It's all about the bike

It's not about the bike, as Lance once said. We now all know there's more truth in that statement than we first thought. However, in my case it is all about the bike.
I've done my research and taken plenty of advice to have reached the conclusion that prowess on the bike will make or break my Iron dream. Consensus states that 60 per cent of my available training time should be spent on two wheels, I know that makes sense. My cycling journey so far has been a very steep ascent with some hair-raising hairpins thrown in for good measure. Christmas day 2011 was a landmark in this journey, marking the day when IronSanta saw fit to deliver The Beast, my first road bike.
Until then I'd happily chugged along on a sturdy mountain bike, completed 3 triathlons on it, albeit wincing with embarrassment as I racked it alongside real bikes. It's the triathlon equivalent of turning up at the Grand Prix in a Skoda! Anyway, IronPhil decided that my swim and run times weren't too bad but my bike was a serious handicap, so he scoured eBay for the perfect starter bike. When I saw it winking at me next to the tree that morning, I tingled with a mixture of fear and excitement - to be honest, it was more fear than excitement! You see, I am the cycling equivalent of an adult who didn't learn to swim as a child, I have outlandish fears, huge incompetencies and a dreadful sense of balance. This dates back to my childhood, as the youngest of six, with a big age gap to my older siblings, I didn't have the benefit of hand-me-down bikes when I was growing up.  So all those skills that kids and adults take for granted, I don't have. The phrase, 'it's just like riding a bike' for me may as well be 'it's just like climbing Everest'!
Needless to say The Beast and I have come a long way together, from my panic-stricken Boxing Day  descent from home to Tesco, to regular 50-60 mile training rides. Together we learned all the skills that real triathletes don't even think about. While they're worrying about getting their nutrition right, I'm worrying about how to take my hands off the handlebars to get my drink bottle out of it's cage or how to take an energy gel out of my back pocket, open it and consume it without crashing! This year, I even managed to reach the pinnacle of cycling success - Tour de France, nah; I earned my yellow jersey on the day I finally 'clipped in' to my pedals. Now you've got the general picture of where I've come from, you might realise what a huge achievement that was. My Pearl Izumi cycling shoes sit proudly on the shelf as a testament to the power positive thought and a patient, encouraging husband! Finally, I look like a cyclist.
As for The Beast, well my first love has become my winter training bike and I'm now the proud owner of a carbon fibre dream machine. With all that gear you'd think I'd be closing the gap (that's the gap between me and IronPhil) It seems not, as my guru whupped my padded posterior over a 55k ride yesterday, acting as my coach, cadence monitor, bike computer all in one. Who needs technology - it's miles that count ... many, many miles, hard miles, cold miles, steep miles, scary, hairy descending miles...just miles!
So when you ask me what I'm on, the answer's simple, as Lance said: "On my bike, busting my ass!" Powered purely by determination.