Plan of action

Today’s the day of the L’Antiboise, a 100 or 150km ride, along the coast and through splendid countryside. The cycle club was assured a good turnout in support of one of our larger, neighbouring clubs as it had offered to pay everyone’s subscription (Euros 2). We’re hoping that providing visible support to the larger clubs, and their events, means they’ll return the favour come La Kivilev, which is only six weeks off.

I particularly enjoy this ride and we generally choose to ride to and from home to the departure/arrival point adding a further 20km to our route. I’ve only once, disastrously, attempted the 150km route. It’s not that I can’t do 150km, it’s that I can’t do it as fast as the bloke driving the broom wagon would like. Only one of our members has opted for the longer route, the chap who wins all the cups at the club for greatest total distance cycled in a season. He makes a clean sweep every year, a competition no one else really bothers to contest.  He’s won so many cups that he proudly uses to adorn pretty much every surface in his apartment. I haven’t checked, but I’m pretty sure he’s even got them in the smallest room in the house!

It rained for much of yesterday, stopping only briefly at around mid-afternoon. April is generally the wettest month here and, while I would prefer it stayed dry so that I can ride, I do appreciate that our local vintners and vegetable growers, not forgetting the Carros strawberry farms, are probably crying out for water. We set the alarm for an early morning call but, as soon as we woke, could hear that the rain was still falling heavily. It’s forecast for tomorrow too, but then we’re assured of wall-to-wall sunshine.

In anticipation of this calamitous sequence of events, my cycling coach has sent me some exercises to do on the home-trainer, and there’s always the gym. But I’m going to look on this rare Sunday without a ride as a bit of a gift and enjoy the things I don’t normally get to do on a Sunday morning. I’m going to cook my beloved a delicious breakfast, then we’re going out for coffee and the newspapers before settling down to watch Amstel Gold. Did I say settling? What I should have said was that my beloved will be settling while I will be standing, hunched over the ironing board clearing the ironing mountain. I’ve procrastinated long enough.

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