Friday afternoon fast busy roads, last 30 miles home against a belligerent headwind, and straight into a low winter Killing Sun.
One way or other I could just die.
Nothing for it but to put the Jens Voigt face on and bury self towing an imaginary team along. I am strong, I am super-domestique, I am a peleton crushing tempo, I am pulling them along like a train, I shall destroy myself for the good of The Team.
I am spat out the back on the last rise as my team's climber surges ahead to victory. My work here is done, all I have to do now is grupetto myself home inside the cut-off time.
Jo Burt has spent the majority of his life riding bikes, drawing bikes and writing about bikes. When he's not scribbling pictures for the whole gamut of cycling media he writes words about them for road.cc and when he's not doing either of those he's pedaling. Then in whatever spare minutes there are in between he's agonizing over getting his socks, cycling cap and bar-tape to coordinate just so. And is quietly disappointed that yours don't He rides and races road bikes a bit, cyclo-cross bikes a lot and mountainbikes a fair bit too. Would rather be up a mountain.