Back Into The Groove

Ok. Back into the groove today. The fitness groove that is. Other routines were restored in all their glory yesterday in what I may christen Super Sunday but perhaps more about that later.

So I cycle into work. The roads are wonderful for cycling this morning, so quiet, even L might have enjoyed the cycling today. Maybe. I also have my swimming stuff with me and hope to go for a dip after work.

Work though, is all a bit manic; such is the perils of having time off. On the up side we now have coffee; apparently the de-caff ran out so someone had to address the situation. Unfortunately we’re now on standard Nescafe so it’s not particularly pleasant but at least it contains caffeine. We have a very very large tub of it, so it looks like we’re stuck with it for some considerable time.

L sends me an email advertising something called the ‘The Evil Sheriff Off-Road Duathlon’. I question whether she sent it to me by mistake but no she says I was the intended recipient because they put the words ‘evil’ and ‘Duathlon’ in the same sentence and she thought of me. What she forgot to mention was that they also used the words 'off’ and ‘road' in it as well. I don’t do ‘off-road’, not without a £1000+ mountain bike. Are you listening Santa? It’s on the list just after the carbon framed road bike with the full Dura Ace group-set.

The email did mention a few runs as well; the 10K might be appealing. That is if I survive the one I’ve booked for this Friday. I had hatched a cunning plan to get out of it, when work kindly arranged a night out on the same evening. That is until they postponed it for two weeks, so now I’m free to run. Whoopee.

Leeds United have finally been given permission to start the new league season, albeit with a 15 point penalty. It just gets better. So just a simple matter of 105 points needed to win the league according to Dennis Wise. You have to admire his optimism.

I bike straight to the pool for my planned swim. It’s nice and quiet in my lane, just me and a chap with a float between his legs. Absolutely perfect because his float slows him down which means that I can swim at a leisurely pace. That is until one of the regular female psychos arrives fifteen minutes before the end of the session and starts powering up and down, presumably to make up for lost time.

I leave the pool and the sky is grumbling with thunder and exhibiting the odd flash of lightning. Head down, I pedal fast to beat the expected downpour. I don’t quite make it. Then of course the pedestrian crossings over the ring road take an age to change which means I get a right royal soaking. Doggo greets me at the door, briefly, and then goes back in his corner to hide from the storm.

It does, however, fine up very quickly and we do a quick session on the park. Well, it was supposed to be a quick session but some bright spark has shaved thirty minutes off the park opening times, so we got locked in and had to walk the long way around to get out. L, bless her, walks to meet us. She then cooks up a terrific Keema. Bless her again.

I eventually tumble into bed, exhausted but predictably horny. It’s the lyrca you know. L doesn’t take much coercing, if any at all, to indulge an old man in his hour of need. Bliss. Possibly better even that Super Sunday. Although, thinking about it, she’d come to bed in her pulling gear, a sexy black combo, so it obviously wasn’t all my idea and all at past her watershed hour too. In fact that's two watersheds in a row she's broken. Tut tut.