Regents Park

The Wattmeister’s weakness for neat Prosecco surfaced again. He drank a lot on Friday evening, went to bed late and woke up earlier than is right. Pulled on his ‘deckchair print’ lycra, did the double, squeezed in a quick espresso and popped a paracetamol for good luck. It seemed to be a beautiful morning, but he knew that a good (or bad) hour of pain, hurt and humiliation awaited him as he stepped out of the front door.

Should have just walked The Wattmutt.

The group had left when he arrived.

Should have turned around.

Caught them at Highgate Station, lots of new faces, and some old ones with new faces….or masks.

Civilised breeze down to RP.

First mistake….joined the ‘A’ group, Iron Mike, Judge, Long Tom , Sung, Kris, Lion King and Wolf. What was he thinking? Long Tom remarked… ” at least no nutcases”….he didn’t clock Mike.

First proper lap, he and Wolf stopped at red while they barrelled through amber. The twosome doubled back caught them on the next lap and meanwhile conversed on the relationship between deadlifts, human growth hormone and testosterone. DON’T EVEN THINK IT!

Back in the group, it was a mess as lots of different clubs/riders were in the mix…then Mike did his thing….chasing down anyone who came past. We caught him every time, but TW was asking myself….why?

Somehow he made it to the antepenultimate turn at Physicians…..they needed him to count down the laps in Mig’s absence. He is grateful for that. Last week he finished fourth in the sprint and felt sick but nobody hears the voice of the fourth placed rider.

The rider previously known as Yoda turned up and announced we would ride at 6 minute lap pace. The rider currently known as The Wattmeister, and the rider with the soubriquet of ‘Judge’ decided not to join in. The speedsters shot off at the penultimate turn….with over a lap to go.

He didn’t care….not in the slightest, but fair dues to those who went with Yoda. He heard later on that Lion King and Wolf were exhausted before the final turn, and that Long Tom sloped off the front and held them off to the ‘finish’ line.

Hooray….he is almost as old as The Wattmeister and his modesty should have its own Strava KOM unlike your narrator.

TW and Judge trailed in some time later after composing some good lines for this blog which have already forgotten.

His top end form is currently below par and a partnership has been born between legs and brain along the lines of reluctance to endure pain.

All in all,  enjoyment is a dish best served in hindsight.

 

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