Tiredness is king!
I’d love to sleep for a week. The temptation to switch the alarm off this morning and have 45 minutes more in bed and drive in was massive. It was reinforced as I ate my Shreddies and watched the flag outside (my neighbour seems to have adopted a flag permanently instead of for sporting support, Jubilees and the like) mocking me by flying like it was rocket powered and indicating that the full force of the wind would be against me for the coming hour.
I hate flags. And the smell of shit. But that was a blog post two years ago, so I’ll avoid full repetition.
Instead I accepted that it’d be a slow slog in, that I’d merely arrive a bit later than yesterday and that I’d simply rummage around in my box of gears for a lower ratio until I ran out of options, whereupon I’d get off and walk. It didn’t quite get to that but, with the coldness of the morning (June? Fuck off! It feels like April. And working in Hawkinge (AKA the shittiest place on the planet; first to get foggy, first to receive rain, coldest, windiest hellhole on earth), it stayed cold and cloudy until lunchtime when the sun made an appearance and hinted it might warm up. It didn’t until I neared Ashford on the way home, but it hinted. Which for Hawkinge is the best it ever does), I was close to stopping and crying as my hands started to stiffen as I neared Etchinghill and the biggest of the climbs.
But I slogged in, recovered and then had a surprise visit to the pub for lunch after handing over the last of the rented houses. Pub? Lunch? Is it still the law to have scampi and chips on such an occasion? I’d like to think so. And if so, I’ll not be going to jail this week.
And this, combined with my fig rolls, gave me a full stomach for the cycle home.
Which was ok. A full side-wind for the long stretch through Sellindge was wearisome but better than a headwind and again, I was a good bit quicker than going in.
And once home, the run felt better, too. My legs must be conditioning themselves to jogging after a ride and a 3 mile outing was the order of the evening, a mile of it in the company of another runner who was out for 10k. Made a great change to have a chat for a few minutes before heading home.
So my legs are nearly ruined, my bum has started hurting on the saddle, but I’m near 100 miles cycling and that feels good.
I’ve decided that Friday won’t be ridiculously massive, despite devilish plans to make it so. I was going to mountainbike to work then join Steve for an off-road jaunt, then cycle home from Hythe. I don’t think I’ll make it (it would be over 40 miles for the day. On off-road tyres. With full suspension. With a day’s work in between). Instead I’m going to drive in and enjoy the mountainbiking. It’ll leave me more mileage to make up on the weekend, but happy miles are better than hating the challenge I’ve set.
Can I go to sleep now? Ah, no. I’ve still got to water the greenhouse, sort two loads of washing, wash up and watch some TT racing first. Later, though. Looking forward to it already.