W
Wafflycathcsdir
Guest
Thursday, 23 January 2003
Honour is restored … sort of
Vernon & I went out for a mid-morning constitutional bike ride today. I was brave - rain was
threatening, a wind was blowing and I admit to being a fair weather cyclist. No chance of yours
truly becoming a triathlete
It was hard this morning - headwind blowing, cold, and I was glad of having three layers of clothing
on. We were on the last half of the little circuit we do and I was cycling up this here mountain
(hill to the fit, well, incline to the fit) and not doing too badly. Then I spotted him. A Stealth
Pensioner coming up on me from the side where it formed a junction with the road I was on, on his
bike. You know the type - it's his normal form of transport, the bike is surgically attached to his
body and he goes on and on for miles and miles, never showing the slightest sign of effort, and
always at a constant speed. I have come to loathe the sort
Following the embarrassment of failing to keep up with the cycling pensioners earlier in the week, I
was spurred on. I could not lose this one. There was me, nice shiny "proper" road bike, me in Lycra,
helmet, fluorescent yellow jacket… the Stealth Pensioner on his trusty rusting steed, probably as
old as he is, all in dark clothing… I had the honour of fatbirdonabike to uphold!
I switched up a gear and pedalled faster. My heart pumped and my bosoms heaved. My face turned puce
and the noise of my laboured breathing sounded similar to that of a hippo trying to get out of a mud
wallow in which it is stuck. I was not a pretty sight … or sound. Stealth Pensioner just carried
on pedalling as normal up the hill. I gritted my teeth, hit the wall (metaphorically, not
*literally*), the lactic acid in my muscles reached critical levels, but I ignored the pain to go
onward and upward.
I made it! I got to the top of the hill before Stealth Pensioner! Just, but I made it! Ah ha! The
adrenaline soared through my bloodstream. My face went from puce to plain old red.
Then, I looked - Stealth Pensioner was tailing me. Oh no! I could not allow Stealth pensioner to
catch up and overtake me. That would be just too much shame. AND - it had started to rain quite
steadily. Woe!
I gritted my teeth again - I upped a gear again, I pedalled faster gain. I looked around to see
Stealth Pensioner sat on my tail. I went puce again. I upped the gear, I dug deep into my feeble
physical resources - I cycled harder, I ignored the rain, the wind and the pain. My bosoms heaved,
partially obscuring my vision every time I breathed in. But I succeeded. I pulled away from Stealth
Pensioner.
Honour is restored. Muscles might ache; I may well be shattered for the rest of the day …
BUT …
Honour is restored!
Cheers, helen s
~~~~~~~~~~
Flush out that intestinal parasite and/or the waste product before sending a reply!
Any speeliong mistake$ aR the resiult of my cats sitting on the keyboaRRRDdd
~~~~~~~~~~
Honour is restored … sort of
Vernon & I went out for a mid-morning constitutional bike ride today. I was brave - rain was
threatening, a wind was blowing and I admit to being a fair weather cyclist. No chance of yours
truly becoming a triathlete
It was hard this morning - headwind blowing, cold, and I was glad of having three layers of clothing
on. We were on the last half of the little circuit we do and I was cycling up this here mountain
(hill to the fit, well, incline to the fit) and not doing too badly. Then I spotted him. A Stealth
Pensioner coming up on me from the side where it formed a junction with the road I was on, on his
bike. You know the type - it's his normal form of transport, the bike is surgically attached to his
body and he goes on and on for miles and miles, never showing the slightest sign of effort, and
always at a constant speed. I have come to loathe the sort
Following the embarrassment of failing to keep up with the cycling pensioners earlier in the week, I
was spurred on. I could not lose this one. There was me, nice shiny "proper" road bike, me in Lycra,
helmet, fluorescent yellow jacket… the Stealth Pensioner on his trusty rusting steed, probably as
old as he is, all in dark clothing… I had the honour of fatbirdonabike to uphold!
I switched up a gear and pedalled faster. My heart pumped and my bosoms heaved. My face turned puce
and the noise of my laboured breathing sounded similar to that of a hippo trying to get out of a mud
wallow in which it is stuck. I was not a pretty sight … or sound. Stealth Pensioner just carried
on pedalling as normal up the hill. I gritted my teeth, hit the wall (metaphorically, not
*literally*), the lactic acid in my muscles reached critical levels, but I ignored the pain to go
onward and upward.
I made it! I got to the top of the hill before Stealth Pensioner! Just, but I made it! Ah ha! The
adrenaline soared through my bloodstream. My face went from puce to plain old red.
Then, I looked - Stealth Pensioner was tailing me. Oh no! I could not allow Stealth pensioner to
catch up and overtake me. That would be just too much shame. AND - it had started to rain quite
steadily. Woe!
I gritted my teeth again - I upped a gear again, I pedalled faster gain. I looked around to see
Stealth Pensioner sat on my tail. I went puce again. I upped the gear, I dug deep into my feeble
physical resources - I cycled harder, I ignored the rain, the wind and the pain. My bosoms heaved,
partially obscuring my vision every time I breathed in. But I succeeded. I pulled away from Stealth
Pensioner.
Honour is restored. Muscles might ache; I may well be shattered for the rest of the day …
BUT …
Honour is restored!
Cheers, helen s
~~~~~~~~~~
Flush out that intestinal parasite and/or the waste product before sending a reply!
Any speeliong mistake$ aR the resiult of my cats sitting on the keyboaRRRDdd
~~~~~~~~~~
