Whether it was rugby, sailing, or cycling we always pursued that additional "edge"
Two years ago when Phil came over for his first ever MS150 we scoured many biking magazines and articles to get the best advantage we could. We made our bikes as light as possible, tuned them to perfection and then focused our sights on Form, Style and "Personnel Aero Form Dynamics". I am not sure if PAFD is actually a real term but it sounded good and the findings were unanimous......We had to be like the "Tour Boys" and shave our legs and indulge in the mysterious purchase of a manicure and pedicure.
This may sound like a simple endeavour but as things materialized it was a great bonding session normally reserved for stranded shipwreck victims on a Desert Island - "Sharing the same sense of helplessness"
Phil & I were lured into the Spa which with its sweet music and allure of Eastern promise was a poor disguise for its true intent. The petite Vietnamese girls were busily scurrying around mothers and grandmothers who were there for there weekly manicure and pedicures. "Pik Kolar" they said warmly pointing to a large selection of brightly coloured nail varnish bottles. We looked at each other for a second and as if being maneuvered by the same puppet master both shook our heads in unison and laughed. "We don't want any color" we stated, puffing out our chests in our exerted macho bravado. "We are riding this weekend and need to have our hands and feet in good order.......and if possible do you have a lawn mower"?
The first part of the Spa treatment "Manicure & Pedicure" was fantastic!!! For those male readers who have not experienced this well kept secret it is a MUST. They have these great chair that envelope you into a massage like trance as cool waters run over your feet.
The Spa was full. To my left was a 73 Grandmother called "Maryanne" with purple hair, who insisted that we spoke "FOREIGN" ( I guess my cultivated Texas accent is missing a few dralls).........and to my right a 40 something single mum called "Louanne"who was accompanied by her three girls whose names I forget but all had double barrel names ending in "anne" or "sue". There were three other ladies that filled the remaining chairs all busily chatting about, nieces, nephews, shoes, and what stores were having sales.
After our P & M was over we were ushered into two separate rooms for our "shaved leg experience" By now any small talk between myself and the therapist was over and replaced by nervous anticipation. As i laid face down on a raised platform that seemed to resemble a gurney that I had seen so many times in the CSI medical examiners office.
Just when I thought I wasn't nervous I heard a blood curdling scream which had the distinct "voice recognition patterns" as my twin brother. The laughter...... and I mean rapturous deep belly laughter that came from my mouth was short lived as tears swelled from my eyes in response to the searing pain emanating from the back of my legs.
I then heard Phil laughing .......(NOT FUNNY) at my obvious displeasure and thus began the vicious cycle, laugh, cry, laugh, cry which lasted for the next 25 minutes and 53 seconds. As we finally left the confines of our respective dungeons, a deathly silence fell around the Spa, as Phil and I like two "slaughtered lambs" effected our escape as the purple haired lady acknowledged our heroic acts.