I am a 35 year old generally fit cyclist and it's time I aimed a little higher so I have targeted my first Ironman competition. The only way I will be able to train towards this is to join a club of like minded sporty types. Luckily there are a few local clubs that fit the bill.
This weekend I will be out on my first group ride and judging by the profiles on the club facebook site there will certainly be a fair mix of riders including a few real lookers.
I have already ridden many sportives and other cycling challenges. Although the percentage of female to male is not in my favour the few women riding are toned, curvy and full of energy, just as we all like them.
There are great bonuses gained from cycling hundreds of miles every month. You can eat like a bear just out of hibernation but never feel guilty or put any weight on. No matter how much you are burning off you still have loads of energy. Your sex drive is constantly on overdrive to match the new found energy. Healthy, hyper, hungry and horny, what more could you want!
I remember a recent sportive, one hundred miles of hills. This probably sounds like hell to a non cyclist but we see it as a non stop mental challenge and adrenalin trip.
As usual there were huge numbers of lycra clad mamils (middle aged men in lycra) and just a smattering of ladies. I wasn't at my fittest that day due to recent hard rides and decided just to have an easy day in the saddle. Setting off at a steady pace I moved around groups for the first twenty or so miles. This is the stage of a ride where the entrants are sorting out their position in the pack and after this point you are generally with the same group for the whole ride.
I had plenty of time and breath to chat at this pace and found myself matching my riding along with a relatively new sportive rider. Judging by the accent she was from middle England. With all of the lycra, helmet and sitting on a bike it's a little hard to give a good description but I would guess late twenties, five foot six to five foot eight with straight rich brown hair. One of the first things I noticed was the wow in her smile.
There is no hiding your body shape in lycra and as she was a little faster climbing hills I had the opportunity to sit behind her mesmerised by her ass cheeks gently swaying and caressing the saddle. Time stood still as I was lost in this wondrous sight.
You know when the chemistry is right. It's purely biological and nothing needs to be said. At feed stations we had time to get to know each other more and I finally saw her hazel eyes and the fullness of her toned, curved body at their best.
At feed stations there is always a bun fight for cake, energy bars, bananas and water. The main battle is for forty people to make use of one or two porta loos, No wonder most riders grab supplies and then take a natural break further down the road, We opted for this option rather than waiting twenty minutes.
I am sure you can appreciate that this is easy for a man but not so practical for a woman, Unless you have wrestled with lycra cycling bib shorts you have no idea how much of challenge it is.
We headed a few miles down the road after the last feed station of the ride and Mel directed us down a dirt road at the end of some woods. Some male riders were already making use of the cover near the entrance so we rode a little further down. Trying to be a gentleman I relieved myself on the opposite side of the track with my back to the clearing and then headed back to wait with the bikes.
I caught of glimpse of the the top of Mels helmet and then turned my back to wait.
