The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2994 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

Danielle had recovered quite well from her training the day before and although she was quite stiff, when I offered her a quick bike ride, she jumped at it and we were away before the rest of them knew where we were. I’m happy to ride with the younger girls but after I’ve done something more challenging with Danni.

About fifteen sweaty minutes later she was on my wheel as we ascended the downs and this time her superior fitness probably meant she’d overtake me as we got towards the top, which caused me to push myself even harder. She didn’t overtake and I wondered if it was because she couldn’t or she decided not to.

At the top, we rested and took some fluid on board. I was sweating like I’d been in the shower while she was a bit pink in the face but not gasping for air like I was. “Why didn’t you overtake me?” I managed to get out in between alternating between sucking in air or blowing it out.

“What for, we weren’t racing.”

“So if we had been racing you could have done?”

“S’pose so, but you usually go up another gear and beat me.”

“I’m not sure I could have today.” I drank half my bottle of water.

“We weren’t racing, besides you’re my mum.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Lots, you don’t overtake your mum,” she blushed.

“If you’re racing you do, unless it’s as part of a team and you’re under instructions to support rather than beat your leader.”

“Nah, it’s not nice to beat your mum.”

“What if I was playing soccer on the other side?”

“What?,” she gasped, “Like with Pele and Bobby Moore?”

“Very funny, they’re both dead aren’t they?”

“Pele’s not, but he’s gettin’ on a bit.”

“Bobby Moore was the captain when England won the world cup, what fifty years ago?”

“Yep, he’s one of the nicest footballers we ever had, an’ a good player too.”

“So I’d have been in esteemed company with two of the most gentlemanly players in the game.”

“Yep.”

“I’m glad you hold me in such esteem, young lady.”

“Yeah, but as my mother not as a soccer player—you’d be crap at that.”

“How d’you know, you’ve never seen me play?”

“You’ve got no coordination an’ you said you were crap at netball, so it’s a extrapolation.”

I think my eyes must have nearly bugged out as she used what was a large word for her and correctly.

“What’s the matter, have I got that word wrong?”

“No, you got it spot on.” I hugged her, “You’re a lovely girl, Danielle and I’m so proud of you.”

“Go on, you’re just trying to soften me up before we ride home.”

“Dash it, you guessed my plan.”

She rolled her eyes in reply and we both chuckled.

“C’mon, Missy, I’ve got things to do.” We remounted and as my legs had recovered from the torment of the ridgeway, I led her down at speed back towards home. Downhill my heavier bodyweight helped my momentum and she struggled to stay within fifty yards of me until we returned to the flat. However, having got my second wind, I hammered home and she came in several minutes later as I was wiping my bike down. Nothing was said but I shall have to look to my laurels if I want to stay ahead of her and that meant getting on the bike more often and training harder.

As I showered a little later, I thought about training to stay ahead of my daughter and then wondered if I was too competitive. Why did I need to beat her? If she’d won would it have mattered?

Essentially, I didn’t need to beat her but in making her work harder to beat me, it would improve her cycling speed and possibly endurance too. It would also make her strive to improve herself and I hoped that meant she would always do her best whatever the cause.

I want all my girls to do well for themselves and hopefully to do it while enjoying themselves. Danni is a very talented footballer but I want her to have a career in something else as well. She’s said she might like to be a sports teacher, so that could be something she’ll enjoy. I think with a bit of pushing she’ll be clever enough to get to uni but it could interfere with her soccer career in terms of the time required plus all the social stuff young women get involved in these days. Then again, if she’s an England international looking for a university, then somewhere like Loughborough may be very interested in recruiting her—I know they used to do loads of sports science years ago, I presume they still do and they may well have a women’s soccer team. I’ll need to sow some seeds in her mind and let them germinate.

As for the others, I wonder if Trish would like to do particle physics or something like that, or even quantum-biology, which is an up and coming science and which demonstrate even the things we thought were simple in living things, will turn out to be extremely complex involving photons or electromagnetic waves or both, at a subatomic level. Listening to Brian Cox talking about the physics of photosynthesis the other night, that seems much more complicated than the lectures I remember when I was student. But then our understanding has improved in ways which weren’t even conceived when I was a student.

Instead of wearing my brain out I went and got a piece of toast and some tea and felt better able to deal with a gaggle of girls who demanded to know why I hadn’t taken them with me for a ride. To shut them up, I agreed to take them for a short ride after lunch, which Danni said she’d also come to help keep a eye on the stragglers. I sent her out to the bike shed to check all the tyre pressures on the bikes we’d be using. I decided I’d take my old MTB with Lizzie sitting on the carry seat and Cate on the trailer-bike. I’d certainly get a work out with that little lot. Hannah went off to help Danielle while Trish and Livvie went off together probably to collude in planning their next stage in world domination.

Simon had gone off in the car somewhere to get the newspapers and Mima had gone with him—there’s a surprise, so I had to deal with the little ones myself as Amanda had the day off and Jacquie was busy doing some work for her course. Julie and Phoebe were busy with their accounts and Sammi was helping them with using a spreadsheet on their shop laptop. I wasn’t sure if keeping accounts on the same machine as they used for appointments was such a good idea, but Sammi seemed to think it was safe enough—she’d put an encryption thing on the pages so they couldn’t be easily accessed.

Is everyone’s Sunday as manic as mine?