No, not me. My training.

Again, on a Wednesday, I decided my leg needed the rest (well I have been up and down to the 5th floor about 25 times today, a round trip approaching 1/3 mile and including 117 steps) after feeling sore, painful, sore, then aching over the course of the day. So this evening I went for another ride.

I decided it would be nice to check out a new loop on a known route to get ready for Saturday’s epic run, and since the sun had set but it was still daylight, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Completely switched off, I found the answer to the question of which bike to get Cathy that satisfies her need for colour and my need for something good but not bank-breakable, which included remembering the name of a custom bike finisher who will tailor colour to requirement. Why this came to me on the ride, I don’t know. But it’s made me happy. Oh, and I also thought about France a lot. My last visit included a spot of this: . That’s a view of the Megavalanche downhill race. (Skip the first 90 seconds, but do watch the superb crash at about 4 minutes…epic!) I didn’t finish in the top 60 like that guy (who wore a cow costume, as you can see in his arms), but did finish nicely mid field and beat several well known journalists, despite having broken forks (only 2 inches travel) and enjoyed it like nothing else. It’s actually about 40km long and runs from Pic Blanc above Alpe d’Huez, so is rather steep. And fun.

And I must go back to France soon, if not for the race then for the mountains. Cycling on a glacier is maybe a bit much, so maybe the mountains of Morzine will do again.

Still, dreaming stopped after about 40 minutes when I got home, feeling rather happy and knackered.

Cross trained out. With only 3 wheelies to show for it. And generally relaxed at missing a run, since it is only a 5 miler and not as important as either getting better, or hitting Saturday with confidence about not getting injured worse than now.

Oh, and with news that next Friday will be my last in Hastings.

Hooray. Hoo bloody ray. Yip, yip hooray. And smucking fart.

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