Recent efforts have been on cycling after I somehow got
shamed talked into signing up for a London to Brighton ride.
Those three training months have shot by like a svelte and jaunty cheetah, however my training levels are still in the back with the sloths wondering if there is any more coffee. Yes there was a chest infection and an unavoidable weekend with inlaws and more time to visit my Nan and plenty of other reasons but at the moment it is apparent that I should have made up for a lot more of those missed weekends with wet wednesday nights than I did.
I made 18 miles last weekend, with a fair amount of footfall up the minor hilly bits and felt like crap for two days afterwards, which is not encouraging. What is encouraging is that by sharing my reservations, I have discovered power gels and given up calorie counting for a little while. Don’t be cycincised by the hype people, The Bonk exists.
58 miles is a long ass way, and I’m kind of frightened. Mostly frightened of looking a fat lazy tool infront of many a work superior. Frightened also of doing myself a mischief. Frightened of letting down my sponsors and yes, frightened of the South Bastard Downs.
On the plus side, I can pretty comfortably bang out ten miles these days and my derrière is now desensitised to the stabbing butt bone pain of being in the saddle. And the skinny young blonde thing also on team has trained less than I have so maybe all isn’t lost. That’s a nice way of saying maybe I will come second to last. Maybe.
But there’s nothing for it really, we’re going, so Good Friday is starting for me with a planned 20 miles around the estuary coast of this end of Essex starting with Mersea.
BTW if you feel for my plight, or have a pound you would only otherwise spend on sinful activity, why not sponsor me by clicking here