Dangerous

Today I went out on an easy 2 hour ride, followed by an easy 15 minute run. It was a very cool, yet beautiful, calm afternoon and I was enjoying the opportunity to just turn the legs over and enjoy the scenery.

I wasn't slacking by any stretch of the imagination - I was averaging about 29km/h and keeping a nice steady cadence - but I was aware that the weekend had been quite a big effort (Lake Hayes Tri and a couple of 10km runs) and I needed to give my legs an opportunity to recover. That was until I got back to Portobello on the way back to town.

As I headed past the pub, I spotted a cyclist coming down off the hill from the high road over the Otago Peninsula. I swear she fluttered her eyelashes under her dark glasses and a broad smile spread across her face. As a red-blooded male, I nodded in acknowledgement, smiled back, pumped out the chest and picked up the pace a little as I sped on by.

I thought to myself, 'I bet she is going to try and tack on behind me to get a lift back to town', so I took my drink bottle out of its cage and slowed (just a little) to see if she would catch up. Sure enough within 500 metres or so she was right on my tail.

I picked up the pace to about 37 km/h just to show that I was no slouch. She easily kept pace and a couple of kilometres down the road, blonde pony tail flowing behind her, she went past me as if I was standing still.

GAME ON!

Having initially been attracted to cycling together by the usual "guy-thing" (a young, attractive, athletic blonde - apologies to my female readers, I am not a chauvinist, just too honest for my own good), I was now also in a duel to protect my ego. No way could I just drop off and let her ride off into the distance. I'd started this push and I had to finish it.

For the next ten kilometres into the wind we sped along at 37-41 km/h and, if the pace dropped anywhere near 35km/h, the person at the rear sprinted to the front and lifted the pace again. It was a great effort by both of us, but I knew I was going too hard for the easy session that I was supposed to be having.

Thank goodness she stopped when she did, because I would have had no legs left to do my run if we'd carried on the rest of the 5 kilometres to the end of the Peninsula. She sat up and said "This is me. Thanks, mate." I replied with my own "Thanks, mate" and carried on until I was out of sight around the next corner and then dropped the pace back to 25km/h.

It took me a full 10 minutes to get my run legs when I got off the bike and the whole run was a real struggle, so I knew that I had definitely pushed too hard.

I know... I'm a sad bastard, but every guy I know would have done exactly the same thing. It's just that I am the only one stupid enough to write about it and publish it for the world to read.

I think there is a lesson in this for all of us sad middle-aged men. Never let an attractive woman, half your age, lead you astray!