the only time I ever came last

One more cycling tale for you - then I'm done (for now) - I promise!

A week after the disastrous Welsh 12 hour event, I rode the Welsh Criterium championships in Cardiff City Centre. It was a really fast race of just over an hour, and around half way through I found myself in what was the race-winning break.

Only I didn't have anything left in my legs and, conscious we were flying off to Italy two days later, fearing a holiday ending accident and in the knowledge I had nothing in my legs for the final sprint, I pulled out of the race on the penultimate lap.

that's really not going to help!

We went off on holiday - happy that the long and really successful (I was barely out of the top 10 in any race I finished) season was over - for some well earned rest.

Except that the season wasn't over.  There was one race left: the tortuous hill climb championship at the end of September.  I'd entered it only because I needed to finish to qualify for the Welsh Cycling Association's national champ's points competition. This was based on points gained in all the time-trial championship races held over the season and I was really well placed despite the disastrous 12.

Only problem was, we were due back from holiday early on the day before the race.  I reckoned though that we had plenty of time to get from the airport in London to home to rest up, wash my bike  and perhaps go for a quick leg loosening ride before the hill climb on Sunday.

Our flight was delayed.

we should have stayed in Italy!

Storms had prevented our plane from taking off, and when it did what followed was a terrifying two hours or so before landing.  We didn't get back into the UK until late on the Saturday night - 15 hours late to be precise.

We then had to drive through the night to reach home leaving me enough time for about an hour's sleep before packing my bike, now still unwashed from the criterium race, into the car and heading off for the hill climb.

I cut it so fine I had no time even for a warm up - something absolutely essential for such a short event.  And so, with no miles in my legs, no sleep, a sore back from driving and, crucially, no warm up, I set off up the north face of the Rhigos mountain.

what a lovely place

I actually found myself laughing all the way up.  I was recalling our holiday on the beautiful Lake Garda in Northern Italy, all the wonderful places we visited and (regretting!!) all the lovely food we ate, and even the scary flight home.  And I came plum last.

Still, my points total was sufficient for a final sixth place in the points competition so not all was lost.

Well, except perhaps some pride.