Friday, 15 January 2016


I like to have 15 minutes to get from home to the bunch, if there's a 2nd poo required or I need extra time to get my socks perfectly straight, 12 will do. 9, well 9 minutes is way less than I've left myself before, and I'm worried that given I made it in time, I might dilly dally more in the future.

Anyway, I thought the trip down would be the hardest part of today, there weren't many boys on TT bikes, and though I hadn't turned myself inside out, I felt it was not for lack of trying and that perhaps the phrase is not meant literally. Like many times before, I was wrong about that (no not the phrase, it's really not meant literally), the ride.

The headwind down the highway kept our pace in the mid 40s, but when we turned at Mordi, and picked up a few boys rocking extensions, it got hard. It got proper hard. Rocking along Brighton beach, I glanced down at my gps. I wasn't sure if the number was right, so I wiped the drool off the screen, and checked again. 63km/h. I'm pretty sure it was Adam Verstege doing the damage, but whomever it was, it was only the fact I had a sit on Tom Leaper that kept me in the group. If there had been anyone else, any calves less that 20", I think I would dropped the biggest skiddy Beach Rd had ever seen.

Strava link.

D: 43.9km
A: 153m


D: 27.1km
A: 133m

PMPW: 87kg

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