On yer bike, lad!

On yer bike, lad!

Cycling: I’m quite fond of venturing out on two wheels, tootling around and taking in the scenery.

But I’m certainly not an off-roader, bouncing through puddles and daubing my back in an unattractive streak of mud.

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Nor will you see me donning an aerodynamic body suit and bending at an almost 90ยบ angle over my handle-bars.

Nope, I’m much more a baguette (or a dog) in a basket kind of cyclist.

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However, if last year is anything to go by, today will see a strange phenomenon that will survive across summer.

Much like how January seems to compel thousands into a gym, or everyone starts practising their back-hand (okay, just eating strawberries and drinking Pimms) around Wimbledon season, there is a sporting event beginning that will invoke enthusiasts to pipe themselves into colourful Lycra and ride around en masse, generally blocking the rush hour traffic.

The TOUR de YORKSHIRE!

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Kicking the Fitness ‘Fad’ Habits

Kicking the Fitness ‘Fad’ Habits

“New Year, New Me!”

Hang on a minute.. What? I bet you’re thinking – ‘A bit late with this notion isn’t she? Did I miss Christmas? Isn’t it JULY?’

Well yes, we are already into the second half of the year but as I’m always late for everything, seven months is relatively punctual! (Take this post for instance, I forgot to schedule it as a Fadtastic Friday offering. It was the last day of term though, so I have a valid excuse!) Besides, I’ve never really understood the fascination with a fitness kick in the dead of winter. I’d rather be snuggled under a blanket, caressing a mug of something hot!

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However, it’s no longer chilly in my part of the northern hemisphere and everyone’s harping on about being ‘Beach Ready‘. Where I come from, that kind of only requires you to have the manual dexterity to walk along the seafront dodging seagulls, whilst simultaneously eating your fish and chips! But to the rest of the world, it means t’is the season of Sun’s out: Guns / Bums / Tums out. So I thought it was about time I revisited my fitness regime…

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The day a space hopper came for my legs

The day a space hopper came for my legs

I’m no longer 8 years old, indeed I haven’t been for quite sometime. By now my brain should be fully informed not to entertain such ridiculous, non-age appropriate notions. But no – my level of faddiness is equally matched to my competitiveness, resulting in my internal monologue shouting “Bring it on!” at any whiff of a victory dance!

One such scenario happened last Wednesday, when the weather was unusually dry for once on our annual school sports’ day. A range of activity stations had been set up, from the traditional sack races and obstacle courses to the more comical welly wanging and bum-shuffling. Something that all the children could enjoy, whether they were star athletes or less able in a sports arena.

And then there were space hoppers…

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