This weekend I joined a whole lot of dedicated lycra wearing freaks to compete in the Wollombi Wildride – a 60km mountain bike thingy. My strategy was to start out at the back with the fat bastards and gradually overtake a few of them when they ran out of puff.
For elite athletes like myself nutrition is critical, so pre-race I downed a sausage sandwich at the pub and to keep energy levels high mid-race I carried a number of choc chip biscuits and chico babies. Sadly I dropped a couple of the biscuits and did not get the full effect of their sugary goodness.
At the halfway point I was coming a lowly 100th so I thought I’d try a bit harder and despite my gear cable almost breaking I managed to overtake a fair few tiring fat bastards who obviously didn’t have the benefit of chico babies. Eventually I got over the line in a time of 3 hours 28 minutes – a mere hour and a quarter behind the skinny freak who won!
Naturally after such an effort I was keen to kick back on the couch and watch the Wallabies play. In some quirk of satellite technology Wollombi only seems to get TV from the Northern Territory (if you are reading this and are aboriginal, live in the Territory and want to become a pharmacist you should apply for the special grant and get $15,000 a year). They have all sorts of weird ads on NT tele but very sadly they have no rugby so instead of enjoying the Wallabies kick some Springbok arse I watched J-Lo in Maid in Manhattan.
I wanted to scratch my eyes out but that may have been just an allergic reaction from the cat.