This year I’ve tried to get my diet in hand in order to be as lean as possible for climbing the cols of Europe. Little did I know that all I needed to do was start eating with my left hand. At least that’s according to new research.
The researchers suggest that much of our eating is habitual. For instance the act of eating popcorn at the cinema is habitual. They found that people eat lots of popcorn at the movies, even if the popcorn is stale and they’re not hungry. In other words it’s a habit they’ve formed to do so.
They then asked those same lab rats to eat the popcorn with their weaker hand. Those eating with their weak hand ate significantly less than their peers, using hunger to drive their eating rather than habit.
“Habit change may … require impeding habit activation [by contexts] or interrupting fluid habit execution,” the researchers said. “Although our findings suggest that both avenues are effective, it is not always possible for dieters to avoid or alter the environments in which they typically overeat. More feasible, perhaps, is for dieters to actively disrupt the execution of the activated eating sequence by simple manipulations such as eating with the non-dominant hand and, in so doing, bring their eating under their personal control.”
There’s a popular saying in cycling that you ride in order to ‘earn’ the cake we all enjoy. Many a weekend ride will involve a stop at a cafe for a slice of something sweat with a cup of tea/coffee. Such thinking is known as the licensing effect, and new research reveals that this is more prevalent than we may think.
Wen-Bin Chiou and team gave an inert pill to participants in the study. Half were informed that the pill was a mere placebo, whilst the other half were told it was a vitamin pill. They were told to consume their usual amount of supplements for the duration of the study. So if they normally take one vitamin tablet per day, they would.
Interestingly, those that had (or at least thought they had) taken the vitamin tablet rated indulgent behaviours such as excessive drinking as more desirable than those who had consumed the placebo, with a knock on that they found healthy activities like exercise as less desirable. Likewise, when given the choice between a free healthy meal or a free buffet meal, they chose the unhealthy option.
The researchers believe this may explain why the general health of the population struggles to improve, despite a huge increase in the number of dietary supplements we consume.
“People who rely on dietary supplements for health protection may pay a hidden price: the curse of licensed self-indulgence,” the researchers said. “Policy interventions that remind individuals to monitor the licensing effect may help translate the increased use of dietary supplements into improved public health.”
Ok, it’s officially called the Granfondo Giordana International now, but to me it will always be the Pantani. A rather brutish day in the saddle with the likes of the Gavia and the Mortirolo passes to go over.
The ride started with a gentle descent to Edolo before the road started to turn upwards. There was about 15-20km of gentle ascent before the foot of the Gavia to warm the legs up. We got into a decent group and pinged along at a good pace. So far so good.
The Gavia itself was not that bad a climb. Of course it is very long, but never gets to fearsome gradients so you can get into a tempo and spin your way up. The views help as well as they’re spectacular. I suffered a bit from stomach cramps after wolfing down a few gels but apart from that it was ok.
I’ve never really liked descents as my lack of weight goes against me and it’s disheartening to see heavier riders freewheel past me. Alas the bottom was reached and a group of us sped along the valley floor to the foot of the Mortirolo. I met up with Ian again at the feed stop, ate a bit, filled my bottles up and we began to tackle the Mortirolo.
It’s hard to really describe how tough it was. All week we’d been tackling decent climbs at 13km/hr, and the Gavia was scaled without too many dramas. Surely the Mortirolo couldn’t be that much harder?
Sadly we couldn’t be more wrong. As the mid-day sun beat down we ground our way up. We’d agreed to regroup at the feed stop half way up so I tried to get into a tempo. The gradients ranged from steep to bloody steep and speed slowed to around 6km/hr with cadence down around 55-60. Going at that speed meant that sweat quickly accumulated and the heat really started to play a factor.
Maybe an extra gear would have helped, maybe a little extra strength in the legs. Who knows, but this was tough. With the sweat continuing to pour I started to lose a lot of salt and my aching muscles began to cramp one by one. Standing would ease things a little but towards the top even that offered little respite. Sheer bloodymindedness got me to the top and much needed rest and refreshment.
The rest of the ride was actually really nice. After the top of the Mortirolo there is another slight uphill section before a gradual descent down the other side into Aprica. It offered the chance for the legs to recover a bit and the final descent into Aprica was actually really nice as the oomph returned to my legs for the finish.
Probably 90% of the ride was quite comfortable, but the 10% of the Mortirolo was incredibly tough. You can see why Lance called it the toughest climb on the pro circuit. Worth doing just to experience it and feel the accomplishment, but be prepared for a good deal of suffering on your way to the top.
The GF Pantani was my 2nd Granfondo after last years Maratona dles Dolomites and they are certainly exceptional events. The Dragon ride earlier this month had some serious issues and for me, UK events have lots of catching up to do. Off to do the Pantani Memorial Sportive at Bourg d’Oisan at the end of August so we’ll see if the French do things as well as the Italians.
For the past six weeks or so Jitka and I have been busy raising funds for the Winchester Project, with a sky dive the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. To be honest for much of that time the dive has been the last thing on our minds with much work going into raising the funds in the first place, with such mental distance being very useful in offsetting any nerves hiding around the corner.
Alas with the massage completed at the Falling Leaves the fundraising was largely done, we set off to Beccles in Norfolk to do the deed with a dozen other brave souls. We got to Winch HQ around 8am on the Saturday morning, had a hot drink to offset the chill and squeezed into the minibus to head to the airfield.
The mood to begin with was light hearted and jovial but the nearer we got to Beccles the more apprehensive people became. When we arrived at the airfield the cloudy weather meant there was a slight backlog and we weren’t expected to jump for another couple of hours. Lunch was had (big thanks to Marilena and mum for a super feed) and we were given instructions on what lay ahead. Nervous laughter spread through the group when we informed that prior to jumping we would be dangled out of the plane whilst our instructors got into position.
After an hour or so of waiting around we were gradually suited up. I think it’s hard not to look daft in such outfits but my own ensemble seemed to push it a bit too far. Colour blindness is perhaps a virtue here but I’m told my cap was pink and blue. Stylish. To her credit I thought Jitka looked kinda cool in her Redbull kit.
Before long we were given our jump order and informed we were next up. I was glad to see that Jitka was first out so she wouldn’t have to wait around in the plane. Kudos to Maria for being at the back, that can’t have been easy at all. I was 2nd up so would be following Jitka out.
The 5 minute flight up to altitude was, erm, interesting. We were crammed into the plane like sardines. Not sure if that was out of economic neccessity or designed to prevent people running away. After the plane pierced the crowd line the enormity of what we were about to do hit home. Not much to do at that point however except man up and enjoy things. At around 10,000ft we were given final instructions.
For those that haven’t done one, you are essentially sat on your instructors lapped (strapped on of course). The hatch opens, at which point you shuffle forwards and dangle yourself out of the plane. This seems an absurd endeavour, but you don’t get long to consider your ridiculous position before the instructor is in place and you’re out, hurtling towards the ground at around 120mph.
It’s hard not to think you’re making a massive mistake when you initially find yourself falling from a perfectly functional aeroplane, but remarkably quickly the experience becomes normal and the adrenaline kicks in. The next 30 seconds or so of free-fall was fantastic, an incredible rush that I didn’t really want to end, and for a minute you don’t think it will, until the instructor jolts you back to reality by deploying the parachute.
You’re instantly jerked upwards and as the harness wedgied up I couldn’t help but wonder if it was going to hold the weight. Of course it was never really in doubt and once those thoughts were banished the view was incredible. We zig-zagged our way slowly towards the ground. The sense of flying is perhaps a cliche but it’s one of those experiences that you don’t ever really want to end, or certainly not as quickly as it seems to. It’s a very tranquil place up there.
As we neared the ground the landing routine was rehearsed and we floated down to a remarkably smooth landing. None of the crash and roll stuff I’d always associated with parachute landings. I gave Jitka a big hug and turned to see everyone else making their way down. Suffice to say everyone made it safely down and we quickly started recounting our experiences.
Overall it was a fantastic day. Many thousands had been raised for The Winch, and an experience was had that will never be forgotten. Thanks to everyone that helped organise the day and to everyone that made it so special.
For the past month or so Jitka and I have been beavering away raising money for The Winchester Project, a kids charity up in Camden. The culmination of these efforts will see us both leap from a plane tomorrow and hopefully float serenely to the ground somewhere in Sussex.
Our final, and biggest, fundraising push was at the annual Ride of the Falling Leaves sportive organised by Dulwich Paragon bike club. The ride holds a special place for me as the first sportive I ever did a few years ago. The rain that day was torrential and we were hoping the weather gods would be kinder to us this year.
I’d spoken to Bob, the organiser, about putting on some massages for the cyclists at the end of the ride, both to ease a bit of the inevitable pain and raise some cash for the Winch.
Paul Browne kindly helped us find a massage table for hire and turned up early on the day to help Jitka get setup. We were fortunate enough to be able to call upon the expert services of Danielle Barnett, Liz Walker, Lynne Taylor (and her partner Tim Budd).
Tim and Lynne are qualified Sports & Remedial Massage Therapists, graduating from the respected North London School of Sports Massage (www.nlssm.com) earlier this year with the prestigious Level 5 BTEC Diploma. They’re both members of the Sports Massage Association (www.sportsmassageassociation.org). They’ve been involved in event work at the 2010 London Marathon, 5k & 10k Boutique runs in Battersea Park and now the Ride of the Falling Leaves.
The Ride
Initially when I set off the historic environs of Herne Hill Veledrome for the start of the event the weather seemed like it might be kind, and the first 90 minutes of the ride were done in sunshine, albeit with a pretty strong headwind making tough going of things.
I’d managed to complete the annual round the Island ride the weekend before in 3h 20mins so was hoping for a time of around 3h 40. Alas the weather kinda put paid to that and achieving the gold time of 4hrs became the new target.
Much grunting up Toys Hill later and I was riding into London as quickly as my legs would carry me. Despite battling cramp for the last 15 minutes the thought of getting back to Jitka and the massage girls as quick as poss drove me on and I managed to get home in 4h 5mins. Just outside the gold time, but 10 minutes quicker than last year, so still pleasing.
Rolling into Dulwich Sports Club it was lovely to be greeted by Jitka looking cheery under her umbrella. She filled me in on the days events thus far. We’d been setup in the changing rooms to shelter from the rain and it was a wonderful sight to see the ladies (and Tim) doing their thing, with three weary cyclists already getting some relief on the table.
After a bit of food at the wonderfully stocked kitchen it was my turn on the table, as Tim gave my legs a much needed rub down. Suffice to say that 20 minutes wasn’t really long enough to heal the damage done by the preceding 4 hours but they certainly felt better than they did.
I stayed around for an hour or so longer, chatting to fellow riders before wobbling off home for the recommended ice bath. It was a really great day and we managed to raise over £200 for The Winch, so very worthwhile all round.
I would certainly recommend any of the people we worked with on the day, and you can contact all of them below:
Apparently people watch around 150 hours of television per month, which is kinda scary. I’ve been minus a television at home for the past couple of years on and off, and when you appreciate just how much time people typically waste watching garbage on tv it becomes quite liberating to literally retake your life.
Give it a try for a couple of weeks and see how you get on. I can still pick up the odd Everton game online, or the Tour de France via Eurosport.com, and of course the ever excellent TED provides a ready stream of wonderful content to consume. Fine content, when I want it, where I want it.
So why do we do it?
I remember reading about a father who suggested his children give up tv for a while, and during the tv free period his children read more and generally became considerably smarter. Alas they found it harder to converse with their peers because tv provides so many shared topics of conversation that if you don’t consume it, you can easily feel alienated.
Alas it’d be kinda dull if everyone conformed so maybe if we all do without the good ol’ idiot box for a couple of weeks and see how we get on.
So you’ve got something to focus your eyes on though here’s an interesting talk by Steven Johnson, author of the excellent Emergence (a birthday present book from my brother that got me hooked on that whole meme), at TED in Oxford. Enjoy it, then go and do something worthwhile with your day.
An experiment was carried out where 18—20-year-old single female participants were exposed to romantic lyrics or to neutral ones while waiting for the experiment to start. Five minutes later, the participant interacted with a young male confederate in a marketing survey. During a break, the male confederate asked the participant for her phone number. It was found that women previously exposed to romantic lyrics complied with the request more readily than women exposed to the neutral ones.
The Maratona was the focus of the year for me and my first European sportive (or Granfondo as they’re known in Italy) and it certainly didn’t disappoint.
We spent the first week driving down, spending a few days in Grenoble before moving onto Trento in Northern Italy. The place we stayed at in Trento was amazing. It was a converted farm house on the side of the hill, with vineyards surrounding it. A truely idyllic spot for a week of cycling.
So we’d typically spend the morning riding around the local mountains before the sun got too warm, before settling in for a nice bit of lunch, and of course the ubiquitous Peroni and relaxing for the day.
Before we got too accustomed to this fantastic way of life however we departed for Corvara, the start point for the Maratona. It was fantastic driving down Passo Pordoi (3rd climb of the ride) on the way to our appartment. The hill was full of cyclists finding their legs. Some looked distinctly more uncomfortable than others but it was a fantastic sight. As we got into Corvara we had the pleasure of pulling up at some traffic lights next to the legend that is Mario Cipollini, who was in town for the event.
The morning of the event saw us getting up around 5am to load up with food before rolling down to the start point. Despite seeing so many cyclists around the town each day it was still a surprise to see so many waiting in the dusk for the start. We thought we were early but were still 20 or 30 lines back. It was an interesting atmosphere, with the tv helicopters zipping about overhead, Europop being blared from the speakers, and cyclists from all sorts of nationalities nervously shuffling about whilst admiring the bling on display.
6.30am came and everyone started to get going. The ride out of Corvara up towards the first climb up the Campolongo was pretty hectic with so many people of varying abilities jostling for position. If the ascent was interesting, the descent was a real eye opener, with people taking crazy lines down the other side of the climb.
After a few climbs things began to thin about a bit and the ride became much nicer as people got into a rhythm. I think most people were trying to keep plenty in their legs for the Giau loomed around the 80km point.
It’s reputation as the hardest climb of the ride certainly didn’t disappoint. In terms of gradient and length it wasn’t that different to the climb to Villard Notre Dame the week before, but with 80km already in the legs over 5 climbs, and the mid-day sun beating down it was tough. Really, really tough. I suppose if you weren’t in the middle of it you could find humour in the grimaces of pain etched onto the faces of everyone as they ground their way up the climb. It seemed to go on forever and was by far the hardest hour I think I’ve spent on a bike.
Eventually the summit was reached however, and the rest of the ride from there was relatively plain sailing. Just one more climb to do, albeit an 11km one, and it was into the home straight and the end of the Maratona dles Dolomites.
For my first European sportive my time wasn’t as good as I had hoped, but many lessons were learnt on how to survive on slopes such as these. It certainly gave me a taste for more and I’ll hopefully do a couple next year. The organisation was fantastic, the weather perfect and a fitting end to a memorable 10 days of cycling.
Girls, curse the clever things, apparently can detect how suitable we are by the way we dance. Not in the sense that men who dance like dads at weddings aren’t good mate material, but in the way we move and the testosterone this unconsciously signals to the ladies on the dance floor.
That is the findings of a study done by Peter Lovatt, a researcher from Hertfordshire University, anyway.
He went to the local nightclub and filmed various people dancing. He then showed silhouettes of these men to women and asked them to rate them in order of attractedness. The men that got the girls going were giving it large on the dance floor with big movements.
So let that be a lesson to any guys heading out on the town tonight. If you want to get lucky, you have to give it a go on the dance floor.
It’s hard to really describe how tough it was. All week we’d been tackling decent climbs at 13km/hr, and the Gavia was scaled without too many dramas. Surely the Mortirolo couldn’t be that much harder?
We spent the first week driving down, spending a few days in Grenoble before moving onto Trento in Northern Italy. The place we stayed at in Trento was amazing. It was a converted farm house on the side of the hill, with vineyards surrounding it. A truely idyllic spot for a week of cycling.
6.30am came and everyone started to get going. The ride out of Corvara up towards the first climb up the Campolongo was pretty hectic with so many people of varying abilities jostling for position. If the ascent was interesting, the descent was a real eye opener, with people taking crazy lines down the other side of the climb.
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