I rode hills Saturday like PUTAIN DE MORON, okay, as if I had something particulier to train for. Like the Americanishce Truck 300, a huge race taking place in my jock. My tendons feel like so amazing after it.
The day following, I try the rapide cadence on a country route and run out of the pavé. I did not turn around because my direction was good and i was making a time, thinking to coach and my equipe, “how good is this for Spring.” taking the gravel, and ended up worse than when i started, i got quiet but so mad.
i was climbing a 12% on my 21mm’s, in a large gauge gravel, a bumps, and a 1.4 meter gears inch. Now I can really talk about mad. But this time the gravel made me strong, I did not make a tears, and I come out the eventual pavé. I was glad, it was okay, primarie.
Then I noticee. The handle tape, my cuddle le guidon, have unwrapped from the laminate. What le Merde. You have to joke me with this. Not today. Not for this training calendrier. NO.
What? What. What happen next is like so blurre. Like I go in le Chunnel with conscious. I come from the Chunnel, and where is my wheel? Wheau le . . . ? I have a bike flop over like raton. What le Merde. No. I walk from the road to the trimmed corn where it shined, and i grab it in the dirt.
You see how I write the story, may I have a refund on my tape for le bars? In this route it was a trauma and I will not like to have this produtte any longer than now, okay?
Jaque le Coque