I awoke on Wednesday morning feeling rubbish. Not unwell-I-think that-I-am-coming-down-with-a-cold rubbish but tired/knackered rubbish. I decided not to ride. I was tired all day and unusually for me, couldn’t seem to shake it. When I got home I went straight upstairs to bed and crashed into a 90min nap. It took me ages to come to my senses and once awake did not get to sleep until midnight.
Thursday I felt similar when I woke up but not as bad. I forced myself out taking Tuesday’s route but took it easy averaging 21km/h in the easy gears. All the way I had The Eagles earworm. …don’t let the sound of them old wheels drive you crazy…By the time I got to work, I felt great-thank you endorphins. And Glenn Frey.
I was energised enough to consider a mainly off road out of the way route. I chose to go via Hunsdon airfield again and, after reading more about it’s history, decided to go and explore the memorial in sweaty remembrance.
I continued along trails that I hadn’t been on for a while and such was the warmth in the air and my slow speed, I just didn’t want to stop. I even resisted the temptation to stop at my new favourite pub. So I generally found excuses to dawdle about running a couple of un-needed errands in town on the way through.
I have noticed that in some parts trail growth of nettles and brambles is flourishing after the recent rain. I swear that I maintain the trails for others by tearing through them as they tear through my limbs. Maybe I should add a pair of secateurs to my bar bag for these occasions.
Once I climbed out of town I was back onto farm trails, under the motorway and back onto the Flitch for more solitude as the day faded.