Master! Master!

When it comes to holiday reading, my second favourite genre of book is 'badly written auto/biography' (my first favourite is, of course, 'well written auto/biography', but let's face it, those are few and far between. Especially when it comes to cycling auto/biographies. I mean, fuck, have you read the Lance Armstrong book? That shit blows). This summer my parents generously overlooked the Cadel Evans book - perhaps sensitive to my recent defeat at his hands - and purchased for me the Anna Meares book. It is, true to form, terribly (ghost!) written, but seems to have left an impression on me nonetheless. I think I'd been getting a bit slack before Christmas - not pushing myself hard enough at training, settling for podium finishes in racing - and reading about the training that she and her peers at the AIS do has given me the inspiration to push myself even harder. Every effort, every race, every training ride. It's on.