Lazy Monday

The last day of a fabulous four days off! CH and I decided to celebrate the first half of it by going for a Mountain Bike ride. We had heard rumours that a local park held some MTB tracks in the back of it. After taking the longest, yet least hilly route there, we were pleasently surprised to find a maze of tracks hidden behind this suburban park.

After a ride through and failing to end up where planned on several occasions - thanks to poor signage, we were finally spat out onto a road (both of which neither of us recognised) and were then left to navigate our way to a coffee shop.

With both of us being avid coffee fans and desperate for a cup of the good stuff, finding a coffee shop was an easy task. Finding one that was open - not so easy.

Coffee Shop 1 - CLOSED

Coffee Shop 2 - CLOSED

Coffee Shop 3 - CLOSED

Coffee Shop 4 - CLOSED

CH was lost, unsure what to do. A strange feeling no doubt, for one who ALWAYS ends a ride with a coffee.

Our quest to find an open coffee shop led us close to home, so we decide to stop in, clean ourselves up, swap bikes (CH's idea) and take the fixies out to hunt down more coffee shops that may be open.

On the road again, and we finally strike some luck - an open coffee shop!

Our hearts and tastebuds rejoice as we park the fixies out the front. CH puffs out his chest with pride as some passer by comments on his handy work with the bikes.

We are finally fed and given caffiene and I instantly become a more pleasent person to be around once that caffiene starts pumping through my body. As I sip, I watch CH inhale his waffles and skull his coffee. This man is not satisfied though - he needs more, and he suggests we continue riding to the next open coffee shop for round two.

Round two, and we fill our bellies a little more. We leave feeling very greatful to those who worked on Easter Monday as we cruise home on the fixies.

Everything is a Competition

With a race being held up on the glorious Sunshine Coast Hinterland today, a friend and I thought we may as well head up and enjoy the glorious sunshine.

After the race it was the usual mandatory stop at a Bakery for a refuel and some caffeine, before heading up to Kondililla Falls.

After a swim in the ice bath that was Kondililla Falls it was time to do the trek back to the cars. I was the first to be organised and began to lead the way. Trouble is, being with a group of cyclists means they cannot handle having someone in front of them. Absolutely everything becomes a competition and the walk back to the cars was no exception.

So, after a wee while on the front, I hear some fast approaching footsteps from behind, accompanied by a commentary.

'She is in a breakaway, but Cycling Buddy is coming up from behind......and he has bridged the gap!

This was just the very beginning of an endless vocabulary of cycling commentary the whole way back, as we fought for our positions, battling slow walkers, sight-seers and a few injuries.

Cycling lingo was flying through the air as our 'peleton' ascended to the car park.

Knowing that cyclists hate to lose - I very kindly let them all overtake (except CH - who claims he wasn't even racing). I don't think I could have handled the car trip home if I hadn't.

Doper

A friend of mine recently found herself in a spot of bother when she broke her ankle whilst embracing the world of Roller Derby.

As part of her recovery, she was required to inject herself in order to avoid her blood clotting. Knowing that we have a sharps bin (purchased upon receiving the news that CH has Diabetes Type 1 - of which his mother is convinced that cycling caused??) she handed the needles over to me to dispose of, as I was hopping in the car to leave her house.

Becoming so engrossed in practicing my singing on the way home, I forget all about the syringes laying around in the back seat of the car.

The next person to take out the car is CH himself - to a bike race of course.

Bike races are great places to show off your new lightweight wheels, your awesome DI2, but it is no place to have syringes laying about.

With CH's posse swanning about the car, it didn't take long before the syringes were noticed.

Cycling Buddy 1: 'Here's the reason you've been riding so well lately - Check this out!!!'

Cycling Buddy 2: 'Someone call Doping Control!'

Cycling Buddy 3: 'Can I get some?'

CH, also unclear as to why there was a pile of used syringes in the back of our car, couldn't explain his way out of that one. Needless to say, I copped twenty questions when he arrived home that afternoon.