Well, you are right, I am sure I am. But not as mad as three blokes I met out riding on Saturday. They had just finished the Rotorua-Taupo 100km flyer, and were riding home. To Tauranga. Having ridden to the start line. For a warm up. Yeaup. Cos how hard can that be? No wonder they snuck up behind me and sat in my draft for a few kms. When I discovered them there and accused them they said "Don't worry about the slow pace, any drafting is good after the distance we've done so far"...hmph... fairly thinly veiled insult there fellas...not to mention the unsaid comment on my ability to separate a head wind. You know why. And I am good at it, but I don't like to be reminded of the underlying reason.
Additionally after all my efforts to plaster a dogged (if false) smile across my countenance when on long runs, a friend who saw me yesterday reports that I definitely have the Orc-look back in style. Apparently I looked to be hating it. I wasn't, but I was negotiating a footpath deep in high-speed waterskiiers, dogs, small children, bikes and bogans. So chances are it was just my "concentrating and slightly concerned" face.
It is now less than five weeks until Ironman. I have a strange sense of de ja vue. Like I've been here before. I officially entered IM Australia tonight - money paid, emergency contact details provided. My flights are booked and paid for (because why wouldn't I go to a whole different country to do a race I could do in my home town?). All that remains is accommodation, transport, and figuring out how on earth to travel with my favourite hunk of carbon fibre. How hard can it be?
Until next week, tie me kangaroo down, sport,
love
Ironmaiden
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