All in the legs

To FA Headquarters last week, for the second time -- and the last, given that they're moving to new premises before next season.

The launch of the Geoff Thomas Foundation team for London to Paris, including a couple of sporting celebrities, some policemen inspired to ride by sick colleagues and, lurking somewhere at the back, me.

A great night, which I spent looking at people in a slightly bemused way, sure I recognised them but unfamiliar with seeing them without cycling kit, helmets or a distinctive bike.  The L2P "ride captains" include a number of strikingly attractive women, completely unrecognisable on the night in dresses and make-up rather than the familiar kit and wraparound shades.  But then, I completely failed to recognise the large, bald man who stood next to me for much of the evening as Magnus Backstedt, until I saw captioned pictures of him the next day.

Good conversation with an older gent whose name I don't remember. In his seventies, but still a keen rider who accompanied Geoff on a couple of stages at the end of his 2007 Tour de France attempt.  He was short and wiry and evidently extremely fit.

He reckoned he was doing about 100 miles a week in training at the moment -- but all on hills.  I said I wasn't "built" for hills, which drew a quizzical look.  Six feet tall, more than thirteen stone, I explained.

He looked at me scornfully for a few seconds before  slapping his thighs and saying "Well, it's all about the legs, really, isn't it?"

He's right of course, and on this morning's shortish training ride I determined to pass as many people as possible on the hills.  Didn't do too badly, either -- although my heart felt as though it was going to come out through my ears at one point.

White Assos shorts, incidentally, are worth at least 5 extra kph on your average speed.  The cruel insults of other riders are just jealousy.