Stretched Skin Suits,
Stretched Stories.
(a tale of two skin suits in
the combined clubs 25 mile TT.)
I move round like a zombie, I
am in need of an urgent shot of caffeine and head for the kitchen and put on
the fast boil kettle, ah that’s a bit better, the mug of coffee is doing its
work.
I sit immobile in the chair,
am I mad, have I really entered a twenty five mile time trial, slowly I begin
to feel alive, of course I’m doing the time trial, I’m the carrot for the club
members to chase.
I deliberately put my name as
first man on the Bolton team, if I just lollop round it
will make the others feel good as they pass, good for the morale to pass
someone on a time trial, as opposed to being passed by anyone and everyone.
Today I am the morale booster.
We have a good entry this
year, nine in total, and as it is also our club 25 championship it should be an
interesting event.
We’ll get to that later, I
need my porridge now, boost the carbohydrates, follow it with my daily aspirin
and a second mug of coffee then on to my ablutions.
Check bag, all packed and
nothing forgotten, hopefully, load the car up, bike, turbo trainer and bag. I
am now fully awake and ready to go.
The weather is fine but with a
rising wind, the direction of which would seem to be favourable for the
circuit, a tail wind across an exposed section that is normally a grovel into
the prevailing westerlies. The course is not a bad one if you discount the
terrible road surface in one particular section, the problem being it is a
circuit and it’s two times round the block so to speak.
On the motorway I have time to
plan my ride, just to get round the full 25 miles will seem like an achievement
after a summer dogged by a chest infection that seemed at times to be endless.
Right, no heroics, just a
steady pace that guarantees a start and a finish, ignore the fly by boys, enter
the ‘zone’ and stay there.
The HQ car park is empty bar
two cars as I reach Catterall and I notice with dismay the hall is not yet
open, I am desperate for a wc, and getting more desperate by the minute. More
cars arrive, the Bury clarion boys arrive, turbo trainers are set up then
eventually the doors to the hall open
and I am first to dash in and pounce on the loo, ah relief!
Ian Littlewood arrives dressed
in the same attire as myself, the red yellow and black skin suits of a few
years ago, it is apparent that lycra has a wonderful ability to stretch, and
stretch and stretch, Mr Blobby and son have arrived.
