This is the End

I have not been blogging recently. You can't really count the poem I wrote last Monday night, it was not related to cycling in the slightest, just my musings when I couldn't sleep.

A friend remarked that I wasn't blogging because I don't have anything to say. Maybe. Life goes on, we go riding, I commute to work, I work, it doesn't get easier but I am getting FASTER!!!!. And Cav keeps winning. Thank goodness.

I've done a few sportives and some great riding with friends and both at the same time. The Cheddar sportive last weekend was great, as was Friday's trip to Dartmoor to see the Tour of Britain. Another friend made a great observation about my picture, that all the ground weren't looking at Simon Yeats's winning attack, but down the hill for Bradley Wiggins. Media icon.

Still Bradley's back is unbelievably straight and he sure has great cadence. As all the fans would know.

But of course, before we all fall out of love with cycling, disgusted at so many bandwagon jumpers, let's just remember what is important again shall we?

And like a game of chess, I am wandering about my long-term strategy and intermediate tactics. For the blog I mean. Because I actually have quite a lot to say, I'm just not sure you are ready to hear it yet. To show from where I came. But you will be. And it all means something. It can't not.

Late night surfing for answers

Late night surfing for answers

Tragedy, suffering, visible mourning, everyone sees.

The silent, stealthy pernicious hole appears as if,

From nowhere, but unfelt unless you have one

Like a collapsed star in the middle of your heart.

 

You carry on, you get better, you even plan

For a changed future you hope will be different

But on your birthday, there are no candles and

No-one can ever bake a cake as nice again

 

So you stay up and search for some answers

In the songs or the music on YouTube

And sometimes you almost articulate what

Is going on in that missing bit of you

 

But the rest of the world goes blithely on

With its trains and talking and humdrum days

Whilst you look out at a sky you can’t share

In the way that it’s really meant to be

One battled like mad, fought to the end

The other welcomed but feared it

And your time, my time, is coming soon

So watch the sunset, and feel your heart

 

This