cycling – The Countryman's Daughter

Does this ring any bells?

I always make sure my bicycle bell works to warn people that I am approaching

I had a bit of a ‘to-do’ yesterday when I was walking a dog on a path that was shared between pedestrians and cyclists.

The dog (lets call him Fido) is young and led by his nose which means that he is genetically programmed to not walk in a straight line. He zig zags with every fascinating scent that lands in his nostrils, which is about once every 10 seconds. He is also strong, so I am dragged about on the end of his lead like a ribbon hanging from a kite (Please note, I walk other people’s dogs, so am not responsible for the lack of doggy decorum).

Yesterday, captivated by an irresistible whiff, Fido suddenly pulled to right, and of course I went with him. At that, the noise of screeching brakes and skidding tyres came from behind as we stepped into the path of a bicycle.

Thankfully no-one was hurt, and because it was raining and I had my hood up, I had not heard him coming.

As a cyclist myself, if I am approaching a dog walker, I slow down, ring my bell several times and as I pass, thank the thoughtful owners for bringing their hounds under control. If we respect other path users, then we can all enjoy our outing, however we may be transporting ourselves.

Sadly not everyone thinks the same, with some cyclists pedalling as if they are trying to win a sprint at the Tour de France, and walkers who believe that their dogs running dangerously loose in front of them is a hazard not of their making.

I like to think I am a responsible walker, and make a point of gathering in loose pooches at the approach of anything on wheels. Dogs – and animals in general – are unpredictable, and can be spooked into bolting by things unseen or noises unheard.

I have to admit that I was a in a bit of a grump yesterday and one of my bugbears is cyclists not using bells to warn you they are approaching from behind. I did apologise for stepping into his path, but explained that I did not hear him coming. When he grumpily moved past us, I mumbled “If you’d rung your bell, I’d have heard you.”

Seconds later, he stopped again and gave me such a dirty look that it lit a touch paper within me. “He’s a dog, he moves about! How can I move out of your way if I can’t hear you coming?” I asked angrily.

That sparked a heated debate about whether it was a cycle path or a footpath (it was both) and why he should he get a bell when he said most people can’t hear him anyway, and why I was being so miserable.

The funny thing is, I started to giggle inwardly at the ridiculousness of it all, and chastised myself for my rash response that triggered the confrontation. If I had said nothing, he would have simply cycled on, and we both would have been a bit annoyed, but that’s all.

It reminded me of a course I was sent on for work many years ago. The tutor asked why, when we get behind the wheel of a car, we transform from calm, rational individuals into reactive, fist waving banshees.

She reminded us that the person at whom we are gesticulating could have a machete in their glove box. If someone annoys you, it is much safer to curse inwardly at them and send them a choice manual greeting from below the cover of the dashboard.

This was in the late 1990s, around the same time that the ruthless gangster Kenneth Noye was convicted of the fatal stabbing of 21-year-old Stephen Cameron after a road rage incident on an M25 slip road. Whatever happened to spark the fight, it cannot have been worth a young man losing his life. It demonstrates that you have no idea who the opposing driver might be.

Thanks to that tutor’s wise words, I became far more tolerant behind the wheel. I was forced to admit to myself that I am not a perfect driver, that I too make mistakes, and occasionally might annoy other road users with a selfish manoeuvre.

Despite that, I always make sure my bicycle bell works.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 26th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 24th June 2026

All you have to do is tri

I hi-fived my loved ones who were waiting by the finish line. Their support got me to the end.

Seeing my loved ones with home-made signs cheering me from the sidelines kept me going

Do you remember that way back in January I announced that in a moment of madness, I had applied to take part in a triathlon? I wrote: “For those not familiar with this ridiculous athletic challenge, a triathlon is three sporting disciplines performed back-to-back in this order: Swim, cycle, run. There are various distances and mine is a 400-metre swim, followed by a 20-kilometre bike ride and a five-kilometre run.” I’d had this latent desire to do a triathlon for many years which I can’t really explain, and neither can I explain why I waited until I was old and creaky to actually get round to giving it a go.

I can now reveal that I have done it! It was held at York Sport Village with around 400 competitors from all over the country. I completed it in under two hours without sinking, falling off my bike or tripping over. My legs and knees are still reminding me of it every minute of every day but I have to admit, the sense of achievement feels pretty damn good. This was my first attempt at doing anything like this, so I took it nice and steady, my goal being to preserve energy for the final run to ensure I actually made it to the end without collapsing in exhaustion.

I was not tempted to chase other people who sailed by me in the pool, whizzed past on fancy racing bikes, or glided effortlessly by on the run. The competitor in me resisted the urge to try and go a bit faster or to push harder, because the fear of failing after I had told so many people I was going to do it was greater than the fear of being overtaken by speedier participants.

As for the training that I had pledged to do at the start of the year, well, it was patchy at best, and I would not recommend that anyone follow my example when preparing for an athletic endeavour. I bought my bike three weeks before the race from a second-hand shop for £85 and I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have been in the pool since the start of the year. As for running, I did a few long walks and threw in a bit of running now and then. I’m not sure the Brownlee brothers would be impressed with my preparation.

That’s not to say I didn’t do any physical activity. I play racquet sports regularly, and relied on the fitness I gain from that to see me through. One thing that helped was the fact that I managed to shed a few pounds (to get into that bridesmaid’s dress for the July wedding that I mentioned in my January column). It meant there was a bit less of me to drag around the course.

I was very nervous before the event though, nervous of the unfamiliarity of it all, of being surrounded by people who had done proper training and preparation, people looking like they knew what they were in for, people who seemed ready and confident. But it was a lovely and supportive atmosphere, and as I trotted around the route, those who overtook me offered words of encouragement to keep going.

The best thing was having my friends and family on the sidelines. On every lap, I could see my little posse of loved ones holding huge signs with my name on that I could easily spot. Although they were all cheering, the voice I could hear most was my friend Hayley (the bride from said wedding) shouting words of encouragement. I can’t tell you how much I looked forward to seeing and hearing them on every lap, knowing that every time I spotted them I was another step closer to the finish.

What I didn’t expect was the surge of emotion on nearing the end. My friend Stefan (who has done six of these so far!) had completed the event earlier in the day and we were both taking part in memory of our mutual friend Andy Wilkinson who passed away from pancreatic cancer a few years ago. He had been a proper triathlete, and I hope he’d be proud that I kept going and made it over the finish line.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 5th Sept and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 3rd Sept 2025

New year new shoe

I bought new trainers to start preparing for my triathlon

It is the start of a new year and traditionally the time when we make plans and set resolutions, promising ourselves that we are going to get fit, lose weight, see the world, become a hermit or whatever.

For as far back as I can remember, whenever I have made a New Year’s resolution, it has always been the same – to lose weight. Some years I don’t achieve it, some years I do. The times when I am successful are when I have a factor looming that motivates me enough to not reach for second helpings at dinner. It does not happen very often though, because I am not very good at giving up things I enjoy thanks to my mantra: “What is the point of sacrificing things you enjoy when you might get hit by a bus tomorrow?”

Unfortunately, the things I enjoy most involve calories, and at my age calories are far easier to consume than they are to get rid of. We all know that most things in moderation are fine, but I am finding the older I get, the stingier ‘moderation’ becomes. My appetite is as healthy now as it was when I was a slim young thing, but really, I should be eating smaller portions. The problem is, when a plate of really nice grub is in front of me, I will eat the lot. Stopping when I’m full is not a concept my brain understands; it only tells me that once I am lying in a food coma on the sofa.

By far the most successful way I can enjoy delicious treats without piling on the pounds is to do more exercise (I can hear your collective yawn from here). It has worked for me before, and it is a simple equation: if you burn more calories than you consume, you lose weight. If I want a second helping of mashed potato, I can have it as long as I have done enough exercise that day.

For the past year, that simply has not happened because I have been decidedly unmotivated to do much exercise at all and, as I said earlier, I need something to aim towards to be successful. Thankfully, this year, I have that motivating factor; a close friend of mine is getting married in the summer and has asked me to be a bridesmaid. It is lovely to be asked at my age, but at the same time, a bit scary. The last time I was a bridesmaid was about 30 years and two stone ago.

Because I have until the summer to achieve physical perfection, unless I have something else to propel me into immediate action, I am likely to keep putting off the start of my efforts until it is way too late.

So that is why, ladies and gentlemen, I have entered a triathlon. Yes, really. A triathlon.

For those not familiar with this ridiculous athletic challenge, a triathlon is three sporting disciplines performed back-to-back in this order: Swim, cycle, run. There are various distances and mine is a 400-metre swim, followed by a 20-kilometre bike ride and a five-kilometre run. I’m an OK swimmer, so I know I can do that bit. I quite enjoy cycling too, when there are no hills, and the triathlon route is fairly flat, so I hope I will be fine with that bit too. The kicker is the run. I HATE running, and the fact that they chuck it in at the end might very well be the end of me. I have heard seasoned marathon runners say that even they struggle with the run because it comes after the swimming and cycling.

It is that knowledge, that absolute terror of the run, that will give me the motivation to start my training next week. I have even bought new running shoes in readiness.

A temporary lapse in sanity is the only explanation I have as to why I pressed the button to submit my entry form and therefore I keep telling people that I am doing a triathlon, knowing that the more people that know, the more pressure I will feel to follow it through.

And now, thanks to this column, thousands more of you know so there is absolutely no way I can back out.

Wish me luck!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 3rd Jan and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 1st Jan 2025