Tuesday, June 28, 2005

One down, hundreds more to go...

The Competitor called just now. Can't really make out the reason he called. Is it to gloat or is it to taunt? Between us, we know each other too well. The line between gloat, taunt and compliment blurs. It could be some sort of psychological warfare which both of us are aware of.

He asked me whether I am really going for The Battle up North. I sense a smirk coming. I know he have been training these past few weeks, sneaking the occasional ride and run (even during the trip to the East). For sure, he's been on the Torture Machine yesterday, for a long workout before coming over for 'The Science of Lance'. What mind games is he trying to play now...

'Bon, you going to The Battle up North later this month?'.
'Uhm, yup.. why?' I answered.
'I won't be able to do battle with you...' he replied curtly, ' I'm part of the Battle Council, me being the Warlord of Torture. They summon me to be on their side'. He sounded a bit frustrated. Or is he really?
I wonder. 'Can't you do something about it?' I asked.
'Not at this moment.. I'm going for the Battle Council meeting later tonight. I'll see what I can do'. His forced laugh sounds hollow. 'I still hope to do battle with you..."

Should I be dancing over this 'good news'? I'm not so sure. Last year's battle was bloody, time posted was respectable. Even if I used to post time in the low 6:30s, but I was 14kg lighter then. The outlook is not so rosy after all.

This will deinitely leave bodies splayed on the ground....

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