Not just any Hoy, but Chris Hoy, THE Chris Hoy, Sir Lord Darth Hoy. I was in the queue with him in the canteen, the lofty masked despot that he is; he was trying to order Penne Al Arrabbiata without a tray. An altercation ensued (‘you’ll need a tray!’).
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| Hoy and mighty: he'll need a tray |
Really, though, Chris Hoy was here for the World Cycling
Club Union Championship Indoor Cycling Games Championship, at the Velodrome in
Astana. At the people’s expense, they have built a fantastic velodrome here,
right next to where we live, in the shape of a giant cycling helmet. It’s
proper tack from the outside but inside is fabulous - in particular the arena
itself. An elegant single span space-frame roof and a
beautifully laid wooden track.
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| Women on treadmills make the arena rotate at high speed |
It could not escape our attention that the cyclists had remarkable thighs. Anyway, distractions aside, cycling is EXCITING! In particular the sprint. We watched
our boy Hoy from just a few metres away as his cumbersome thighs drove him to an
even higher stratospheric status than before. Whoop. A really exciting day,
except for the horror of the icy wind – winter is gonna be long!
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| I forget this British rider's name - probably because she wasn't on a shredded wheat advert. |
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