Who is that man in the Iron mask?

It was a balmy summer's evening and a great night to get out on the bike for a blast. Having travelled back from Glasgow where it was raining when Bigman left, he decide to shove on the winter jacket just in case however stopped short of full winter longs. That would be taking things too far!

With the Fit One missing tonight, it wasthe role of the Bigman to run the red lights at quiet roadworks......but he was not as lucky, and a Ford Fiesta shared his disappointment with the Ironman who agreed with the driver and denied we were out together........ teamwork?

The climb over Col du Cleish was effortless and we moved in sprint mode along to Powmill. It was a stiff wind however taking turns at the front of the peleton ( of 2) meant we could hold up a healthy pace all the way to the Mont Veknochill junction.

As we climbed, effortlessly, we discussed the upcoming Mountain bike endurance meeting in Moray. Apparently it is hard on a certain part of one's anatomy. Sudacream, an essential for the first aid kit apparently.

As we approached the final stage of the climb, the stench of testorone in the air emanating from the Ironman was pungent. His gaze was fixed, his eyes steely, and his mind racing faster than his legs could carry him. Bigman stared across as if in suspended animation. Like the roadrunner and the Kayote in the kids cartoon. As he attempted to hide the grimace in the Lance Armstrong sort of poker face, he slowly became aware of the beaming mugshot of Bigman looking across 12 inches of tarmac and microscopicly studying the the steely look, like David Bellamy discovering a new insect.

And then the focus was broken, followed by rapturous laughter that made his pace reduce to about 15kph in an instant.

And then he uttered the immortal words that can only mean trouble for Bigman in the future. I will come back another day ................... be afraid, be very afraid. And so it came to pass, Bigman was very afraid.