I dropped him like a bad habit on Sunday. Up Pingarrón Hill we went, Antonio and Javi first and then me, plus a bunch of guys from one of the cycling clubs. Then me and The Oik. The Oik stopped to relieve himself and I took advantage of him being off.
The first time I went up Pingarrón it took me nearly 40 minutes to climb the four kilometres. I rode the Orbea and the hill kicked my ass without even trying. This, supposedly, was the hill that Alberto Contador flew up the very first time he raced a bike. And I was mortified. I hadn't done any serious riding since I got back from the Trans-Iberian, but this, this was awful. I got to the top of the hill and it felt like someone was dancing on my chest.
Not now. I have been up Pingarrón half a dozen times since then, and on Sunday I did it in just over 14 minutes. I only looked back for him twice. I do this, did this anyway, even in spite of the fact that him staying over on Friday night and staying until noon on Saturday didn't mean anything, and we both knew it, because of his lack of performance. (Ladies, if you have any doubt if a Spanish man is Really That Into You, judge him by whether he stays for coffee or not, and if his, erm, enthusiasm, among other things, is maintained.)
I don't ride fast. But I ride faster than he does going up a hill. And it will only get better from here on in.
I have no problem dropping someone who didn't think twice about dropping me.
I mean, if he had Really Been That Into Me, I probably wouldn't have waited. Much.
But from now on, The Oik is just enough another face in the pelotón.
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