Wasps, Roadbiking and Ink.

It’s been an eventful 7 days.

Last Sunday, I spent the day on the very edge of my seat cheering some twitter buddies around Ironman Austria. It was a tad emotional watching the boys cross the finish line and it’s firmly cemented the goal of #IronBeanBefore35 massive well done to Nick, Mike and Dougie.

I also finally got my marathon tribute tattoo’s.

IMG_3688 - Copy

IMG_3689 - Copy

The Twentysixpointtwo is even in my own handwriting. Which is a really cool touch, and doesn’t look like a 5 year old scribbled it, as I first protested. (Thank you Jade and Claire for your input… Definitely getting a dolphin leaping over a sunset next time…. HA)

Due to fresh ink, I’m banned from chlorine for a little while which I can just about live with…… My niggly calf has also restricted running and cycling a bit too.

Not on Tuesday though.


On Tuesday, I’d psyched myself up for a relaxing blast on my MTB round the trail. Only to find OH toiling away when I got home. He’d swapped my non-cleat pedals onto the cyclocross.

Once I got over the initial Bike-Tampering rage and protests of “BUT I’M NOT PREPARED”…

“Have a go on the road” he said. “It will be fun” he said.


I could JUST about cope with the weight. Or lack thereof. It’s a Ridley Crosswind and weighs about the same as my handbag sans makeup bag. I’m used to my MTB that weighs the same as a family sized hatch-back. I could JUST about cope with the almost constant and brutal headwind. I could ABSOLUTELY NOT cope with the saddle. I’m used to my lady saddle. Which is padded with ALL OF THE PADDING. I realise this is a means to an end and at some point I will need to man up and go for something lighter and less arm-chair like. But fuck. my. life. The saddle on the crosswind is Fizik I think. Which I’ve decided is French for “being repeatedly kicked in the chuff”. Because that is what it felt like. For 14 miles.

So. 1:05:26 of SHEER TERROR. I’m not scared of terrible drivers. There’s a comfy grass verge on my left which looked far more welcoming than the hell my arse was enduring. I wasn’t scared of downhill. In fact, I LOVED it!! I didn’t realise how FAST you can go on road tyres. Tremendous. I wasn’t even scared of hills.

I was scared of letting go of the handlebars. At any point. I was glued.

I was scared of the crosswinds heading across the Ballingry – Scotlandwell flats. (Ironic really that the bike is called a Crosswind. Because it’s not fun).

I was baffled by the gearing. With shouts of “YOU CAN’T CROSS THE CHAIN” coming from OH behind me each time I changed down for a hill I’d reply with “I’VE NO IDEA HOW NOT TO. WHY DOESN’T THIS COCKING THING TELL ME WHAT GEAR I’M IN?” I eventually got the hang of it. As we we’re about 1/4 of a mile from the house….

I was also scared when a freaking wasp or bee (I now know it was a wasp) flew up under my Oakley half jacket lens AND GOT FREAKING STUCK AND THEN STUNG ME BELOW THE EYE.

The entire time I couldn’t let go because of my fear of almost certain death so instead I just swore. A lot. At the buzzy stingy bastard stuck under my lens.

Eventually he wriggled free, detached his ass from my eye and fucked off.

Leaving me not being very brave at all at the side of the road.


Moral of the story?

Wasps are bastards. Road Biking is terrifying. I’m NOT ready for Cleats and don’t go for a bike ride after a bikini wax.