Back On The Road ... Yet Again

Big Fat Pig has been struggling recently on the exercise front. Not for the want of trying, but sadly the pesky calf muscles (particularly the left one) have never recovered properly from the Royal Parks Half last year. This is a most damnable thing. A coupe of weeks ago and at the accustomed twenty-five minute mark the calf tweeked as I ran. Not for the first time I announced that I was giving up running. For now I'm sticking to that vow but I strongly suspect I will be tempted to do at least one more sprint triathlon. All of that is for tomorrow.

marque of distinction

Swimming is lovely and undoubtedly easy on the battered old joints but the whole process of finding clear water in a public pool is wearying and so it is back to the Precious Bike. Those of you with long memories will recall that my state of perma-puncture had worn down my enthusiasm but having received an expert diagnosis (the ever reliable John Bedford at Park Cycles) of under-inflation I finally bit the bullet and bought a shiny top-rate track pump (another boy's toy) and this morning inflated the tyres to within an inch of their lives. I donned the lycra and hit the streets for an hour. Eureka, no puncture! Admittedly with the high pressure I felt every undulation of our poorly metalled roads in a rather personal manner and I am saddle-sore now, but it felt good and I will try to keep it up so as to do justice to the skin-tight gear. I am very mindful of the speed at which another middle-aged lycra-man pedalled past me this morning but you've got to start somewhere. I have celebrated in true BFP style with a bacon sarnie and a glass of Freixenet Cordon Negro. Isotonic cava naturally.