retirement

I've been thinking about retirement lately. It's not that I'm old enough to get ready for it, but I'm not young enough anymore to ignore preparing. Maybe I shouldn't worry, but it keeps bugging me a little. I've accrued a handful of years of rights in Germany, and now a bit more than two fat years in France. I bet they are incompatible, and I'll lose one or the other in the end. The five years in the US did me nothing, and the next five years in the UK might not either. Although Imperial sent me a big, confusing brochure professing to explain their retirement benefits scheme, I'll probably need every penny I earn just to survive. Should I invest in the Russian construction market and hope it takes off like nuts and I'll be rich in ten/fifteen years?

So many questions, and only one thing is for sure. I'll retire from cycling after the Dolomites marathon this July. I kind of semi-retired last fall but restarted because, well, because not cycling around Grenoble is like not drinking wine in France. I'm currently preparing for the marathon – even got a medical certificate today that will let me participate in the Challenge Dauphiné in two weeks as preparation – but once I'm in London, I'll use the bike for commuting – that's all. Maybe I'll take up running, maybe inline skating, maybe couch surfing. Maybe I'll get a membership to the Tate and spend all weekends in the gallery. That sounds even better than couch surfing.

Anyway, today I rode my bike with shaky legs and a hungry stomach. I did 115km with a few intermediate climbs and I kept wondering why I was so hungry. I ate two pounds of oatmeal before leaving, and yet that wasn't enough. Friends tell me I've lost wait. That's not true according to my bathroom scale, but I must look it. So the ride wasn't exceptionally pleasant, but at least it was sunny. The two days before I went out in the pouring rain, against better judgment and against ancient tradition. But man, the Dolomites marathon sure looks frightening.