Nine 1/2 days*

Yep, nearly ten days of serial riding – just like the film but with less Kim Bassinger but a similar amount of Aerobic effort.

If there has been another time when I’ve stretched sore hamstrings every morning for double digit days, then it must have occurred while under the influence of strong medication. 143 miles, five different bikes, four different counties but with only a single set of legs.

Much commuting and a Peaks trip made up most of it with the remainder coming from some later summer exploring in the mode of an enthusiastic boy scout. But with less woggle and worse map reading. And now I don’t want to break the cycle (that’s generally a maintenance task) and I wondering how many more days I can manage under sunny skies and a minimum of 45 minutes/5 miles to make it count.

For all of our supposed busy lives (“Time Poor” I heard the other day, it’s just more fucking marketing) most people should be able to manage that especially since it has such a positive effect on fitness, energy, moral outlook and a irresistible craving for Snickers (sorry Marathon) bars.

It feels like riding comes first and everything else comes second. Anymore of this and I’ll have to replace my office chair with a saddle. Although, if I am absolutely honest, it is not always that much fun especially when blacktop replaces late summer trail dirt. Stirring reluctant muscles at 6:30am is never easy because I know I’m just going to go out there and hurt myself for twenty five minutes. Then get on a train before doing it all again at the other end. I so wish that taking it easy was part of my riding make up but it just isn’t – it’s either 100{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2}, maxed out, flat out and gulping air like a dying fish or stopped.

I’m thinking of it as training for the terminally stupid.

And I’m tired everywhere. Yawning through the day and even finding a post ride stretch too much like hard work. All my riding gear needs washing, my mp3 player has cycled every song five times, most of my bikes need fixing and the ones that’ don’t need cleaning. And I can do all that if someone will just let me sleep for a day or so.

It feels good 🙂

Spookily close to 91/2 is the sixth anniversary of 911 which falls tomorrow. This seemed a perfect time to get on an aeroplane although it is to that most take-no-sides country, Switzerland. Common myths surrounding Switzerland include that they have no standing army, they have more languages than people and they top the European anality league by banning almost anything exciting.

At least one of those things is true, and all of them are more interesting that receiving a six hour demonstration of ton of expensive software talking to a telephone delivered in perfect English. By a man who has probably stashed a couple of mill of Nazi Gold in his perfectly groomed cellar. Oops, anyone know a good lawyer?

I shall return with tales of airport frustration and – if I can smuggle a small one in – a Milka cow.

* Yes I know it was 9 1/2 weeks but, mimicking the latest movie tradition, you’d need a stunt arse for that.

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