When cyclists look back on their careers spanning many hundreds (and in some cases possibly thousands) of race days, I think the past couple at the Giro d'Italia will stand out as amongst the most testing. For all I know we could have been on the tour of Siberia over past 72 hours. It might be May, but the high Alps remained covered in snow and unluckily for the riders, a pea soup mist that you could barely see through.

A supportive word too for the sprinters that we have seen over the past couple of days when near the race route, or watching from the warm comfort of our team hotel. They're much bigger than the climbers, and getting through mountain stages must be purgatory for them even when the weather is nice. Not like this week has been then. They have to spend often well over an hour more than the climbers on the mountain, getting wet and freezing whilst not even being able to compete for anything. Dedication like that gets a lot of respect from fans and teams alike, and so it should do. No wonder it is considered an achievement just to finish the race.

Back in camp, we've been pushing ahead to ensure that the riders are kept as warm and dry as possible, which has been rather more difficult than it might sound, and logistically has been a nightmare. It might appear as though the day is finished for the riders once they roll across the line, but in reality there is whole lot more that will go on afterwards.

They need to get back to the team hotel, which (if they are lucky) will be a short transfer from the finish line. If they're in the mountains however, it can be anything up to about two hours' transfer time. Then they need to have a massage and eat dinner before being able to get to bed and rest up. On a really bad day, this means they might not get to sleep until midnight. When you've got to get up and ride 150km or more the next day, it means sleep is at a real premium!

Above: Team Sky riders Danny Pate and Christian Knees prepare for a short rest day ride.

It's lucky that today the sun is shining and it's really quite warm, with blue skies for a much needed rest day. The riders appear to be made of solid stone; this morning they were up and about looking refreshed and generally pretty happy! Christian Knees has decided that he would really rather like my job and compared to what he has gone through, I do not blame him! Part of the magic of working with the team is getting to share experiences with everyone, all the way from our lead riders to the other carers and support staff.

The other day I managed to buy a dongle to get WiFi whilst we were in the Alps and ended up becoming very popular with Danny Pate, our US rider who had been on the hunt for internet connection. What a nice guy too. We chatted together for a good forty minutes as he flicked through e-mails and all the daily correspondence to sponsors, friends, agents etc. that riders have to worry about whether they are racing or not. Danny's such a down-to-earth character that you completely forget he is one of the most well-respected riders in the peloton.

On we push - spirits are high all around, as we know that following one final big push over the next week, we'll be in Brescia and the Giro will be over. I'm torn - looking forward to getting home on one hand, but I know I'll miss the experience of being on the road. Let's face it, Coventry is no Alpine heaven. That's a bridge to be crossed later though. For now, I need to convince Christian Knees that being a rider is still good, and ensure the Jaguars are all ready to go for the last week of the race.

Roll on Brescia!

Follow Martin on Twitter : @teamsky_jaguar

Martin Ayres has worked at Jaguar for over twelve years, and once again joins Team Sky as their performance engineer during the Giro d'Italia, Tour de France and Vuelta á Éspaña in 2013. Having not ridden a bike for over 20 years, Martin is a recent convert to the sport after his experiences with the Team in 2012 - including during their historic winning campaign for the Tour de France.  

 

Related links
Blog 4: Giro's first rest day
Blog 3: Weather watching in Italy
Blog 2: The team time trial experience
Blog 1: On the road again - Sir Wiggo and La Corsa Rosa

My cycling was visited by a fresh indignity last week. I wear contact lenses to deal with a form of short-sighted corkscrew astigmatism that left uncorrected would mean I could see round corners but only if the corner was very, very close.

As happens occasionally, a lens slipped. I did what I always do in these circumstances and stopped to use a mirror to slide it back onto the centre of my eyeball.

But the mirror in question wasn't mine. It was attached to the side of someone's Ford Focus. Using a wing-mirror to adjust a contact lens, you have to kneel by the car with your head against the window.

In an ideal world, I'd have ensured that the car was empty; specifically, that there wasn't a large, aggressive-looking man in the driver's seat. But, of course, I was half-blind at the time. The first I knew of him was when the window slid down and the vents of my helmet were seized by a grip like an eagle intent on taking me back to its nest.

Cycling is biased against the shortsighted. While pros with perfect vision attract admiration by wearing the most ludicrous-looking eyewear they can find (anyone remember David Millar's Oakley Over-the-Tops, which clipped over the top of his head like a giant claw?), those of us with no choice in the matter are locked in a perpetual struggle against a giant 20/20 conspiracy.

For instance, at a long, wet, miserable road race a few years ago, I was involved in a crash where I broke the coccyx of the rider in front with my face. That wasn't a riot of dignity to begin with, but it was exacerbated by losing my glasses.

I wasn't wearing contacts; these were prescription glasses. The team manager and I scrambled around on the verge looking for them for all of about 10 seconds before he decided I'd better get back on my bike and get chasing. I was fine getting back through the cars, because cars are quite big and they make a helpful noise to aid in their location. When I got to the small, silent, blurry shapes that constituted the riders, I was helpless. I crashed another three times in the remaining 60 miles.



It turned out the glasses hadn't been lost at all, but had been rammed upwards and slid under my helmet. This was quite obvious to everyone else, because the legs were sticking out down each side of my face. Not one person was kind enough to mention it. I assume they thought I was having fun.One of the problems with contact lenses is that any dust or grit that gets trapped underneath them results in agony, making sunglasses essential.

At a time trial championships, I discovered I'd forgotten them. I was reduced to running round the car park looking for someone with a spare pair. The only offer was from a rival's wife, who lent me a pair of knock-off women's Pradas of the enormous, Jacqueline Kennedy variety. I spent the race trying to stop the damn things sliding downwards and falling off by making the skin on my nose ripple upwards.

This is harder than it sounds. A week later, I found a discussion on a web-forum about why I was wearing them. The consensus was, "He must have tested them in a wind tunnel." It was quite comforting to feel that "He's a shortsighted idiot" had been rejected out of hand.

Dear Dr Hutch,
I follow you on Twitter, and noticed that you often complain about road safety, especially the suggestion that some drivers fail to see cyclists. I've been cycling for many years without any incidents. Hi-viz and the like is just a distraction. Staying safe is quite simple. If you position yourself correctly, that is to say you adopt the primary position in the middle of your lane, and ride with confidence, there is no motorist in the world who won't see you.

Francis Hilton, via email

Francis, thank you for your advice. I feel it only fair to warn you that my experiences following a piece I wrote last year about not having had a puncture for nine months does rather suggest that the Gods of Cycling read this column.

Training zones

Your grandfather, if he was a cyclist, would have gone for a ride. He would have kept a scrupulous check on how far it was, and if he kept a diary he would have made a note of this, along with some reference to whether it had been easy, steady, or hard riding. He might have mentioned if he'd made ‘evens' - average 20mph or more.If only he'd known what he was missing out on. Zones! One, two and three. And four and five.

All as elastic and incapable of universal definition as they are dynamic and action-packed. Imagine never having the feeling of pride that comes from a training diary entry that reads, "2 hours, 30 min Z1+/Z2-, 30 min Z2++ and 45 min alternating Z2/3 torque and Z3+ with Z4+? spikes." Of course you don't understand it. That's the point. Training zones are cycling's answer to management speak. They are our enabling synergies going forward to empower stakeholders. (Otherwise known as "training makes you fitter".)

Your grandfather would be surprised to learn that Z1 is what he knew as ‘easy', Z2 is ‘steady', Z3 is ‘hard'. He'd also be pretty scathing about it, so it's best you don't tell him or you'll never hear the end of it. There are other zones: Z4 is harder than hard, and Z5 is harder than that.

These are concepts your grandfather was unable to express, which is why his training was so rubbish.If you want to get one over on your mates, just arbitrarily add five to all your zones so that instead of running Z1-Z5 they're Z6-Z10. That way you'll get much fitter, much faster.

This article was first published in the May 2 issue of Cycling Weekly. Read Cycling Weekly magazine on the day of release where ever you are in the world International digital edition, UK digital edition. And if you like us, rate us!

Cycling Weekly will have a rider blogging from every round of this year's Tour Series, offering insight, comment and humour from the fast-paced proceedings.

Rob Adlard, a freelance violinist riding for Velo29-Blackhawk, gives us an insight into the Tour Series experience from the point of view of one of the many guest teams that will feature in this year's rounds.  

Durham is such a difficult circuit! As a guest team we haven't had a round before to get into the groove and it's our one time where we have to just smash it. It was a huge amount of fun, and I'd love to do some more.

They're so fun and so well organised, that even if you hate crits (like me), they're still absolutely brilliant events. As a guest team you really appreciate that.

My race didn't really go so well. The neutral laps and the first couple of race laps were great; I'm used to hills and I'm a climber so I gained a load of positions on the first time up the cobbled climb. I got onto Ed Clancy's wheel and thought, "this is fantastic, I've just got to stick here and I'll be fine."

Unfortunately on the second lap I got to the top of the hill and I just couldn't breathe, and from that point on I couldn't get out of the red. If you're not 100% you just can't get away with anything.

The South Street cobbles leave no room for error

That famous corner [in Durham] was pretty horrific; I nearly came off there every time. I had these tyres that I'd used to race in Belgium so I thought they'd be great, but I was sliding sideways on the cobbles every lap anyway.

I actually went into the barriers on that corner during one of the practice laps because I was trying to see how fast you could ride it. Luckily I found out that no-one rides it that fast during the race!

Being a guest team we started at the back of the grid. It was incredibly tense; we knew we had a job to do but at the same time trying to move up through the bunch was a near impossible task.

One of the other things about being a guest team is that we don't ride our bikes full-time, so it didn't feel quite right to be elbowing the full-time riders out of the way because this is basically their day at the office. You subconsciously don't want to ruin their day at work!

I'm lucky to do the day job that I do. I'm a freelance musician and I play the violin. It's mostly evening work so it gives me plenty of time to ride my bike, which at times can feel like I'm a full time bike rider.

However it does sometimes mean some late nights travelling; I had a concert in Manchester with the Halle Orchestra on the night before the Lincoln Grand Prix so I had to drive over on Saturday night and didn't arrive until about one in the morning.

It is also a bit nerve-wracking because I use my hands for work, and if I can't use my hands then I don't get paid! It can be difficult when you want to go around corners fast because you can be a bit reluctant unless you really focus on what you're doing. My one mitigation is that I wear full fingered, padded gloves.

I had plenty of friends around the course and my other half was there too. She hadn't seen much racing before, so it was pretty cool for her to come and see me race. I did have to tell her that it's not always like that though!

I remember going to watch races around an industrial estate in Hartlepool when I was nine years old, and that was what got me hooked on cycling.

I can't imagine what it would have been like to have been a nine year old watching that race last night. It must have been overwhelmingly exciting!

Related links
Raleigh continue perfect start in Pearl Izumi Tour Series
Photo gallery: Tour Series 2013, Durham, by Andy Jones
Pearl Izumi Tour Series 2013: Coverage index 

Cycling Weekly will have a rider blogging from every round of this year's Tour Series, offering insight, comment and humour from the fast-paced proceedings.

Metaltek-Knights of Old rider Tom Murray, whose team finished sixth in the opening round of the series in Kirkcaldy, talks tea, finger puppets, and getting back into the Tour Series routine.

The first round of the Tour Series is always a weird one because you've got no form to go off. You ride the first one, you cross your fingers and you hope and pray you've got the form you think you have.

You just slip straight back into the routine; waiting for that last tune and for someone to count you down. Then you've got three laps of hell for leather behind the neutralised bike; it becomes second nature.

Everyone talks about the "crit insomnia" because you cant sleep for eight weeks! It's like living in a different, alternative life for eight weeks. In fact the hardest bit is when you get to the end and you've got to get yourself into normal life.

The main difference with the Tour Series this year is that there are more and more people coming to ride in Britain. Raleigh and Node4 are full of Kiwis and Australians whereas a few years ago it was just Brits.

Its quite a nice feeling when you're on the start line, you're looking around you, and you see loads of new faces. They're more than welcome! They're raising the standard of bike racing in this country. Its quite nice that there are still some British faces mixed in as well.

I'm currently sat in a cricket pavillion in the grounds of our hotel in Morpeth - it's the one place I can find signal up here! We drove down last night and we'll drive over to Durham tomorrow [Thursday].

It's absolutely chucking it down outside, so I'm hiding from the rain. It's just me and a load of benches. I don't know what time it kicks off but I think it might be a while. There are a few pigeons wandering around but I don't think they're going to start playing any time soon.

It's definitely a nice change from waking up and seeing purple curtains in a Premier Inn! I've got a bit of a cold so I've been drinking Beet It shots [concentrated beetroot juice].

We got to the hotel last night and found they had a ginger and lemon tea, so I've been drinking that too. Ginger and lemon tea is the future, I've discovered it! I'm going to text Maggie [Magnus Backstedt, MG-Maxifuel rider who has his own coffee brand] and give him the recipe.

Kirkcaldy was quite nice! We had a nice romantic meal at ‘La Gondola' restaurant, an Italian place. It was the only restaurant we could find actually. I'm not sure people eat up there in Scotland.

There are a lot of bric-a-brac stores; shops that don't really have a point to them but are just full of whatever they've managed to get their hands on. There are so many of those; there was everything you could ever dream of, and all for £1!

We didn't bring anything back from Kirkcaldy, but we should have done. The hotel we stayed in had a gift shop, but the only thing it sold was finger puppets. It had a proper selection of about 150 of them for about £1.50 each.

You know sometimes when you just think you've gone mad. We could have got one for every rider on the team as mascots. We'll have to go back next year!

Related links
Raleigh take the honours in Tour Series opener in Kirkcaldy
Tour Series round one photo gallery, by Andy Jones
Pearl Izumi Tour Series 2013: Coverage Index