All goes well, traffic apart. Wind not too bad. Nice weather, almost deckchair conditions. Nice view. All very pleasant. I do the whole ride in low gear as an experiment for Sunday. Did you know that, apparently regular cycling gives you the body of someone ten years younger, which could explain why teenagers aren't very keen on it.
I do have one problem which is with a woman in a VW Polo at the Asda roundabout. I take up my usual stance in the middle of the road, blocking the cars from passing me. I'm being assertive to make myself visible, like they tell you to do. This woman, and it's always the women, blows her horn at me to get out of her way. I turn round and give her my best icy glare. This further delay to her schedule seems to wind her up even more and I contemplate dawdling a while longer but think better of it. There's nothing worse than a women scorned, she might drive over the top of me. I pull out onto the roundabout and she roars past me on the inside. Another person in need of a life.
I having finally gotten around to analysing my Skipton results. The news I suppose is good. My analysis is a bit vague but including transition my swim improved by 2 minutes 18 seconds compared with Derby Tri last year. That's the benefit of front crawl over breaststroke. My run has also improved; I was 3 minutes 24 seconds faster at Skipton. In fact my run was only 15 seconds slower than my opening run at Clumber when I had fresh legs, although I was holding back a touch there. My bike was slower at Skipton but then it was hilly. Don't tell L but my target time for Sunday is approximately 01:39:30.
Seth Johnson issues an apology of sorts to the referee.
"He just got in the way didn't he?" said Johnson of his clash with the referee, "I played the ball, then went to make a run and he got in the way. I was on the verge of having a go at him but then realised he couldn't breathe. I didn't think there was anything to it but then I saw him and he was struggling to breathe. He's broken a couple of ribs. Hopefully, he'll be all right. A couple of broken ribs won't do him any harm."
He's all heart.
I have arranged to meet L for a swim after work and at 4.30 she emails to tell me it's throwing it down in Nottingham. I look out of my window. Bugger. It's raining here too. I hadn’t realised. It seems worse than it looks and I don’t really notice it once I’m powering along on the bike. It’s not in my face and it’s actually quite good fun. It's also useful practice in case it's a wet race on Sunday. In fact I start to think that I might even relish a wet event.
The only snag would be the cold, particularly as I've been allocated a 8.16 start time on Sunday. I discover that every time I freewheel my calves' cramp, I assume this is because of the cold and the damp. Best to keep pedalling.
I arrive at the pool five minutes early but L is not looking happy, apparently I should have been here at 5.45, I’m sure I said 6.15. I know I said I'd be a bit quicker if the wind was behind me but it would have had to have been a strong wind to make up half-an-hour.
I had actually been looking forward to my swim but once I'm in the pool I struggle a bit. Swimming is quite painful as I still have cramp in my calves from the bike. Whatever I do, I can’t seem to get them going. I struggle to 20-30 lengths before I call it a night. I tell L I’ll see her back at home.
All my cycling clothes are very wet, so I'm tempted to keep my swimming trunks on and put everything back on over the top but I have brought some dry stuff wrapped in a plastic bag, so I do kit out in dry stuff. Although it's unlikely to stay dry for long, once I get out in the rain. One thing I forgot though is underwear, so I'm naked under my Ron Hills. Good job I'm not going far, there's not much padding in a pair of Ron Hills.
I get home and as it's still raining heavily, so I decide it’s my turn to be the Good Samaritan and after changing into yet another dry pair of Ron Hills (still no underwear) I head back to rescue L from the elements.
Julia Bradbury, presenter of Wainwright's Walks and notorious for her legendary 20 hour Scafell Pike hike and for apparently not getting helicoptered off, also presents Watchdog with Nicky Campbell. A few weeks ago she was wearing a blouse with a letter N embroidered on one chest and a letter O on the other. I wondered whether this was a subliminal denial to the helicopter suggestion that we emailed to her. Well being a women, where No can mean Yes or any other response she wants it to, she's changed her mind. Tonight she has a Y on one chest and an S on the other, and an E woven down the front buttons. What's going on Julia? What are you trying to tell us?
Dog training goes well, Doggo shows a bit of motivation tonight. It’s his new squeaky ball that does it. Although it doesn't go down well with the rest of the class, he’s constantly being told to stop squeaking and/or stop barking.
There's also a slightly bizarre moment at dog class. At the stables where we train somebody has put a huge mirror on the wall of one of the horse stalls and the horse is stood in front of it all night, admiring itself.
Home to L, who seems to have perked up a little.
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