What Do Mad Mom Zelda & Lance Armstrong Have In Common?

They're both doing the Argus Cycle Tour, but this Mad Mom is doing it on a hand cycle!

Lance might even be starting in the same charity group as I am as he's flying the Jag banner as I race in Chaeli colours. Would it be foolish of me to issue some kind of challenge at the start? The pic above is the 1st pic released of madmomzelda hurtling along the road. It is blurred because of the extreme speed I was travelling as I whizzed past my garden gate, with Russ at the ready with our point-and-shoot camera. I'm hoping for a better pic soon (Photoshop version where make-up is immaculate and my body has the curves correctly proportioned). Until then - observe the challenge presenting itself in this pic ...


On the downside: uphills are going to be interesting considering that I have to drag my voluptuous curves up the hills - and my arms are all I have to help me. On the upside: I'm as obstinate as an ox and I truly WANT to finish this 'race'. On Sunday I completed my 1st 30km training ride in 2hrs 10min (and I have a daft half-arm suntan to prove it). There was an interesting test that presented itself at the bridge on Princessvlei Road. A dude (approx 40 and on an old-fashioned 'dikwiel' bike) and I arrived at the robots leading to the bridge at the same time. With my superior arm thrust I pulled ahead of him. Due to my larger frame (mine - not the bike's ...) he overtook me as I slowed on the lower slope. And then, halfway up the bridge, he got off his bike and started walking. Driven by oestrogen (and knowing that I can't afford any hill to beat me before I get onto the road on 14 March) I powered my way up the bridge at 2km/hr, one armswing, one heartbeat, one moebie deep breath, at a time. The dude was clearly embarrassed to be 'beaten' by this grey-haired old duck going at a snail's pace and lagged behind.

When I hit the crest of that hill I could hear the roar of the crowds, could feel the warm glow of accomplishment and could taste the victory of a challenge well met. Or maybe it was just the rush of blood through my temples as I knew that after every uphill the sweet exhiliration of a downhill awaits. And as I zoomed downhill at 40km/hr I knew that the only voice I need to hear is my own, egging myself on to attack the next long stretch, the next hill, the next victory ...