Dominoes delivery

Could Joey finally pull out a result? Could 8 months of training actually merit a good day on the bike?! First Barrow Wheeler in the race is one result I did achieve! Sounds great considering my club had it's strongest team in years at a race. Sprinters, climbers, pucheurs and rouleurs abounded, there was so much endorphins knocking around that if they were on the UCI prohibited list, we'd all be banned. So first in my club was an achievement, right? Don't be daft! Like a bunch of Cubans playing dominoes in the afternoon, my club succumbed to all sorts of craziness and as the afternoon went on the numbers tumbled. Some just wanted to survive their first open race for a while and did admirably. But it was to my utter surprise, through the afternoon that all of the boys and all of the plans, went South.@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@There's nothing more demoralising than your clubmates sitting on a grass verge sipping cups of tea in the afternoon sunlight, calling out your name in encouragement whilst you struggle by, throwing yourself around to stay in contention all the while stopping your tongue from catching in the front spokes. And my clubmates shouldn't have been there at all. It was a big push up the hill on the second lap that did for them. A typical, headless, no-rhyme-or-reason effort you get in the A4s. A few strongmen drove it over the hill and then sat up. This put some of my team mates out the back yet the same strongmen couldn't replicate their actions on lap 3 and therefore I and a few others stayed in the race. Chapeau headless strongmen!And the last lap was pedestrian.@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ Then you get the silly crash. Cyclists are weight concious. And mathematical. They probably average 75kg. That didn't prevent the conundrum of an average cyclist trying to fit between a ditch and a bigger rider in a space reserved for an anorexic squirrel. Cue resultant carnage as balance is lost, ditch is found, brakes are tested, chamois' soiled and skin is broken. Apologies to the hand I rode over[and it's owner]. I got back on, surveyed the damage. Good to go, now last of my club standing, by default, as Shane's bike had been damaged. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ And then the cramps come to visit, like unwanted visitors, knocking on the door of my quads. Spasms fly electrically to my brain in the shape of a grim reaper, whispering "You're legs are dead sonny jim...you feel shite...you have cramps in your cramps...that fred in front of you with the flapping Aldi jersey, saddle bag with deck chair and coffee maker, tyres at 26 p.s.i., is gonna best you!" And your head spins....Isn't there sambos and fresh coffee at the finishline? Isn't some bastard cooking a barbecue on the back of the course every lap? Can't you just stop?! And it feels like someone has tilted the inclines and turned the last lap into a right auld son of a syphillitic camel. And the hailstones....@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ But the cramps subsided, the giant tsunami of pain had subsided to a ripple in a duck pond. The mind stopped sparking like a loose wire and started focussing again. Everything, like an alcoholic's moment of clarity, came together. Could this be my day? Hell no! The cramps came back when I started my sprint so I sat and ground out a top fifteen place [again]. At least I was in the bunch sprint, not waving at it as it disappeared up the road. No prizes for 15th. Praise for finishing well, praise for being first of the club in, praise for not succumbing to the crazed, lunatic, last lap psychosis either. Time for a re-boot and re-route and a ramp up for 2016 season part two!