This morning I stepped out of my shower, grabbed my towel, looked in the mirror, saw my large belly and wandered towards my clothes.
It was only then that the realisation hit me that in ten days from now I shall be at the bottom of Le Mont Ventoux, dressed in my finest cycling attire, astride my newly acquired Ribble Cycles steed, having done precisely ZERO bike rides in the previous 5 weeks.
To say I’m worried is a slight understatement.
Fortunately my partner for the days torture, an old friend of many a year, has been doing very little training. He only did a 100 mile ride a few weeks ago, and apparently has just done a Coast to Coast ride somewhere in the north of England.
Our accommodation has been found and reserved, a small gite somewhere on the outskirts of Bedoin, I’m hoping its going to be close enough to stagger from a bar, as I will have a great need to drown my sorrows if I ever reach the weather station.
If by any chance someone reads this, and is in the area next weekend, we’d love to have someone take a few pix of us as we climb the beast. Well, as he climbs the beast and I weep into my handlebars for 26.5kms.