It's quite a difficult cycle in this morning because my legs are feeling well knackered, it's either that or it's all the insect bites on them that's making it hard work.
L's been for a morning swim but complains that she's forgot her moisturiser, so now she feels a bit like a wrinkled prune. Girls eh? In any case, a wrinkled prune is better than being a lumpy bitten thing like me.
I'm ravenous when I get to work. They say triathletes have trouble keeping lunch to less than 2000 calories; either that or they're just pigs. I can concur, I started with a bowl of porridge when I arrived and could quite easily have been working my way through the rest of the 2000 calories ever since but I resisted. At least until lunchtime.
By the way, I’ve gone and done it. It was a momentous moment. Yep, I've join the BTA (British Triathlon Association) but only because they have a special offer of half year membership (until end of March) for £17. With three duathlons planned in the next month alone, I though it was worth a punt because I save £3 on each one. I have to do at least three more before the end of March to get my money back but even if I don't... well, just think of the kudos of it.
Prompt overreaction from L. 'OMG! Am I sh****ing a professional triathlete now then?' See the kudos is working already. Although she forgets that I’m a duathlete, which is basically a triathlete with an aversion to water.
I could be passing the triathlete baton back to L. She says she's pondering a 'biggie' event, something like the London Tri again. That would involve training on her trusty steed... She's a triathlete with an aversion to pedalling.
I've even offered to treat her to her event for Christmas, these 'biggies' do tend to be pricey. It would be more exciting than a casserole dish but I could probably stretch to both.
I cycle home swerving around a group of young lads who seem intent on washing my bike and charging me for it. Err no thanks boys. I also breathe a sigh of relief when I see a tandem with an old couple pedalling like the clappers on it. Relief because it's going the other way and I don't have to race them. I give them a cheery wave and they wave back. Not psychos then.
Later, we opt not to do the long pub walk up to Beeston and neither of us can face going to the Plough, where Doggo detests the pub dog. That we can cope with, but we don't have the courage for, is taking noisy MD to face the pub dog without earmuffs. So, we end up down the Rodney, where the Elsie Mo turns out to be pretty decent.