing by those shmoos by the end of the race.

Ha!

Yesterday it was Canada Day and I spent last night thinking a lot about what it means to be Canadian. One of the defining characteristics of the Canadian psyche is an insecurity about who we are. Canadians are terrified they are secretly just Americans who know the difference between a poutine and a toque. I've heard a number of definitions over the years:

"A Canadian is anyone who can make love in a Canoe."

"A Canadian is someone who says sorry when you step on their foot."

"A Canadian is a sanctimonious twit whose greatest pride is that they aren't as bad as their neighbour."

I think the first two are things to be rightly proud of. I'm not so sure about the third.

Now I consider myself a Canadian. I was born there. I lived there for 34 years. It will always be home. And I guess to me, a Canadian is

1. Funny in a goofy, self-deprecating way
2. Almost sickeningly polite
3. Frost Tolerant
4. Generous
5. Environmentally aware
6. And, yes, a teeny bit smug

However, I recently read a book called While Canada Slept - How We Lost Our Place in the World which destroyed many of my beliefs. It is all about how we as Canadians have this image of ourselves as a fair nation, an exceptionally generous nation, and the World's leading peacekeeper. This was certainly true once, but it is no longer, despite the fact that it is what most Canadians want to believe about their nation, myself included.

In 1950, along with Britain, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, India, Pakistan, and Ceylon, we helped create the world's first aid programme for the developing world. The intention of the Colombo Plan (no relation to the famous disheveled detective) was to help the people of the Southern Hemisphere lift themselves out of poverty.

In the 1970s we were one of the first nations to commit to the target of giving 0.7% of our GDP in foreign aid to the developing world. Every Canadian government since then has renewed that promise at every election. Despite this, and despite consistent public support for such a commitment, Canada's levels of foreign aid have dropped drastically in recent years. In 2001, the Canadian government contributed 0.22%, its lowest level in 37 years. Eleven other countries including France, Great Britain, and Germany have already reached their 0.7% commitment or have timelines for doing so.

No wonder Bob Geldof told Paul Martin to stay away from Gleneagles. Martin was, after all, Canada's finance minister throughout this decline.

And let us not forget that Canada is the only country attending the G8 to have a budget surplus, its 7th in a row. Personally, I'm a bit embarrassed by this. I'm proud of the fact that Canada has a surplus. Admirably frugal. Admirably sensible. But I'm embarrassed that it was ranked 19th out of the 22 countries in the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development in terms of foreign aid.

And the aid that we do give often has strings attached. Canada's food aid policy is 50 years out of date and was originally designed to clear markets of surplus with little thought on the effect this might have on the recipient country. According to a recent Oxfam Briefing Paper:
"Canada is the world’s second largest food aid donor after the USA in terms of per capita donations. Its food aid policy is also the world’s second most restrictive, requiring 90 per cent of the budget be spent on the purchase and shipment of Canadian commodities. Only the USA, where virtually all food aid is tied to US purchases, is more restrictive."

This is called "tied aid". In simple terms it's like saying, "we will give you money to buy food for your people, but only if you buy it from us." This has two serious side effects. It damages more local markets for food. It can create bizarre scenarios where farmers just a few miles away from an area of famine can't sell the food they grow. It also means a large proportion of the money allocated as food aid actually gets spent on transport. According to the same report,
"Of the $165m budgeted for 2005, $66m (40 per cent) will be spent not on food, but on shipping."

Canada used to be the World's diplomat. It took an active interest in the rest of the world. It has a history that all Canadians should be proud of. And right now, there is an opportunity for Canada to reassert itself on the World stage. The Live 8 concerts and Make Poverty History campaign have sparked a renewed interest in helping eradicate the injustice in relations between the Developed and Developing worlds. I happen to think Make Poverty History is a good initiative. It has three basic principals:

1. More and Better Aid
2. Trade Justice
3. Cancel the debt of the 32 poorest countries.

Cancelling this debt would cost Canada about $100 million a year through to 2015, or about $3.33 per person per annum.

There are a number of books out at the moment discussing the debt issue. One of the better ones I've read is IOU: The Debt Threat and Why We Must Defuse It.

And if you want an eye-opener about how Canada rates environmentally, take a look at this environmental comparison of Canada's performance against other OECD nations . I'll give you the quick executive summary. We are ranked 28th out of 29. In other words, Canada sucks monkey gonads when it comes to the environment.

In short, I think the Canadian government has let me down. Somehow it managed to brainwash me into thinking they were doing a good job with the big issues, but really they have been a bit crap. For me, that means I have two tasks.

1. I need to pressure whatever government I have any influence on to make sure they don't screw up the big issues.
2. I need to put my money where my mouth is.

I can't just sit idly by and wait for the governments of the world to spend my tax money sensibly on foreign aid and development. And so I've decided to set my own goals and ensure I spend at least 1% of my income on charitable donations which will benefit others, particularly those in the developing world.

With that in mind, I've decided to cycle the Tour de France to raise money for the Red Cross.

Well, I'm not actually going to cycle the exact same route. Unlike certain Texans, I don't have the luxury of pedalling around the French Countryside while my rockstar girlfriend pays the bills. I'm just going to see how long it would take me to cover the same mileage as Le Tour -- 3608 km. I'll do my best to keep up with the peleton but I'm going to have to fit my riding in with work and having a life and stuff.

More London to Brighton Bike Ride Pics

This our team after cycling 60 miles from London to Brighton on the hottest day of the year. It was 33 degrees which was hot enough to melt the tarmac in places. On one section of road I saw great divots in the road where someone had been forced to walk their bike and the surface had stuck to their shoes.

27,000 people took part in the ride which made it a bit congested in spots, especially the first few miles trying to get out of London. Picture one of those Tokyo subway cars where they have big beefy guys specifically hired to shove people inside so the doors will close. Now drop in some sardines. Now have an infinite probability drive turn all the sardines into bicycles. And then have an enormous giant obsessed with dental hygiene squeeze the end of the subway car as if it was a tube of toothpaste. That should give you the general idea of the speed and closeness and jostling that was going on during sections of the ride.

The above picture was taken immediately after/during our celebratory swim. NB: a few people from the team are missing from this picture as they chose absolute prostrate exhaustion over swimming.

I've posted more pictures on Flickr of us during the London to Brighton Bike Ride, as well as pictures of (amongst other things) bicyling nuns, a pirate, a man with a monkey on his back, and a dragon. If you enjoy them, please remember to donate to the British Heart Foundation. Even one measely quid would be much appreciated. So stop being such a cheap bastard and get your credit card out. Oh, and thanks to everyone who has donated so far. As of the end of the race, combined, the 17 of us have raised more than £3600 so far.

Thanks.

The bastards stole my bike. Around 4:30 in the early morning of Thursday, August 21, something woke me up. I couldn't go back to sleep so I went downstairs where I found the front door open and my bike gone. "My Goodness me!" I said. "What an unfortunate occurence!" Or words to that effect, anyway.

Please, if you read this, stop what you're doing and go out and look for my bike. Leave no stone unturned. It was taken from a house in the Dalston area of London (E8) and is a Marin San Rafael, silver in colour with fenders. The serial number is F643L50008. The cover of the light on the back fender is gone and it's got a nerdy "London Cycling Campaign" sticker on it. There is a mount for a handlebar bag on the front. It had an odomotor and a little black bell on the handlebars, and a blinking redlight under the seat. It has grip shifters and a shock-absorbed seat post. Both of the black plastic pedals are cracked and they have toe clips. It also has a pump strapped to the up-tube.

Please find it. I'm very sad without it. I loved that bike.

The above picture is a recent picture of me lovingly stroking the saddle and looking heroic. I felt as if I could take the whole world on when I had that bike. Now life is a hollow sham.

You may think it optimistic of me to think that I might get my bike back but there is a precedent.

A couple of years ago, my charming spouse had her bike stolen from outside the British Library. About two weeks later it showed up parked next to mine at the beeb. One of my co-workers had just bought it in Brick Lane. We managed to convince him that it was really my wife's stolen bike and we agreed to split his purchase price which (as you may imagine was quite low). Cool story, or what?

So, yes, there is hope. Hit the streets. Find that bike!

While you're at it, you could also look for the remote control for our cable box.

No one believes me about this but I swear it seems to be the only thing missing. It was definitely there on the coffee table when I went to bed that night. In the morning, it was gone. No amount of searching behind the cushions of the couch has turned it up. After three days, I am completely convinced the mysterious criminals took it as well. It's a green telewest remote.

In a way, I suppose it's a good thing they took the remote. Hopefully the exertion of having to get off the couch to change channels will make up for the lack of exercise in not cycling to work.

My friend James, despite sponsoring me a cupcake a km for my recent charity bike ride to Southend, has paid me in cash instead. It's a disappointment, frankly. Still, I suppose the British Heart Foundation may not have looked too kindly on a donation of several dozen obesity-inducing dainties.

According to his suspect financial figuring, one cupcake is worth 10p. The man has obviously never eaten at Starbucks. Still, it was a generous gesture and I shouldn't quibble. All told I managed to raise £106.63. Wha-hey!

Here are some pics of the adventure.

Hee! Hee! I made it. James owes me at least 92.26 cupcakes. Or, rather, he owes them to the British Heart Foundation. Upon arrival we were greeted by these cheerful folks. The British can be extremely odd.

Now to find a seaside pub serving the biggest Sunday Lunch in Christiandom.

Here are the rest of the photos from the trip.

I'm off on a charity bike ride tomorrow: London to Southend for the British Heart Foundation. It's 58 miles (93km) in the broiling sun -- a bit like doing the Tour de France, except compacting it all into just one day (as well as making it slightly shorter and not quite so hilly and maybe, just maybe, a tad slower).

I put out a call amongst friends and colleagues for sponsorship and have so far received:
£5 in cash
promises of about another £20
a pledge of 31p per km
a pledge of one cupcake per km

It strikes me as a bit perverse to donate a bunch of sugary dessert items to the British Heart Foundation but I suppose it's the thought that counts.

You too can sponsor me if you wish. Use the button below to donate via PayPal. I promise to pass on any money raised thereby to the BHF.

Or contact me directly and arrange some other form of payment. This might be a particularly good approach if you are planning to sponsor me with foodstuffs or other non-currency items.

Please note that that the more money (and cupcakes) I get in sponsorship, the less I'll look like a friendless tightwad to the organisers of this event.

I realise that, as always, this plea may seem to come a bit late and to a very tiny audience, but, hey, at least I can fool myself that I tried and sleep better because of it.