Wingman

Yesterday the plan was to climb table mountain.  My best friend, who normally doesn’t work on Fridays, was called into work for the morning, which put pay to that.  I, meanwhile, concentrated on sleeping, rising at 11am feeling refreshed, but with the memory of the 93km (shall I call it 100km?!) in my legs.  It was super hot yesterday.  34 degrees.  So we went to the beach instead, until I became typically very hungry and had to leave on a food mission.

We then decided that we would go cycling (again), as owing to a bout of food poisoning, he had been unable to ride with me all week.  The route was a standard one of his, and we set off.  What a difference riding with someone else makes.  My legs were super tired, but I was able to push the pace and hold my own.  The first climb bit back at me, and I felt my legs protesting.  It was, however, one of those things where I felt it would only take my legs getting used to the idea of riding, and things would be in order.   On the next climb everything clicked into place, and there was a tired worksrider flying up the road.

Without the wingman I wouldn’t have done anything yesterday.  As it turns out, it was fantastic.  Rewarding, both pushing each other, and above all, great fun.  My riding is usually solitary, so this is something that I need to remember.

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