Taming The Cat

I’ve vowed to do more cyclosportives. I did two this year and would like to do four or five next year. One for March has already landed in my inbox. It’s called the Cheshire Cat, it’s kind of local, at Crewe and has a great logo but regrettably no t-shirt is offered sporting it.



It also appears to sell out quite quickly, so I best get in there pronto. The question is which distance. The long route of 100 miles or, as it’s my first of the year I could start gently with the middle distance route of 67 miles. There’s also a 45 mile option but that wouldn't be worth getting the bike out for.

Then L drops a bombshell. I had mentioned the event to L but wasn’t sure if she’d go for it but a girl needs a target and she seemed keen. What I didn’t expect was that she’d consider the middle distance option. I'm thrilled she's being so daring but... it means I’ve got to do the long one doesn’t it.

She reckons she’s picked the middle distance route, based purely on the number of ‘cake’ stops on it. There are two food stations on the route, compared to only one on the short route BUT there are three on the long one. So if she was basing her strategy on the number of cake stops wouldn’t she have gone for the long one? Apparently not... because she’s on a diet. There's some female logic in there somewhere.

She lets me go ahead and enter online for both of us, with the proviso that I don't let my hands wonder above middle distance. As if, my hands never wander. Well not often. She can repay me in kind later. Although payment in kind could worryingly extend to a Mika ticket.

At dog training I give notice of Doggo’s ‘retirement’ from Monday night classes. As from January, MD will take over. This is... well, scary. Due to the vagaries of our training calendar and something called Christmas, Doggo’s last Monday session will be... now let me see... ah, next week. Wonder if they'll get the bunting out for him.

The kids have some massive turkey drumstick for tea between them. Well the shop called it a turkey drumstick but actually I’m not sure what it is. It’s massive, that turkey must have been pumping some serious iron in the gym before it met its Waterloo.

Oddly the bone has been stripped clean when we get home, it looks like a pack of dogs had been at it, only that the dogs have been with us...