Paul May

I got some nifty cycling gear for Christmas from my brother and sister; warm cycling tights, socks, a great repair book and vouchers that I used to buy new tubes and tyres. So, I lovingly cleaned and fixed up the bike on Friday (after a few months of abuse on the way to/from work) and then took it for a 35K spin on Saturday - Booterstown to Tallaght through the hills with a bit of getting lost thrown in for the skit.

Anyway, very pleased with myself and full of New Year energy and ignorance I decided I’d go with the intermediate/advanced Piranha group on the usual Sunday cycle from Stepaside. We set off through the hills and down into Wicklow, past Bray, over the Vartry river and then we turned back North via the N11 about 50Km from Dublin. It was a much tougher, longer cycle than I’m used to. On the way back my legs just died - one section of the N11; a long slow incline just killed me. My legs were screaming and it was pretty clear that not only was the petrol gone, but the fumes too, leaving only the vague smell of energy left in my muscles.

Eimhin and Mark hung back with me as I fell further and further behind, which was really nice of them - they were out to train but ended up escorting me back to Stepaside. I’m reminded of the time when men with flags would walk in front of the early automobiles as they pootled along at 5mph, just in case anybody would step out and get a nasty nudge. Anyway, I made it back to Stepaside thanks to the lads and then back to Booterstown - covered in muck and failure, but alive to cycle again another day. A quick shower and a hearty meal of pancakes later and I was back in the land of the living. I fell asleep in the living room watching a documentary about the the Tour De France.

They used to do it all without gears you know.

This entry was posted on Monday, January 8th, 2007 at 10:16 am and is filed under Triathlon.