Spokes(Wo)Man

Scared of traffic ? No bike infrastructure ? Too Far ? Helmet hair ?

 

Fuck it, ride anyway

No! Sleep! 'til Milan !

I know - I've said a dozen times that when it comes to pro-racing - I'm out - I've had it with the crap decisions of the UCI, the bullshit gender-disparity, the drug-cheats and the bloody podium girls.

A pink bike amongst the blossoms in Alghero, one day, one day ...

A pink bike amongst the blossoms in Alghero, one day, one day ...

But, it's il Giro. And i have a soft spot for Italy (right between my ears). I watch the spring races, but this is where I inevitably settle in for the 3-week long haul of "don't tell me the results I haven't watched last night's stage" dodging social media announcing the results, avoiding the Aussie newspapers, easy most of the time as they don't give pro-racing reporting a look-in unless an Aussie is winning. (This is where the bulk cooking marathons of summer pay-off as you defrost and reheat proper nutritious meals from the freezer instead of the alternative of fast food in from of the TV - there isn't time of an evening to cook and watch ...  and then we re-stock during June for the TdF in July ...  This year I found a smoky lentil curry which Sprocketman really enjoys, so have added that tot the repertoire. I notice we don't have any soups done this year, maybe an unconscious decision after last year's 20 litres of pumpkin soup. We were pretty over it come the Vuelta.)

Plus, it's getting coooold here of a morning, and it's harder and harder to get out of bed at 6am to ride to work. Watching the already-baked landscape of Sardinia is like a little drug to help you through Autumn's chill. Sprocketman and I use the background scenery of the pro races to decide potential holiday and retirement locations - and we're pretty interested in Sardinia right now - beautiful beaches, smooth freshly paved roads, and hot weather. We'll check it out in person one day.

And, it turns out all the plans for nutritious eating during a 3-week race can still be derailed by your partner popping out for bread and coming back with a roast chicken, wedges and salad. Sigh.