Ow.

Snapped crank.
Broken foot.

S.F.B. (Insert expletive)

Which means less of this during the Pantanissima next weekend for me:

 And more of this:

The burger. Not the bikini. (But I couldn't resist. It was the gold lame that got me.)
But seeing as I'll be near Cicli Tonti which is the best bike shop in the world, probably some of this:

Boo hiss bah humbug. Unless the arnica I've been slathering all over my foot actually does something ...

Big Dog, Big Dog, Bog Dog!

Oh yeah! It all kicks off at 1pm. The Brighton Big Dog that is. I have absolutely no intention of posting any photos as I'll either be riding my bike or stuffing my face with cake. Or riding and stuffing at the same time. But seeing as I tend to suffer my most horrific bike crashes when cycling in a straight line on a route furnished with absolutely no obstacles whatsoever, that may not be a good idea.
And chickas, look at this ...

 OhmygodI'minlove because you could totally wear this on a bike. It's from the new Sweaty Betty range and frankly makes cycling down to Brighton in the rain a joyous experience as I mull over all the dance moves I will pull off while wearing this. Actually if I could pull off a Matt Hunter in Seasons skid wearing this and a pair of baggies I could die a happy lady.

Actually I want a dog called Hunter. No honestly. And do you see how seamlessly that tied up this post by going full circle? Skill.

And then it happened

It was a number of things really. First it was the dawning realisation that I actually only feel peace when I'm on my bike and yet I hate riding my bike in London (pot holes, dickheads, bad lycra, day glo.)
Then it was hanging out in Whistler and Squamish where people have awesome trails right on their doorsteps.
Then I went on my annual summer trip to Chamonix, this time to write a story on climbing Mont Blanc with the very professional Mont Blanc Guides, followed by a week of riding in Morzine with Sam at More Mountain and Sara at Flow.
Then it was the writing of a piece for the paper a couple of weeks ago where I was described by my lovely editor Andy as an 'adventure writer.'
And then it happened. The penny dropped and I figured: well hell, if I'm an adventure writer, I better go have me some adventures. Ones slightly more taxing than circling Ditchling wondering where on god's earth the bloody beacon is.
So Chamonix here I come.
And this blog will morph slightly from one dealing solely with bikes and the sometimes infuriatingly pedantic, cliquey and just plain silly bike industry (and I'm sure France is this and more) to one covering some of the other things I love as well.
Because we all know, deep down, it's not about the bike.