Magic Moments - Rhoda's Rolling!

I don't know whether it's because it's not a natural skill - we are not inherently programmed as humans to ride a bicycle - but the moment your child finally, without really meaning to, sure that you can't possibly let go, motors away from you, finally letting you stand up straight and have your arms back, is a special one for me. There is something seminal in the life-milestone laid as your little one goes off on their own - even if they do go on to ditch the bike ten yards away.

Despite her formidable progress in many areas, including her tolerance and stamina for riding her trailerbike from Vatersay to Lewis last summer, Rhoda has been a bit behind Ruth's curve when it came to pedalling her own bike. Balance biking was no problem for her - indeed she was doing it younger than her siblings - and she learned how to work her brakes very quickly indeed, but where Ruth was pedalling at two (though unable to use her brakes to stop!), Rhoda could slow the bike to a stand nicely, but was in danger of turning four before completing her first lap of the bandstand unaided.

Over the past few months we've been biding our time, just having a little go once in a while to see if she was ready without labouring it, trying both the Cnoc 14 and the 16, the latter rolling and arguably fitting Rhoda better now, but being trickier for her to swing a leg over. A growth spurt having fixed that, something possessed me to give her another whirl on Friday. Mummy was working from home, and gave Rhoda the incentive that she could have chocolate buttons delivered to her at the bandstand - only if Daddy called to say there was cycling to be seen!

When it comes to learning style, Thomas Ivor is mostly 'stick' but with specific 'carrots' (he is best motivated on the bike by anger, sometimes!); Ruth is mainly 'carrot' and a bit of 'stick' when we get to a 'mind-over-matter' sticking point. Rhoda is all about the carrots. Especially if the metaphorical carrots are actual chocolate buttons.

Our approach to teaching children to ride has developed over time. Thomas Ivor had stabilisers and a heavy bike. We've learned a lot since then! 

Rhoda's pedalling technique was something of a headache, because she'd developed a penchant for doing it backwards, but that remedied itself in its own time, part way through our Hebridean trip last summer. Now, it was time to meld that with the balancing she'd been doing for so long. Early signs weren't promising - her initial enthusiasm turned to frustration when things didn't work first time, and I sent Mummy a text warning her not to hold her breath...

In common with many children, Rhoda had a fixation with the risk, in her mind, of me no longer holding on and preventing her from falling. Interestingly, I discovered she was far less concerned about hurting herself than hurting the bike! The answer to this is to maintain contact with the child, under the armpits, so they can feel your touch, whilst you know they are actually taking over the balance of the bike from you. Ultimately, you reach the point where they are so busy riding the bike that they don't notice your touch becoming intermittent, and then before you know it, you are running ahead to give them a target to ride towards. When you are 6'8" tall and stiff as a board, this moment can't come soon enough!

Mummy was duly summoned to the bandstand, and joined in the game!

It is rather easier with two of you, not least because your little cyclist has a tendency to ride inexorably towards whatever holds their attention (often what they least want to hit, in this case the bandstand itself!) and so by having someone behind them, and someone to ride towards, their fixation becomes on the parent they're being encouraged to ride to, not the parent acting as 'catcher'. Avoiding falls at this point is very helpful, if you can pull it off; luckily, Rhoda's bike handling and braking were already pretty good.

At this point, 'little and often' is the key, to embed the child's learning and cement their confidence. Otherwise, you end up teaching them more than once!

From being unable to do it properly on Friday morning, Rhoda was chasing her big sister (who felt very very grown up, offering to ride in her lowest gear to be helpful, and testing our her new heart rate monitor) round the bandstand on the Sunday afternoon.

It's a bit strange, looking back, having that feeling as Rhoda pedalled away that she might be the last child (certainly of mine!) that I get the privilege to share that special moment with, and yet I am also reminded of the torture, by comparison, of teaching Thomas Ivor, who had used evil stabilisers and a heavy, heavy bike. Either way, on we go! Three years ago, Thomas Ivor was re-learning to ride from scratch, on his first Islabike; Ruth was making her first tentative steps waddling along with the balance bike and Rhoda was asleep in the trailer. Now, we have Thomas Ivor doing 100km runs on Zwift, Ruth racing cyclocross and Rhoda, well, there's no stopping her, now! It's a good job, because we have big plans for the team this year...

"Ride the bike, Ruth!" - Entering the world of Under 8s cyclocross racing...

Ruth ByCycle is not a little girl to sit around and wait for things to happen to her.  Oh no.  Since she could first talk and walk, she has made things happen.  Some of the things have been very successful, others, not so much.  She learned to open doors, and baby gates because she wanted to get out to have a crack at more exciting things she could see on the other side.  She cut her own hair, because frankly Mummy was taking far too long about arranging a hair appointment.  She helped herself to her brother’s bike packing bags and tried to fit them to her frame when it seemed that Mummy and Daddy had failed to realise that 3 year olds need bike packing kit.

So it should have come as no surprise that when Ruth, now 4, decided she wanted to enter a race on her bike, Ruth was going to enter a race on her bike.  Or rather, on her brother’s bike.  Ruth had decided that she was going to need something more competitive than her 16” wheels, so 'Merida' was consigned to the cupboard and Ruth pestered Daddy until he conceded that she could have a go on the semi-retired 20” Islabikes Beinn, which, she pointed out, she could test ride on the turbo trainer.  The reach was a bit more of a stretch than ideal, but having taken it for a spin around our usual training ground, the nearby “Secret Squirrel Velodrome”, Tom was happy enough that she wasn’t going to do herself a mischief.

Training with Dan Lloyd. Like a boss.

So it was that we found ourselves headed for the Milton Keynes Bowl on the cold but sunny morning of 30 September.  

Until this morning,  I associated “the Bowl” with concerts - not bike racing.  We arrive in the car park (such is our eagerness that we are uncharacteristically early) and get Beinn the bike out, and some extra layers to keep Ruth warm while we wait for the race to start.  

Kit is very important to our little people.  They want to feel part of things, so Ruth was already fully kitted out in her mini Canyon-SRAM jersey, her tri shorts and leg warmers (again, shamelessly pinched from big brother @Thomas_Ivor) and had been since she arrived in our bedroom at 6am declaring herself “ready”.  Rhoda, likewise, absolutely required full cycling kit for her role as her big sister’s chief cheerleader, but equally absolutely shunned the idea of wearing anything to cover her legs, so it was shorts for her.

“Mummy, I need my Laura Trott plaits”.  I dutifully braid Ruth’s hair to her satisfaction - if it’s good enough for an Olympian, Ruth thinks it will probably do for her first race.  “I need plaits too”.  Rhoda likewise, is soon sporting her own tribute to the mighty Laura Trott - if you need proof of what the influence of successful women on little girls can be, look no further than these two!

We were ready: time to sign on.  We walked through to the bowl from the car park. As well as being Ruth’s first cyclocross race, it was also Mummy’s first time at a cyclocross race.

It is probably time for a confession:  I am not sure I really understand the point of cyclocross racing.  It appears to me that a group of fully grown adults, and a smaller number of children,  take their bikes to chase around a churned up patch of grass over which they ride lap after identical lap and then go home in a muddy mess having gone, well, nowhere.  However, I am not one to stand in the way of a dream, so I donned my wellies and kept my counsel.

Arriving at the gates, I look around and take in the Bowl, filled with what looks like several hundred miles of plastic tape marking out a course that traverses and climbs the sides and bottom of the bowl, disappearing off into trees.  I try to work out where you get into the taped labyrinth for practice.  I can see the start/finish line, but struggle to work out much more than that.  

Clearly the under 8s weren’t going to tackle the whole course (not unless we wanted the race to last an entire week), but which bit would they race over?  The flat bit at the bottom?  How was four year old Ruth going to fare with navigating her way around this?  Good job we came early for a look at the course, I thought.

But first things first:  a very proud Ruth, grinning ear to ear, was hanging Beinn on the bike stand (which it is barely big enough for) by the registration desk and was soon clutching her very first set of race numbers, and a timing chip (which looked rather large) for her (implausibly small) shoes.  We pin and stick the race numbers to her jersey and look around to see where to get into the course to give Ruth a proper look at where she would be going.  Tom set off with her to walk along the course with her.

This was no flat course, and Ruth was soon having to work out that she needed to get off and push her bike up the sloped side of the bowl, before getting back on to roll down again.  This all took quite a long time, and she lost confidence as other kids warming up zipped up  and down past her.  Urged on by her friend Jake (racing in the U10s) and Daddy, she was soon back with us in the start area to be marshalled.

The body warmer came off.  The drinks bottle found its way to Mummy’s handbag (where all discarded items belonging to the children seem to end up, no matter what I do) in the name of "weight saving", and she was ready.

There were quite a few parents watching, but most it seemed were getting ready to race themselves.  At aged 4, racing in the under 8s, Ruth was one of the youngest competitors.  She looked serious as she listened to the commissaire’s instructions.  As the race began, there was such a look of determination written across her features- I have never seen her so intent on anything.  They were off, with Daddy strategically positioned further up the course to help make sure Ruth goes the right way through the taped maze...

Rhoda and Mummy begin whooping and hollering:  “Go Ruth!  Whooooo!”.  Mummy realises that she might be the only grown up cheering.  What is wrong with everyone?  Why is no one else cheering?  Wait, no, there is someone else shouting.  That would be Daddy.  We are potentially committing a cycle parent faux pas - I have no idea.  Maybe people don’t cheer?  They definitely cheer at road races.  Does cyclocross have different rules?

The race moves away from the start/finish line, and Rhoda and I set off for the side of the bowl where we know Ruth will struggle to push her bike up and around.  There is an interminable wait (at least three minutes) until we can see Ruth well enough to see how she’s doing.  She is dead last.  She is crying but she is still riding the bike.  She approaches the bottom of the hill and looks unsure.  “That’s it Ruth” - I can hear Tom hollering.  “Jump off and push, now”

“GO RUTH!”  Rhoda joins in.  

“Push your bike to Mummy - good girl - you can do it!”

She heaves.  The grass is wet and she struggles for grip.  She sobs, but she doesn’t stop.  The first child laps her.  She stops while they pass her but then she is moving again.

“Ruthie, Ruthie, Ruthie!  You’re doing it - keep going!”

We are still the only parents cheering.  People are looking.  And frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. That’s my girl, and I’m going to make ALL the noise for her.

She crests the hill, briefly triumphant.  Rhoda and I are jubilant and immediately make a lot more noise.  Tom (down the bottom) is louder still.

Now, get back on the bike, Ruth, I think.

She is still walking.  She turns and looks doubtfully at the slope back down, now churned by the wheels of the previous 30 odd kids to pass over it (twice by now).   She stops and looks some more. 

“Get on your bike, Ruth”, I venture.

“Ride the bike, Ruth”, I hear Tom shouting from some considerable distance away, and briefly register what a ludicrous thing to shout this must sound to anyone else who came here to watch a bike race.

Ruth has rolled down slopes like this hundreds of times, but in this moment she has misplaced the confidence to do it.  She scrambles down slowly on foot until she is back on the level.  She is still running with the bike.

“GET ON YOUR BIKE, Ruth!” She looks at me.  Tear stained.  Muddy.   I want to go and grab her and hug her and take her home.  “You can do it Ruth -just get on your bike!”  She looks daggers at me, briefly, but then climbs on and pedals away from me. She expects to see a flag at the finish (and so do I - she has taken over 9 minutes at this point).  There is no flag.  So she..... sets off for a second lap.  Just like that,  no fuss.  She’s just as intent as she was for the first lap, as the entire field begins to lap her again.  

I can see Tom jogging along with her.  She is making good progress along the bottom of the bowl, and then, they are back at the slope again.

“You can do it, Ruth, up you come!”

She gets off, she grits her teeth. She wails, she cries, she shouts, she growls, but she does it.  Herself.  She is up.  Other parents look at us like we are a) insane and b) possibly torturing our daughter, who is by now so far behind the field that it is starting to look like she isn’t even in the same race.

“Ruthie! Ruthie! Ruthie!  You’re a star! You did it! Woooohooo!”  

She rounds the corner and again refuses to ride down the slope, and slip-slithers her way back down.  The determination face is there again at the bottom.  She is going to finish this.

Rhoda and I hare back down to the finish area, waiting for the marshals to allow us to cross the course to get back.

Ruth is there, muddy, beaming ear to ear.  She came in last, and probably about a minute after the rest of the race finished, one lap down on most of the other participants, but she did it.  

I ask her what she might like as a treat for completing her first race.  She wants to watch the podium. She doesn’t say it, but I watch her as her friend Jake collects a medal and I can see on her face that she knows that one day that will be her on the podium.

Medals awarded, Ruth is back to business.  “Mummy, I have thought of what I would like. An egg sandwich.  And when we do this next week, I would like to win”.

"Next week?"  What?  We have to do this again?

Footnote: Ruth has indeed been Cyclocrossing again, on a brand new steed. As if we could stop her...

We are very grateful for the warm welcome (and cake!) we all received at the MK Bowl, from the Central Cyclocross League. You can find out more about the Central Cyclocross League on their website, and if you're elsewhere in the country, try the British Cycling website for Cyclocross events listings near you.

Expectant parents

We are delighted to announce we are expecting a new addition to the family! Due on 28th. To be delivered by @IslaRowntree #BikesAreFamily pic.twitter.com/GG57m7Fn2k

— Family ByCycle (@FamilyByCycle) January 23, 2017

Ruth's birthday this weekend and with it comes the next stage on her cycling journey in the form of a new member of our wheeled family. We just hope she can tell the difference between the 14 and the 16!

Awards and Rewards

It was a great pleasure a week or so ago to attend the Kettering Cycling Club dinner, where just for once, I was the recipient of a cycling award (rather than the children!) in recognition of services to the 'Cyclones', our junior section, which Thomas Ivor joined back at the start of the year.

Thomas Ivor joined me for what turned out to be his first Indian meal! It was great to be recognised, along with others from the Cyclones, amongst the club as a whole, and alongside some seriously talented riders receiving their pots for the season.

I first took Thomas Ivor along back in February, anticipating that he might benefit from some bike handling practice and fresh eyes on his technique, and wow, what a journey! He's raced cyclo-cross in muddy Northamptonshire fields, lapped race circuits at Mallory Park and Rockingham, and all manner of things in between, including winning his race on the finish line at the Women's Tour stage finish in the summer, and standing atop the podium. He's made friends, something he doesn't always find easy amongst his peers, thanks to a shared interest. 

Even Ruth has had the opportunity to pull on the orange and black colours, even if taking part in her first race caused Daddy to have to run the entire course alongside her!

It's been a most enjoyable year, even though we haven't been able to get involved to the fullest extent we might have wished. The Cyclones are a wonderful group of kids, from all backgrounds, and they are fortunate to benefit from the endeavours of skilled, dedicated and enthusiastic coaches. To have contributed my photographic skills, and some encouragement from the sidelines, has been a great pleasure, and we look forward to further opportunities for all three children in the years ahead, to enjoy their cycling as part of a team, as well as part of a family. Who knows, we may yet introduce some of the families to the joys of touring...

Cycling clubs across the country are joining British Cycling's 'Go Ride' programme. Find out about events near you on the British Cycling Go-Ride website and click here to read about my experience of Thomas Ivor's first 'Go-Ride' race!

Too much, too soon, or too little, too late? Thoughts on childhood and opportunity.

We've had some really lovely responses to the video we posted yesterday.

@FamilyByCycle This is wonderful, the editing, the narration, everything!

— Anna McNuff (@AnnaMcNuff) August 15, 2016

It's prompted me to write a little about a couple of fundamental principles we apply - that just because most children of a certain age don't do a particular thing, it doesn't mean ours shouldn't; and that to presume we have nothing to learn from our children limits our own horizons.

So often, children of our kids' generation get precious little chance to be children. They are burdened with pressure and responsibility they don't need, given choices to make that would best be made for them, and exposed to things they just don't need to know about. We live in a society that does all that, and then has the temerity to wrap them in the most appalling kind of cotton wool. We're in an era where a parent can believe their irrational fear of the bogeyman can kibosh every other child and their families having photographs on a school sports day - if there are any actual sports at all and if indeed anyone is allowed to win. Children are prevented or at the very least dissuaded from going outside to play, and then left in front of computer screens and televisions bringing them far more risk and brain-rot than they'd have found in the street.

This week sees the launch of the latest film adaptation of the classic 'Swallows and Amazons' and the director, bless them, has decided both that the original storyline isn't exciting enough for today's kids, and that a child nicknamed 'Titty' is now a problem. On the contrary, by my reckoning the biggest anathema for the children watching the film, and the most exciting prospect, will most likely be the idea of playing in the great outdoors, never mind doing it without 'elf an' safety or other politically correct spoilsportism (if that's not a word, I've just made it one!).*

It would be all too easy for me just to whinge about that, but we've learned that opportunities to do something about it are still abundant, if parents take it upon themselves to lead from the front whilst the state still lets us (even if it has long since decided no longer to actually advocate this pernicious, maverick approach, or make it easy for working families to do it).

The greatest disservice children today suffer from is paucity of expectation, of smiling dream-assassins determining what they may or may not try to do, with a predetermined agenda of troubling themselves as little as possible - and so as a family we delight in setting the bar high, making opportunities and cheering the children on to go for it, because they usually can (in their own way) and because it's exciting! Engaged children are, frankly, much easier to parent, so we're doing ourselves a favour, too. It isn't always easy - one day I will write the blog post about 'taking a child cycling vs going for a ride on your own' - but it's seldom without reward.

Few people expect a little girl of three to be riding a trailerbike helping to tow her little sister all afternoon, less still to be learning to read the map as she goes. The faces as we pass people say it all. Nobody expects said little girl to help to film, and then record the voiceover for, a film documenting the trip, but as cute as we may think it is (whether anyone else does is another matter - it's our job!) pivotally, Ruth is so, so proud of herself. That little film will now be the springboard to something else. Having tried the trombone, she's asking to learn the violin. Who knows, maybe she's planning to busk round Spain like Laurie Lee, and latterly Alastair Humphreys.

Maybe for your family and your children it's not even bicycle touring but some other activity or interest you love, that you want to adapt to make it family friendly. Give it a go! I'm sure you can find a way.

One of the biggest motivators for Family ByCycle, is not to say 'look at our kids aren't they incredible' (that's the kind of sickening self-promotional bilge we all whizz merrily past on our Facebook timelines, let's be honest), and in any case we don't hold all the answers, but hoping to encourage other parents 'you can do this, too!' - we dare to dream that we can help build a critical mass of families with children whose horizons are as broad as they can be, who dare to dream, who participate in and explore the world, yes, as children, not as frustrated, stressed little adults, neither constrained to their peer group and the expectations of others. After all, who as an adult surrounds themselves only with people born within a year , and a few miles, of them?

Thomas Ivor's talk about cycle touring as a child received a wonderful reception at the Cycle Touring Festival in Clitheroe earlier in the year, and he's delighted to have accepted an invitation to speak at this Autumn's 'Yestival'. We're especially looking forward as a family to participating in the 'Dreamcamp' part of the event, in the hope not only of inspiring kids to think big, look far and aim high, but for the adults to receive from them a healthy dose of childlike wonder and enthusiasm. I'd rather be blindly accused of 'too much, too soon', than any of our family grow old to realise we did 'too little, too late'.

Why not join us there and give it a go?

Read more on this topic in another post from a little while ago...

* Yes, I know about Pokemon. It will pass. Again. I predict that the gaggle of people staring at their smartphones outside the council offices late at night will not survive a single winter!

Inspiration for the infants

We had a super night out in London last week, to hear the mighty Anna McNuff speak at Dave Cornthwaite's 'YesStories' event. Taking the little two into town on the train is a #Microadventure in its own right!

Ruth and Rhoda are by far the youngest ever attendees to this event - and it's always something of a lottery when you take children to something they might not necessarily be expected at! Luckily, they received a wonderful welcome and acquitted themselves pretty well, despite an inopportune event with the reappearance of a half-chewed dried apricot during the main event. We really enjoyed Anna's new talk, 'Let me tell you about a time when...', and she coped wonderfully with both the live regurgitation and periodic heckling from her young fans. We are very grateful to her for her kindness and interest, and for blazing a trail for little girls like ours to follow.

In Mr Cornthwaite's 'Just say yes' spirit, and with the car's bike carrier finally fixed, I didn't have much choice, then, but to take the girls for a bike ride (Thomas Ivor is away this week) the following day, so we went to finish off the Brampton Valley Way, which I will write a separate review about shortly. We've been gradually crossing off different parts of it for a little while now.

Over two days, Ruth has done 20 miles on the trailerbike, Rhoda a lap of a car park, and the 'Bike+Trailerbike+Trailer' combination has been well and truly tested pending Katie's annual leave. By taking the double Croozer we can use it as a 'broom van' to sweep Ruth up if her little legs decide enough is enough; we can't speak highly enough of the Islabikes trailerbike (very sadly no longer made and still commanding decent money second hand). It confers a significant weight saving over the Trek Mountain Train we used in the Hebrides in 2014 and much improved stability thanks to the rack mount system, and whilst a little on the long side (a couple of feet longer overall than the double WeeHoo, we reckon) it is a remarkably nimble and manoeuvrable outfit.

As ever, assuming we get that far this summer, we're developing another touring setup, with Thomas Ivor on his Islabikes Luath 24, now morphing into a 'bikepacking' setup thanks to our friends at Alpkit, who have made him a beautiful bespoke frame bag. Our replacement bikes seem to be doing the business, although I am reserving judgement on the strength of the wheels.

All things being equal, Ruth is off to cycling club tonight for a first ride in her own right, so for now, here's a video of our outing in the Brampton Valley, which we will talk about a little more, soon...

Overtaken by events

It's been a little while since we've posted on the blog, although those of you who follow us on Twitter, @FamilyByCycle, will have an idea as to why!

The list of recent events waiting to be published (the pictures and some of the text having been put aside in preparation!) goes a little bit like this:

• Thomas Ivor has met and ridden with touring legend Mark Beaumont, given his first illustrated lecture at the Cycle Touring Festival in Clitheroe, has moved house, started at a new school, won some more races, appeared on the podium at the Women's Tour of Britain, moved up to a larger bike, and climbed Scafell Pike as part of a project to climb and cycle between the 'Three Peaks'

• Rhoda is balance biking and has progressed to using the Rothan rather than the Strider.

• Ruth now has her Cnoc 14 and is riding confidently on her own two wheels. She has started to use our new Islabikes trailerbike, and then stopped again, and then started again, because...

• Mummy and Daddy had our touring bikes stolen from the rack on the back of the car hours after this picture was taken. We lost both our Trek tourers, the Islabikes trailerbike rack, the bike carrier was badly mauled; the car damaged. We've replaced the bikes for the short term, and now the car's exhaust has dropped off in sympathy, a week before the MoT is due. We had a great time in Clitheroe and we've celebrated our wedding anniversary with a #Microadventure of our own, we've made a few little films, carried on finding ways to be adventurous and to ride bikes one way or another, and, er, neglected our blog.

We're still sourcing bits and fettling our new bikes with the hope of having some kind of a touring trip this summer when we had almost given it up as a bad job.

The good news is we have lots of things to write about and share, from the lows of seeing over £3000 of stuff stolen or broken outside our home, to the joys of seeing another child pedal off into the distance. We'll turn the story above into links to those individual tales, just as soon as we can, and we look forward to sharing our experiences once more.

Meantime, why not visit our YouTube Channel and subscribe? There are new films of all kinds on there and more in the pipeline...

Go-Riding for Gold

"If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same..."

Rudyard Kipling

Thomas Ivor was in Devon for the weekend when the email came in to let me know that we were racing last night at the cycling club, in the first 'Go-Ride' event of the season that we're hosting.

'Desert Storm', still fortunately shod with knobbly tyres, was duly retrieved from the back of the 'Daddy Bus', where it had remained following an off-road trip to the country park a week or so ago. My crack team of bike mechanics (Ruth and Rhoda) were immediately all over it so we could be ready for action as soon as we'd fetched Thomas Ivor from school.

A trip to the park to re-set saddle height (a recurring theme at the moment - the lad's growing again!) culminated in some practice starts on the grass, which were going rather well until a foot slipped off a pedal and a shin got skinned. Cue wailing, gnashing of teeth, TCP, a bit more wailing, protestations that he wasn't going to race because he was mortally wounded and everyone was going to beat him anyway, and a strong talking to. Just like Brian Clough and his players, we had a talk about it and decided I was right. Bidons filled, Croozer loaded for the girls to sit in, we duly set off for Kettering.

I have to say, it was a slightly surreal experience pinning a racing number to my seven-year-old's jersey. I never took part in any competitive sport at Thomas Ivor's age, outside of school. Certainly not at anything I was any good at. This was the road less travelled!

After a thorough equipment check, off the lad went, circulating amongst boys and girls of all age groups in the warm-up. Dear me, this was really happening wasn't it. The girls settled in to their seats in the Croozer to watch 'Oliver' on the iPhone (one of my favourite wrinkles, that!) and I found myself in the pitch darkness preparing to photograph a ten-minute event like nothing I had ever covered before.

In my former life as a motor racing photographer I looked down the barrel of the lens at all kinds of race starts - but this time I had a vested interest like nothing else imaginable, being as I was, team manager, chief mechanic, motivational coach, team nutritionist and doctor, as well as photographer. That and being the rider's Dad. Frankly, I was more nervous than he was, if looks were anything to go by. 

I caught Thomas Ivor's eye as he lined up. The first corner, after a short grassy straight, was a dimly-lit square left bend round the outside of a tennis court fence, with a bit of a ditch and some bushes on the outside. They were all going to funnel into that like a stampede of very small, rather excitable and slightly tipsy cattle. He had to make the first corner, first, to stay out of trouble and avoid getting baulked from the off. I was glad we'd practised starting. I caught Thomas Ivor's attention, pointed to my own eyes in the international gesture for 'look right where I'm showing you', and passed my message. First corner, first. Own it, Son. A single, solemn nod of the head indicated our strategy was understood.

The start of an 'Under 8' race is a lot like watching children playing in the school band. There is a lot of looking sideways at the kid next to you for ideas, and everything happens in slightly delayed action. I fired off three frames before his right foot even landed on the pedal, but nevertheless, Thomas Ivor motored towards the first corner (can you say that any more, after the mechanical doping scandal?!) and got round cleanly before you could say 'ten minutes of effort now - pace yourself!'. He and the other six children disappeared down the back of the tennis courts like their lives depended on it.

If there's one thing that's become a dirty word in the world of primary education now, it's competition. Of course we want to encourage children who aren't the best, at a given activity. Of course we don't want people projecting their own baggage onto the children, but life in so many ways involves having to strive for things in competitive environments, and learning to deal with defeats and victories alike. "Like the Rudyard Kipling poem, ‘If’. You know that- ‘If’ you do X, Y and Z, Bob’s your uncle"

I am sure I'm not the only kid who grew up hearing inarticulate parents savaging their children, or worse still other people's children, at juvenile sporting events. It's unedifying to say the least. But by the same token, I couldn't just stand there and watch my little boy in the first race of his life, in silence. Mercifully, the boy in second place was ably supported by his Dad, who thought similarly. As the banter and repartee flowed, we each urged on our respective sons. Trying also to get some photographs for us and the other parents, I found myself running from one side of the course to the other so I could get two bites of the cherry per lap. It was mayhem.

It was about seven minutes in that he lost the back wheel and fell, on the exit of the first corner. My heart was in my mouth. Come on, Son. It's only pain. You can do this. With gritted teeth he threw himself back on the bike and went after his opponent. I've never seen resolve quite like it from him.

The bell was being readied when, in the twisty section coned out through the tennis court and Thomas Ivor dived for a tight right hand apex inside his rival, seizing the position and what I hoped, amidst the lapped children and Under 10s, was still the lead. "Keep going, Thomas! Up a gear, Son! Empty the tank!"

So it was, then, that by a slender margin, Thomas Ivor crossed the line to take the first victory of his career, in his first ever race. I didn't dare congratulate him in case I was wrong and someone had beaten him. He, meantime, hadn't realised that was the end of the race, and proceeded to put in another hot lap before we could stop him!

Sure enough, it turned out he had won after all.

Off he went to shake hands with 'Number 22' (and me with '22's Dad'!) - before turning to me and saying "I think I fell off six times. I don't think that was my best ride".

Following a period of transition and challenge for Thomas Ivor at home, it couldn't have come at a better time for him; a real confidence boost which was very much needed. As his soigneur drove him home, a tired little boy was heard to say, reflectively, "I never thought I could do anything like that". 

A certificate signed by both a certain Mr Kenny and a certain Miss Trott, and a gold medal, were the result of his night's work. I'm not sure who ultimately was most shocked or worn out, the rider or the rest of the team! Of course, the mechanic now has a bike to clean once more. The nutritionist has bidons to wash, there is kit to launder, the photographer has images to wire to proud grandparents, and the coach has to work out how to prepare their star rider for his next outing, including making sure he does his English homework...

Find out more about British Cycling's 'Go-Ride' programmes and races near you at https://www.britishcycling.org.uk/go-ride

Plotting and Planning - The Extra-Curricular Curriculum

Thomas Ivor had a surprise in the post this morning:

We had given up on being able to take him, but being around on a weekday at the moment means I was able to book for him to see his hero and inspiration Mark Beaumont next month. We're very excited!

One of the pieces of advice Mark gave to Thomas Ivor was to spend his winter planning his next adventure. Over the past week or so Thomas Ivor has been finding opportunities to prepare his planning skills, too. We have been out on map-reading exercises, learned about ratio in relation to map scales, built a contour map of an island we sailed past on our 2014 trip to the Outer Hebrides, and as his test piece I have left him to use all the resources on my bookshelves to plan hypothetical adventures in this country and abroad, from route choice to finding accommodation.

This work has culminated in us starting to look at how to 'carve up the Elephant' for Thomas Ivor's 2016 challenge. Taking inspiration from Mark Beaumont's trip from Alaska to Argentina, when he also climbed Denali and Aconcagua, Thomas Ivor has challenged himself to climb the 'Three Peaks' - Snowdon, Scafell Pike and Ben Nevis, and to cycle between them.

Constraints of budget, time, childcare and our inability to cross the Lakeland fells with the trailer on the back (I think we'll save the Fred Whitton for when the children have grown up!) mean that he can't do it all in one go - indeed, it will be a significant challenge to get it all done this year. We reckon we're looking at 15 days of riding, plus the three climbs, which we will need to do during the better weather.

I often find this part of the process a very therapeutic one, but looking at it from the perspective of a home educator it's amazing just how much you can teach a child through the process - not just humanities subjects, either, but maths, physics and languages, too...