How did I end up here?


I’m on the second lap of the bike at my local Duathlon. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t be here. And now…


Just one ominous metallic plonky sound that sounds very much like a bit of Lexa falling off and skittering into the undergrowth.

I’d been grateful for the downhill, and starting to feel a bit confident: lap two, yes, keep the legs turning, build up the speed to get you up the other side and avoid foot cramp. Wheeee! Down we go, this is fun, look, the sun’s out and the second run is just 5k. You can run 5k.


Sheepishly, I look down at the frame of my bike towards my feet. Nope, still looks like a working bike, no bits hanging off. My entire technical knowledge of bikes utilised there, the newly bought bike maintenance book still sitting unopened by my bed.


I nearly swerve off the road as a giant moth appears between my hands. Oh.

It’s a bite-sized bit of ham sandwich making a bid for freedom from the bag that’s velcroed to my bike between my legs.

Straight and not too pedally bit of slight up, okay, eyes down, let’s assess the situation.

The sandwich is still on the bike. Best eat that, get it out of danger.

Worryingly, there is less malt loaf than there should be at this stage. Lap two means I’m still on the ham sandwiches…

Nothing to see here, bike is definitely intact.

Malt loaf makes an incredibly metallic sound when it rebounds off your bike frame and onto the road.

Lesson learned; leave the food bag zipped part way up until you’re ready for lap three: malt loaf country.


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