Today was knitting group. So I decided that I would cycle down to Caffe Nero's where we meet. So I dug out a rucksack from the cupboard under the stairs, filled it with my knitting and my purse, put on my fleece (as it was cold) and got my bike out. Then I had to unlock the shed, find a bike lock with a key that unlocked it, and then I was ready to go. I couldn't find a cycle helmet, well actually, the only one that I could find, was full of mud for some reason. Note to self - ask the boys about that one. So off I rode. The nice thing is that the first half of the 7 miles to town (yes 7 miles) is slightly downhill. Actually the drive down from my house, is like going on a deathslide. My brakes were squealing, or maybe that was me, and my heart was racing, just in case the brakes didn't hold. But they did. Onwards. By about half mile, I realised that I wasn't as fit as I used to be. I probably hadn't been out on my bike for a year, and I think there was something wrong with the saddle, or my belly really had got saggier, as it kept hitting my knees, everytime my leg went up. By about the mile (even though I was still slightly free wheeling) my thighs were starting to burn. I stopped the bike, looked in my purse, and was mightily relieved to see that I had enough money for the bus. I cycled another mile and a half (the bus stop was calling my name), and locked the trusty steed up to a road sign opposite where the bus stop was. I wobbled over the road (not because of my fat belly, but my legs were like jelly) and waited 5mins and got the bus to town. What a relief. By the time I got to knitting group, I was refreshed and felt quite hopeful about the journey home, after knitting group.
Fast forward 2 hours, got off the bus, unlocked the bike (not been stolen,unfortunately) and freewheeled down the road. Then the bones in my butt started to protest. Now I have a slightly (ok I lied) large butt, and a gel filled saddle. But still, my bones were not ready to sit on that saddle again. I gritted my teeth, and talked sternly to myself. Another 500 yards passed, and I pulled in off the road. I sent the following text to my lovely, lovely husband. "You know you love me, and you know you love it when I am home at lunchtime to make your lunch. Well in five minutes I will travelling along the (2miles) road to our house, so if you would like to pick me and my bike up, I can then make your lunch for you." Then I pushed the bike up the next nasty hill. I did manage to ride about another half mile, until a knight in shining armour, on a trusy white horse came to sweep me off my feet and rescue me appeared. Actually a smelly (working with pig poo today) farmer in a beat up red pick up, but still my knight, came and got me. Was I pleased to see him or what!!I got home, and thought seriously about relegating the trusty bike (instrument of torture) to the bonfire, but then realised metal doesn't burn very well. I'll just hide it in the bushes, and take the car next time!!