Since the weather was only going to be freezing and windy, Mark from RCCC suggested it would be worth riding the Pearson after all. Then Kevin texted to say he'd be around, did I still fancy it? Plus I'd paid my entry. I was trapped. I also needed to get some miles in for the L2P. Dreams of a Sunday lie-in lay shattered. In desperation, I asked my wife if she'd go in my place, but she was asleep. I shook her gently, and she affectionately punched me in the face. No joy there. I struggled to find my cycling clobber. The only socks were thick and woolly hiking efforts. My only windcheater day-glo and leery. A shot of coffee and I was ready.
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| RCCC Breakaway Group |
After a late start, we maintained a good pace, keeping close together. Mark zoomed ahead on the climbs, in the big ring, like Contador on amphetamines. On the level Kevin kept up a slave driver's pace. Despite the strong wind, it was a relief to take a turn in front just to slow him down. Compared to those two, my riding powers were more relaxed, so I took on the role of directeur sportif, suggesting frequent piss-breaks and scenic rest-stops - Brighton pier for a donkey ride and photo op, a snooze on top of Ditchling beacon, that sort of thing. As a result our time looks perhaps middling. The fact is though, only two types of rider were out that day - the really tough, and the pros, and I wanted to make sure no one was burned out for the coming season. I take my responsibilities seriously.
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