From an F to a G and a Cup

It's now Twixtmas as Aunt Marge likes to call it. Typically a time to reflect and perhaps start to train again. With this in mind I managed a very hilly 3.5 hour ride on a bitterly cold day. A very enjoyable ride and a great feeling after to know that I can manage this duration of ride without any problems.

Twixtmas was also the time to run hard for the first time in ages at the Chevin Chase and then try and repeat a good run again 2 days later at the Jolly Holly Jog. This time chasing Mr C (Singapore 70.3 TeamAVIVA team mate) who was dressed as a Reindeer. Chasing Rudolph, legs said "no thanks". A good run by Mr C all the same.

Twixtmas is also birthday time. This year it means I move from age group "F" (30-34) to "G" (35-40). "You're not 35 yet" I hear you cry. It's all to do with birthdates. It appears the 30th of December just doesn't cut the mustard.

And now for the cup. Mrs H was doing some t'interweb digging and discovered that I won the Duathlon National League. Not to be confused with the Mazda National League (More of a Grand Prix Series), the National League is akin to British Sports Car manufacturing. Instead of someone tinkering in their shed to produce a Noble, Caterham etc. A Triathlon Stato tinkers with his PC and looks at lots of events. There's a shiny trophy in the post.

Merry Christmas

On Sunday "Bad Santa" climbed aboard his training bike and headed through the rain into the hills with a Reindeer and what appeared to be a lepricon. The Grantley Arms provided shelter, food and 3 pints of Festive Folly. When we were finally wetter on the inside than the outside we pedalled home.

I'd like to wish the reader a merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Good days and........ Good days

Saturday: A day of heavy rain and heavy marble. Time to fit the new fireplace and wait for the rain to do it's thing.

Sunday: A cold day out on the bike to one of the best pubs in the dales for a few Daleside Morocco Ales and a Kwak with tri club chums. Good food, company and then a nice ride home. Well I was in no fit state to drive.

Then on to the start of Christmas at Chez Hamilton. Wrapping pressies whilst watching Sports Person(ality) of the year. Person(ality) cos Nigel Mansell won it one year. No personality there.

Man on the moon, splitting of the atom, Coronation Street on five times a week.
I said "it would never happen", "Not in my lifetime". I thought, I'd never see the day. Easy to say now but at the time I really meant it.

It happened once before but that was back in the halcyon days. Everyone rode a bike, everyone knew Tom. Today everyone drives a car and nobody seems to have a clue. Or so I thought.
Sport Personality of the year won by Chris Hoy. That's right, the british public voted for a cyclist. The cyclist won.

No too long ago I read Mr Tom by Chris Sidwells. Simply the story of Tom Simpson. Yes Mr Tom did die on the slopes of le Mont Ventoux, yes he had taken amphetamines but was widely acknowledged that he was "the type" to have ridden himself to oblivion without the Mickey Finns. Anyway, I'm sat here typing and not judging.

Mr Tom became world road race champion, won Classics such as Milan San-Remo and my favourite, The Tour of Flanders. More surprisingly, he won Sports Personality of the Year. I recall being amazed when I read that he had won. That there was a time the British public could make something like that happen. That was then, it could never happen now. Could it?