The curse of the stripes

The last post was a bit off tangent, so picking up where I left off before, the French lesson went well! In fact, I’ve had a couple and have managed to learn some wordy stuff as well as some etiquette. Veronique was a teacher and is now an antique dealer, so she’s pretty interesting to talk to.

Out on the bike today I had a long one to do, so I headed out before eight and enjoyed watching the sun come up, listening to some tunes. I met up with some SWRC guys in Cobham to get some company for a few hours and break things up, and they were all nice guys. I’m still not a fan of club rides though so I’ll probably keep them to a minimum. Anyway, being a suave sucker I decided to wear my old National Champs jersey for the ride (I am proud of it after all). A few hours in I hit a hidden rock on a descent and went down pretty hard. What a pillock. All my new friends must have simultaneously thought ‘bloody tester’ in their heads.

This isn’t the first time I’ve had ‘an episode’ when wearing the stripes. I remember a couple of years back I was doing a local 10 mile TT and got to the finish in 16 minutes something. I was going well, but that was just a bit ridiculous. I had turned a roundabout early. Here’s a picture of me looking suitably sheepish.

Thomas narrating War & Peace to my richer, more successful elder brother. (Sorry ladies, he's married)

Other than boring cycling malarkey I took my nephew for a swimming lesson yesterday (or rather he took me along) and it was so fun. He is a cool little devil in the water, super relaxed and natural: pretty much everything I’m not! It was such a gleeful affair.

Time away

The past week has been a very busy one for me. I've crammed a lot in, most of which has not been bike riding. I was driven nearly seven hours across Northern France on Saturday to race a 'Coupe de France' the next day, which ended with a pretty average result for the Palmares - 20th. To summarise: I was strong, I was foolish, I was spent. When the end of the race came around I had completed some very solid training and caused large amounts of pain to my fellow man, but that does not necessarily correlate to a fine finish. The most enjoyable aspect of the race was the beautiful castle and ramparts we got to ride through every lap.

Dragging the break around

The drive back on Sunday night was fairly epic, then it was five hours sleep for me, up and off to the airport. I'd planned a last minute break to England on Thursday evening after a painful day of training. I'd been struggling for a while with a heel problem which seemed to be getting progressively worse: four hours of pain on Thursday was the final straw. Despite the annoying circumstances it was a good excuse to pop back for a few days to see Jon Boy and the TrainSharp gang for a catch up and some season planning. I also had a great time seeing loved ones and getting sicked on by the newest member of the Dewey clan...

What a little trooper!

He's got smiling down now, the legend. I better move on before I go all gooey over Thomas! In other news I whole-heartedly appreciated the British music scene because it's really quite good. I enjoyed several songs in the space of half an hour in good old Blighty, whereas in France it seems that the law, as well demanding that 40% of music be French, requires 100% to be crapola.

After plenty of time analysing what could be the cause of my heel injury I've changed shoes, adjusted my position and I'm now on a regime of various fancy-pants exercises to make me less unstable (physically, I'm told) and more durable as an athlete. I'm easing back into the training and today was relatively pain free which felt like progress! Hopefully I can be back in the swing of things by next weekend so I can do what I'm made to do again. 

Final little mention: Sammoth the Mammoth won today, like a boss! http://www.sportbreizh.com/Actualites-Peaule-_56_-_-Allen-s-amuse-sous-la-pluie--330-22866-0-1.html

Peace out.