Wednesday, 18 July 2012


Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious by this son of the York barbell company.

It's that time of year when getting out the door and on the bike can like a task to challenge even Atlas. Today the world crushed me, and while it would be a simple thing to blame a single blow for my demise, a mear flick of the keyboard and I'd assuage any guilt I had at not achieving my planned training, the reality was closer to a death by a thousand cuts.

Through the ritual of getting ready for NRR Long (shit, shower, socks), there were whispers in the back of my consciousness. Each task achieved was a small victory, bringing me closer to riding, but ahead were innumerable other tasks, waiting to trip up the momentum of intent. I walked a  precipice from which where a false move spelt a fall from grace.

As likely surmised already, I didn't make NRR Long, or even NRR itself, I succumbed to the sound of rain and (fully kitted in riding gear) I lay back on my bed defeated.

D: 15.3km A: 124m

PMPW: 92kg

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