22/11/09 - A Record Breaker

Well I guess it had to happen eventually; The Lantern Rouge finally overcame a slight leg injury & a much more serious bout of being an idle bar steward to return to the Peleton. The morning dawned drab and drizzly, a bit like me in the morning. Once the Guinness Book of Records had verified I’d now had more comebacks than Frank Sinatra, Le Patron, Chris and myself set off to Ronnie’s house to minimize his chances of getting lost. After a heartfelt greeting from Ronnie along the lines of ‘Who the f**k are you’ we set off to meet up with the Matinee Idol at a Garden Centre (he likes to admire the foliage apparently).

Le Patron keeps telling me to ‘let em go’ seemingly unaware that this is me going flat out and its more likely to be my body that ’lets go’ before the ride is through. Actually its not too bad on the flat but each slight rise in the road sees me sliding off the back like a kid on a toboggan. Somehow I make it through Oswestry and up the hill to Treflach before the welcome respite of descending Blodwell Bank where Le Patron shows a turn of speed last seen when someone uttered ’Free bar’.

The rest of the ride to the café passes in a blur of pain for me as the rest of the Crapi peleton finally makes me regret those months off the bike. Thankfully the welcome repose of the café by the canal in Maesbury (highly recommended whether cycling or not) is soon upon us and after soup and tea I feel almost human again.

Just as we are leaving Alan Lewis arrives, not on his bike thank god!! After a frustrating morning watching youth football masquerading as water polo he seems a bit peeved not to be on the bike. Staring forlornly out of his car window he looks like a depressed Deputy Dawg wearing a beanie hat. If only he’d said ’I’m so happy!’ I’d have died a happy man.

Thankfully the rest of the guys kept their word and we went the quickest way back. A brief blow out in Western Rhyn where the rest of them sprint for the roundabout - they do this every week though they pretend to have no interest in who actually arrives first - we part from the Matinee Idol and wind our way back to Le Patron’s house.

I arrive there cold, wet and knackered but it feels good to be back on the back. With words of encouragement ringing in my ears from Ronnie (‘I thought you were shit’) I leave vowing to return the following week.