You have to laugh..

… otherwise it’d be Vodka Cornflakes, hysterical weeping in public places and restraining orders. Right now, this represents the 1{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} of my life that could be marked “slightly amused”. And even that is bitter sweet because, in less than 10 days, Ryanair and me shall be at DEFCON 1 regarding their shitty travel service – focussing specifically on baggage handling, late planes, broken planes, planes full of advertising and asylum away-dayers.

Riding should be good tho. If I can remember how to, despite my public declaration and subsequent failure to “ride lots” during July to prep my aged body for lumpy Pyreneen action. I’ve managed a total of zero commutes and a similar number of night rides. We did get out for a couple of muddy Cwmcarn laps last weekend which was predictably fab. I felt better down that up which generally means I am both a little less fit than I should be, and a lot more likely to meet Mr. Mong somewhere out on the trail.

That’s “Mr Mong Brandishing A Nasty Looking Boulder” to you. I’ve definitely seen him chasing me through the forests this last couple of weeks, with my desire to be quick outstripping a desire to be the same shape come trail end. My elbow took longer to heal than I expected, the fear in my head took the standard three months. Come big mountains, I’ll be backing right off again tho – they are not the places to hurt yourself.

Well they are actually when dangerous trails are tackled with an elephant on your back. 30lbs in a high riding pack will have you eyes-wide plunging towards vertiginous edges, being slowed hardly at all by previously trusted brakes. It’s kind of a rush right up until the point that you get the whole “Italian Job” teetering over something that has “abyss” written in big, red letters all the way down.

Before then, kinks to be worked out. Stuff to deal with. None of it very pleasant. Probably best viewed from the far side of a bike ride, not the bottom end of a bottle 😉

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