For those of us gravity adhered to a rock hurtling through space at 70,000 MPH, considering the passing of time is – when you really think about it* – a properly random construct.
So it makes some kind of sense to slice our lives into neat divisions offering illusionary agency to divide order from chaos. Right until some hip physicist rocks up with “well, ya, spacetime is weird, it’s kind of a rubber sheet bending what you think of time at the edges” at which point your brain fires off a neurone shrug to the medicine tipping hand making all this go away.
On that happy note, do grab the beverage of your choice because the time has come to present the “2025 Hedgies“**. A single image per month context’d by whatever my increasing string-vest like memory can offer up. With a link to an infrequent post if I can find one. If not, well at least you’ve been spared that.
January
Putting something back: Matt, H and I go big on the dig
Two days ago, Matt and I were back on the shovel in the same location. Four hours of deep sub soil analysis resulted in initial findings best summarised as “Wet, heavy and apparently endless“. We could have gone even deeper – limited only by crumbling limbs, and the worry we might discover Australia from the underside.
Carol and I abandoned the UK for some winter sun, and – in my case – a water tight excuse to give the side eye to all that joyless liquid associated with Dry January.
February
Steve and I went to Cwmcarn to escape the mud. Having only climbed about a million meters, we decided an off piste adventure would enhance an already fantastic days riding. Adventure it certainly was when our random trail selection met the fall line. By the time we found the car – distanced some 5km from the trails end – I was only good for a long lie down. Which may explain why I backed said car into a wall. On the upside only the bike trailer was damaged during this moment of brain fart-ery.
March
My 10km saga which I’d mentally extended to a full marathon. Most people are dismissive of running misremembering their zoomie school days. Running is easy they say. For proper athletes like Ian – without whom I’d have never got off the sofa – it is, for me it’s 80% hard graft and 20% worrying about my knees.
Got it done in a time that both surprised and impressed me. Probably no one else. Don’t care, intended to file it in the out tray and administer a sharp slap to anyone suggesting something stupid like trying again. No one could be that lucky twice. On that note, see you in March 2026 with a frankly delusional target to knock out a sub 50 min 10km now I’m a kilo heavier and a year older.
I expect that’ll go well.
April
How has that happened? I think we all know.
A new bike, but – more importantly- an old friend. Olli and go back 20+ years but we’ve never really met outside work. Finally we got to ride together on his home trails west of Frankfurt. Carol and I had a fantastic road trip to get there, and a fab time being hosted by Olli and his lovely family.
The firm plan had us reciprocating the following month with a smorgasbord of our awesome local trails garnished with some mountain epics. Yeah, about that.
Smuggled the bike home and waved an index finger at a work day when Steve suggested a ride down the valley. And up. And around. And – in my case – attempting to re-sculpture a small part of it with my elbow.
At which point my fitness and riding confidence were sky high. Trail conditions were perfect and we’re heading into a summer full of Singletrack, dust and cold beers. Yeah, as I said, about that.
May
Okay this was April but I’m sneaking it in to prolong the mystery of what happened this month. Castles and Marches tour. Four days, three nights, two riders, many metres of climbing. Was a fantastic experience I’m desperate to repeat in 2026. Just not on a drop bar bike. Hills, so many hills
A single image labelled “say goodbye to your riding summer“. Snap, crackle and pop indeed. Definitely went through the five stages of grief with that one. Although my version went “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK‘.
I made my peace with it in the twelve non riding weeks which followed. Bone has healed, all the squidgy stuff about neck height might need a bit more time.
June
While the driest summer in living memory was represented in WhatsApp groups I no longer really felt part of, my focus shifted to thinning down the inventory in the ShedofDreams(tm). I could barely get in there to count the number of “it’s all got a bit out of hand” fantastic trail bikes.
The RipMo and Yeti had to go. Neither of which was without exciting last minute revelations my one armed gesturing could have done without. The Yeti had a crack entirely unnoticed in my ownership, and the RipMo went long on PinkBike before a lovely fella turned up on his way to ride it in Morzine.
Thankfully both scenarios ended well and the shed was diminished in a way suggesting a very targeted bulgary. Especially as the gravel bike failed to make the “if you haven’t got proper bars you’re not coming in” grade. Still progress eh, three out and only one in. That’s adulting right there.
July
Or not as will become increasingly clear. My love of bike packing had always been mitigated by the bike doing the packing. So even tho I couldn’t ride it, a second hardtail*** was wrangled through Brexit nonsense to be built by Matt and ridden by no one. Still those tan walls eh?
Carol and I instead headed off the Denmark, where Copenhagen was a delight even if I couldn’t ride any of the million bikes that make up 15% of the transport system.
August
Yes. A MTB ride. Not much of one. And medically frowned upon. But it was that or vodka on the cornflakes. I worried I hadn’t missed riding anywhere near as much as I expected. Back on the bike, any bike, any trail shifted that hypothesis from supposition to bare faced lie.
September
There’s a couple of posts circling that image. One celebrates getting back on proper trails albeit with extreme caution. The second – a week later – is a self pitying lament to how I can’t do this MTB thing anymore. So obviously I chose that one 😉
Returning to the site of the accident did nothing for me in terms of closure. I could see exactly where it had all gone wrong, and – given the same time again – nothing in my skills toolbox would have saved me. I guess that was the lesson. It wasn’t much fun learning it.
September
Yes, another one: ShedofDrama
Hereford fracture clinic is sited near the site of the old cattle market. This is not a coincidence as anyone who has attempted to access that department will attest. However, even after much jostling and queuing for a time to wait, my final x-ray showed all things collarbone joined and healed. If a little shorter- that’s fine I’ll take that over a long term injury.
Somewhat inevitably, I immediately celebrated by buying a new (to me) bike. Reasons are in the post linked above, none of them are valid. Nothing new there, but that bike really is- rode it today (31/12) and it’s just my fav bike by some distance. Bit of a worry for the Hugene, but that’s a problem for future me.
October
With he summer being so dry and amazing, my time to ride crossed into Autumn where all the moisture missing from the previous season rained down on a daily basis. Back on the hardtail but that’s really not a problem when it’s still warm and only mostly wet.
I was just happy to be riding. Even after a couple of rain swept horrors reminding me what happens when grip doesn’t. Still put a smile on my face even if the prospect of four more months of just the same, only colder, wiped it off.
November
My friend Simon splattered his collarbone the week after me. This is not his first shoulder based rodeo having smashed the other one some ten years earlier. We’ve been rehab’ing together on carefully rated for “collarbone friendly‘. This hasn’t stopped Simon crashing at least twice on healing bones.
December
We find ourselves at the end of the year. Wow that went quickly. Or slowly if you were gazing discontentaly out of the window at a summer happening for everyone else. Still time to move on even if the shoulder hasn’t completely got that memo. It’s still improving and I can ride when I want, although maybe not as well as I could.
It’ll come back. Probably. And if it doesn’t, it’s a million times better to be slogging around in the mud than experiencing outside from inside. Just keep sending him up and all that. On that note, the annual Gap ride was amazing this year. Blue skies and sub zero temps. As it should be. A fab way to finish the year.
Right 2026, more riding and less crashing. We’re agreed on that, yes? In that case let’s be having you 🙂
*Although I wouldn’t recommend this. It bends my brain past the leakage tipping point. Also see “orbital mechanics” if you want to feel really stupid.
**My own award ceremony curated entirely from what’s left of my memory selecting images chosen entirely to place me in the best possible light.
***Yes I could use the BfE with lighter wheels for the same job. But it’s me, so that was never going to happen.