I had fun at Ipswich. I was a shocking 66th but then there were 90 competitors. After trying desperately to hang on to the wheel of Susan Wood and failing miserably I set myself the task of ticking-off as many male riders as possible, frighteningly, some clustered together in groups. I’ve not had that before (usually it’s the fat and old individuals at the back).
Finally I settled into a battle with a man on a Bianchi bike. Generally reserved for road-racers and ladies (since Italians are only wee) I decided I wasn’t to be beaten by a man on a Bianchi bike.
Repeatedly, he passed me and repeatedly I passed him back until the last lap when I waited behind him (dangerously so as I was being caught by the next woman in the race) then laid on a sprint finish almost-to-be-proud-of to drag my sorry ass over the line and stand, hyperventilating the other side of it, unable to move, despite the officials' urgence.
We're back at the same venue this weekend for the second National Trophy and I do believe we might actually get muddy this time.
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