PZW Open sporting 19 mile TT.
I’ve never been a fan of time trials. I’ve never understood their attraction. Pound away all on your lonesome for ten or twenty five miles, for a time. Big buttocks and massive gears.
So here I am back from the highlights of Doonhame in
standing on the side of a B road that runs from Praze to Leedstown shouting out the numbers as the riders go by. (Shouting them to the time keeper that is, I’m not completely mad) Scotland
It’s sunny but the north easterly wind is bloody freezing. It’s always bloody cold up here; thank god I brought a thick shirt, fleece and hat.
There’s me and the timekeeper. Every minute or two so a rider passes by. Minutes can take long time to pass.
Cars drive past, drivers staring. Some drive like idiots, some are fat, I think, ‘you ought to ride a bike’.
For something to do when there’s no traffic I cross the road.
I listen to the evening bird song, two blackbirds, a chiffchaff, robin, two chaffinches, one crow and some woodies and two swallows in the far distance.
Some riders take the wrong route.
’20 and 19’
Sometimes riders go through close together but usually means it’s a longer wait until another appears.
I watch sycamore trees turning to bud
I don’t mind helping out, a club is only as good as the people in it. It’s just that I don’t understand the appeal of this side of the sport, but I’ll always lend a hand.
There are some clouds.
Some riders are fast. The other side of the road looks enticing, I cross again.
I stand on the white line in the middle and stare down the road. I think about a blog I can write.
Some riders are slow.
A rider from our club wins the event, hurrah, I was pleased with that, third too, excellent. Can I go home now?