I had a "gentle" run with a friend, who is training for triathlons and so ended up running rather more than I have of late (ok, ever actually). Limping I was, the next day. Actually lame. Vitamins P and I, as a chap nicely put it on the Trans Wales, were used. All hail analgesia.
I meant to go with the BADTri road ride on Saturday morning but the breakage of a second gear shifter in one week meant another trip to Strada, our fab bike shop, who kindly, speedily, deftly, cheekily and happily sorted it out for me. Do you see the level of gratitude that same-day mending gets you? Anyway, back home for a horrid stint on the Turbo.
Turbo: How to make a perfectly nice bike into a noisy hell-machine, spinning your pedals in the picturesque setting of drying pants and tools. Tourmalet it is not. Sufferfest is the only way of making it half bearable, discounting the idea of non-prescription drugs, which although seemingly all the rage for the sporting cyclist are actually not the best training idea to my mind. They are little movies, films to music, videos or whatever such things are called, downloaded from the interweb. They combine race footage, kind of for inspiration, with a bit of music and amusing instructions regarding effort, leading to sets of intervals to get your legs lactating and your lungs bursting. Horrid though it is, you get to bust your bottom more effectively than when out and about and nobody but the cat gets to see your pinky sweaty face.
Today I merely run after children. At least I am no longer limping. And I have shiny new bar-tape. Thank you chaps.
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