Lance Laughs Last?

Does he have a card or two up his sleeve? 

It happened a couple of days ago.  Unless you have been living under a rock, you will know that Lance Armstrong has refused to participate in the USADA's arbitration process.  They subsequently stripped him of his seven Tour de France victories and other results and subjected him to a lifetime competition ban.

There have been numerous commentaries stating that this step back away from the arbitration process was Armstrong's best and only recourse to maintain what is left of his reputation.  He did not want the charges and the evidence against him to be brought into the public domain and scrutinised.  This way he can still parrot his favourite 'Never tested positive' line 'til he's blue in the face, while watching the LiveStrong dollars stack up as his loyal fans reach into their wallets to express their support for him via his foundation.

The arbitration process he declined to participate in involved the USADA progressing their case to (crucially) their arbitrator and presenting the evidence to Armstrong in a face-to-face (crucially) public setting.  The reaction to Armstrong's refusal to fight the charges has been seen as his desire to avoid the public airing of the gamut of evidence against him.

But what if that's not how it is at all?  What if, instead of trying to dodge the evidence, Armstrong is actually engineering a situation he feels more in control of where it all comes out - every last drop, in the manner and to the audience of his choosing.  Rather than dodging the fight altogether, he's merely attempting to change the weapons and the battlefield.  In the world's most defiant example of passive-aggressive taking one's ball in (oh yes I did), Armstrong is creating a situation where he sets the UCI and the USADA to slug it out before the CAS, while he gets to put his feet up and watch what unfolds.

Warning: What follows is pure conjecture- conceived, like so many things, in the passenger seat of a Landrover Discovery on a drive to North Wales.  As such, there are most likely mistakes.  Probably huge ones.  Apologies, as always, in advance.  Most of all, I apologise if I am not expressing myself clearly and articulately. 

So, the USADA has effectively sought to strike Armstrong from the record, nullifying his results from August 1998 and imposing a lifetime ban upon him.  Theoretically, what has he left to lose?  He's not going to confess.  He's not going to play ball.  My suggestion is that rather than sweeping as much of this under the carpet as possible and sloping off quietly, he is about to come up swinging.  And by that, I of course mean getting other people to do his dirty work for him while he has no further part in this.  Stick with me while I try to explain...

Armstrong's statement spoke of his belief that entering into the USADA arbitration process would deny him the option to 'Confront these [USADA] allegations in a fair setting'.  Now, the sanctions imposed by the USADA have to be ratified or not by the UCI.  If the UCI choose not to ratify the USADA's sanctions, the case will almost certainly go before the Court of Arbitration for Sport - and it is my suggestion that this could be exactly what he wants.  Again with the sticking with me thing...

So why would the UCI choose not to ratify the decision of the USADA and the sanctions it has chosen to impose?  Well, I think the question here is -  Why would they ratify the decision?   To play Devil's advocate for just a moment, the USADA is seemingly deciding whom it will pursue and who it will not, who will face sanction and who will not, and under what circumstances they are prepared to change their own rules.  So who polices the policemen?  Please let me be clear - I am not passing judgement upon the USADA, their process or their findings; merely stating that the role of judge, jury and executioner is not a happy one.  If the UCI choose to accept the sanctions of the USADA they are handing over virtually all their power to an unregulated body, albeit one which has the support of the WADA.  I propose that they have no desire to do this; however, not ratifying the sanctions of the USADA is by default positioning for Armstrong - thus the UCI (with their eye on their own reputations) is forced into doing his dirty work for him, while at the very least he gets to sit back and enjoy the show.  And let's not forget, the UCI are in this up to their necks -  heavily implicated in covering up positive tests for Armstrong and facing accusations of corruption in relation to cash donations made by him.  Additionally, the UCI facilitated Armstrong's comeback from retirement version 1, despite him not having completed the mandatory testing period for the Biological Passport.

Judge Sparks, when confirming the USADA's jurisdiction to manage the anti-doping case with relation to Armstrong, said: "There are troubling aspects of this case, not least of which is USADA's apparent single-minded determination to force Armstrong to arbitrate the charges against him, in direct conflict with the UCI's equally evident desire not to proceed against him.'', demonstrating that the UCI, for whatever reason has no desire to pursue Armstrong (and therefore no desire to ratify the USADA sanctions?).

So then, let's make the assumption that Armstrong by deciding not to proceed with the USADA arbitration process is actively trying to engineer a situation where the CAS gets involved.  What's in this for him?  My understanding is that the CAS is a completely separate body from any already mentioned, and it is here I believe Armstrong plays his masterstroke - the introduction of this separate body overseeing the arbitration process engineers a subtle but utterly crucial shift on the part of the USADA from attack (of Armstrong) to defence (of it's processes, findings, methods and decisions).  The CAS will more than likely subject both the USADA and the UCI to some fairly harsh and uncomfortable scrutiny - would anyone emerge unscathed from this process?  

Another question that I can't find a straight up answer to is this: What (if anything) changes if the CAS are brought in to the equation?  The evidence against Armstrong is held in witness statements - although his stored 'B' samples may be re-tested, they don't have 'B' samples of their own (C samples if you like), and are thus inadmissible.  He is never going to 'test positive' in such a way as to be inarguable proof of doping.  So then, what, if any, implication does the introduction of the CAS have potentially upon the witnesses?    Could it change the game to the extent that some even choose to pull their statements when faced with the CAS rather than the USADA arbitration panel?  Would the supposed 'deals' reached between witnesses and the USADA in return for their testimonies be upheld by the CAS?  Can they be upheld by the CAS?  Or, once presented to the CAS could the UCI even be intent on progressing against the witnesses themselves in order that the decisions of the USADA are overturned with relation to their past doping admissions and full sanctions are imposed?  This is pure conjecture, which surmises that the UCI or the CAS would want to pursue the witnesses - it may of course not for any of a number of reasons.  But I can't find anyone else asking these questions or providing any information either way.

The point I am trying so clumsily to make is to ask whether shifting the arbitration process from the USADA to the 'neutral ground' of the CAS may have significant implications, not only for the bodies involved, but also for the witnesses themselves.  And whether, by refusing to participate in the USADA arbitration process, Armstrong has in fact not stepped back from a fight, but instead engineered this situation; a very different sort of fight.

Someone far brighter and better informed than me might have a completely different take on the scenario outlined here, or be able to explain how this might work or otherwise.  I am struggling to find answers to any of the questions I have posed.  There may be zero implication on anyone should the CAS become involved in the process, or indeed quite the reverse to what I am suggesting, the USADA may relish the notion.

But - big if - if I am right, and introducing the CAS into the equation changes the game even slightly, then while things as they stand are unlikely to get any worse for Armstrong, they could be about to get a hell of a lot worse for everyone else.  And if this is the case, then this isn't over.  It's only just begun.

For interest, the CAS procedures can be found at  http://www.tas-cas.org/d2wfiles/document/4962/5048/0/Code20201220_en_2001.01.pdf .  Note - CAS hearings are not undertaken in public, except for the agreement of both parties.

Footnote.
In the light of how emotive an issue the Lance Armstrong doping case is, and how strong people's feelings are on both sides, I would like you to understand that this blog 'article' (for want of a better word)  came from a train of thought and a subsequent discussion myself and the cyclist had in the car one afternoon, about how there could be more than meets the eye to Armstrong's apparent position U-turn.  I am trying to ask questions about where this goes next and whether there are implications attached to that.

Vuelta, baby!

Let's see what the cyclist makes of this one....

It's come around really quickly, thanks I think to the fabulousness of the Olympics bridging the gap between the Tour de France and the start of the Vuelta.  Sorry this is a bit late - but 1 week in, what does the cyclist make of the Vuelta?

Is this a straight up Froome V Contador?
Yeah, I think it probably is.  There are a couple of others who fancy their chances, like Rodriguez, but realistically it'll come down to Froome and Contador at the end of the three weeks.

Where's Contador at? Physically and mentally?
Mentally, it's anyone's guess really.  He's made it very clear he wants this win, but only time will tell the psychological toll the ban has taken on him.

Physically, it looks like he's lost none of his top end speed and his ability to attack aggressively on the climbs.  However, for whatever reason, he doesn't seem to be showing the prolonged power he had prior to his ban.  A lot has been made of the multiple attacks he made on stage 3, suggesting this shows he could make an attack stick at any point.   To my mind, this is bullshit.  These are professional riders racing a Grand Tour, not competitive mates showing off on a club run.  When you are riding a three week Grand Tour for the win, you do not waste energy on multiple attacks to prove a point.  If he could've made an attack stick he would have there and then.

And Froome - is he too tired? Can he cope with the psychological effects of being a team leader?
Let's be straight - Froome has a more difficult task ahead of him to win this Vuelta than Wiggins had to win the Tour.  The Vuelta is inherently a much more unpredictable race.  Firstly, the Vuelta team Sky is fielding is not quite as strong as the team they sent to the Tour.  Secondly, the parcours is absolutely nails.  Thirdly, the main contenders for the Vuelta, in contrast to the Tour, are incredibly aggressive attacking racers.  They will not be content to sit back.  Wiggins largely benefitted from a massive psychological advantage going in to the Tour - no-one believed they could beat him.  This was due to a combination of his supreme dominance going in to the race and the fact that the route suited him down to the ground with strong emphasis on Time Trials.

There is one potential undoing for Froome - he has to maintain consistency at all times.  If he, at any point, drops to the back of the group like he did once or twice at the Tour, he will be attacked and how. Provoking an attack could cost him any time he'd be looking to make up in the time trial, especially taking in to account time bonuses.  Now, Froome has proven he has the ability to out time-trial any and all of the other main contenders for the GC.  But the time trial here is relatively short, and he'll probably only take 30 seconds from his main rivals.

But on the question of whether he's tired, I think the answer would be no.  He looks to be raring to go.  Last year's Vuelta he was not team leader, and he was second.  Tour de France he was not team leader and he was second.  He's finally got his team leader position and he's got a lot to prove.  He needs this win for himself.  So far it looks like he's calm and in control and has the measure of his opponents.

Will the race unveil any surprises?
Quite possibly!  The Vuelta is the Grand Tour of the three most likely to conceal a surprise performance or two!

What about the time bonuses?
Time bonuses should never be discounted in the minds of the contenders, but I can see this Vuelta being less close than last year's was.  The time bonuses have been reduced from last year - I think the result will be a true reflection of the race.

As an aside, the cyclist makes an advanced prediction for next year's Giro - Richie Porte.  You're welcome!

The Final Mission - Scenes 1-4

THE FINAL MISSION: THE WYLER ROAD RACE

FADE IN:

1)        EXT. CAR PARK – EARLY MORNING

Camera pans across the busy car park of the Flying Fortress Inn, opposite a Village Hall on the B-17 early on a Sunday morning in late September.  Activity all around as guys from their late teens into their mid-thirties are preparing for the race, some alone, others chatting in small groups.   OVER we hear the voice of Bobby.

BOBBY (V.O)

Welcome to the last race of the season, the Wyler Road Race.  24 missions down, one to go.  These are the hard men, the season survivors.  They just got to make it through today in one piece.

Camera settles on Mike neatly pinning his numbers onto his jersey.

BOBBY (V.O.)

Meet Meticulous Mike, with an eye for detail.  He’ll have checked out the course on Google maps beforehand, no mistake.  See him folding his numbers down that little bit smaller, replacing the rusty club-issue pins with his own clean stash so as not to snag his skinsuit.  Marginal gains all the way.

Pan right to Pete, wincing slightly and adjusting his shorts as he walks uncomfortably to the sign-on.

BOBBY (V.O.)

Ah, the superstitious one.  There’s always a superstitious one.  Seems to be working for him, got his first cat licence the day he applied his chamois cream after his embrocation and has done it in that order ever since – left leg, right leg, deep breath, undercarriage - swears it makes him go faster.  Truth be told, not bad for an amateur.  Rumour has it a couple teams got their eye on him.

A burst of loud laughter.  Camera pans right again to Jack, Johnny and Bill in matching trade team kits, leaning on a car.  Johnny, the ringleader, is holding court.

BOBBY (V.O.)

Check out the young gun hotshots, big fishes in this small pond.  Overconfident and ambitious – guts ‘n glory ‘n girls.  They’ll soon have that beat out of them, either by each other or by the road.  Teammates - and sure, they’re all smiles now but give ‘em each a sniff of a win and it’s soon every man for himself.  Especially true today.  They've all got an eye on next season, all looking for that last chance to impress.

Camera shifts a little to the left.  We see Lenny watching Jack, Johnny and Bill with a mixture of awe and anxiety.

BOBBY (V.O.)

First year out of the juniors, young and awkward, desperate to be part of the cool set - thwarted somewhat by his need to visit the bathroom at least 6 times before the start of every race.  Good kid, though.  Got heart.

JOHNNY

Hey Lenny!  Get over here!  One to go, Lenny, just one to go!

LENNY

What are you gonna do when it’s all over, Johnny?

JOHNNY

(Puts his arm round Lenny) Wine, women and song!  Not necessarily in that order.

LENNY

What about you Jack?

JACK

Holiday.  Two weeks in the sun.  Top this up! (Flicks back hem of shorts to reveal a crisp tan line)

BILL

Yeah, well I heard you’ve been going on the sunbed in your kit to get those lines.

JACK

Shut up.

BILL

We got to make it through today first boys.

LENNY

(Looks uncomfortable) ‘Scuse me Johnny…. er…. I gotta….

Lenny ducks out from under Johnny’s arm.  The camera follows him as he walks through the car park and towards the busy HQ.  Through the doors, Lenny darts left into the WC, camera goes straight ahead into a small office.

2)        INT. RACE HQ

Two senior Commissaires sit looking at the course map.  They look serious.

COMMISSAIRE 1

Remember Oakenclough in ’07?  65 riders left from the neutral zone that day.  Picked off like flies, they was.  Unprepared.  Only 14 eventually made it over that line, and of those, 2 never raced again.  Never seen a headwind like it, hope I never will again.

COMMISSAIRE 2

You think we’re heading to a bloodbath, Fred?

COMMISSAIRE 1

(Folds the map and stares into the middle distance) I don’t know Stan, I just don’t know.

3)        EXT. CAR PARK – END OF RIDER BREIFING

COMMISSAIRE 1

… OK, now don’t throw your empty gel wrappers on the road, you’re not in the Tour de France.  If the broom wagon goes past you, you’re on your own out there.  And, and this is serious, if we see you resting your arms on the centre of your bars we’ll pull the whole race.  No question.  Good luck out there!  Oh, and one last thing before we start.  We know there's going to be bandits on the course.  At some point, there’s 10,000 sportive riders going to be coming at you in the opposite direction.  Now, we don’t know where, so just be aware and keep your eyes peeled for riders with their numbers on the front, not the back.

JOHNNY

Do we get extra license points for taking any of them out?

(LAUGHING)

COMMISSAIRE 2

(Smiles) No lad, just the warm glow of a job well done.

The riders start to roll slowly out of the car park and to the neutral zone in the washed out late September light.  Lost in their own thoughts, the scene is unnaturally quiet, but for the clicking of gears and the quiet whirr of a Di2 motor.  There is a growing sense of foreboding.  Jack grabs Johnny’s arm.

JACK

Tell me the truth, Johnny.  The truth.  You scared, Johnny?

JOHNNY

(Grins) Scared! We’re too stupid to be scared!

Jack grins in relief, claps Johnny on the arm and rides off.  Camera stays on Johnny’s face as his smile drops and he looks to the ground.

FADES.

4)        EXT.  ROAD - NEUTRAL ZONE

The riders are rolling slowly in a bunch along a country lane.  Johnny sees Bill near the rear of the group and drops back to talk to his teammate.

JOHNNY

We’re nearly there!  Just this last race, then it’s the off-season Billy boy!  Just think, when you’re back home kissing your girl and drinking a beer, with a big fat pizza in front of you – how sweet to know you earned it, you deserve it!  We’ll be like heroes Bill!

BILL

(Looks uncomfortable) Sometimes I wish the season would never end.  Hell, Johnny, I don’t know if I got what it takes to make it back in the real world.  Here I feel I belong, or somethin’.  (Rubs back of neck) You should know - I signed up for the Track League. 

JOHNNY

(Aghast) Track?  Bill, that’s suicide! Those guys don’t have gears or brakes or nothin’!  I've heard there's a German rides track, quads so big he could snap a man clean in two!

BILL

It’s just somthin’ I gotta do Johnny.  I don’t expect you to understand. (Gets out of saddle and rides away, looking back over his shoulder)  I guess I’ll see you on the finish line.

Bill rides away, Johnny staring open-mouthed after him.

FADES.

Sports Year of the Personality.

How the Olympics has been about more than just sport.

Well, I couldn't have been more wrong if I'd tried.  Prior to the start, I thought the Olympics were an astounding waste of time and money, a huge white elephant no-one really wanted or could afford; our hopes would be built up and dashed as athlete after athlete didn't quite make it on the Olympic stage.  I'll admit it now, I totally didn't 'get' the opening ceremony - switched off after about 20mins and went to bed.  But I was as wrong as Wendy McWrong  going the wrong way up a one way street on the wrong side of the tracks wearing a sign saying 'I am wrong'.  After a bit of a slow start, the Olympics have been brilliant.  The athletes have been brilliant.  And I've fallen a little bit in love with all of them.

I mean, c'mon.  How likeable is Jess Ennis?  How much do you want to give Nicola Adams or Katherine Grainger a hug?  Mo Farah?  He made me cry!  Chris Hoy.  Bradley Wiggins.  Laura and Dani and Joanna and Vicky.  Helen and Heather and Anna and Katherine and Sophie.  I could go on and on and on.  And don't even get me started on Adam Gemili, who I'm trying to adopt.

They're just so nice.  And, along with many others who have said much the same, I'm so flippin glad to finally see their hard work, determination, sacrifice and grit rewarded and lauded in place of vapid ronsealed utter nonentities filling our conciousnesses unbidden with who they're shagging and what they're eating.  Quake in your stilettos, denizens of TOWIE, your time has been.  Virtually without exception, I would like to buy the athletes a large drink with a sparkler and and plastic monkey in it, named after the sexual innuendo of their choice.  These are likeable, funny, intelligent, ordinary people performing the most extraordinary of feats.

As the parent of young children I have been concerned at the people currently held up as 'role models' by a society that appears to exalt a nebulous notion of 'celebrity' (I cannot overstate how distasteful I find that word) where it is acceptable, nay desirous, for your sole life achievement to be having a nice bottom; and appearing on a TV 'Talent' or 'Reality' show is promoted as a genuine career option.  There are young women achieving said 'celebrity' by selling sex to high profile husbands and fathers.  How utterly delightful.

I would far rather my daughter choose to emulate people like Jessica Ennis, Katherine Grainger and Nicola Adams than Kourtney, Kim and Khloe.  People whose worth is not measured by their car or their boyfriend or what they wore last week, but by genuine talent and hard work and achievement.  Inspire a generation?  Oh, I bloody hope so.  Hell, it's even made me want to do some sport.

And so I put it to you, BBC, that we do not sully the experience by subjecting our astounding athletes to the indignity of a Sports Personality of the Year TV phone-in popularity contest.  Rather, let's spend a happy evening in December celebrating all their astonishing achievements and toasting re-runs of the Olympic montages while David Bowie's Heroes plays in the background (we'll have got over being sick of it by then), while we all get a bit pissed and misty eyed.

Fact is, they all deserve it, every one.

101 uses for an injured cyclist - Part 2

Items 51-101.

So, my cyclist is damaged, but he's on the mend.  He's hoofing round the place like a wet weekend in Bognor Regis and my sympathy (in very short supply at the best of times) ran out weeks ago.  What's a girl to do with him?  Here's the run-down, numbers 51-101.

51.   Race commentator.  His operation was on the first day of the Tour de France, which at least meant he had something to occupy him while he got over the worst of it.

52.   Cycling oracle.  He called the TdF in pretty emphatic style, and did the same on the Olympic RR and TT.  We'll be doing a prediction for the Vuelta.

Things to do with a broken cyclist at the shops
53.   Local bike shop expert.  He was always an enthusiastic amateur, but his recent cycling hiatus has allowed him to really put the hours in here.
54.   Womenswear shopping companion.  'Does my bum look big in this?' Bored tone 'Yes.' Sucks everything in "What about now?' Bored tone 'Yes. No. Whatever.'

55.   Fashion guru.  It was almost worth it all to see his expression in Topshop. 'What. The. FUCK? How does that even go on?'
56.   Shoe fetishist.  The cyclist does love shoes.  Most recent proud purchases include a new pair of Bont cycling shoes and a pair of wasabi-green Clarks Wallabees.  They are nicer than they sound, honest.
57.   Holder of things.  He particularly likes it when I ask him to hold my handbag while I try something on. That's absolutely his favourite.
58.   Adorably patient and thoughtful person.  Most recently demonstrated when I had a massive geek-out in Forbidden Planet for absolutely ages and he just stood there and let me get on with it, looking slightly bemused at my sudden all consuming need for a Liquid Metal T-1000 figurine (which even he had to admit was pretty cool) and the Before Watchmen Comedian mini series.
59.   Coffee shop lover.  The sense of relief when it's all over and the poor put upon man finally gets a flat white in his hand...

The prospect of much more shopping sent him scuttling in desperation back to the turbo.  Which brings us to...

Things to do with a cyclist on a Turbo.
60.   Human Dynamo - I'm sure we could run the telly/ computer/ washing machine etc. with jump leads set up from the turbo.
61.   Central heating source.  Ooh it gets warm when he's on that turbo.  Which is cool cos it's been another totally crap summer weather wise.
62.   Human sweat factory.  In case there was ever a huge and urgent requirement for vast amounts of human sweat on a tea towel draped over a top tube, we might just have this one covered.

63.   Payback.  Sprint intervals, darling?  Why of course I'll time you!  No, I'm absolutely sure that was 30 seconds! Snigger snigger snigger.
64.   Target.  Aim and time your throw of a balled up sock just right to unleash a barrage of swearing worthy of a standing ovation.
65.   Giant cat toy.  Attracted by the whirring, Mig is obsessed with trying to murder and disembowel the turbo trainer.

Coach.

As you know, I finally have a bike to call my own.  And whether or not I actually wanted one, it would appear it came with a coach.  Quite a mean one, who's standard line is 'Do ..., or I'll poke you with a stick'.
66.   Sarcastic encourager. 'Are you going to actually ride that, or shall we just look at it?' 

67.   Saddle adjuster.  He seems to do this rather a lot while I'm on the bike.  Yes, thank you, you can move your hand now.

68.   Stem tilter.  That's an actual thing.
69.   Mechanic.  He is happy to do the required 'stuff' to my bike.  We are working on a 'Price list' - don't ask - and a loyalty card scheme.
70.   Bike washer.  Surprisingly willing to get soapy.

71.   Teacher - Oscar's stabilisers are finally off and the boy is two-wheeled!  And the cyclist didn't poke him with a stick once!
72.   Dietician.  Now he's at a point in his recovery where he faces the very real prospect of actually doing some proper training and racing again, he's gone from being a human dustbin to a borderline anorexic similar to his normal pre-season January state.
73.   Protein shake mixologist.
74.   Professional set-up consultant.  He keeps moving, changing and adjusting stuff on the bike set-up so I don't look like a rank newbie, which is kind of ironic given the second I get on the thing I give myself away horribly.
75.   Etiquette consultant.  I am slowly learning some of the unwritten rules of being a cyclist...
76.   Actual coaching.  This involves making me do things I really don't want to do, like intervals of my own (30 seconds my arse), and yelling if I object/ cry/ fall off.  I've also been told I use the word 'can't' too much!

Round the house.
DIYer.  To go with the cyclists lists that he created in phase 1 of the recovery period, I've been making him a few lists of my own, of all the little shitty things that need doing around the house now his weekends and evenings have opened up.  These are all things listed by the UN as specifically Men's Work.  For example..
77.   Spider removal and rehousing unit.
78.   Fly and wasp squasher.
79.   Putter up of shelves.  Kids room, kitchen, front room.  I do love a shelf.
80.   Changing lightbulbs.  We have very high ceilings and I am quite short.
81.   Dishwasher engineer.  Fix it man.  Fix it.
82.   Hanging pictures - yes I would be capable of doing this one myself, but I tend to be a little bit hammer happy and the cyclist actively prefers me not to merrily bang wonky holes in our walls.
83.   Designated remover of items both dead and alive supplied by the cat.  So far the sum total of the cat's hunting skills have resulted in the depositing at our feet of two leaves and a stick, but if he's anything like the last one this situation will develop to the point where it's a set of minute internal organs and a spine on the stairs in no time.  Squeam, thy name is Rebecca Love.

In the garden.
The garden is totally the domain of the cyclist.  I couldn't care any less for it - tarmac the lot as far as I'm concerned.  So it's down to the poor cyclist to stop our house being the one the rest of the street complain to the council about...
84.   Lawn mower.  The lawn situation had got so bad during the cyclist's heavy training and race schedule earlier in the season followed by the crash etc that he has actually sub-contracted this out.
85.   De-frogger of the lawn.  Occasionally a frog will appear in the garden, either dead or alive.  Now, when pushed I can deal with most things, but frogs do not come under the heading of most things.  I was once held hostage in the house for 6 hours by a frog on the front lawn while the cyclist was tackling the Strines; by the time he got home I was near hysterical and could only be heard by dogs.
86.   Trimmer of the bush.  Steady yourself, you filthy minded monkey, we're talking gardening - specifically the appallingly overgrown front hedge, which is now neat and tidy.
87.   Weeder.  I don't like weeds but will do nothing about them as a) they grow in dirt and b) there might be worms.

Husband and family man.
The kids adore their daddy.  Daddy is fun and cool and exciting, in stark contrast to mummy who couldn't be any more boring if she tried.
88.   Babysitter.  I've used the cyclist's free weekends to get a few road trips in.
89.   Doer of jigsaws.  The kids love doing jigsaws, but it usually involves them eventually moving back and project managing the installation once the edges have been completed.
90.   Climbing frame. 
91.   Comedian.  Seriously, some of the funniest things the cyclist has ever come up with has been in the last few weeks, prompted usually by the sport (TdF/ Olympics etc)
92.   Putter of the world to rights.  In much the same vein as the above.
93.   Tag team partner.  Thanks largely to the logistics of managing the school summer holidays there's been a bit of 'divide and conquer' required to organise the squids.
94.   Day tripper.  And somehow he always manages to squeeze in a stop off at a bike shop!
95.   Filler upper of water balloons.  On the rare occasions where some sun has presented itself the cyclist has retreated to the outdoor tap with a bucket and an adaptor to the kids absolute delight.
96.   Child referee.  Known to be a more reasonable and fairer arbitrator than mummy, who normally just yells something like 'You two are doing my HEAD in, you can BOTH go upstairs I don't want to hear another WORD', the kids are generally taking their issues to King Solomon daddy to be dealt with.
97.   ... Having a broken collarbone doesn't affect everything!
98.   Race marshall.  I was down to marshall at a race this Sunday, but the cyclist is taking it on seeing as he's not cleared to race yet.  I'm going along for shits and giggles - reports we're taking an arsenal of water pistols and soft fruit to throw to 'liven things up a bit' are totally unfounded.

For the rest of his life.
99.   Story teller.  Every time he tells the tale of the crash is a little different...
100.  Imagination mover. Who can come up with the best fictional back story for his rather impressive scar?
101.  Source of endless amusement / diversion at airports when he repeatedly sets the beepers off due to his new metal plate and is taken down by security.

Blonde.

Why did the blonde run with the bike?  It was going too fast for her to get on...

My completely mental Grandma once told me the story of the time my uncle came home from school one day in about 1973 and said, "Mum, you're such a blonde".  Now, I realise everyone thinks their Grandma is a bit mental.  Well, sunshine, my Grandma will see your Grandma and raise you a box of frogs.  The cyclist is an extraordinary man, a bona-fide alpha male, and the only time I have ever seen him so scared that his face contorted with dread is when faced with my completely mental Grandma.  And we've had the 'Darling, wonderful news!  I'm pregnant!' conversation.  More than once.

Anyways, as a kid my Grandma was always utterly fascinated by my blondness, as I am the product of strictly very dark-haired stock.  And so it came about that I learned another definition of a blonde, albeit one I can't corroborate from any source.  According to my Grandma, my schoolboy uncle had confided to her that a blonde, as well as being a dizzy sort of fair-haired chick, is also a woman of any hair colour whos bottom overhangs her saddle when she's riding a bike.  And right now I'm pretty damn sure I could not be more blonde if I tried.  

So bottom overhang to one side (as it were), how's the rest of me bearing up now I've been on my bike a few times?

Let's start with the legs.  Have you seen 1987's Evil Dead II?  Where Ash's hand is possessed by an evil spirit and he's forced to cut it off and replace it with a chainsaw?  Well, not to be a drama queen or anything, but I think something not entirely dissimilar might be happening to my left leg.  It has definitely developed a mind of it's own, and is certainly evil (I am terming the situation Malevolent Left Leg Syndrome, or MLLS, and am self-medicating with peanut m+m's), although I'm not sure what benefit a chainsaw replacement might be at this point, and am currently exploring other options.  Seriously though, nothing, in the history of anything (and I am even including the first incarnation of Take That in the early 90's, before Gary Barlow was all suave and fit and that and he was an awkward 20-something songwriter looking distinctly embarrassed in a pair of red cycling shorts and a studded codpiece at the back on Top of the Pops who could not dance to save his chubbily self-conscious life) has ever been so off the beat as my left leg.

My right leg is fine.  A touch heavier than I'd like, plenty of room for improvement etc, but capable of maintaing a rhythm.  I am riding my bike and my right leg goes:

...push...push...push...push...push...

Which, as starting points go, is fine.  Hell, eventually it might even manage a pull or two. But when you add my left leg into the equation the situation ends up:

...push.PUSH...push...PUSH.push..PUSH..push...PUSHpush

And then I get in a mood.  And it would appear that there are few things in life less effective than getting in a mood with your own left leg.  It gives you a headache and makes you be mean to your husband.

I've been (pleasantly) surprised at how tough on the arms cycling can be.  I've always had silly weak T-Rex arms and looked jealously at hot women with toned arms (but not jealously enough to do bicep curls or anything). The only issue as far as I can tell is the likelihood of developing vibration white-finger from all the wobbling and juddering I'm doing.

And, oh! my worst enemy, my mind.  I need to find the off switch, I really do, or a mute button at the very least (seriously, if my real voice is even a fraction as harpyish and irritating as the one in my head then everyone I've ever spoken to deserves a medal for not slapping me).  I'll be going fine, actually riding my actual bike with my MLLS derived lopsided rhythm and then the little voice will start, usually with a shrill what the hell are you doing woman or you're going too FAST (I'm really not!) or a super helpful oh my god we're going to DIE and the self-doubt kicks RIGHT in and the wobblies start.  And once the wobblies have started I've found it's quite hard to get them to stop.

Having shared space with my mind for a good long time, I have come up with a few ways of tricking her - she's basically not very bright.  She can be distracted by shiny things, muted with music and is quite slow on the uptake early in the morning.  And so I have been going out on the bike at silly o'clock of a weekend morning, which is helpful on a number of levels because as well as my mind yawning and pottering about drinking tea and generally leaving me alone, it means a) the roads are very quiet, which is good for my nerves, b) the impact of me disappearing out on the bike is lessened on the family and it doesn't disrupt the day too much and, most importantly, c) No-one sees.  No-one seeing is hugely important at this time, because I am hyper aware of the fact that I look completely and utterly ridiculous.  Not, you understand, due to the bike, or the kit; but because I'm a grown woman riding a bike incredibly slowly and wonkily, who suddenly starts wobbling dangerously for no discernible reason and is muttering to herself.

So then. Possessed left leg, wobbling weak T-Rex arms and self-sabotaging psyche.  Black and blue and blonde all over.

On The Road.

No matter, the road is life.

Right here right now I can go anywhere.  Be anyone.

Everything looks so new in the soft apricot glow of the early morning light.  The clean washed out blue of the endless watercolour sky.  The mouthwateringly fresh greens of the trees and hedges, every possible shade from almost yellow to almost black.

Sunlight trickles through the leaves above and dapples the path ahead.  The air is soft and lazy-still but for the gentlest and most welcome kiss of breeze on my skin.

There is only me in this moment.  Everything there has ever been from then to now has been in anticipation of this.  An entire universe, born of nothing an infinity ago for the express purpose of these - are they minutes? are they hours?

I am lulled by the hypnotic rhythm of my legs.  The only sounds is the ticking of the wheels as they turn and the life of the landscape around me.  The road slides past beneath me.  She loves me; she loves me not.  She loves me; she loves me not.  Exhaustion.  Elation.

The path is in turn smooth and rough - a slash of asphalt in the green, straight and solid and true in some places, gradually being reclaimed by the encroaching wild in others.

My mind is emptied of all conscious thoughts but one. Consistent.  Insistent.  Persistent.

My fucking arse is KILLING me.

Tour de France wash up meeting.

Just how smugly correct were the cyclist's predictions...?

Can Wiggins win this?

'Wiggins will win this by at least 3 minutes.  Sky are going to boss the shit out of this, dominant to the point where people will start saying they ruined it.  He could've won last year had he not crashed.'

And in the event, that's exactly what happened.  Wiggins won, and by just over 3 minutes.  What the cyclist didn't predict, what I think few prior to the Tour would have predicted, is that the winning margin separated him from a teammate rather than a 'rival'.  The time gap back to Nibali in third was 6' 19".  And Team Sky were a masterclass in bossing the shit out of it, dominant to the point where people started yawning loudly and asking how long it was 'til the Vuelta and saying things like 'UK Postal' and sniggering.

Can they (Sky) win both jerseys?

'No.'

They didn't.

Will they try?

'No. They're sending Cav home early for the Olympics.  He's going for stage wins; my prediction - 3.  The Green Jersey is not his focus for the season like it was last year.  I'm sure he'd love another, but he wants the Olympic title more.'

Spooky, innit?  Another 3 stage wins for Cav, phenomenal sprinter that he is.  There were mutterings that Sky were doing the World Champion wrong.  I'm not sure I would agree with that assessment -  Sky always made it crystal clear they were all about a TdF GC win, and he only pulled two fewer stage wins than when he had the World's Most Awesome Sprint Train.  I am so glad he stayed the course; I genuinely was expecting for him to pull out and go straight to an Olympics holding pen (the word I so desperately want to use is Gulag), but watching the Sky Team, Yellow Jersey and Norwegian National Champion lead out the World Champion for such a definitive win on the Champs Elysee really was pretty special.

Is Cadel a contender?

'He might podium, but he doesn't seem to have the edge he had last year, the edge that Wiggins has now.'

I'm sorry Cadel, I really am.  Big fan of your work, like your style, and sorry you were laid low with some fairly obvious stomach trouble.  And I thought the way you conducted yourself in the post stage soundbites you gave was admirable, especially when it became clear the race had slipped from your grasp.  But you just didn't have it this year.

But has Brad peaked too soon?

'Don't be fooled.  Just because he's so dominant and taking big wins doesn't mean he's peaked, it's just the level he's at.  Another's 100% is his 95%.  Cadel is secretly shitting his pants.'

The state of Cadel's pants is, of course, between him and his washing machine, but I think from day 1 it was pretty clear Brad hadn't lost any of the stonking form he's had this year. 

Who's going to win Green?

'Sagan.  He's clearly a fantastic rider, but he needs to learn how to conduct himself a little more professionally, he's in danger of stepping on toes.  He needs to learn which battles to fight, he's taking the mick rather than making his mark.  There's a lot of hype, and he's an awesome rider but he could quickly get too big for his boots.  He needs to mix it with the big boys and show what he's got.'

Sagan was a bit of a revelation for me tbh - I wasn't sure how well he'd adapt to the unique pressures of the Tour.  But adapt he did, and with some style.  There have been some questions raised about his 'antics', of which I can say only this; if I was a 22-year-old Slovakian kicking ass and taking names in my first Tour de France, I'd be doing impressions of the Incredible Hulk and signing boobs too.  And saying it once and owning it - I love Daniel Oss's hair.

And the Mountains?

'Samuel Sanchez. He'll win with consistency rather than fireworks.'

Our survey says - Eeee-Errrrr.  Well, I suppose the cyclist had to get something wrong, he's been pretty scarily accurate up 'til now.  Sammy Sanchez of course, crashed out Stage 8.  King of the Mountains was instead decided by consistent fireworks - Thomas Voeckler riding his way first over 11 mountains to two well-deserved stage wins, and some dubious spotty shorts in the process.

Talk to me about the other contenders.  Frank Schleck?  Vincenzo Nibali?

'Both could top 5 and win stages, but neither can force an upset on GC.  Even if they do manage to take some time out of Wiggins on the big climbs, which is going to be a big ask given the team support Wiggins has, Brad will more than make this up on the time trials.  The time trials will be decisive.'

The time trials were, of course, decisive.  Wiggins, who was never lower than 2nd on GC, took yellow on the second time trial and secured it on the third.  In the event, no-one was able to take any time out of Wiggins on any climb, as Sky were so well drilled in the mountains.  I , who know little about cycling, was surprised to see Wiggins seated in the mountains, rather than up and bouncing on his pedals like some of the others.  I put this to the cyclist, concerned that this meant Wiggins was tired or struggling.  He laughed.  He told me the guy in the saddle, tapping out his rhythm was the one to be afraid of.

Frank Schleck.  Diuretics.  I simply don't know enough about the to make any sort of valid or informed comment.  Please feel free to check out Anna Zimmerman's 150 Watts of Awesome post here where she explains it in college terms (this really is a very good blog - while you're there check out her Hypocrisy of Cycling Fans Post and her Brad Wiggins is a Total Prostitute one - in fact just get yourself a cup of tea and a couple biscuits and read the lot).  I find myself hoping it's some sort of contamination issue, then wondering what the hell he was taking that got contaminated.  The sorriest part of it all is that this has the potential to drag on and on until it becomes as confusing and meaningless to us mere fans as the Contador case.  Depressing.  Meh.

Do Team Sky have a plan B?

'To win it, no.  I'm sure there are various plan B's in the event of a crash like last year; I expect they'd ride for stages and possibly the Mountains Classification for Froome.'

The answer is moot.  Team Sky placed their faith in Bradley Wiggins as team leader, rode to that end, and secured victory.  Chris Froome has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt he is a very real contender in his own right, and I trust that he, like Wiggins, will have the opportunity to lead the team to GC glory in the future - possibly as soon as the Vuelta.  He deserves it.  But this is the team sport where one man wins.  Teams are organised with specific goals in mind, and riders designated roles.  Things may change, out there on the road; but they change to the demands of the team, of the race and of the riders, NOT of the fans.

'I wish Froome rode for another team' was a pretty consistent theme on Twitter during the Tour.  I had wished Chris Froome didn't ride for team Sky either, for 10 minutes on the Friday before the Tour started, as I was picking my fantasy TdF team for the grudge match with the cyclist.  You see, I'd come up with a fiendishly clever rule, which I was regretting immensely at this point - that you could only pick 1 rider from each 'real' team for your fantasy team.  Having already bid a tearful, heart-wrenching goodbye to my beloved Cav at this point, I was in real agonies about letting Froome go, even though my heart was always with Wiggins; his name was on my list written in red pen and underlined twice with smiley faces over the i's.  (I imagine this is a bit how Brailsford feels at times too.)

But let us not forget this is the Chris Froome who had offers tabled by, what was it, 8 World Tour teams following his excellent performance in the Vuelta last year, before signing a three-year contract with Sky.  I'd say he'd made a pretty informed decision about who he wanted to ride for, wouldn't you?  How exactly would he be better off elsewhere?  He obviously didn't think so.  And however impressive Froome was, I would also like to take a moment to mention the riders I was equally impressed by, Mick Rogers, Eddy Boasson Hagen and Richie Porte, who's combined efforts made Team Sky virtually untouchable.  This was very much their Tour.