Last weekend I went along to watch some of my friends and rivals competing in a League of Veteran Racing Cyclists road race. The LVRC caters for racers who are over 40 yrs old. In fact you cannot hold an LVRC licence, or take part in their races until you have had your 40th birthday! Now don’t get the wrong idea, a load of old codgers, making a spectacle of themselves in ridicolous lycra, this aint. Far from it, with ‘ex pros’, former international, and national champions riding it is intensely competitive. With the luxury of semi-retirement or even retirement some of these riders train harder now than when they were ‘pros’. Furthermore, although some of them can’t remember where they parked the car, they can remember exactly who crossed the finish line in front of who, and by how much.

Anyway, while I was taking a few pictures of the action, and shouting words of encourgement to the riders I began to notice that there was a superabundance of attractive women in the vicinity of the race finish area, and the race headquarters. Now I’ve been to veteran races before, and on sunny days before, but never noticed this phenomenon before. I started thinking that it maybe a function of me not racing. This being the case I might have to consider ‘not racing’ again ‘cos it surely beats looking at the lycra clad arses of the lads in the bunch!

see ya out there soon,

It was my 48th birthday last weekend, and it was made very special by two young ladies. Firstly I had a visit from Eleanor , who I haven’t seen for ages, and is nearly one year old now. We went for a birthday picnic, and she entertained me with her antics. She’s a little showstopper. Secondly I was given a picture by the little known, yet incredibly talented young artist, Grace Allan. How is it that some impressionist artists can say so much with so little?

The West Midland Cyclo-cross league starts this weekend. This will be the first time in about 10 years that I won’t be riding, and I am gonna miss it, it’s the filthiest, friendliest, fastest, fun you can have through the winter. I wish all the riders good luck, and I’ll be along at some of the events to give support.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out where the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deed could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred with dust and sweat and blood. At best, he knows the triumph of high achievement; if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.” Theodore Roosevelt

see ya out there soon,