|pic courtesy of http://danielphillips.co.uk|
As i sit here writing this blog I’m determined not to regret riding on Sunday. We’d made the effort despite the awful weather forceast, We left on time, there was no gazing out of the window trying desperately to think of an excuse not to leave the warm dry confines of the house. suitable baselayer and jacket had been planned and laid out the night before just to avoid using the hunt for them as a reason to remain at home.
we left and pedalled into the drizzle, as the a old saying goes, once you make the effort and go out into the real world it doesn’t seem so bad and so it proved, it wasn’t cold and the wind was barely a breeze, I’d still prefer it to be dry and sunny though. the trails were as expected, a huge bog of sticky mud that at times even defeated even the fatty’s tyres. locking both wheels in a skid competition on soaked grass was fun though even if i did impale myself on the end of the handle bar as i hit the ground, no regrets though, i was as wet as i was going to get by that point anyway. lots more trails followed, bus stop was a giggle of zero traction and felt like someone else was steering because i certainly wasn’t in control and even getting cold standing around eating cake at Lizzie’s farm didn’t bring on the “titty lip” as we knew the climb straight after would warm us back up. we were probably all pushing the limits of what was sensible riding in these murky and skill challenging conditions but as is usually the way, when your concentration wanders, the incident that I could be forgiven for regretting happened. on a climb of all things as i chose the winter route of the link between Rose Hill and the Visitor centre. A branch poking out from a tree caught me in the chest, I decided it was thin enough to pedal through, it wasn’t and pushed me via my own momentum (yea, right, i was going max 3mph!) to one side, I put out my leg to balance and felt the muscle just above my left butt cheek pull, instant agony and instant knowledge that it was going to take quite a while to return to normal. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again I’m sure as once prone to it it’s inevitable. So after a day of limping, grimacing, stretching and feeling sorry for myself I’ve come to the conclusion it was worth it. I was out riding when others were hiding, I was smiling when others had miserable faces pressed up against the window watching the rain. I was riding with a great bunch of guys. So, no, no regrets