On the bus again, bailing out on a foggy cycle ride with a dodgy calf. It would probably have gone ok but it's sensible to miss it.
L worries when I’m not sensible and then worries even more when I am. Am I going to be fit for Cardiff? Doubtful. I may just have to hobble round slowly again. Although, as L repeatedly points out, I was still faster than her at Paris. So if she’s wants to be quick at Cardiff, just hobble with me.
Her concern of my injuries isn’t helped by the official photos from Paris where I look in total agony but then again, I always do. This is what my race face looks like, although this time I probably was genuinely in agony.
As I haven’t cycled I head off to the gym to do my training, spending half an hour with the underwear models is better than nothing.
(Friday 11th March)