More cycling up hills (get fit by reading!) and a surprise phone call, read on and see what it all means.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 48 (geez that's four dozen!)

Despite the distraction provided by Annie and her chatter, my lungs and legs were struggling. I wasn't quite seeing a red haze, but I knew that I couldn't go much farther. She however, looked much less distressed and relatively fresh. According to the dissenters, biological males have an advantage over females in sports because they have larger lungs and hearts. I didn't feel very advantaged, males usually have bigger bodies which is why they have bigger hearts et cetera. My body was the same size as Stella's, well near enough - we were the same dress size.

Maybe Annie was just fitter than I was, I suspect she was lighter and if she turned sideways, you could hardly see her. So maybe this was all about weight? Nah, muscle is heavier than fat, but it also pushes pedals which as far as I know fat doesn't do. I did have one advantage, I had bigger tits than her, so if we'd been running I could have 'breasted the tape' from further out than her, except she'd be half a mile ahead of me.

I managed a smile as these silly thoughts went through my head, and amazingly we were at the top of the hill and there was the van purveying cat food burgers and powdered ice cream. My legs were all twitchy and jellified, so much so that I could hardly get my foot off the pedal. I nearly ran into the van with the combination of this pedal problem and pulling on the brakes. I stopped inches away.

"You're keen aren't you?" joked Annie, who had dismounted and was walking across the car park pushing her bike. I looked at her bike, it was a Specialized, I nearly bought one myself except I got a better offer for the Scott. It was prettier than Scottie, but I can't afford another bike.

"What do you want to drink?" called Annie standing in front of the van's serving hatch.

"What have they got?" I replied, having managed to get one foot free I was still struggling with the other while standing on one leg. I felt very foolish.

She called out a list of drinks ranging from fizzy ones to plain water. I opted for Ribena, a blackcurrant drink, and a favourite from childhood. We sat and drank, although the way I was sweating, it felt as if the drink was running straight out of me.

The view over Portsmouth and the English Channel beyond was lovely, the sun was beginning to sink in the west and the way it lit things up was incredible. "It's worth all that effort just for the view, isn't it?" asked Annie.

"Definitely," I said when I had enough breath back to speak.

"Ever thought about doing triathlons?"

"Who me?" I squeaked, "You are joking I hope?"

"Why, the other disciplines help with building strength and improve your fitness, which ultimately improves your cycling."

"If I start doing that, Nicole Cooke will retire immediately." I managed to say this with a straight face.

"She doesn't do triathlons." Annie looked puzzled.

"No but if I get better, she may lose her number one spot."

"Oh, oh yes, very funny." She laughed and I wondered why I bothered.

"So do you race?" she asked me after a few moments pause.

"What for, I know how bad I am, I don't need to confirm it officially?"

"Well you managed one of the steepest hills in the area?"

"Yeah, at about 3mph. I saw some shirts on a US website with the logo "Hill Slug," I would have bought one except they were expensive."

"Charlotte Hill-Slug, with a hyphen, sounds terribly posh," she said and roared with laughter. I had a chuckle too.

"Come on then, better get going before the light fades." So saying, Annie stood up and grabbed her bike. I stood up on wobbly legs and with difficulty picked up my bike. "Some aerobics or yoga would help with your stiffness," she suggested almost leaping onto her bike. I thought a hot bath would be far more enjoyable.

It isn't a straight descent, the road zig zags in places before it reaches the lower ridge and goes level for a while. Annie knew the road better than I did and set off at a pace. I remember once reading somewhere that pedalling while going down hill was a boy thing, girls tend to free-wheel. I hate to question the authenticity of that statement because Annie was pedalling like a demon and I was free-wheeling and I was still going too fast for comfort.

If I say that I was going fast enough for the broken white lines down the middle of the road to become a blur, I think you might get an appreciation of how fast I was going and Annie was going faster still. She began to brake going into the first bend, I heard the squeak of her brakes. I reached forward to pull my brakes and the gap was too large, I couldn't get enough pressure. I was still accelerating.

On the first bend, I flew past Annie and only just made it around the corner, a car coming the other way blew his horn at me and swore, I don't know why, I was at least three inches from him.

However, it was the car going down the hill that beeped the loudest, when I overtook him, I was doing over fifty miles an hour at this point and my heart was pounding - with fear. I could reach the brake levers but not pull them hard enough to have much effect. If only I had adjusted them earlier.

My guardian angel must have been on duty because, I stayed on the bike and managed to avoid anything else on the road. On the level stretch it slowed down enough for me to eventually stop it. I almost fell off as I disentangled my feet from the pedals and dismounted. I felt quite ill.

Annie arrived some short time later, "Wow Charlie, that was some ride!"

"I couldn't reach the fucking brakes!" I said and sat down trembling.

"What, I thought that was deliberate, you showing me how to ride down hills."

"I have never been so frightened in my life," I said, clutching my knees to stop them shaking. It wasn't necessarily true, Stella's driving possibly had the edge in the fear stakes.

"Can't you adjust them?"

"I'm going to when I can stop my hands shaking." I also began to wish I hadn't had more to drink, or my bladder did.

We talked in a stilted way for ten or so minutes and I felt less shaky. I played with the adjustments on the brakes and they now worked. The rest of the ride home would be hopefully less scary.

We stopped at a lay-by with toilets, back on the main road, taking it in turns to use the ladies loo, the other watching the bikes. 'Relieved' didn't quite adequately describe the feeling I had.

We parted soon after, and I went home my legs still a bit shaky. This became noticeable as I climbed back up the stairs to my room, dreading the idea of confronting the two clowns who shared my floor. Thankfully, it didn't happen.

I nodded off after my shower and jumped when the phone rang. "Hello?" I said with that vagueness you have when newly awakened.

"Is that you Charlie?"

"Dad, I have nothing more to say to you."

"Don't hang up, son." He was pleading with me.

"My name isn't Charlie any more and I'm not your son, I'm your daughter."

"What is your name now then, Charlotte I suppose?"

"No it isn't." I paused, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him in case he wanted to cause trouble, but he knew where I lived and it could backfire on him anyway. Publicity would reflect on him and he wouldn't like that, nor would his churchy mates.

"So are you going to tell me?"

"Do you really want to know?" I asked almost a hint of sarcasm in my tone.

"Yes, you're still my so..child." He spluttered his way out of his error.

"It's Catherine," I answered hesitantly, for some reason I wasn't entirely happy that he knew this, as if it gave him some power over me.

"Pretty name, suits you."

I almost fell off my perch! What did he say? Geez, the lying bastard!

"What do you want Dad, I'm trying to write my dissertation?" I could lie as well as him, I'd been practising.

"I wanted to apologise Char..Cathy."

"I don't know if I believe you." Part of me wanted to cry and part of me felt as hard as flint.

"Can we get together and talk things over, at least give me a chance."

"Father, the last time we spoke you beat the shit out of me. You want me to give you the chance to do that again?"

"I'm sorry, I was angry."

"You were angry, is that some sort of excuse? You nearly fucking killed me!"

"There is no need to swear at me."

"Dad, you just don't get it, do you? You can do whatever you want, however psychopathic, and that's okay. I swear because I am upset with you, and you take umbrage. What's the point of us meeting, we have nothing in common?"

Then he played his trump card, he began to cry on the phone and I cried too. I wanted to kill the bastard and yet I also couldn't bear to see him in pain. Jesus fucking Christ, I felt so screwed!

"Cathy, you are all I have in the world now your mother's gone. I need you," he sobbed, "I need you, please don't abandon me."