Fine tuning

It has arrived. Well, part of it anyway. The frame; without wheels, pedals, gears, handlebars, etc. Just a frame. But it's a start. And a good start. When you ping it, it resonates like a tuning fork. I'm taking that to be a good sign.

Now I've just got to get every other bit for the bike, but actually have no clue about headsets and BB30s. This Ironman doesn't half take up some time you know.

In other news, this weeks timed 5k event saw me home in a time of 22mins exactly, which is quite good considering I'm carrying the equivalent of around 165 mars bars in excess bulk around my midrift and haven't trained. At least my base fitness appears to be lurking in the background somewhere.

A long distance challenge approaches - The Devil 'o the Highlands ... and it's another race between The Editor and I. He beat me in the Highland Cross and won't let me forget it, despite the fact that he's doing Ironman Zurich in a month, so should be fit as a butcher's dog, while I've been sitting on my backside for most of this year.

No excuses - it's results that count.

The wind in Spain blows mostly in your face

Registration was in French for some peculiar website reason; and just in time as all the places were booked out within a matter of a few more days.

As The Editor annunciates, "We're going to Lan-za-wrote!"

Gotta get me a new wetsuit, gotta get me a new bike, gotta get me some new shoes. The itch has resurfaced and I'm gonna scratch it hard.