Ufff! Did I really agree to this ride? Or did I just slip into it through basking in vague flattery about fitness at my age? (Interpreted somewhat mistakenly as someone admiring my bodywork, perhaps?).
In the past four days I have achieved 133 training kilometres, two punctures and something I can’t see on my bum that needs lashings of Savlon. I also made a foolish hare-versus-tortoise error.
Shooting along the Brikama to Sanyang road on Saturday morning, I mistook the Leader of the Pack’s yell from behind of ‘Slow, Slow!’ for ‘Go! Go!’ (Nana, you really must learn to enunciate clearly at speed). My legs got stuck in one of those comic-strip speed blurs: a 15 km error during which I realised I don’t really like steaming along, on-the-road-alone. Better to sweat in a pack.
I daydreamt vividly about energy-pumping foods — bananas and flapjacks. And I kept dividing the Basse-to-Fajara 400 km by Saturday morning’s 75 km. ‘Nearly six times’ was the answer, every time: equivalent to three training runs a day for two days! I’ll never do it! Even fuelled with The Gambia’s finest bananas and most golden of flapjacks. Well, not without a lot of pain! Ufff!
No comments:
Post a Comment