26th June. Still Basking In The Glory! Yes!

FB naturally made light of the resounding and conclusive defeat claiming that he "hadn't been on a bicycle since last June." However, much of the cycle was gravity assisted, the additional bulk, an unfortunate by-product of newfound cosy lasagna filled weekends 'having people round' in Stockbridge, would have been no handicap. Latest news from FB centres around the acquisition of a titanium frame to form the basis of a machine that is both light and yet strong enough for the heaviest of duties without fatiguing. And for me, I have found hidden depths to my own self - bask bask, bask bask. (Deep down I'm really really shallow.) I mean let's not worry about the other 112 that finished in front of me, this was a two horse race - Age and Decrepitude V. Youth and Vigour, The Whippet and The Walrus. Gloat gloat, gloat gloat.

20th June. Highland X. Victory Blog Entry.

"You just took off like a fucking whippet" was the description given by Fat Boy of my bid to get past some of the other competitors and away from his constant farting and belching on the narrow footpath through kintail. Then something got into me - why always try to conserve energy for what's ahead? why not just blow the whole fucking lot and see what happens? Besides, they were begining to annoy me - the other runners, pussy footing around on the descents especially wimmin. "Oooh That guy's motoring" shrieked one to another as I barged between their conversation mid sentence. Now I was just running willy-nilly off the track at every descending bit passing runners 6 at a time. "It looked like you were only running a 5k" said FB. Then I was out of sight, thank fuck for that, if I could get far enough ahead he might not catch me on the bike... Anyway George, who'd elected to join the walkers for the 20 miles and get sunburnt, told FB when they exchanged words at the bike changeover that " I was about 10 mins ahead" . Answer - "I'll catch him up!". Yes, I knew it! Didn't I just! Once FB got those massive thighs over the cross bar of that kindly loaned carbon bike he'd be down on those fucking aero-bars "Gunning it all the way" and confident oh so confident. Now that excess weight would be a positive advantage on the downhill closed to other traffic road out of Glen Affric. There I was on that crap old Raleigh with this vision of those massive quads powering down in a high gear and his eyes peering through dark glasses at the road ahead like some sort of Hunter-killer closing in to pick me off like the weakest member of a herd of wildebeast. I had to use every advantage to the max, getting 6 inches behind anyone elses back wheel who was going faster than me in this draught legal cycle section, flying new road chips or not. My calves ached and my knees objected and surely this bloody pedalling into the wind would end soon CHRIST!, I daren't look behind, some kid sat in a roadside deck chair shouted "9 miles to go!" Then there were a few uphills. SCHISSEN! the 'peleton' disbanded when someones chain came off, BASTARDS! I'm losing momentum, I was shagged. Beauly 2 miles. OH GOD! it would be such a waste if he caught me now! Beauly 1 mile Come ON!. Some guy playing the bagpipes, people with beer clapping, one left turn past the Local Polis, just one straight bit with a tiny rise, I glanced over my shoulder, no sign of the black helmeted hulk looming large and breathing heavy like a bull, then some guy waving his arms towards the finish, I'm gonna do it! I even past someone else at the line, 4 hr 52ins YES YES YES YEEEES !!!!!!