In the tube. Out one lift, head for the next – flat to down hill stretches, perfect for the speed. You know when you can hit that perfect stretch – the turn of effortless speed combined with a smooth corner, accelerate a little and ride out.
Its a perfect race track, given the right conditions.
So you get on the road and there is a tractor up front. Another tractor in front of that one. A truck is overtaking them and in front of him is a little Korean made Kia towing an Abbey weigh-a-ton caravan. On coming is a queue of Fiestas and Corsas – everything you don’t want to see.
You get those moments on the tube too. Where you can’t get past anyone – it is going to hurt, the fact that you know you are a million metres per second below the optimum speed you could be doing but instead you are forced to sit. Slow. Stop.
It almost hurts. You are literally trapped and the only thing to know is you will have to go through this.
I have now got a date of the needle EMG. The biopsy. 3 days in help inside a London Hospital which is going to crawl. And hurt. It is going to be hard. It will be like following the tractor towing that caravan. I’m not keen on needles or pain at the best of times and this is my worst nightmare.
The hardest bit is that I know that I’m heading towards that queue. I know its there. It will now play on my mind constantly.
I’m going to have to think of a really nice stretch of terrain to get me through it.