Happy Chrimbo, New Year and a fresh legged 2013!

It's been a little while since my last post, for two reasons - I've been on holiday on the Isle of Man, where I was brought up, and also because I wanted to post on my return from holiday about this wonderful place. You might wonder why, actually I'd hope you'd expect it's because of cycling (for those of you who don't get it yet - erm... Mark Cavendish maybe?) . For a small island, stuck in the middle of the Irish Sea, with little goings on bar it's annual motorcycle race, there has been something quite special and unique brewing here. We've seen quite literally some of the worlds greatest cyclists emerge from this place, populated with little more than your average small English town, and there is good reason for this.

I train around the parks of London and the passively undulating countryside of Essex, Surrey and Kent. All beautiful places, densely populated with cyclists of every caliber. The weather is generally great, there are little headwinds and the climbs are never too much to handle. All this aside, there is something I've found the south, west and midlands of England lacks, it lacks that something special, that something that forces your training into a new realm, it's missing the pain and anguish real terrain forces upon the undeterred cyclist who craves entry upon re entry into that pit of horrific glory. The Isle of Man has this, and oh does it angrily shove itself upon you like a cruel beast in the night.

People ask me "How's training back home [IoM]?" - I can never really respond with "Fantastic!" or other such optimisms. My speeds are slow, my cadences low and the colour of the sky usually reflects these moody unfulfilling statistics. So why do I keep coming back for more? I recall my comment on "the worlds greatest cyclists". Ride with any seasoned Manx cyclist and you will see that they are a different breed. They need to be. I came here a couple of weeks before I did the Alpine Challenge, full of self doubt and not getting my averages to peak high enough to even consider keeping up with Group 4, I threw myself into the hills of the Island with gusto. The climbs here are long, almost alpine, and there is no "flat". When the road is "flat" there is a headwind even trees cannot contend with. It follows the lowly cyclist like a mischievous rabid dog. I was here for a long weekend, I rode three times, I did not ride more than 200km and yet - upon my return to England and subsequently to France - I was as ready as I could ever be.

I've not described this place with quite as friendly a vocabulary as I perhaps should do, so I shall, because I can. Whilst the climbs are long  and arduous, and the winds are strong and character squashing, the views are quite simply priceless. Every ride is rewarded with what can only be described as breathtaking landscapes, like nothing I have seen on any ride in the UK to date. The culture is also very different, the Manx people are laid back to the point that they err on permanently asleep, something I find quite wonderful coming from the bustle of London. The roads are there for all road users and as such the general level of respect for cyclists, pedestrians and horse-riders is most certainly unmatched anywhere else in the UK. The Manx version of an A road is about the same as the English B road and the Manx version of a B road (of which there are many) is a cycle-friendly country lane. It is quite literally like being a kid in a sweetshop for uninterrupted, beneficial and fun riding.

I will always come back here to train, over the Alps, Lakes, Pennines, Mallorca, wherever - it's 40 quid for me and my bike on the boat, and for that I get unlimited beauty at no cost other than my trade off for comfort over lactic acid. Not only this but they have the best pubs, soundest people and wild wallabies (yep, Google it!).

So when people ask me what it's like to train on the Isle of Man, I will answer with only one phrase - there is a reason it breeds champions. Make of that what you will, and on my recommendation, try it if you think you're hard enough.

Happy Christmas, and a prosperously safe 2013, see you on the road!