Gawping the peleton

In 2019, I [was] volunteered to marshal a local cycle rally.  I stood a road-junction a mile from home and separated the hard-chaws [110km and 140km] from the realistic recreational cyclists [50km and 80km]. I made my own sign, so that the choice was clear if I fainted dead away at the shock of seeing so many knotted calves and far too much lycra.  It started as a community solidarity initiative to raise a bit of money in memory of two young brothers who died in tragic circumstances in 2013.  The next 3 years' events were scrubbed because of CoViD and I was unavoidably elsewhere when thinks cranked up again in 2023.  But in 2024 and again in 2025, I was Colonel of the Cross where the L3001 leaves the R702 'main' road; and the shorter races turn for home.

It was ideal cycling weather: grass frost at dawn then cloudy with sunny intervals. Cycling is miserable if either a) it rains a lot b) the sun raises the temperature so that you feel the sweat - and therefore need hydration and therefore need pee-stops. What is ideal cool and breezy for aerobic exercise can be uncomfortably chilly if you're just standing around. But I didn't need my jacket or my water-bottle in the event. I was happy out, with a couple of podcasts on my device to while away the intervals between bikes. 

I've always tried to be the infra-structure guy: making it possible for others to do wonderful things. I left the house to walk to my station at 09:55 and got home at 13:10: just in time to make me a cheese-toastie for lunch before I got all hangry and out of sorts.

Oh, and I heard the first cuckoo Cuculus canorus in the valley this year.  That was a pretty good day.