Red for Elite

Anniemay; “whose idea was it to do 70km?”
Anthea; “well it wasn’t mine…”
Anniemay; “well it wasn’t mine …..”
Anthea (aside to me); “I’m getting to old for this.  Don’t tell Ann I said that”.  

It’s just before 8 in the morning and we’re loading the bikes onto the back of the car.  It’s 7 degrees C.  

The red rider number signifies that Anniemay and her bike buddy Anthea have signed up for the Elite ride.  Now, as the day - and the prospect of cycling 70km - finally dawns on them, they’re beginning to wonder, how, back in May, they came to that decision.

Last week, in Tatton Park, Anniemay had a green number, which identified her and her niece Liz as taking part in the Classic ride.  Classic has a nice comforting, familiar ring to it.  Like an afternoon spent in Betty’s Tearoom.   It’s also 30km shorter.

Elite has no such connotation.  The word itself flies off the tongue and you’re left in no doubt that it’s going to be fast and furious; no leisurely dawdle through the English countryside.  Betty, were she to provide refreshments enroute, would have to get her skates on and zoom alongside as she enquires if you want milk and two sugars.

After they’ve driven off, I get my skates on and head to the papershop in preparation for a classic sunday morning.  In peace.

ps.  Extra added @ 14.30 showing happy lady after 70km