First off, apologies for the lack of bike porn on Friday (sorry perverts!); I'm laying blame squarely at the pedals of the other two (I totally did the last craptacular one).
But anyhoo, with Dr. Matt's bike at some sort of "assembly point" in preparation for his jaunt up Italian mountains next week, and Mr. Jon recovering from his "field test" (which still only sort of makes sense to me after receiving this description: "Field Test = warm up, go as hard as you can for eight minutes, ten minute cool down, go as hard as you can for eight minutes, cool down go home. Idea is to garner data for interval based training in a 12 week programme.), I set out to do some sort of hill-climbing after a week off the bike due to various commitments, leisure and otherwise). I decided to do a version of my old, "now too easy", hills route, which used to take me about 40-45 minutes, over Alexandra Palace and back via Highgate. The twist was this time I would finish by climbing my beloved Swain's Lane, even though it was Sunday and would be rammed with pilgrims to the grave of Karl Marx.
There is very little to report, other than that I felt pretty heartburny/pukey the whole way around (thanks, bean burritos!), but decided to be a man, or at least a slightly grown-up boy, about it and climb Swain's Lane anyway. There were indeed pedestrians all over the place, and a surprising number of cars, plus two cyclists going the wrong way down the one-way part (I call this the "easy way" of doing Swain's Lane-- "yeah, we rode Swain's Lane today..."), plus one guy ahead of me really cranking his pedals, and some woman who I passed on the bottom of the climb (before it really gets going).
But here's the interesting part: I lollygagged from the top of the climb--Bisham Gardens--to the Highgate Village high street. The woman from the bottom pulled up next to me at the intersection. It was Dr. Matt's and my old nemesis, Rapha Guy's Girlfriend ("Emily") from the Tour of Wessex! I felt like asking, "Where's your team wagon, cheater?" And then I felt like asking, "So, uh, did you finally ditch that douche after he condescended towards you in his blog?" And then I felt like asking, "So, uh, you, uh, wanna ride up Swain's Lane together sometime?" And then I turned right, down the hill towards home, and she turned left, towards Finchley, or more likely, Muswell Hill, a maroon car trailing suspiciously behind her.
Anyway, I did the whole ride in about 36 minutes. Yay for me. Tomorrow: Doug and Jon ride laps, while Matt finds himself wishing he'd trained a little bit more, and drunk fewer beers.