Boy, I feel like doing a bit of couch snoring at the moment. And yes, I have been at stage two for some time - my snoring does wake me up.
Miserable bloody day today. I went to bed after watching Cadel crack on the climb, and then woke to find that he'd gone up that bloody mountain with a broken elbow. And although he lost time to the leaders, he still went up that thing faster than almost all the best cyclists in the world. He was going faster uphill than I go on the flat. What a bloody legend.
The misery of watching Cadel lose yellow was compounded by the Weather Gods. The sun had a really hard time getting started this morning - it was murky as can be a good hour after sunrise. And it rained. This bloke has a classic case of cyclists bum streak - the water and mud flicking off his back tyre has left a skid mark right up his arse. Modern cyclists poo-poo the mudguard, and get poo-poo on their bottoms instead. As I have panniers, I don't have this problem anymore.
Another cause for misery - Mr Fancy Socks. We had a headwind all the way home. I was hoping to get on this bloke's wheel and ride in his slipstream, but he dropped me and left me to face the wind alone. I was chugging mournfully across the bridge, feeling a cramp coming on in both legs (hamstring in one, quads in the other) and thought, "It's time to get into low gear". I hit the lever - and found to my dismay that I was already in low gear. I never use low gear - but the wind was gusting at 20-30km/h, and I was buggered. Getting off and walking was really looking like a sensible option.
Then I thought about Cadel, and pushed on through the cramps and the pain and the wind.