Miles sent me a text, it was nearly 9.10am and I was still tucked up in bed. 'pick you up or see you there?' By that I assumed I was racing, we'd sort of mentioned it already, but I was secretly hoping he was hungover and I could stay in bed. Ermm 'pick me up'. I had twenty minutes to get my kit sorted and on, have some food, shit shave and wash......skipped the shave and whip out the bike.
9.50am my money was in the timekeepers box and a number was being pinned on. I had just enough time to nip up the road, hardly a warm up, before putting myself in the starters hands.
Thirty years........and just five more seconds to go before I'm off.
Off I go winding the pace up steadily. Long and short of it I spent the 10 miles in a state of utter confusion, I couldn't quite remember what to do. Striking the balance between keeping top speed and dying on my arse was beyond me. For instance at one point I thought I was fading, took a while to realise I was going uphill into a headwind. When I did select a bigger gear the Garmin shot up another 1.6 MPH.
Got in at 29.13, somewhat slower than three decades ago and maxing at a long 21.
I 'WILL' have another few goes, today was on a standard steel road bike with no aero accessories on bike or rider. I'll try some clip on's and perhaps drag out the super dooper carbon aero wheels, what's that a minute or two?
|Both on short 29's|
|Determined to beat the funny bikes|