Pride Comes Before a Fail.

Pedal up... pedal down. Pedal... up... pedal... down. Puh... Pedal... urggghhhh...up... pedal warrrrryafuggnbastad... down. Pedal... oh bollicks, bail out time.

Lay offs from the bike are a bugger. Fitness so hard earned, is easily lost at my age, (and I added a year to my count this week too... damn it...). Not like when I was a kid when fitness could be gained in what seemed like about twenty minutes. Well that's a bit of an exaggeration, call it half an hour. And once the body was bike tuned, it stayed that way with aches and pains and mid - hill bail outs only noticeable by their absence. Not so now though. Oh no.

It had only been about ten days off the bike as well, while the usual health crap held sway, but it was obviously enough to blunt my output, as I found out on the Col De Tregassow on Thursday. 

Now this hill is a bit of a beggar, by my standards anyway - it took me months of riding before I could get up it without walking when I first got back into biking. But this year I had been priding myself at the ease with which I reeled the summit in. Even the family of mountain goats that live half way up gave me unbelieving looks and shook their heads in jealous amazement... well...maybe.

It all started well, if a little wet, windy, and splattery bummed from all the gribble on the lanes.

So I as I hit the bottom of the hill I was more concerned about the mucky state of the bike, and my arse, from all the clag on the lanes at this time of year, than imminent geological traumas. But within yards of the ascent starting I knew I was going to struggle. Speed dropped... legs ached... it isn't normally like this! Ok then, grab a lower gear and start spinning... Ooof...quick... grab the granny gear before I start going backwards... Oh lordy this wasn't going well. Plans were made to lighten the load – I could lob the water bottles into the bushes, then the mini pump... the GoPro round my waist then my jacket... but it was too late and I finally expired a wheezingly dismal ten yards or so from the top. Bums. My smugness rating took a proper battering as I pushed, purple of face and aching of leg, to the junction at the summit and level ground – the hill had bitten back.

Another photo taken at the top of a descent. Downhills I like. I like them a lot.

The worst of it is I haven't been out again since either, when I should really have been getting out there to retain my (limited) fitness, but it hasn't happened. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.