The Final Countdown.....

"Babe....what am I going to do when this is all over?"

Only one more day to go... but I think the Frenchman is more concerned about life after the race than the race itself.

Evidently, the months of serious training and living like a hermit are beginning to take their toll (he is getting grumpy that his fast food intake has been seriously depleted; I'm getting frustrated that our fun intake has been serious depleted).  However, despite this, I can see him alternating between excitement and fear of it all being over.

He has 'said' he will take a little break after tomorrow's exertions.  But what was originally going to be a month or so of no cycling, has steadily decreased to a couple of weeks, then a week and then just talk about new races.

You can take the man off the bike.  But you will never take the bike off the man.

They will just never let go.

I would almost go as far as to compare cycling to a drug addiction (granted, the health dangers are rather different, but people DO die from cycling :-P):

- it is the reason he gets up in the morning, the thought that gets him through work and his solice when his day has been rubbish.

- his life (and therefore my life) is organised completely around his next hit; whether it's the next training session, the next race or just a few hours 'for fun'.

- every spare penny (and even the not so spare ones) goes towards it.  Far gone are the days when there was a new shirt in his wardrobe most weeks and he owned more clothes than me (at least I no longer worry too much that he is gay). Instead, our flats are fast being overtaken by bike-related paraphernalia, faster than I can tidy it away, or at least buy new shoes to balance it out a bit.

If you ever wondered why cyclists eat so much pasta, its nothing to do with the carb hit and the ease of preparation - its because it's cheap as chips and they can then save the 3000 euros for the new wheels that are only a few hundred grams lighter than the last pair.

- it often causes friction between loved ones: he can't understand why I'd rather have a lie-in than cycling; I can't understand why he'd rather go cycling than have a romantic meal with me.  Life is about compromise, but when dating a cylist you just earn to give in, there's no reasoning with a man obsessed with a bike.  They just aren't normal.

- he will never have fully satisfied his desire for it - there will always be a bigger and better challenge to search out: a steeper mountain to climb; a longer race or a faster time to beat.

- going cold-turkey would leave him completely and utterly lost, bewildered and probably send him round the bend....  at least for a while, until he found a new challenge.

I have no doubt that he will get on the pedestrian wagon for a week, maybe two at a push (he's missing junk food too much not to.), but I know him well and I know he'll fall off again in a couple of weeks:  he's already started discussing the upcoming time-trial championships ("But babe, you don't even really like time trial?" ...... "Yeah, I know, but it's still cycling").

But this is all in the future.

First, we have the next 18 hours to get through.

Tonight, the pasta has been eaten, the bags and bikes are prepared and the alarms have been set for 4:45am.  Tomorrow there's 210kms, 5 mountain passes and 7/8 hours on a bike.

He can't train anymore and I can't do anything more then kiss him goodluck, put on his yellow jersey with his name printed on the back (in the hope that he sees me), scream myself stupid (in the hope that I see him), try to take a photo as he zooms past me for a single 5 seconds in 8 hours and pray for no injuries in the horrible rain that is forecast.

And. then. it. will. be. over.

maybe.....

I'm not holding my breath for a huge change afterwards, apart from hoping for a bit of a break and slight change in regime, but I am looking forward to the evening where we get rip-roaringly drunk, with the bottle of vintage bubbles I've been saving for months, and absolutely no pasta on the menu.
(Given his alcohol intake in the last few months and this lack of carbs, we will no doubt be on the floor after 1 bottle and probably in bed by 9pm...)

And the Frenchman?

All he wants is a McDonalds.

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P.s - The Frenchman is competing in a stage of the Tour de France TOMORROW and raising money for leukaemia research, a cause very dear to his heart - so if you read this, please, please, please take a little bit of time to sponsor him at http://laurettefugain.alvarum.net/teamrondy2011. Every little helps.

It's the French equivalent of 'Just Giving' and is very easy to donate, even from the UK!

He has trained his little French ass off for months, please give him that extra boost to get through tomorrow by giving anything you can!

à demain!

Route to Nationals

“Straight ahead.”

On the roundabout.

“Oh go right actually.”

…..

“Straight on”

On the junction.

“No left! Go left!”

“OH MY GOD! HOW HARD IS IT TO READ A MAP?? DO YOU WANT TO GET OUT AND WALK?!”

……

We were on our way to the French cycling championships.  But put one rather tired and hungover English girl in the driver’s seat, add one rather nervous French man navigating, and you are not going to have the most chilled out road trip.

This was in stark contrast to the night before when I’d tiptoed into bed feeling very well-prepared and pleased with myself, having even remembered to cook his lunch and pack the ‘feed bag’ after stumbling into the flat at 3am.  After mentally ticking off 10litres of water, a rice and pasta salad, 2 baguettes (those were for me), 5 cereal bars, 4 compotes, 3 energy bars, biscuits and a banana I immediately passed out feeling rather smug, well-trained and, obviously, not the remotest bit ill.

However, after 2 hours of convincing him he was not going to come last, whilst also trying to deal with a left-hand drive Fiesta, his late decision making at junctions, terrible French radio and my gag-reflex, it’s safe to say I might have been slightly tetchy.

Fast forward a bit further and I had to deal with guilt as well as a hangover.  Despite him telling me he felt ill, I’d been nagging him to eat something properly (i.e my lovingly prepared rice salad), until he nearly threw the feed bag at me. 

He looked positively triumphant when it dawned on us that I’d forgotten any form of cutlery.

Merde.

Luckily, he really did feel too sick to eat a bloody thing.

We are yet to decide whether this was a result of nerves or the impressive ‘race-prep’ diet he’s been on for the last week - taking 'carb-loading' to a whole new level.

One single dinner included, among other things, 450g of rice (to give this some scale – a recommended portion for a ‘normal’ person is 60g).  Even after this quantity of carbohydrates for lunch and dinner, 5 days in a row, somehow he’s still managed to lose weight. 

I though, am sporting a fetching little carb-tyre. 

But despite the early start, the hungover and unprepared girlfriend, the numerous wrong turns and arguments on the way there, the lack of cutlery, the nerves, the mental (and physical!) challenge of competing against the best in France and quite possibly the biggest hill I have ever seen (4 kms of 10% incline climbing)...something paid off.

He says it’s last week’s win that mentally prepared him to do well this week ("Nerves? I wasn't nervous!")

I, more realistically, think it’s the months of training and the well-fuelled and well-rested body (he's gone to bed at 10.30pm every night- unlike his unhelpful girlfriend) coupled with the good luck kisses and a familiar voice screaming encouragement every lap, that really gave him the edge ;-)

Whatever it was, it worked.  The Frenchman is now officially the 27^th fastest man on a bike in the whole of France.

I was so proud I cried.

And it wasn't even the hangover.

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P.s - The Frenchman is competing in a stage of the Tour de France on 17 July and raising money for leukaemia research, a cause very dear to his heart - so if you read this, please, please, please take a little bit of time to sponsor him at http://laurettefugain.alvarum.net/teamrondy2011. Every little helps.

It's the French equivalent of 'Just Giving' and is very easy to donate, even from the UK!

There's only 5 more days to go!!!

The Sunday Cycle

A typical Sunday afternoon in our Franglais household goes a little like this:

Stage one: The gritted-teeth smile when he finally calls.

"Hi babe...where are you?" 

"Umm…… did you get my message?"

Stage two: The sigh. The weary tone then begins - in anticipation of the usual excuses that I receive at this point - i.e. about 15 minutes before we need to leave to make our reservation.

"No. What message babe?"

“Ummm... Have you checked your blackberry? I explained….”

Stage three: I begin mentally composing the 'I'm so sorry, we're running late' message to our friends.

There's a picture message waiting. A man is standing in first place on a podium. Grinning like a Cheshire cat. Wearing a bright orange jersey.
 
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!! YOU WON!!”

“Ha ha, yup!! AND I've got a huge bunch of flowers, just for you babe!!!”

I spent the next couple of minutes running round screaming my congratulations and bursting with pride. 

Then I noticed the clock.

Stage Four: The penny drops.

“This means you're going to be really late doesn't it??”

Stage Five: The squirming begins on the other end of the phone.

“Weeeeell.... The thing is they took aaaages to sort out the podium, and there's loooooads of traffic ........... but did I tell you they gave me flowers?”

“How late?”

“Half an hour. Honest. I promise.”

Stage Six: My voice goes up another octave whilst I resist the urge to yell.

“You know we’re supposed to be at the restaurant in half an hour, right?!?!"

“Yes, yes, I know, I know.  Don't worry, I'll be quick."

An hour later.....

Stage Seven: He runs in the door and takes the fastest shower in history whilst I'm screaming blue murder at him.

  

This is a typical Sunday.  I've checked what time he's due back from cycling.  We've made plans.  He is always late.  It always ends in an argument.

Although to be fair to him, the arguments don't usually involve him winning something ;-)

In an attempt to break the cycle, I tried to identify the contributing factors:

On my side:

1. I’m English and I like punctuality. 

OK, so , “I couldn’t find anything to wear” emergencies can be excused.

2. I’m one of the least patient people you’ll ever meet.

3. I like Brunch. On Sundays. 

He already seems to be at a considerable disadvantage.

But on his side:

1. He's a man.

2. He’s a man who hates wearing a watch. Unless it tells him how fast he’s going on his bike.

3. He's French. They have a psychological aversion to time-keeping.

4. He’s a cyclist.  Which means he spends a lot of time with other cyclists.  And if you put a group of cyclists together, they immediately forget there is a world outside of discussing last week's race/the great hill they found yesterday/how much their wheels cost/which shape pasta they like best/how much they hate Alberto Contador... etc. 

Who wouldn't miss the best brunch in Paris to discuss which brand of chamois cream causes less chaffing?

So, on second thoughts, this might be a pretty evenly matched fight.

As I’m a girl, I obviously started by trying to change his tardiness first, rather than deal with my own impatience (for those who might wonder why, I repeat: I’m a GIRL).

I tried reminding him to wear a watch, lying that reservations were earlier than I actually made them, adding at least an extra hour of 'buffer time' to his scheduled arrival before arranging a meeting time with friends and threatening to leave him behind the next time he’s late. (I realised early on that this last method would only back-fire on me.)

Evidently, I am not winning my battle. 

However, instead of doing the sensible thing and admitting defeat (again, I repeat: I'M A GIRL), I’m calling a temporary 'truce' until the Tour de France stage is over - beginning with the national championships this Sunday:

I'm not making any reservations with friends.

I'm taking a map as well as the satnav.

I won't make him wear a watch.

.... but I'm driving.

If anyone gets stressed at being late, it won't be me ;-)
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P.s - The Frenchman is competing in a stage of the Tour de France on 17 July and raising money for leukaemia research, a cause very dear to his heart - so if you read this, please, please, please take a little bit of time to sponsor him at http://laurettefugain.alvarum.net/teamrondy2011. Every little helps.

It's the French equivalent of 'Just Giving' and is very easy to donate, even from the UK!

There's only 9 more days to go!!!