I wanted to cycle further than 14.4 miles. On Thursday I took a route I was familiar with but had never ridden on my own before. One big hill, lots of country lanes and an A road.
I don't like cycling on A roads. Too many vehicles travelling too fast. But the A26 was the only way to get from Isfield to Ringmer. So I pedalled as quickly as I could for a mile or so and tried not to think about the hulking black 4X4s roaring past with half a desire to squish me.
My front wheel looked a bit wobbly so I pulled over somewhere near Ringmer. The quick release bolt was loose. Brilliant. I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure the wheel is supposed to be attached to the frame. Bolt tightened, I ate a banana and watched a solitary wind turbine generating enough electricity to boil an egg.
I felt terrible climbing the hill towards Glynde. Lowest gear. Huffing and puffing. I knew I could do better than that. My thighs burned and my calves cramped on the way home. Stupid legs!
20.12 miles. I should have been pleased. I wasn't.
I feared the worst when I got my bike out again on Friday. This is going to hurt, I thought. I'm never going to get up those hills.
How wrong could I be?
I flew up those hills. I bounced in the pedals. I accelerated to the top! I can't explain it but my body adjusted to what I was asking it to do within 24 hours of the last battering I had given it. My body stepped up to the plate. It delivered.
OK, the ride was much shorter - only 8.41 miles (only, he says) - but there were more hills, bigger hills, and I was moving much faster.
From now on, I will not assume what my body can or cannot do. I will let it surprise me.
What is your wish of the month? Wouldn't you like to surprise yourself?
What is your wish of the month? Wouldn't you like to surprise yourself?
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