First bike ride of the year.
Mug of tea at Parsley Hay
The first bike ride in I-dont-know-when. There was the before Christmas cold, then Christmas, then snow, then the after Christmas really bad cold. Not to mention how much weight has gone on. This really is fat girl on a bike.
But it was kill or cure time. Neither of us could face one more day indoors, we had to go out. Straight out of bed and into the lycra so there was no chance of wimping out. Then cycling worked its old magic. Within 10 minutes we’re bowling along, saying how glad we are we talked each other into it.
Wrapped up warm and heavily flourescent because of the fog, we cycled by road to Ashbourne, birds were singing like maniacs in a tree just outside the door of a farm. Maybe spring will arrive this year after all.
We met two horses, also out for their first outing. ‘Stop, stop, please’ yelled one of the riders.’They’re just babies, they’ve never seen cyclists before.’ We offered to retreat to a gateway, but the riders said no, babies they may be, but they had to learn about cyclists. Once, years ago, a farmer asked us to hide behind a wall while he brought his cows along a lane. We did. We’re not proud.
After soup in Ashbourne we returned home along the trails – Tissington & High Peak. They’re both old railway lines. Tissington goes in a gentle gradient uphill almost all of its 13 miles.
God! It can be a miserable slog if you’re not fit – and I’m not. Nose poured snot all the way. Look away now if you’re squeamish, the nose-wiping towelling thumb bit on my gloves was completely sodden and there are snail trails of snot all over my legs and shoulders. Grey all the way but with a numinous bit of sun filtering through from a long way off and the gorgeous sweep of green hills. Last bits of snow left along the edges of the highest drystone walls.
I have never been so fat. The bike is my only hope. And so to the revival of this blog.
