All in a Day. Part Three.

Live blogging a day in front of the telly.

Went for a run, which I won, obviously. The competition may not have existed, per se, but that didn’t stop me raising my arms aloft as I reached my front door all alone, as if breaking some plastic tape with FLORA written on it. Did an imaginary post-race interview with the BBC. Wrapped some tin foil around my shoulders.

It was lovely: The first summery weather of the year, in which I didn’t need any extra clothing. For the next few months, that is the delight of running. It’s so straightforward and unfussy. Shoes, shorts, top and socks. That’s it. No Allen keys, pumps, helmet, gloves, spare tubes, levers. Sorry to admit, but my cycling these days is almost all to get around London, and not “for fun”.

I usually like to run without any earphones in, but sometimes I opt to use them, especially when there’s a big race on. So I had the TV feed playing in my iPhone, in my pocket. Kept buffering because you have to stream the video as well as the audio, so couldn’t really tell from one moment to the next what was happening. But I did pick up that Bob Jungels attacked with 130k to go, with the gap at over 5 1/2 minutes. He was joined by Tobias Foss, and they started to work their way across together. As a result, they started working harder at the front of the bunch: the three teams who made up the podium places in Amstel Gold.

Lunch - Bastogne - Lunch

Then I got home, dropped some spinach, kale and garlic in a pan, plus some leftover veggies. I wolfed down some lunch, jumped in the shower, then lay on the couch with my laptop on my, well, lap and fell asleep. This happens increasingly often to me, to be honest.

When I woke up, it had all changed. The sun had gone in, my washing had blown off the line, the cats were nowhere to be seen, and Jungels and Foss had been caught.

13.58 - There are still a few riders off the front, but the breakaway is beginning to crumble. Jack Haig’s square shoulders remain a formidable sight in the dappled sunlight of the Ardennes woods. But for how much longer?

14.10 - News comes to the commentators that Warren Barguil has been forced to abandon the race. A little earlier, he was seen getting awkwardly to his feet after hitting the tarmac in a low-speed crash in a climb through a forest. He did that agonising hobbling dance with arms flapping around which riders do when they are a lot of pain. He’d one of those names which calls out to the present-day viewer of cycling from another era. He’s only 33 still, but his Annus Mirabilis was already back in 2017, when the he took two stages and a the KOM jersey at the Tour. That race already seems like ancient history. A very good rider of his age, made to look a bit more ordinary by the ridiculous standards set by the current generation. We are now inside 50k to run. The break has been caught. A big, but far from complete peloton is approaching the Côte de la Redoute. I flick the kettle on.