It’s all cycle-logical.  T-minus 32 days to launch.  Part 3: The Great British Bike-Off

“If constellations had been named in the 20th century, I suppose we would see bicycles.” ~ Carl  (Peter!) Sagan

Dear Readers & Team, I need your help!  Please post pun comments on a cycling/cake theme at the bottom of this thread.  I'll kick you off: cream (bike) horn... 

A recent daylight raid of Inverness yields trophies of aerial voyeurism: Lake District

Plugging away...

Another solid team week, particularly behind the scenes where we have a crack team.  We can all imagine how much effort it inevitably takes: a mile on the road is preceded by two on the phone etc.

A slightly frustrating (but still positive) week for me.  All attempts at training partially thwarted by a combination of all of the following: sickness, expectation, commitments (not the Dublin band), the fading light & a need to get to sleep in order to be up at 0400 for work.  The rollers have come out of the garage and I have definitely felt the hunger spiking up as a result.  Those evil Kit-Kats are staying at work too.  This must be serious.  There was definitely some sparkle in there so I'm staying upbeat, but it would be an ironic way to passively observe the best and last (take it as official from a pilot) of our Indian Summer drift away. 

Speaking of drifting away, I randomly chanced upon this one and it struck a chord...  Philosophy of the week comes courtesy of Sir George Martin of Abbey Road fame, on the subject of his recording studio on the Caribbean island of Montserrat being trashed by a hurricane and then flattened by a volcano.  Bear with me…  I paraphrase the musical genius slightly but he says: it takes a lot of energy to create something from nothing, then just as much to stop it returning to nothing again.  This entropy is as close a metaphor for the all-elusive 'form' as I can find.  My uber-keen triathlon brethren will tell you more of this I'm sure.

Duncan makes a good point in his intro (see Meet the Team page) about 'cleaning the steed' I'm sure we can all relate to.  That pressure to get home, dismount (a challenge in itself after fusing your feet and spine into position for hours), find a decent snack, wash (please!) and a proper refuel.  Only then do you catch a glimpse of said discarded steed in the garden, round-shouldered in shame and covered in mud, like a forgotten old dog.  So out come the buckets and hose, running the risk of getting muddy and wet all over again.  Mine was a bit like this last week; buffed white sheen now reduced to a dubiously aerodynamic grey crust and creaking suspiciously like an old galleon.  I find enlisting my four-year old helps, but this does mean more water everywhere.  Lo and behold, some patience and application was rewarded with a clean four-year old and a creak-free bike again.  And a recreation of Lake Michigan in a small Hertfordshire street. At the risk of sending the pilots into a wave of dewy-eyed, air-brained nostalgia, the degreaser and silicone smell of a clean bike is up there with the hot oil aroma, ticking engine block and creased leather of an old biplane.  Back me up on this one guys & girls…nope, just me then.

I forgot to mention in the initial discussion of the route last week that as we're doing this south-bound, we'll also be fighting into a prevailing south-westerly wind.  Chalk that one up as another little challenge to overcome.  Which is akin to telling the SAS, 'By the way lads, there are lions in the drop-zone and the signs are that they haven't fed for a while...’

So, we can all start to wave goodbye to the high pressure and get used to the wet again.  There are four weeks to go and three and a half of those are without the hindrance of a clock change so there is all to play for.  Hamstrings not hamstringing.  Game on!  (Kudos Wayne’s World).