Nicely warmed up, I cycle to work. As usual I worry about bumping into L and Doggo but there's no sign of them.
I have a very good ride in but annoyingly I'm a mere 6 seconds off my best time but that gives me something to work on. I'll either have to cut back on the 'enjoying the view' bit or perhaps I should do a more thorough warm-up. I make a mental note to set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier, L won't notice.
When I tell her, L seems more pleased that I am with my time and she's glad that my morning warm up wasn't a waste of time. In my opinion warm-ups are never a waste of time, even if there’s nothing to warm-up for. L's 220 Tri Magazine that I was looking through last night, just flicking through the pictures you understand, was very keen to stress how I’m important a good warm-up is.
L too is on her bike today, although she regretted cycling up Derby Road. The heavy traffic on that road can prevent you putting in any right turns. She worries about me cycling to Derby but her route is more treacherous than mine. It should be me worrying about her.
Doggo's in trouble. Allegedly he was a brute this morning. Someone tried to walk in between L and Doggo while he was having a casual spray up the footpath. Doggo jumped up and growled at him. He got a slap around the ears for his efforts. Bless him, I'm sure he was only protecting her, and he got in trouble for it.
My protégé, who still hasn’t got around to his training run, reckons he knows why I've started doing Madathons. He reckons it's my last hurrah before I accept the inevitable, give up the running lark and take up golf. Golf? Golf is the last hurrah. There’s nowhere to go once you get to golf, apart from perhaps Bowls. Then he tells me he used to play bowls. He's such an old man. He'll be getting a cloth cap and a whippet next. He's already entered the 'antechamber to death' as John Peel famously described golf. Peel said that when his mates told him they've started playing golf, he mentally crossed them off his Christmas card list. Mind you, look what happened to John Peel.
Cycle home, taking it easy and my time reflects this, 3 minutes off the pace but I have a cunning plan. I do a quick transition, although it's not really that quick. Although I already have my Ron Hills on I have to strip to get my cycling shorts off before I can put my Ron Hills back on over something more appropriate. Then I take the dog from a quick brick session. Note the impressive bit of Tri lingo there. It's a session where you do two disciplines back to back, most commonly bike to run. It is supposed to get your muscles used to transitioning, as biking and running use different groups of muscles. According to the immensely unreliable Wikipedia the term 'brick' has multiple claims of origination/derivation.
One claim is that the term originates from a New Zealand athlete by the name of Matt Brick or it could just be a partial anagram of Bike-Run. Another idea is that it’s "Just another brick in the wall"... Or it maybe it's simply a descriptive term for how my legs feel now that's I'm out running because they feel like they're made of bricks. That's not to mention that it also feels like I’m carrying a ton of bricks on my shoulders.
Bet not many people do their bricks sessions with a collie and while kicking his football at the same time. Beat that Tim Don.
L meets us on the park just as my legs are giving up the will to live. Which means I now have to run home as well. Consolation is that when we get home Doggo looks well and truly bricked, far worse than I do.
L and Daughter go to the gym and we get to chill out for a while. Daughter has cooked us all tea again.
There's still time to do my internet chess and fit in a warm-down with L. I need all the warming up and down that I can get, I intend to do back to back bikes and cycle to work again tomorrow.
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