W8 R1 - some mornings I float home

as though on a cloud of class A induced euphoria. Other mornings I feel like I've left it all out there on the road. This morning the later set of circumstances pertain. There was another bloke running around my circuit this morning. Tragically, he was just the tiniest smidgeon slower than I am. As I bore down on him (ha!) I dropped a gear to glide past in an effortlessly insouciant swoosh. Then I dropped another. Then another. My composure was on the point of utter collapse when I felt my pace gather and past I went on the crest of a wave of nausea, with all the grace of a clapped-out Clyde puffer. As though to ram home my superiority I maintained this slightly faster pace for another 100 yards or so. I felt like a Punch and Judy show on wheels. Needless to say, such uncalled for competitive exertions took their inevitable toll on lungs and legs. Luckily the farce was not to be repeated as Laura threw in the towel for me just as blokey once again filled my sights. Phew! I'm knackered here.


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  • "Luckily the farce was not to be repeated as Laura threw in the towel for me"

    Made me chuckle.

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