There’s a reason for this picture – it struck a cord, one I will get around to playing in just a moment. This weekend has been devoid of training and full of socialising. Yes, Friday lunchtime was taken up with a relaxing lunch in Tettenhall with a very good friend. Friday night was relaxing, perhaps too relaxing given the beer, red wine and port. Saturday morning was lazy. Saturday lunchtime was spent in Bridgnorth and by Saturday eveing I’d made it to Bishops Wood to see an old school friend. Finally this morning I did my neighbourly duty and took our neighbour’s youngest son along to the Tour of Britain and more snapping. So no time for the bike. But maybe that is a benefit in disguise.
Over said drinks on Friday night the fact that the cycling has become yet another element of stress was discussed by us al. And in truth it has. I’ve commented on it here before but there’s a constant striving for a perfection. The “perfect” training plan will always be a dream when fitted into the reality of life’s pressures. And so, yes, I am here, with 2 weeks to go, not riding and potentially under prepared. Put it another way, I’ve got out on my bike a whole lot more than I did last year and at times have been enjoying it. If only the second perspective was the default way of looking at life and things would be a lot easier. Oh for this brain rewiring to be complete and work!
Today could almost be called training. For the past week I’ve been thinking of heading to Gun Hill, the potential scene of my downfall in a fortnight(?). But with that in mind I opted for the 2nd category climb of Ramshorn. Now this is a strange affair: a 4 mile climb complete with descent in the middle; easy a the start, easy at the finish but a kick like a mule after the middle descent. I was told by a local cyclist that it is actually worse then Gun Hill. I am feeling less confident by the minute.
And so to the picture. I snapped it as the rear of the race convoy was held up as one of the Team Ireland boys had a bike change. I looked at it and it seemed odd, a real oxymoron. But I suppose it is also the way of looking at the Tour Ride to come. I can either be swept up by the negativity or focus on the finish line and meet my challenge.
Until then its another date with the 2010 Tour of Britain in my old South Wales stomping grounds and a rendezvous with another good friend. I’ll let the pictures do the talking on that.