Good grief - last night's first time trial of the season was hard. It was always going to be a test of will and sinew; I haven't raced for a year after all. But the elements decided to chuck their oar in too. It was blowing a hooley down the home straight - the longest stretch of the course. It was such a stiff breeze that you felt like you were crawling, and consequently slightly overdid matters. The cumulative effort required for this meant that the final two and a half laps were physically tortuous and conducted at brisk stroll velocities. Disheartening.
I had the highest of hopes going into it too. I'd prepared myself and my bike carefully. I'd warmed up properly. In spite of this, I finished a full minute slower than my lacklustre time from last year. I thought I'd take a minute out of it, to be honest. Still, I don't think I was the only disconsolate grown man in Lycra there last night. I heard one of the other riders disputing his time. He was, like me, incredulous that a ride that hurt so much could have been conducted so slowly. Despite this, I did enjoy it. It's good to be back among the faithful.
Yes, they're weirdos, but their my weirdos.
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