Yet another Bank holiday week end in France, hence two sorties with my club mates. I had checked out the parcours on the club site the evening before Friday’s ride: it was the club championship course. We set off from the club at a gentle pace, which picked up as soon as we crossed over the Var. As usual we were riding into a headwind, and with the club’s better riders on the front of the bunch, I was soon distanced. The boys disappeared from view at around 20km. You see, it’s never a question of if, merely when.
As I rode alongside the river, I indulged in a spot of interval training, as per my Training Plan. As the road rose gently, I tried to keep my cadence above 80 for as long as possible. The weather was warm and sunny, the views wonderful and all was well in my world. I passed a few cyclists going in the opposite direction but generally had the road to myself.
Between Tourrettes-Levens and Aspremont, I was overtaken by a triumvirate of pros, including one Thor Hushovd, a member of that favourite, select, sub-set of riders who weigh more than me. We exchanged a few pleasantries but I made no attempt to wheel suck, we were, after all, on an incline. I know my limitations.
After the ride, I had arranged to meet my husband in our usual café. He was looking quite concerned by the time I arrived and wondered whether I’d gotten lost or had a mechanical. No, indeed I thought I’d made quite good time given the distance. It appears that I hadn’t fully read the parcours; the boys had taken an early right turn and cycled a good 30km less than me. Still, if I’d followed them, I wouldn’t have met Thor.
