It hasn't been all bad, however, this weather of ours. The last two weeks have been pretty good, allowing for a couple of long cycles to be had. Organised by other people of course, god forbid I go off on my own back, too much effort.
First up was a charming 60 mile cycle to Blackpool. When I say charming, I actually mean really, really sodding annoying. It started off well, myself enjoying the event along with the thousands of other people who thought "Cycle to Blackpool? That'll be a doddle." However, blue skies were to quickly turn to grey (figuratively and actually as it turned out) when my trusty Kona touring bike went toe to toe with a rus
ty nail and came out on the losing side. This was 30 minutes into the ride, not even past the M60 ring road around Manchester, and I found myself changing an inner tube (badly, may I add) whilst every other rider passed me by with no offer of help forwarded. Bastards.Then, a whiles later, the bicycle procession had the misfortune to pass through that veritable hell on Earth, Preston. Which was the only point where the skies opened, because as with everything else, the weather is constantly shit in Preston.
Anyway, the cycle ended and Simon was safely found in Blackpool, 3 inner tubes used, 4 punctures encountered; sore legs and out of breath swearing were the orders of the day. Along with the phrase "never cycling again."
Which was a lie as it turned out, for a week later I was on my merry way to Chester, a far more pleasant ride, through country lanes, villages and cows. Delightful. Not even a mention of Preston the entire trip. Nothing much else to report on the Chester run, we set off, we cycled for a good while and then we arrived. End of story.
So, a rather gruelling 62 mile cycle followed by a less rigorous 53 mile jaunt. Not too bad, though I couldn't be confused with a serious cyclist. And my bike is starting to become more than just a rather cumbersome hallway ornament.
