Discretion assured

Had my last appointment today with the opthalmic surgeon before my right eye gets lasered and underwent probably the worst bit of the whole process. My right eye was dilated with belladonna, then he stuck what felt like a small telescope in my eye and applied pressure to the eyeball. It felt as if it were being sucked out of its socket. Fortunately, it didn’t last long.

Knowing I was having  my one eye dilated, I had elected to walk there and back. On my return journey, I noticed a small group of British cyclists,  looking lost. They looked mightily relieved when I enquired (in English) if they needed any assistance. They did. I directed them back to the coast road: my good deed for the day.

Today was a rest day and tomorrow I’ll ride for a couple of hours before breakfast followed by interval  exercises and stretching. Wednesday, I’m riding with my coach on a route I ride regularly. I rode with him, and some of his other clients, last Thursday on his inaugural Private Club ride. When I first received the invitation, I was surprised as I was pretty sure (100%) that I was way slower than any of his other clients. However, we settled on a compromise whereby I would cycle a much smaller circuit.

I managed to stay with the group, and even managed some conversation with them, as they cycled at a leisurely (for them, not me) 28km/hr from Gattieres to Pont du Loup. We then took a right turn up the Gorges du Loup and I said goodbye, as they continued to ride at a similar pace. Within minutes, they had disappeared from view.

As we were riding from St Jeannet we were joined by my clubmates out on their regular Thursday morning ride. Obviously, they noticed me and indeed were impressed that I could keep up with the enlarged group. I think, or at least I’m hoping they think, that I just happened to be riding along with that particularly group of riders as I’ve been reticent about owning up to having a cycling coach. However, no one has said anything so I’ve probably gotten away with it for now. But given that my coach rides in kit advertising his training company, it’s only a matter of time before I’m rumbled. Or is it? My clubmates have seen me riding with a number of men, other than my beloved, and have been remarkably discreet. I should add that I always confess to my husband when I’ve ridden with another man – well, almost always.

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