Counting Down From Seven Three Oh

Yesterday was my second anniversary of cycling as an adult, or more accurately as a middle-aged working person. I’d got to lectures from time to time on my old MTB, but being a competitive powerlifter at the time, I preferred to walk since my legs were either too sore to push uphill because it had recently been Squat Day(heavy metal terror sound effect), or were being rested the day before Squat Day(angelic choir sound effect).  There was a twelve year gap between the two, at any rate.

I’m so disinterested in anniversaries that I once forgot my twin sister’s birthday, so it was actually surprising that I remembered yesterday at all. Admittedly my memory was jogged because I had been kidnapped and forced to eat some spectacularly tomatoey tomatoes and then some profoundly win barbecued herring at the abode of SRD, author of DeadDogBlog and who is, with her husband Bill, a relentless trampler of the pseudoreligious belief that you need a car if you have two young children, so the atmosphere was more even more utility cycley than it normally is for me of a Saturday evening and there were many reminders.

It was around 8pm when the conversation rolled round to the point I took down my sister’s trusty 1988 vintage Raleigh Record Sprint from its hook and rode for the first time in the aforementioned dozen years, so I didn’t have time to plan anything celebratory, except of course declaring the awesomesauce dinner I was having to be a feast in its honour.

Today, however, the world is my oyster. So I’m not going to get on a bike.

I don’t think I’ve not been on a bike any day I’ve been in my flat since June the 8th 2011. In that time I’ve gone from thinking three flat miles to my office was quite a long way to doing a 200k audax and only being very tired at the end of it. I’ve gone from borrowing my sister’s bike to owning four of my own, the most recent of which I built from frame up, largely using parts I had lying about. I’ve gone from being an LB ninja and ambulator par excellence to not knowing how buses work, or how long it takes to walk anywhere.  I’ve gone from not making a fuss about it to being head marshal of Pedal on Parliament 2.

I think I’m due a day off.

The only fly in my ointment is that I need a couple of things from Sainsbury’s and I can’t be arsed walking that far.


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