Pedals, Pixels and ParkRuns

This week has been what I’d politely call business as usual on the exercising and adventure front — which is to say: mildly chaotic but satisfying. All my cycling has been indoors on Zwift, that curious mix of sweat and screen time where you pedal like a man possessed yet never actually leave the room. I’ve rattled through a few different workouts, including one that insisted I spin faster than I thought was possible without mechanical assistance. I also joined the Phantom for a Zwift jolly, the first in a while, which was decent fun and made me realise how much I’d missed riding together — even if it was virtual.

Zwift itself, though, seems to have developed a flair for drama. It’s crashed several times this week, despite my graphics card being fully updated. I’m beginning to suspect the laptop might be a bit pants, to use the technical term.

I did actually miss one workout — partly due to sheer exhaustion from all the gardening graft with my Dad. After spending hours digging, sawing, and lugging tree roots, I was properly whacked. The kind of tired where even the idea of clipping into pedals feels like an extreme sport. Sometimes it’s wiser to call it a night and let the recovery pixies do their thing.

When not battling digital gremlins, I’ve been deep in the mud with ongoing tree surgery. With my dad lending a hand, we’ve hauled out stumps, dug up roots, and made what feels like a hundred tip runs. There’s still a touch to do, but it’s shaping up nicely. The mission here is to clear space for a swish new bike shed — priorities firmly in order, naturally.

In bike‑related news, Phantom has already gone rogue and entered me for the Dirty Reiver next April — the UK’s biggest one‑day gravel event up in Kielder Forest. I’d been flirting with the idea of Graean Cymru, which Jonny Mitchum’s riding, but then Boof casually dropped that he’s signed up for the Solstice Sprint — a 1,000‑kilometre, multi‑day adventure starting in Warwick, heading across Wales, looping through the ancient stone circles of Avebury, and back again. Riders will apparently “witness the celebrations first‑hand” on the longest day of the year. It sounds superbly mad, so I’ll almost certainly be joining Boof to tackle it as a pair.

The real highlight of the week, though, was my 99th ParkRun. Not exactly a record‑breaker — 36:37 and 415th out of 504 — but one that’ll stick with me. I ran it alongside my wife, SJ, who beat me by all of one second to finish 414th. She’s only on her second official ParkRun (and keeps reminding me she’s a London Marathon finisher, just in case I forget). It was my 54th outing at Arrow Valley and easily one of the most enjoyable. We even crossed paths with Kirk, though decided against racing him this time.

Colleagues at work have begun catching the ParkRun bug too, which is excellent to see. I was meant to ParkWalk with Flair this week, but she’s on the injury list with a dodgy hoof. Once that’s sorted, we’ll make our lap happen — ideally before one of us needs physio.

All in all, a fairly typical week in my world — a blend of sweat, sawdust, screen freezes, and a gentle reminder that marriage thrives on friendly finish‑line fun. Onward to the next escapade.