Brizzle

Hot, hot, hot. Dust on and in everything (water bottles, gloves and shoes, chain, eyes, mouth nose and ears). Too much fast/stop/fast/stop/fast/stop/fast ripping the legs apart. We won, not only female pairs but also soundly beating all the other women's teams; but I rode badly. This makes it less of a victory, and more of a worry; didn't eat right, bonked every third lap, pulled a muscle, couldn't fix a puncture in a rush without recourse to swearing and fury. Crumbled under the pressure of coming back every lap to a team mate who didn't seem to be suffering at all in the heat and the hurry of hard racing. Kindly words from friends helped tidy up the mess, sometimes it's just a case of picking up the pieces and attempting some approximation at normality until the world rights itself around you. Late night, early morning, a different atmosphere, still sleepwalking. A fifth and final shot at the title, quietly emotional at the end to know that it marks a begining as well as an end, that next year I will be somewhere far away from these friends and relations who make me a home of sorts. I will miss it.

Jenn