Seems like I’ve fallen into my old ways of “forgetting” to post again, so it’s time to redress that.   Since returning from Texas my cycling has been a bit fits and starts – partly because of the weather, and partly because at this time of year work is a tad hectic because we are winding up classes for the academic year.  This is always accompanied by students you have seldom seen suddenly materialising and expecting to be able to do twelve weeks’ work in a day and then getting huffy when you suggest they can’t just copy what their pal has written.  But that is another story, and no doubt one that is universal.

Cycling events in May were mostly local, but involved my first century ride of the year. (It was actually only about 97 miles but that’s near enough and I am claiming it on the basis of not having switched the Garmin on while I searched the length and breadth of the Royal Mile looking for a toilet.)

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Now many people are put off doing outdoor activities by a little rain. Even cyclists in fact.   And most people would be put off doing outdoor activities by a lot of rain. Even cyclists.  So when I woke up on Saturday May 11th to an absolute deluge going on outside my window, why on earth did I then yawn, stretch and think “Time to get ready to go and cycle round Arran”

Now if you have been paying any sort of attention on here, you’ll have noticed that I had a less than successful trip round Arran not but a few weeks ago, where I used the excuse of “tired after my Texas trip” to justify cycling like a five year old girl.  So what possessed me to think that I could do any better in torrential rain?  Well actually it was probably the thought that I couldn’t do any worse that made me head off on the 8.43am train.  That and the knowledge that the company would be good.

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One of the biggest benefits of the Scott Contessa school is that it has given me  new circle of cycling friends to go out with, most of whom are of my own ability level or slightly better.  I have managed to go out on several occasions now with all or some of them at a time and I honestly believe tha my own ability has increased because of it.  This includes the marvellous occasion a few weeks back when we set off from East Kilbride in glorious sunshine only to pass across a definite snow line an hour later. Quarter of an hour after than I realised that I could not get my left cleat to engage. A closer inspection reveal a hard-packed lump of ice which just would not come out.  An early coffee stop allowed me to remove the shoe and heat it up over the cafe heater long enough to then prise out the ice block with the end of my coffee spoon – none of which was at all hygienic.

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