Thursday, 30 July 2015


A ripping tailwind simultaneously feels easy and hard, and I can't work out any physics that explain it. Today's Northerly was no exception, howling in from somewhere, and relegating me to a mid pack position to look for some relief.

When a red light chopped the bunch off from Tom Leaper and another, I was happy to let them go, I think I even called that we'd never see Tom again (we didn't). When another chopped a handful of us off from those that remained and were willing to work, I rolled up to lend a hand so that I could get a better sit later.

I rolled turns on the way home too, but only when it rolled down wind. When the turns broke down and restarted up wind I wanted no bar of it. I just wanted to get to a coffee, and was feeling mopey that none of my usual brew companions were about.

Strava link.

D: 42.6km
A: 174m

PMPW: 84kg

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