Archive for April, 2010

Lancelin Criterium - All Pee ‘n’ Wind

Published
by
Stuey
on April 27, 2010
in Ride Report
. 4 Comments

Some of you may recall back in 2007 I was coaxed into entering a TT at Kings Park by the evil twins (O’Dirty & Bif) for what I later found out was my initiation into the Coglioni.  In short the lads set me up for some punishment advising they would line up beside me at my first and only TT ride event to date, but instead of attending and providing promised support to what they termed a ‘casual event’ the twins basically left me stranded to suffer and puke up on my own at what turned out to be a well organised race event.

Well I’m sorry to report my friends but not much has changed because last Saturday I was pretty much limp wristed to a similar fate, albeit on a much grander scale, for the annual Sportif Criterium at Lancelin, see below for details.

Along with a number of the Coglioni lads (Babel, O’Dirty & Blinder) I had made arrangements to head up to Lancelin on Friday afternoon /evening to enjoy a full weekend with family and friends.  In doing so I gave our trusty Team Manager - Bif a call on the Thursday prior to discuss the prospect of entering the Criterium as a casual leg loosener ahead of the more serious team event on the Sunday.  To summarise our conversation Bif pretty much advised me that based on his experience from last year, the ride was very informal and there was nothing to it.  He even said I would be all recovered about 10 mins after its completion.   Bif was so excited about the whole Crit thing he decided to change plans and book Lancelin with the family for the weekend as well.  I also called O’Dirty and he too encouraged me and said that he would also enter to shake out the cobwebs.  Plans were coming along and I must admit I was totally sold on the whole Crit entry thing.

On Saturday morning at Lancelin I caught up with Blinder, Babel and O’Dirty on separate occasions and they all confirmed they’d participate in the Crit as well. Whilst Blinder was providing entertainment in the skate park and busy getting air on his kiddies scooter he did mention he was keen to get the blood moving in the Crit.   O’Dirty was so fired up that he kindly completed some much needed mechanical repairs to the brakes of my Trek Madone 5.9, ensuring everything was good to go  (I think he secretly loves the shimano stuff, especially Ultegra).  Babel was also fired up as he and O’Dirty meticulously cleaned and weighed each individual component of their bikes before readying themselves for the afternoon’s ride.

Relaxed about the afternoon’s casual Crit I headed back to our accommodation (the shack) for lunch with the Missus and kids, ensuring a couple of beers, a sanga and a bit of lay down before we made our way over to the event start.  It was at this time the rot started to set in as I firstly saw Blinder with no bike and dressed in t-shirt and shorts followed by O’Dirty then Babel who were as equally unprepared for a ride.  Oh dear, the lads had set me up for some solitary cyclic punishment to which they and their respective families could no doubt watch and take the pee at my expense.  My heart sank and the tears welled up as I made my way up to the registration tent where serious rider’s were scattered everywhere all madly preparing for the event.

 After registering, the nerves started to play their part so I went for a quick spin then hurriedly made my way back to the start.  Running unusually late due to a quick pre-start pee I was comforted to see my main man Bif amongst 20 other riders on the start line.  Bif glanced over at me and gave me a look that said “you might be a Fremantle Gift cycling hero, but this is  whole new ball game” then my ears pricked to hear the final words of Gary Suckling’s pre race call, saying something about a couple of sprints throughout the event, of which my care factor was pretty low.  Then we were off!   Bif got away well but I had a few problems engaging my cleat, but just like a finger in a bum I gave it a wiggle then a push and bingo, it was all good (thanks for the tip Blinder).  

Just to set the scene, the lap configuration was crudely in the shape of an oval or long rectangle with particularly tight hairpin cornering sections at either end.  The overall lap distance was about 1.8kms with approx 2 * 850m straights.  Race time allocation was 30 mins and we were required to cycle anti-clockwise.  Negotiating the first corner carried the most risk as it required a left hairpin turn over a sand blown road.  Additionally, coming out of the corner you needed to promptly push hard out of the saddle into a punching southerly head wind, whilst keeping alert and hanging onto the wheel in front.  All of which became a little taxing as the fatigue increased, but more on that later.  The enduring winds continued into the back straight and switched around slightly as the road paralleled the coastline into the 2nd left major hairpin. The finish/start straight was a great set up for a sprint with a nice sealed road topped off by the wind on your back.

Not a great deal to report for the first couple of laps as both Bif and I managed to retain our positions by hiding and jostling successfully in the peleton.  I likened the gravitational forces of riding round and bloody round in circles to a centrifuge.  The further we road the greater the intensity.  Consequently, by the end of lap four I was pretty much wearing my arsehole as any eye patch.  Then shit happened!  I punched hard out of that dirty first left corner sniffing close up the bum of the man in front, but little did I know the fella two up had lost contact.  By the time I realised the gap had stretched out to about 15m and the damage was done.  Unbeknown to Bif, I was sucking in the big ones in no man’s land as I helplessly watched his pony tail disappear off into the distance. 

Oh dear, there was  now a handful of us that had been relegated to a second chase bunch with approx. 5 laps to go.  The frustration of being dropped from the main field was somewhat alleviated though as we went past the start /finish line once again to warm cheers from the  Missus and kids and other supporting Coglioni families.  O’Dirty was especially supportive as he sarcastically voiced from the sideline ‘if you’re gonna make your move Stuey you ’d  better do it now” (I was about 400m behind the main field with no chance).  I should note that Babel on the other hand was oblivious to everything but this new movie camera as he lay prostrate on the start/ finsih line having a little play.  

Unfortunately, there were only 2 of us silly enough to take turns  at the front for the final laps which was pretty taxing and forced the lactic acid in my body to have its turn too.  On the final lap though, I was getting some serious white line fever and had decided that I was gonna hold out and make a dash for the line.  Things were starting to unfold nicely as I pushed hard up the back straight and held the lead through the final section.  I unloaded for the line and was doing ok until some git who I hadn’t seen for the afternoon appeared from the shadows and stole my moral victory.  Bif had long since finished by the time I made my way over to the families, sponsors and media on the edge of the road.  

 As expected, it was later confirmed that Bif rode like a cut cat and even managed to unveil a crowd pleasing performance by leading through the start/finish on the second last lap.  He was then vacuumed into a second chase bunch where he lost touch with the lead group that had gotten away.  Not one to accept defeat easily, he unleashed and sat on the the front most of the back straight into the wind and even made up some ground on the leaders (no doubt jockeying for position) but couldn’t get back to them in the final straight.

Following the event I decided to head back to the shack for a toilet break and a shower.  Alexis (my 21 month old daughter) followed me into the toilet  and as I released she said “what’s that thing daddy pointing at my doodle??? – ahhh daddy got  drippy  finger” then followed straight up with “ohh daddy did pop off” I told her it was just a bit of pee and wind.  On the same subject but another occassion Sinead (my 4 year old daughter) some years earlier walked into the bathroom while I was having a shower and said “ahhh daddy got tail”.  Talking to Nerida about the respective comments she thought Alexis was more accurate saying something about a the size of a kid’s thumb.  Interestingly, I heard Sinead just recently teaching Alexis to say “baby’s arm holding an apple”. I can’t think where she got that turn of phrase from??? 

    

 

 

Uno undone in Lancelin

Published
by
Spunker
on April 23, 2010
in Ride Report
. 4 Comments

The advent of a Due team riding the “A” distance had given the softer Coglioni what they though was a perfect excuse to get out of riding hard. Apart from the four who had completed the 5 Dams: Babel, Bif, Cookie and Spunker, only C.C.C.’s official puncture-meister Stuey was too slow to get his excuses in. Paddles had been spending the weeks prior to the event convincing anyone who’d listen that we were all endowed with the time-trialling ability of Fabian Cancellara, but the team spirit of the Freo Dockers circa 1995-2009. A little unfair perhaps, but it was enough to prevent anyone from volunteering to even the teams up. A five-man Uno was duly registered

Arriving in Lancelin on the Sunday morning, I noticed that someone appeared to be missing. Where was Cookie? I phoned to see how far away he was and, despite a terrible line, managed to ascertain that his daughter had been in a car crash. Mercifully she was fine but plenty of material damage had been done and he would not be able to make it. We were down to four. Appeals to the Due boys for an extra rider were met with hard stares at the ground and weak excuses. Mercifully the ever reliable Paddles was brow-beaten into foregoing a ride with his Saturday morning crew of Gaz and Boab and joining our depleted squad. Thank heavens that he did. The five of us made our way to the start resplendant in red.

Much talk had taken place prior to the ride about teamwork. A long overdue discussion had been convened, official rules and guidelines had been written up and we were hopeful of far greater team harmony than had been seen on occasion in previous seasons. One of the requirements of this brave new world was that each team should have a captain on the road. Using criteria that I never quite got to the bottom of, it was decided that maybe I might like to give it a go. “How hard can it be?” I thought to myself. After studying the route, I formulated a plan. Ride steadily to the first, and apparently only real, climb. Go easy up aforementioned first climb. Get rolling and see how we go. Piece of piss.

We rolled off into the beautiful Lancelin sunshine and almost immediately settled into a steady and very tidy roll. After a short time, the road began to start going up and, almost immediately, Stuey started to struggle. We took it nice and steady to the top, staying together well. Unfortunately, the road continued to undulate as we ploughed into the headwind through the first half of the lap. We maintained a comfortable pace, sometimes rolling as a four to give Stuey a break and sometimes as a five when he was feeling stronger (i.e. when we were going down hill). As we got on to the second, flatter part of the circuit, things picked up significantly with the wind now behind us. We were now going along very nicely all working well and apparently fairly comfortable.

In the distance I saw a blue team. It couldn’t be I thought, but as we eased closer, it became clear that it was indeed the Due boys. We chose to keep going straight past. All seemed good with the world as we approached the end of the first lap. To everyone’s great surprise, including his own, Babel suddenly announced that he would not be able to continue at the pace we were setting. This didn’t seem like the end of the world. We were getting back into the hard part of the course, perhaps we could change formation, put Bif and Paddles on the front, have Babel and Stuey tucked in behind them, with me on the back keeping an eye on things and work our way through.

It soon became clear that this was not a simple case of giving Babel a rest and he’d come good again. He began to look worse and worse and before long was limping along. To our chagrin, the Due boys had come past again and were disappearing over the horizon, but what could be done? Occasionally we tried a four man roll protecting Babel at the back, but he could not stay on, so we went back to the formation riding. The rest of the ride was an exercise in keeping together as a team. Salt was well and truly rubbed into our wounds when the Team Type One boys, our arch-foes from last year’s glorious Golden Spokes campaign, came rolling past. Paddles and I were reduced to shouting “Orange bootees” and “Golden Spokes” at them as they eased into the distance. It was around this time that Stuey noticed that Paddles was committing a cardinal Coglioni sin. His left sock was displaying the Champion System logo, rather than that of the venerable C.C.C. After suffering a torrent of admonishment and hilarity, he sheepishly explained that he had been going through his socks discarding worn out ones. Unthinkingly he had thrown out all his left-foot C.C.C. socks and was left with a collection consisting entirely of right-foot socks. It’s fortunate for him that the Golden Goolies committee is likely to react favourably to his having switched teams and having done such a sterling job for his adopted Uno.

We got to the end to discover that we had, as we feared, been beaten by a worthy Due side. We were a little (lot) disappointed, but pleased that we’d worked as well as we could as a team and all got home together.

Due Coglioni – Lancelin ride report

Published
by
Gaz
on April 21, 2010
in Ride Report
. 3 Comments

“You make sure you ride with these boys. Don’t ride with the Uno team,” were Mrs Paddles parting words as Paddles fired-up the trusty Tarago with a trailer, four bikes and Boab and Gaz on board. Destination – Lancelin via South Perth for the mighty Due Coglioni team ride.

Soon after we’d left Chez Rodgers we picked up the Doctor and Digger from South Perth, albeit after a couple of minutes of driving slowly up and down a small South Perth street towing a trailer full of bikes. We headed to the freeway via the Mill Point Rd option, a touch risky considering the events scheduled that day on the Swan River. However, following a couple of short detours courtesy of traffic Nazis and speed bumps that tested our bike-packing skills, we were heading north over the Narrows.

Boab was excited about his first Coglioni ride but most of the conversation centered on footy and Freo’s chances that day. (All footy talk from Gaz, the lone Melbourne supporter, was brief.) We also bagged Robert Walls and any other potential Dockers Uber-critics and the miles rushed by. Within no time we were stopping off in the scrub for a brief pit stop, aka a nervous pee. When we re-boarded the Lancelin express Boab began asking about everyone’s nicknames and we asked what his could possibly be. “Boab,” was the reply.  We were all intrigued – was it to do with the awesome native tree found in the northern climes? Was it of sacred significance to Boab? Was it a typo? The answer was not what we expected, suffice to say that it’s not print-worthy in this family edition report, so Boab will need to be consulted privately for an explanation.

I don’t know how the Coglioni points system works, but Boab’s efforts with knot-tying and securing bikes should be considered for maximum value. Thanks to that, all of our bikes made it safely to Lancelin and proceeded to unload the gear and get changed into the Due team blue shirts.

Spunker rode by and said hello and passed on the awful news that Cookie’s daughter had been involved in a crash. This would rule him out for the day and meant that someone from the Due team of O’Dirty, Boab, Blinder, The Doctor, Digger, Paddles and Gaz would need to make the move to the red shirts brigade. After much consternation and circular discussions, plus a well-timed escape to the toilets by Digger, Gaz and the Doctor, Paddles did the manly thing and offered his services so that the Uno boys wouldn’t be left with just four in the team. (He was also the only one with a spare red shirt in his bag.) The blue boys gave Paddles plenty of stick for leaving us behind and ignoring Jill’s friendly warning, but when Spunker turned his back we implored Paddles to remember his roots and keep the Uno team’s pace down.  Who said skull-duggery is confined just to the pros?

So there we stood as team Xx on the start line for the two-lap, 85km circuit.  Mercifully the E-SE wind was relatively light but the cross-winds were potentially going to play havoc if they got up much more, so Road Captain O’Dirty encouraged us along at a steady warm-up speed of 30kph for the first five or so kms.  Almost immediately we had the roll in operation and new-boy, Boab, was settling in to the rhythm nicely. We were well aware that we’d set off two and a half minutes ahead of Uno Coglioni and fully expected them to catch us around the 30km mark, but time would tell.  The outward part of the first lap was littered with undulations and a couple of decent rises and at the behest of O’Dirty, Boab, Gaz and Blinder took turns sitting on the front during the steeper sections, some of which were into an increasing wind. Everyone was feeling pretty solid and riding within their limits, even Captain O’Dirty who hadn’t ridden for a number of weeks, yet still cut a strong, ghostly figure courtesy of his splendid English suntan. An orphan from team K joined us for the second half of lap one and got into our roll, but not without feeling the need to tell us how we should be riding and speeding off the front whenever he dropped in after his turn. Blinder got the shits with him after a while and urged him to slow down by literally dead-pedaling in front of him after pulling off the front. Orphan boy soon got the message and later left us with a smile and words of encouragement.

We encountered a couple of descents where we approached close to 60kph, but unfortunately the thrill was tempered by some pretty ordinary road surfaces in other parts of the course. While sitting on 45kph on the highway heading to the bell lap section, Boab’s pump could take the vigor of the bumpy road no more and decided to bail out, almost committing Hare Kari by plunging into his back spokes. Thankfully it hung loose until we could roll to a stop, re-affix it and get going again. It was at this point that the Uno team rolled by and said g’day. They stayed with us briefly but were soon a red speck off in the distance. Our thoughts turned to seeing them much later waiting for us at the finish line. Or would they…

The bone-jarring road south turned into a very smooth section that Boab became enamored with (for reasons I can’t say here) and in a blink of an eye we were back into the fray for lap two. By this point, around 55km into the ride, we were in a nice rhythm and passing the odd team here and there, although some were much harder to get past than others. We nearly called on Boab’s bushy skills at herding sheep to get beyond CRT team number 76 as they moseyed across the road at all angles and minimal speed. It appeared that CRT had quickly multiplied but alas they were sitting behind another bunch of red shirts heading up the hill – the Uno Coglioni team! Three words came to mind collectively for team Due – WTF ??

We caught Uno, stayed with them then inexplicably left them behind.  Was Paddles doing the right thing by Due and keeping the lid on Uno? Were we seeing the rise of Due to prominence? Was it a myth that red shirts go faster?  Whatever the case, like Paul Robeson we just kept rolling along.  (It wasn’t till later that we learned Graham was ill and Stuey was suffering.) The undulations and steeper climbs were at us again but as a well-oiled machine we got over them. Boab was looking as strong as an ox and a bit twitchy, eager to put the foot down on the roll-throughs. He got the “whoa, boy!” on occasions from Capt O’Dirty, who was barking messages of advice and encouragement but starting to cramp in the thighs. In the spirit of all great Specialized bike enthusiasts he stoically continued, putting in a strong ride. Digger sat back on a few turns here and there for a well-earned break, saving his energy for the run into town and Gaz, The Doctor and Blinder helped keep the pace steady.

After many more bumpy kms on the back roads of lap two, we eventually reached the right turn back into town on Lancelin Rd. We were met by a merciful descent for the first few hundred metres then the road turned flat for the run in. At this point we had two challenges – the cooling sea breeze that had sprung up in our faces and team Jj, who we’d been past then behind then past then behind for the last 10km. It was clear that they were a better bunch of riders but they lacked the team spirit and cooperation of Due Coglioni. Every time we passed them they’d be looking around for the odd team member who’d drifted too far behind or ahead of their team. If only they’d had Capt O’Dirty at the helm….

In the final few kms everyone put in a big effort and took turns pulling us along, always wary that Uno Coglioni could be lurking behind us and ready to pounce. But it wasn’t to be – with hot feet and tiredness in our legs and backs we rolled through the finish to raucous applause as the first Coglioni team. Well, maybe there was no applause at all but there was no disputing that we’d left the more fancied team behind like Armstrong had done so many times to Jan Ullrich. Next thing on the agenda – get to the Endeavour for a big meal and a couple of well-earned frothies.

Chicken takes the hindmost

Published
by
Bif
on April 20, 2010
in Ride Report
. 2 Comments

The Cyclo Sportif family fun ride on Saturday gave the Chicken her first taste of racing on the 1.8 km criterium circuit around the beachfront and the main drag of the seaside town of Lancelin. Spirits were high at our hastily arranged base camp conveniently located across the road from the bakery. “Why are you putting on your work clothes?” the Chicken asked as I donned my black C.C.Coglioni strip in preparation for the fun ride and subsequent criterium. “If only”, I thought. Meanwhile the Chicken was resplendent in her flower-spotted pink helmet and eager to get going.

Inevitably the start was delayed, much to the frustration of the Squirrel, who was ready for some action in the front seat of the trusty KHS. A few warm-up laps of the carpark kept her calm while the Chicken and DS Zippy discussed tactics.

Then we were off. We made a steady start allowing some of the older riders to jockey for position in their age group. Soon enough the field thinned out and we could see our only competition up the road, in the form of another little girl about the Chicken’s size on a similar steed. (For the technically minded the Chicken was riding a blue Dunlop BMX style bike with training wheels and a fairy seat. The exact gear ratio is a closely guarded secret but guesses around 20-24 inches would not be too far off.)

It was an awfully long way to the first turn and aware of the stiff headwind to be faced on the beach road DS Zippy and I consulted to reach a crucial decision: we would cheat and cut through a side street to the beach. As has been proved many times in the world of cycling cheating is often the difference between winning and losing, though for us it was more about getting to the finish before the time allowed for the event ran out. The Chicken stayed focused and rode strongly into the stiff breeze. Two-thirds of the way down the back straight her efforts were rewarded with a round of applause from some locals enjoying the festivities as much as the afternoon sun.

Around the final bend at last we had the wind at our backs. “I’m zooming!” proclaimed the Chicken, and so she was. In fact so great was her enthusiasm that one too many ripping turns of the cranks tipped her off-balance and onto the hard tarmac. Not one to be held back by a bit of pain she was soon remounted and powering to the finish. As we approached they rang the bell for the final lap. O’Dirty can clarify the finer points of criterium racing, but I suspect this made us first past the post. At least the rival in age group was nowhere to be seen - having failed to cheat we believe she also paid the ultimate price and was forced to abandon before completing a lap.

That evening the Chicken was buoyant with victory and could be seen training well after dark at the Lancelin Bay Restaurant, and on the long road back to our base camp. When asked later if she had enjoyed the ride she refused to acknowledge the question until it was rephrased as “Did you enjoy the race?”.






This is going straight to the pool room

Published
by
Sweepea
on April 7, 2010
in Ride Report
. 4 Comments

In a way it’s sort of embarrassing to be at least 20% slower than the guys, yet still be handed prizes simply because most women my age have better things to do than spend four days a week on the bike. On the other hand, a trophy - even a backyard jobbie with bits falling off - does make a nice comeback to such well-intended but infuriating comments like “it’s okay sweetie, I don’t mind hanging back with you and taking it easy.”

Here is the trophy from the Golden Spokes. I don’t remember much about this race, except that I was wearing The Doctor’s B-team jersey, puffing like a steam engine, and thinking “don’t shame myself, don’t shame myself…” because as far as speed goes, I was certainly wasn’t living up to the shirt’s namesake. The trophy hangs in my office under a map of Bigfoot Sightings in North America in hopes that one day I might be able to brag about it during a “drop-in” visit by the Chief Defence Scientist, who goes overseas to run marathons. Go ahead, tell me I’m dreamin.’

Here is the trophy from the Mt Buller MTB Festival. I was thinking of fixing it, but somehow the drooping bike chain is fitting testament to the “marathon month” Bindi and I signed up for last year.  The implications of our indiscriminate response to cool-sounding adverts didn’t hit me until late September when I got this email:

Otways is Feb 20th

Mountains to Beach is 27 Feb to 6 March

Buller is 13/14 March

Then R&R 19-22 March.

Could be a busy month.

Love, Mike

 

 

Eeee-yup. 

I can’t really complain about the Otways Odyssey - it was  my idea to sign up for the full 100km. I got all the way up the hills from Apollo Bay to Forest, only to discover that that was the easy bit; there was still 55km of single track to do at the top. After about 10km of rutty dust looping endlessly through (and into) trees, I just couldn’t go on. In my defence, neither could about 300 of the 1000 or so others who entered. Bindi, on the other hand, just loves single track, and here’s what he had to say:

“Came in about midway, both overall (415th out of 1007) and by category (88th out of 243), although was pretty happy with getting near the target 8 hours. Did the first 50 km in 3hrs 40mins, and thought I’d be well under, particularly since all the climbing was over.  The near 50km of techy single track that followed soon dispelled that illusion. The last 20km was a real killer, riding up an undulating fire-trail that prevented getting into a rhythm or relaxing a bit, then back on more steep single-track requiring concentration. It was particularly gruelling to watch the average speed gradually being eaten away.  But, all in all, a good ride, worth doing.”

 I overheard another competitor say they were glad they did it, but wouldn’t do it again.

 

Alas, I didn’t compete in Mountains to Beach, daunted by the sheer length of it - 5 days and 385km - even if it was nearly all downhill. I chose the vicarious route, opting to crew for Bindi and volunteer for “the Dark Side” race roadies. Although I saw far more sweat than glory (photos here) I was awed by the gorgeous backdrop of countryside (it’s the vibe of the thing), and plan to enter next year.  Anyone care to join me?

As for the Coglioni contingent: Bindi was fit as, having given up smoking for the new year, and again came smack in the middle of overall and category results; O’Dirty, battling with half a lung and a bad reaction to toe-cheese meds, finished without succumbing to the Dark Side, the fate of none too few. On the second day, he had the presence of mind to wait for his semi-elite, semi-comatose roommate to recover from dehydration sickness and gallantly “escort” him to the finish, thus lending himself passable rejoinder to anyone rude enough to notice relative placings. 

 

And would you believe it? Even though I didn’t race, I still won a prize! A weekend for two in Thredbo - accommodation, meals and lift tickets - thanks to a lottery draw of door prizes for Dark Side volunteers! Oh yeah, and O’Dirty got special mention for being “Everybody’s Best Mate,” and scored a tee-shirt and a bottle of dry-lube.

And now to the second trophy event: Buller. I find the report O’Dirty posted last year (“O’Dirty Gets Dirty”) oddly complimentary: I like this course. And the cycling gods were with me. I was going for all three stages, and the only thing I hated in this year’s posted race format was Stage 2’s chairlift-assisted 4-hour downhill enduro (wha?). Then we get this email: we’re sorry to announce that we’ll have to modify Stage 2 due to the chairlift being struck by lightning; not only will we now have you simply going 12km downhill (dropping approximately 1100m) along the Delatite River (woo-hoo!), but we’ll also pay you back the $30 chairlift fee.   Sweet.

“..[I]t’s funny how one day you’re not famous, and the next day you are. Famous. And then you’re not again.” - Dale Kerrigan

Well, I don’t even think I got my 15 minutes. At Saturday night’s race barbecue, Bindi walks back to the table after checking the posted results and says “guess what, you’ve come first in Stage 1 and Stage 2.” And knowing that, after 15 years of marriage, he would never lie to me about something like this, what do I do? I get up and check for myself, and sure enough, there I am, first place (out of 2) in the Veteran Women’s category. And ya know? Even then something niggled at my soul. I mean, how could I deserve to win if I know I’m not willing to put in that extra 10% that causes those with true grit (and you know who you are) to yak over their handlebars, bend over double with leg cramps, risk life and limb, and ignore the warnings of fashion heart-monitors or clear and present (if miniscule, and one could say wasp-like, even) dangers? 

So I went and checked again. 

And I found myself now second out of three. An “Open Female” - and she certainly didn’t look a day over 40 - had switched to Veteran.  I spent the rest of the night consoling myself with several glasses of white (women are immune) and conspiracies of race-fixing. And can I just say how disenchanted I am with the event manager?

But really, Stage 3 says it all: I came fourth in my category and nearly three-quarters of an hour behind Not-a-Day-Over-40. I definitely need to pick up my game…

And Bindi?  Well, while he burned up Stage 1 (62 out of 248) and down Stage 2 (119 out of 242), he had the presence of mind in Stage 3 to also generate a passable rejoinder for himself by sacrificing his overall placings to gallantly escort a weaker teammate over the finish line.   I appreciated the company.

 

P.S. For those of you who noticed that I’ve only described 3 out of the 4 scheduled events of our “marathon month,” the last was the New South Wales Sea Kayak Club’s annual bash: “Rock & Roll” weekend in Bateman’s Bay. Yet another good reason to go to work 5 days a week.