A small price to pay

Readers of this blog (thank you, both of you, you make it all worthwhile) will know that I often muse about what it would be like to be a professional cyclist. Today, the biggest and best and toughest sporting event gears up again, and charges on to the roads of Europe, I'm at it again. For me it would be pretty lonely, finishing a few hours after the peleton were asleep. Judging by Skip's performance today:

(http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201007)

she would be in the bunch sprint for the green jersey. But more on that later. You see, the likes of Armstrong, Evans, Contador et al, don't have to drop their wife's car off at the garage on a Saturday morning, take their nine year old son to a party, squeeze in a trip to Sainsbury or meet friends for Sunday lunch at the Ring 'o Bells in Compton Martin by 1 o'clock. My challenge is not intermediate sprints, or making it over the Tourmalet, but fitting in some cycling around all the other things I am doing.

And work of course. On Friday morning, for reasons involving other complicated logistics and domestics, and if I'm being honest, some rain and tiredness thrown in, I didn't cycle into work as usual. I planned to make a sharp exit from the office and then do a couple of hilly hours on Friday evening. But a 4PM meeting overran, late finish and by the time I was home it was 7.15PM, so I decided to see if I could get it all done on Saturday and Sunday.

So Johan Bruyneel doesn't ask if Lance can be back by 12, nor does Cavendish take advantage of a trip to Weston Toyota to ride home over a few hills, but that was my weekend's riding. So yesterday morning then. A short but sharp 17 mile-wiggle back from Weston to Winscombe, over Bleadon Hill and down Canada Coombe before coming home via Banwell Castle. The only excitement was when I managed to avoid a herd of cows by jumping over the farmer's van that was being used to block off one of their routes.

This morning I had already arranged to meet Skip for a trip over the levels to Glastonbury, but decided to leave at 8AM and do a quick trip up to the top of the Mendips before meeting her down in Axbridge at 9AM. So it was down to Winscombe again before heading up Shipham Lane, to Shipham, up again to Daneswood care home, a brief down before climbing up past Tynnings Farm to Charterhouse. I passed the Doc going the other way, in his bright orange Raleigh kit, and a number of other riders, all taking advantage of the sunny start to the day.

At the Charterhouse centre, which offers outward-bound type opportunities for "youth" groups, there were a few groups of disconsolate teenagers, hanging about before they started their orienteering etc., having a puff or two on their ciggies, and probably complaining about all this fresh air and how there was nothing to do.

The clock was ticking so I got a shift on, pedalling as hard as I could into the wind down Cheddar Gorge, and along the bypass into Axbridge, arriving just as the clock struck nine. Skip made some point about her hero, some old Texan bloke being a few seconds up on a good-looking Spaniard. Well the race isn't won on a ten-minute prologue, just wait for the hills. In any case, I have a sneaky feeling it's the year of the Low Countries already, and those Schleck brothers will be hard to beat for sure.

It was a pleasant morning as we headed over to Wedmore, along the flat roads to our favourite coffee stop in Hippyville. Judging by the look of a few people, I think they may have forgotten their bus after the festival last week. I ordered some toast, and because time was pressing and it still had not arrived after our 20 minutes, I was all set to forget about it. The cost of two pieces of brown toast being a relatively small price compared to the toast I would become if I didn't make it back by 12. But Skip persuaded me to be assertive and I ended up getting my money back, thus ensuring my future patronage of that very boutique.

Now we had the wind at our backs mostly for our journey home. There had been ominous signs of Skip's form on the way out, and I'm sure all these 35-40 milers around the levels must be turning her into some kind of Cancellara-like specialist. Either that or she had more than coffee, because she was really at it on the way home. I grimly hung onto the wheel, and even though I had not eaten since breakfast, I could have had ten tonnes of porridge and it would have been the same. I took advantage of her cornering ability on the road back from Clewer to win 6 points but she grabbed the 35 for first over the line, leaving me trailing in her wake by a long, long way. I'll just content myself with the polka dot socks, and aspire.

Charlie has a spike showing a top speed over 100 mph, I think it must be an aberration as I'm sure I would have felt different if I had gone that fast. Nonetheless, a good 52 miles today, and plenty of climbing. I do need a bit of a rest as it's been a hectic couple of months on all fronts, and the events in May and June have pushed me a bit. So a week or so with little cycling is planned, followed by the final countdown to the Pyrenees.

If anyone has any idea how I can mobile blog from France, please let me know. I'm toying with re-negotiating my phone contract and had half a mind to get some kind of technology thing to enable me to post from the top of the Tourmalet. Ideas?

Here's Charlie:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/39133970