It's Sunday, so...

I decided to visit the folks, in Buckinghamshire. To make it a little more interesting I thought I might cycle. I'm not sure why I thought this would be a good idea. Probably something to do with being rather unfit at the moment, and also yearning for a little bit of old school Life in the middle fitness action.

So I donned my new cycling glasses, tilted my head, and set off.

 

It's a long way, mile after mile of cycle lanes, and it was hot. But I soon got a good a clip going and seemed to be making good progress.

 

Of course as one hour became two I started feeling a little less confident in tackling the journey. But whenever I had these moments of doubt there was always something to lift me. Whether it be the Uxbridge YMCA (a magnificent thing).

 

Or the least impressive 'you're now in this county' sign I've ever seen (though it was good to cross the boundary).

As two hours became two and half I eventually reached my destination, where I was buoyed by the presence of Farnsworth, my sister's hound, who is one of the more fantastic dogs on the planet.

 

Also in attendance was my niece Margot, who was busy making a mess in a pretend kitchen.

 

And my nephew Wilf, who was busy crying about something.

We had a nice time. Harry was happy to once again show his comedic side by wearing my new cycling glasses in the most extraordinarily casual way possible.

I ate stew, talked about the matters of the day, and slowly felt my strength returning. Once my clothes had dried somewhat my thoughts turned to the cycle home.

 

As soon as I left I could tell it was going to be a long afternoon. Straight away my legs felt like they didn't want to play game, and the heat tested my will as I pondered jumping on a train. But that was the point of the cycle. To be given these choices, and to ignore them - to defy them.

As I got an hour and half into the cycle home things became sore. My knees. My bum from the saddle. And my shoulders from the backpack. All I could do was try and distract myself from the fact that there was another hour to go, by constantly repeating the phrase "keep on trucking".

As I reached the outskirts of London I started to feel almost mechanical. Churning the pedals, over and over again. Eating the road as fast my shattered legs would let me.

 

Until eventually I was home. Slightly broken, but home.

 

I think in total I was on the bike nearly six hours, there and back, which probably explains why I'm now feeling a little stiff. But I'll tell you what, it's these adventures into doubt which keep me going. The rest is just puff.

Good evening.

Comments

[Javier]

Oh, yes!! Life in the middle essence.

[doug]

Evening Paul.

Evening Javier.

[Paul H. Colman]

Evening all.

[Ben]

Impressive. 70 miles?

[Ben]

And Good Evening.

[Paul H. Colman]

I don't think it was that far, although I did go a stupidly long way, to avoid traffic.

[lauren]

bravo!

[Ben]

Evening Doug.

[Fresh]

Wotcha Ben.

[Paul H. Colman]

That cycle was worthwhile for these comments alone.

[Summerscales]

I'm sorry this is a little late, I've not been here for a while. Just a bit disappointed with your bar tape. Have a little respect for the fella (I'll come with you to the bike shop if you want).

[Paul H. Colman]

Summerscales, I'm not sure that picture does my bar tape justice. Can I offer you a full inspection?

By the way, nice to see you over this neck of the woods.