The Postal Service

Yesterday saw the beginning of my first true Top End Battle. Survival of the fittest. No room for pushovers. Slow riders need not apply. Etc, etc, etc… piss everywhere.

I received an email at work yesterday entitled, “Uh, oh…”. A Strava KOM had been taken off me. Lately it has only been non-legit thefts, and mostly in Melbourne. But this was legit. And it was in Darwin. I could do something about this! I could get it back! But alas, I was at work, and would have hours of agonising waiting before I could kit up and reclaim some stupid glory.

With my Garmin mounted and at the ready, this morning I set up with brave Sir Sam and Sir Maris – reputable lead out men with broad shoulders and draft worthy glutes. Together we hit some local cols (read ant hills), and warmed up for the ensuing onslaught. The culprit I was now targeting had set a fast time on another segment nearby… a segment I had planned to take before I knew it was him! And the winds were favourable! Ha, ha ha!

With a whoosh from the south, I had demolished that first, flat segment. But would I have the legs for the final assault. A hill My forte. My favourite. I would. Not wanting to  completely wipe out the enemy, and thinking about the future economy, I took the segment with a modest 7 second advantage. Hurrah.

The comments, the banter, the satisfaction. All such good talking points for the next half a day. But then the talking point for the remainder of the day… another email…

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