When Peggy came off her bike, she hit her head quite hard.
She was shook up, but there was no permanent damage other than a mild
concussion. Her helmet took the brunt of the impact. Thank god for helmets and
thank god she was wearing hers.
A few other riders were following and were on the scene
pretty soon after the crash. One of them was Dr Sarah.
‘Whats your name?’
Peggy wasn’t sure.
‘What day is it?’
Peggy didn’t know.
‘Where are you?’
Peggy didn’t know that either.
On hearing this one of the other riders piped up.
‘Sarah, I know my name. But I’m not sure what day it is, and
I haven’t a clue where I am but I’m certain I’m not concussed’. Such is life at the minute. We live in our own wee world. We call it 'The Bubble'.
The most important 6 inches in sport is the 6 inches between
your ears. I am not sure who said that. But it’s true. The fact that god chose
to bless me with rather large ears, means that it’s the most important 12
inches in sport, However, I digress.
You see, it's expectation that is the problem. If we did not
have expectation we would never have disappointment or failure. In order to be
disappointed we must first expect something. When our expectations are met or
exceeded we are happy. Its only if our expectations are not met then we are
disappointed. Under promise and over deliver, is the key, I guess.
There have been a couple of stages that I have expected to
be flat and they have been surprisingly hilly, or we have had an unexpected head
wind. This has made them harder, sure, but disproportionately so. They have
still been physically easier than the other stages, however they seemed much
harder.
I expected yesterday to be hard. It was on the back of a
very tough day and we had a lot of climbing to do. 5
Catergorised climbs, 4 of them Cat1. Only one small bit of flat in the whole
stage the rest was either climbing or descending. It would be, by some
distance, the highest accumulated altitude of the tour so far. It was going to
be a day just to get through. A day to endure, not to enjoy.
But this tour keeps confounding expectations. The last day on Corsica was the best day I have had on a
bike. But yesterday surpassed even that. Perhaps part of that was due to my low
levels of expectation.
However, the Pyrenees were in all their glory. They have had
an abnormally cold spring here and temperatures have been 10 degrees down on
the expected. As a result the mountains are still dressed in their winter
finery. Snow sits on the peaks and the grass in the valley floors is a verdant
green. The sky yesterday was deep blue and what little cloud there was sat
thinly below the tips of the mountains. Adding an ethereal quality to the
vistas. Recent rain in the area has meant that the air was clear and visibility
unrivalled. The roads were virtually traffic free and often the only noise you
could hear was the far off clank of cow bell from the cattle grazing high
above, or far below.
The climbs, Portet D’Aspet, Col De Mente, Perysourde, Val
Louron Azet and the Hourquete were tough, but did not seem to grind like the
previous days. When we got, panting, to the tops, our breath was taken away
again by the views. It was a glorious day to be on a bike up amongst the gods.
Yesterday was a day when all the long, long hours of
training were made worthwhile. The sacrifices of putting your social life on
hold for months had started to pay back. The cycling in the sleet and the snow
and the rain. The hours spent churning the pedals on the turbo. When I got off
the bike, I high fived and hugged the guys I had been riding with. It was a day
of collective suffering at the end of 9 hard days. And we had got through it
together. The first chapter had been completed, and that achievement deserved
to be celebrated. When we finished yesterday, Paris seemed a little bit closer
than it had the night before.
But this was a tale of two cyclists. It was the best of times, but yet at the same time, it was
the worst of times.
This 9 day stretch that has seen us travel from the southern
most tip of Corsica, almost unbroken to the Border of Spain. There are some
tired limbs amongst the group. I have written previously that the challenge is
not just about turning the pedals on your bike. Unavoidably we have some late
finishes and very early starts. Sleep is at a premium. I found myself almost
dosing off yesterday whilst on the bike. It was warm, we had a smooth, flat
road and I was following a ‘safe wheel’.
With tiredness, comes a reduction in coordination and lapses
in concentration. Some of the descents yesterday were dangerous, tight, narrow
roads, coupled with loose road surfaces and precipitous gradients. They have famously
proved fatal for professional riders in the past, never mind rank amatuers who
are tired in mind and in limb. That there were a couple of spills, was perhaps
to be expected. Big Donald suffered a front wheel puncture whilst descending at
speed and came off. Resulting in a nasty case of road rash, bruised ribs and
dented pride, thankfully they are the only ill effects. Steve, a demon
descender, hit a patch of gravel and slid across the tarmac, and then there was
Peggy. All riders are OK and will be ready to fight the good fight tomorrow.
Chen was within a few miles of home. He had completed the
official stage, dragging his ass up all those mountain passes in the heat. He
was just riding the long downhill back to the hotel. The work for the day was
done. Then a car pulled out infront of him he swerved to avoid it and ended up
in a ditch. He has broken his collar bone and will not be able to ride the rest
of the tour.
Riding the tour is a challenge and an ambition that I have
had for many years. I have effectively been training for it for years. I have
invested a huge amount of time and money into this venture. If I fail because I
am not fit enough then I will be disappointed, but at least I have tried my
best and failed. To have it snatched away from me because the wreckless driving
or riding of someone else would be too much to take. I can only imagine how
Chen feels and I feel absolutely gutted for him.
You see, I have trained so hard that I expect to be in Paris
on Bastille day, if I don’t fulfil those expectations then ‘disappointed’ wont
cover it.
From somewhere on the road north,
N
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