Today I’m off to the Peak District, for a week near Ashbourne in some cottages with a cyclepath outside their front door. With my broken collarbone.
Not only will I not be riding but I shall have to watch at some point as my family head off into the hills for a spot of riding in one of the best parts of the country. My 67 year old father-in-law is using my On-one (kudos!) to transport my son via tag-along down some disused railway lines while Mark uses his 456 to similar effect with his daughter.
Originally the plan was to cut out in the evenings with our hardtails for some serious riding in the extended summer dusk. Now, I’m on the subs bench and as you can guess, I’m not happy about it (even if Mark feels he got off lightly)! Just seeing my bike leaning against the front of the house as we loaded the car was enough to get me hankering after what I am missing.
Dry trails, warm weather, plenty of grip, good company.
If you ride close to ten tenths, knock it back a notch. The pleasure is in the riding and if you’re sidelined through injury you won’t be riding. So far in my recovery my goal has been to tie my own shoelaces which I think is the right idea, but I can do without it being made quite so obvious what I could be doing!
And (horrors) I don’t even have an internet connection to keep me occupied!