Stage 3

It has been an interesting couple of months. First I decided to treat myself to a new frame and have it custom made for me through Bike Science, specialist bike fitters based here in Bristol. All very exciting especially as the frame was being built for me in Italy by renowned frame builder Marco Bertoletti. It was the first frame he had made for the British market and he was able to present it to me personally when visiting Bespoked, a posh bike fair for handmade machines which took place in Bristol in April.

However in the meantime I had something of a setback in my plans and training for the big ride in September. In March I realised I had a problem with my right hand. I was out on a ride and found I lacked the strength to change gear. I had it checked and the diagnosis was entrapment of the ulnar nerve. After nerve conduction studies (sounds innocent doesn't it but having electrodes applied and then 6 volts every minute or so for the best part of an hour is the nearest I hope I ever come to torture...)I was told the problem was in my wrist and that the nerve was being compressed at Guyon's canal. You've heard of tennis elbow and housemaid's knee - well, welcome to Handlebar Palsy so called because it particularly affects cyclists. Oh, and for good measure I also had carpal tunnel syndrome. I had it bad and would need surgery but the initial advice was that this could wait until after the Ride Across Britain.

Something didn't quite seem right about this so I saw a hand surgeon who specialises in sports injuries and he advised that I should not delay in case it got any worse. The good news was that I could be back on the road after about a month although I would have to use tri-bars for a month or 2 so that I was carrying my weight on my forearms rather than my recovering wrist. So the knife it was! Training could not stop completely. I set up a bike on a turbo trainer in the kitchen and instead of enjoying the delights of this wonderful early summer weather we have been having resigned myself to churning away indoors, going nowhere and producing a pool of sweat on the floor almost as deep as the puddles of rain in the garden outside.