Twiddling Thumbs & Nipper Conundrums

Watched a cracking DVD on Friday night – Gone Girl. Worth a look if you haven’t already seen it. If you’ve read the book, probably not the same reaction, as it was the plot twists which completely hooked me.

Got up early on Saturday and did….nothing. It’s still a weird feeling now as It’s the first time in ages I have nothing on the immediate horizon to train for (Pyrenees cycle trip is still a long way off – September). So, I took the opportunity to indulge another great passion – tea & toast on the porch with the Fin Review in hand.

I love the idea of reading the Fin. Finding a little undervalued gem that no-one else has seen and turning it into an astute investment. It’s a work in progress, has been for several years now - I’m playing the long game. They’re due to come good any minute now.

In the afternoon I picked up a fridge from my grandparent’s recently sold house, saying goodbye to the place in the process. I’d spent some time there in my formative years before meeting a particularly Lovely girl (her name is Samantha). The rest is history, which you’ve all been reading about ever since.

Sunday started with a shortish 60km cycle (by recent standards anyway) down the east coast of Sydney from Watsons bay to La Perouse and back, meeting my clan back at Bronte for the final nippers of the season. When it comes to Nippers, Bodhi is a paradox. He hates waking up, protests all the way there in the car but by the end of the session cant hide his unbridled enthusiasm for the boarding & swimming. Not sure what to do. I really want him to continue with it, part selfishly as I love an excuse to go to the beach, but more importantly the water skills & safety aspect…oh and to grow into a svelte, toned and devilishly handsome lifesaver just like his dad, but with the added ability to save lives. We’ve spoken about doing it next year – he’s dead set against, we’re dead set for it. Question is, how do I let him think he’s making the decision but get my way? Dunno, but we’ve got several months to work it out. Suggestions welcome.

Later in the arvo, I put together some Ikea cabinetry – “Adult Lego” as I described it to Bodhi. Here’s me stupidly thinking it was idiot proof. As I sat for an hour trying to make sense of a missing piece of the puzzle, I scratched my head and admitted defeat.

Early onset anyone?

See ya,

Minas.

#HubbardWatch Respect

Picture this: You've ridden hard all day. 205km in fact. Your legs are cooked. A sign on a bend proclaims “ONLY 30km to go!”. While the sign emphasises the “ONLY”, ironically you’re thinking “SHIT 30km still!!!”…all uphill. Welcome to “What The Fuck” corner.

WTF Corner marks the start of the last, most brutal climb in the epic endurance event called The Three Peaks Challenge. Billed as one of the top 10 toughest one day cyclo-sportifs in the world, it unashamedly delivers more than your worst-case-scenario expectations might have prepared you for.

So, back to the corner and the start of the fabled “Back of Falls” climb – I’d set a personal target of a 10hr total ride time and made it to the base of the climb in 9.5hr pace. Kick Ass I thought, but in the trade off to give myself more of a climbing buffer, I’d depleted all my salts and felt the tell-tale niggles of impending cramps. Now cramps are just like relatives* you don’t like - you hope they never visit, but if so, pray they don’t stay too long and only offer them horrible snacks in the hope they take the hint and leave quickly. Unfortunately, the cramps came a knockin’, didn't take the hint with the sickly sweet hydralite concentrated concoction I offered up and stayed far too long for my liking – a whole hour too long as it turns out.

There’s no shame in walking wounded up a mountain pushing one of the finest carbon fibre bikes money can buy, or so I repeatedly told myself. Of little recompense was that I was not alone. The brutal first half stretch Back of Falls is a war zone. Flailing mamils strewn all over the place. Bodies doubled over in varying states of empathetic cringe inducing cramp and fatigue. Not a dry brow or smile in sight for 10km.

Anyways, an hour after arriving, the cramps eventually got the hint and left. I gingerly managed the remaining 20km in the granny gears, hoping like hell they wouldn't come back claiming to have left something behind. I rolled through the finish line of toughest thing I've ever done, 10hrs 49mins after setting off, too numbed to feel anything beyond relief.

In cycling, the term hubbard is often thrown about by fashwan wank wanks (like me) in non-deference to other cyclists sporting event paraphernalia jerseys or any other kit choice deemed “uncool”, #hubbardwatch being a handle for any hubbard spotting posted on twitagram.

After my three peaks accomplishment, I've got a new jersey, and i'm going to wear it with pride!

Minas.

*Disclaimer: I love all my relatives equally and want them ALL to come visit more often.