Speedy girl

Last week’s tummy troubles, probably caused by a virus, resulted in a bit of a blip in my training but I’m back on the case. My coach has suggested I make three trips up an insanely steep climb going fast, faster and fastest. I may just have to wear my “Speedy Bike Club” jersey. My Swiss friend calls me Speedy girl. He’s being ironic as I’m many things, none of them speedy, on a bike. So, we both have this particular jersey making it a very select club. That’s right, my beloved is NOT a member.

I’ll need all the help I can get, psychological and otherwise, as it’s definitely going to be a tricky climb. It’s not long, just over a couple of kilometres, but I find it really difficult, particularly the stretches at 16 and 17%. It’s the sort of hill where, as you climb, you keep checking that you really are in your granny gear, just in case you’re not, and there’s still one more gear. Of course, there never is but I still have to check!

Over the years I’ve developed a couple of techniques for ignoring the voice in my head that says “Are you insane? Turn round and go home now.” I try to imagine something pleasurable, whatever takes my fancy on the day and at that moment. Or, I promise myself a treat once the exercise is over. It might be an ice cold coke, an ice cream, a juicy peach or a cup of coffee. Again, whatever I fancy and what’s readily available. So tomorrow, I’ll once again be gritting my teeth and trying, against the odds, to think pleasurable thoughts.

As tomorrow’s  a rest day in the Tour, I may just mentally revisit some of the best moments from the last ten days as I climb this particular hill, looking for all the world as if I’m riding in slow-mo which, of course, I am.  Few local riders brave the climb, or conversely the descent, so I’m not likely to be overtaken: scant consolation. Though passing motorists occasionally proffer encouragement from their car windows.

However, my real dilemma is going to be the three speeds. I can’t go any slower or I’ll just fall off the bike. Conversely, I find it really hard to go any faster as I’m already “on the rivet”. I’m just going to give it my best and see how I fare. Already I’m beginning to regret my whim of doing this particular uphill individual time-trial.

Who do I think I am? Bradley Wiggins? I think not, as he and team mate Chris Froome were likened to stick insects on Twitter. Not an accusation that can be levelled at me. Nor would I feel comfortable in the new generation, seemingly translucent skinsuits they’re all wearing. Although I may have come up with a solution – SPANX skinsuits. I’m calling the company tomorrow though there’s the vague disquiet that the surplus, compressed flesh might just roll out of the suit in folds at the wrists and thighs. Still, it’s worth a try.

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