It was maginificently sunny and not a rain cloud on the horizon. Only problem with that forecast was that the wind was gusting to 40 miles per hour out of the west. The tropical storm about to hit them was just passing over Belfast! But............. it did not carry the luck of the Irish. A fine heat encouraged the Bigman to discard the winter longs and even the waterfproof jacket.
All readers of this blog are clearly of high intelligence and will be aware of the concept of global warming. It is now time to re-clibrate the old wife's tale about "ne'er cast a cloot till May is out". May has now officially been re-callibrated to June! The temperature dropped faster than Fred Goodwins pension award!
The raindrops were like inbound missiles, arriving at 40 mph, and bouncing in an eqaul and opposite trajectory back up under the trees to catch smug cyclists who were thinking of sheltering. If the Ironman had not been there to regale Bigman with tales of his Ironman exploits in New Zealand.......... again .................. it would have been a seriously less enjoyable experience.
After what seemed like a couple of days, the shower passed and we were back on our way again........... well almost. The creaking from the Madone confirmed why Bigman never takes it out on rainy days. This was not a happy machine.
A unanimous decision was taken by both to cut short the bike ride as, whilst memories of early years and wet nappies are laughed away, a wet pair of padded cycling shorts is less easy to laugh off. On ascending the slight rise to the Saline road, Ironman was making heavy weather of something he would not normally have even changed gear to tackle.
One of his pistons was in malfunction mode. His right leg had no power to pump the pedals. He limped his 'Trekkie' home with all the care of Scottie in Star trek restricting the warp to only 2 or 3. To compound matters, he had a puncture on the front tyre.
Bigman can testify that punctures on a sunny, warm temperature, scenic environment can be a disppointment. A puncture when your pants are wet, you are feezing cold, and your right leg is not responding to messages from your brain can be a tadge more challenging............................ unless you are the Ironman ............ in which case you step another gear (or half a gear) and grind out the miles.
Bigman did not hear one complaint. The nitpickers amongst you may say it had something to do with the fact that he went home by a different route, but that would be unfair. Ironman would merely have asked are we there yet.( A reference to the 62.5 hr 1000 mile Lejog adventure from 2008 - mile number 996 to be precise, and 997, and 998, and 999)
Today was one of these bike rides which you consign to the scrapbook in the sky as a bad dream that never happened. Bike ride, what bike ride?
Postscript: The Madone has been dried, polished and oiled and has fully recovered and is fighting fit for the next exciting instalment of the Epic Caper 2010
Thursday 18 June 2009
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