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[personal profile] endlessrarities
It wasn't raining this morning, so I took full advantage of the weather and took the bike out.

We did our usual twenty-miler, and for once I felt good.  So good, in fact, that I took on some poor unsuspecting girlie who had the misfortune to be riding just ahead of me.  She put the gas on when she realised she had someone behind her, so naturally I felt compelled to take her on.

She was pretty damned close as far as fitness levels were concerned, so it took a bit of tactical thinking to get past her.  When it comes to cycling, I'm more of a hound than a cheetah.  I can't zip past someone and leave them for dead.  Instead I have to stalk them for a while, checking for weakness, and deciding whether or not I want to attack.

She upped the speed once, and I still hung in there, then, at the very moment the pace dropped, I swept past.  That meant of course that I had to keep the gas on for a while, just to get some distance in between us.  It's all about appearance, you know, the art of conveying the impression that you're a lot stronger than you actually are.  But victory proved to be a bitter draught, for it meant I spent the next fourteen miles looking nervously over my shoulder fearing a revenge attack. 

It never happened. 

Okay, so it sounds slightly puerile, to be treating a Sunday morning run like a full-blown road race.  But I did get a damned good workout, because I was having to do slightly more than cruise along turning the pedals over and nothing more.  And what's more:  a normally tedious run was miraculously transformed into something almost exciting.  And, for once, I actually deserved my mocha and accompanying slice of lemon loaf!

J couldn't be bothered with any of this.  But as usual he kept pace throughout.  What feels like eyeballs-out-and-teeth-digging-into-the-handlebars stuff to me is little more than a stroll to him.  Even now, when he's hardly touched a bike in the last couple of months.

But then, he's a real cyclist.  I'm not.  I just play at it...

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