Pulling To One Side

It was raining when I got up this morning. So I was undecided about biking. I really shouldn't be such a wimp but I start getting into my 'normal' clothes. My cycling shorts were on the washing line, wet. L is apologetic about that, not that it's her fault, says I'll just have to go in my lycra tri shorts instead. She says that at least I'm guaranteed sex in them. That swung it. I go for it.

Stayed dry and did an very impressive time, the rain always seems to make me pedal quicker. Another PB 50.50, 55 seconds inside my old best. The slag curry powers me along. And all without a warm up. L says I won't need her soon. As if. Man can't survive on slag curry alone. I kind of had a warm-up last night, so perhaps that’s the way to do it.

On Wednesday I thought my gears were going to give up the ghost such was the noise that they were making. Today they are as smooth as anything. It's amazing what treating the bike to a spot of oil can do.

L can't believe that I blogged that beans on toast with fish fingers was not an athlete's meal. She reckons its pure carbs and protein. Nothing beats a bit of slag, she says, or a lot in my case. However she says that all the huge guts at the gig last night has changed her mind about becoming a born-again unhealthy eater. So no more slag apparently.

We arrange to fit in a quickie at John Carroll Leisure Centre before it closes at 7pm. A quickie swim that is, L will just have to postpone ripping my lycra off until later. By now it’s chucking it down so I decide to go home and get changed into some dry clothes first.

As it happens, once I am on my way home, the rain stops and the sun comes out. The turn for the better in the weather probably costs me a quick time and I am two minutes outside my best. Once home I get changed, regretfully out of the wet lyrca, pick up Doggo and drive to the pool.

Once there I find only one person in my favourite lane and that’s L. No problem I can out intimidate her. I hope. L thinks the reason I’m stronger with one arm is perhaps due to the dog’s lack of lead skills. I’m not convinced. Perhaps I’m just turning into the dog. He pulls to one side too.

Get home and L knocks up a hash to fortify us for the trip to the pub.

Something is missing. Basically Friday evening lyrca removing. Easily solved, although pub time is slipping away, so I decide to make it quick and end up shagging her against the wall.

We walk to the Victoria. I have a Funfair ale first and then two pints of Full Mash Porter, very nice. L’s dangerously on Leffe.