Warning there are numerous mentions of my arse in this blog ….however there are also plenty of references to dungarees, flat shoes, bikes, snot and clumsiness. On my birthday I landed on my face, it hit the pavement and since then I have been using the excuse “I have a head injury” to explain all muppetry. The result of the bang to the head was 3 decisions
1. To wear flat shoes to work. Once out of my “clip clops” I thought what the hell and went to work in dungarees!
2. To stop drinking Peroni – which seemed to correlate with my inability to stand up. I have however tried some other beer from a green tap that seemed to do the job without the falling. something export……….
3. To cycle 100 miles ……..like you do! My very lovely friend agreed to me to joining her and a group of ladies on an epic ride.
The third one is key to my long term goal of doing an Iron Man. In my mind if I can complete all elements separately then it’s only a leap of mental faith and strength to put them all together in a sort of Ta-dah way! I can swim 3.9k happily and 42.1k on foot no longer scares me however the 180k on the bike is terrifying.
This is where my arse comes into it! “It’s a bit small” was my husbands first comment on it! Occasionally I get a compliment “nice view” However it is not really the right shape for sitting on something as hard as Donna (my bike saddle) This has resulted in shopping for the best Castelli shorts money can buy and some dry lube (seems somewhat of an oxymoron) Meaning that this month I have spent more on cycle clothes than I have in Karen Milen……I fear for their economic prospects if this keeps up.
I have thought about how I may be able to fatten my arse up but to be fair even at 40 weeks pregnant it resisted growing. Bootylicious I ain’t …..and R is very strict about carrying extra weight on the bike. Even dust caps were removed from wheels to reduce weight! So this is not going to be an option. so no pain no gain is the only choice!
With the help of two very lovely chaps I have made it to 60k this week and could still walk when I got off Donna. R. Helpfully pointed out that’s third of the way! So over the next few months the lanes of Cheshire and Somerset will be filled with me moaning “my arse hurts” and wondering why landing on my face made me think that 100 miles would be a great idea.
So I am sorry that R and O have to be part of conversations as we pedal along that in our place of work are prohibited by an aptly named dignity at work policy, I apologise for the potty mouth abuse that I hurl your way when wind and hills are involved and my continued “when will my arse stop hurting? And “am I doing more than 15mph questions that I ask with similar frequency to a toddler on a car journey.
As a result of my face plant I got a reminder that at any point there can be a “plot twist” and it’s a terrible thing to wait until you are ready. So ready or not 100 miles I am coming to get you!