Mid-November in London town and there is a nip in the air. Not a breath of wind disturbs the trees. Looks a good day for some miles. The Lion King, Gray Goliath, Young Geoff, Saville Row Alex and Brave Bethan had already represented Muswell Hill Peloton with some fast pre-sunrise laps of Regents Park.
Such dedication. While they were hurtling around the loop, The Wattmeister was slumbering, trapped in a valley surrounded by a noose of tight contour lines, no way out except up, and armed only with a 53 tooth chainring coupled with a 23 tooth sprocket, massively overgeared,….a nightmare scenario.
Thankfully, the alarm clock saved TW from resorting to a virtual Shank’s Pony. He woke suddenly, merino base layer soaked through, the moisture trapped by his Santini long sleeve jersey H20 acquazero (sic.) fabric. At least the Gore Windstopper bibshorts seemed to have worked their magic as there was no olfactory unpleasantness. Must buy some proper jimjams.
TW interpreted the dream. It was clear. His mission for the day was to climb Swains Lane….ten times. He tells himself that it’s not so hard. He has conquered the Stockeu and la Redoute on Liege-Bastogne-Liege in the Belgian Ardennes, and paced Gert Jan Theunisse up the Mortirolo in the Dolomites in the 1985 Giro.
The sun found a few extra petawatts of energy and broke through the autumnal North London mist. The Wattmeister’s shadow appeared on the tarmac to assist in pacing him up the climb. On the lower slopes, the shadow slipped into an effortless rhythm, but come the steep bit underneath the trees, he buggered off and left TW to do battle with the 16% gradient.
You can’t trust anyone!