Toulouse Peripherique

On the road now, travelling with the family through southern France and north along the coast, then over to Belgium before heading back to Paris and a flight home on the 11th.

This is my recovery week and a much-needed one at that. It's been a month of 250 mile weeks, the last couple in windy, cool weather, and my legs need some time to recuperate. Halving my 15 hours per week, leaves 7-8 hours this week for a couple of high intensity workouts and a couple of complete rest days. Yesterday was a rest and travel day so today I'm catching a ride with the family and Matthew and Johnathan, friends living in Toulouse. We're headed to the Canal du Midi south of the city. The canal runs from Narbonne on the Mediterannean to Bordeaux on the Atlantic, a miracle of modern engineering.

The wind is still blowing and the temps aren't much above 55 degrees, but my legs ache from the ride Friday and I REALLY NEED to get out on the bike. Cutting back on the riding is hard; I'm used to the rhthym of the bike, the quiet, the regular effort. I mentioned last month that the recovery week is my hardest week mentally, and it is.

I take the bike off the van, and give kisses to the kids and Janet. Air up the tires, the patch on the rear tubular is holding well, and I hop in the backseat to change. Jersey, socks, warmers, banana, cellphone... where are the shorts? A fevered rummage around the bag reveals that I've forgotten the shorts. A moment of swearing ensues and I'm sure the couple walking by on the promenade along the canal think the man sitting in the backseat of the Renault swearing is insane.

Janet's shorts fit pretty well. The bright purple makes a statement I'm not used to making, but who cares? I'm riding! Up to Mervilla and a 2k climb to warm-up. The legs are strange, but respond to the effort. The whine of a scooter at full rpm comes up behind me and pulls even on the 10% grade. He looks over and points ahead. I laugh and move from 10 to 12mph and drop him. Over the top and he's far behind but gaining. After a rondpoint, I turn towards Vigoulet, and he passes me at the bottom of the descent as we approach the Garonne River. The wind is on my left side, blowing hard, and the clouds race across the slate sky. Just a hint of blue and then a hint of rain in the air.

Another rondpoint in Lacroix and the road crosses the L'Ariege and my scooter friend turns off with a wave. I turn towards Pins Justaret and stop in Roquettes realizing it is the wrong 'pins'; I turn around and head for Pinsaguel and the bridge across the Garonne at Portet.

Crossing the river, the landscape turns industrial and the D24 touches the southern sprawl of Toulouse. The towns are stingy with their signs on this road and in Cugnaux I end up in section of town devoted to sports stadiums. I know the D24 is somewhere to my left and take a small lane towards the city center and, voila!, there is again. I realize I'm actually in Cugnaux as I pass the town's exit sign, Cugnaux with a diagonal red line through it. The wind is right on my back now as I head northwest and the road is deadflat. This is fine, the race with the scooter was not in my plans for an easy spin, and neither was the climb up to Mervilla.

Plaisance du Touch, a great name for a town, and then the Route de Colomier and Pibrac begins to show up on the rondpoint signs. Once in the village the Basilica de St. Germaine dominated the town, sitting up on a hill. My D24, with me since the river crossing, splits here and I follow the D24d towards Pibrac and my friend's house.

1:31, 26.1, 740ft