Never hard enough to wash away the sorrow

It's mid-morning on a Sunday in England, or Britain, or Europe or whatever takes your fancy. I don't care anymore. All is quiet in the Mendip Rouleur household, and despite the knowledge that the last of the holiday sunshine will have gone in a few hours, I'm not disposed to get out of my pyjamas and head for the hills.

I'm not a believer in truth. That is to say, rather like the album title, we all have our own versions, and if something defies descriptive objectivity, it can't be real. A bit like those people that say "you know it when you see it". Idiots. So my truth, and please keep yours to yourself, or blog about it if you must, is that I'm a bit of a wreck this morning.

It's a culmination thing. The good news, on my part, less so for you, is that I'm doing something about it. Or, for today at least, to be precise, I'm doing nothing about it. Rest. A very underused strategy in the training regime. For MAMILs such as myself, it can be hard to fit our over-vaunted cycling ambitions into hectic lives. But rest assured that our lives are comparatively easy, so these things are relative. First world problems and all that.

Do not be fooled by this picture, taken by Steep End Down (whose kindness was unremitting yesterday) of me smiling on our ride in the Welsh hills yesterday.

 Whilst I can look back at the day and say I enjoyed it, I had undoubtedly bitten off more than I could chew. I do look very stylish though, despite the grim weather.

Work is pretty busy at the moment, and my celebrity-charged attendance at a local business awards ceremony, full of sparkling mineral water, and polite and friendly conversation had taken its toll.

That and a last-minute change of plan to actually go to Wales, after a couple of extended commutes on the bike this week, and the inevitable stresses and strains of middle-class, middle-aged life in May's middle England (not Britain, not Europe, not nowhere) meant I was shattered before the first pedal stroke, and exhausted after it.

And I had perversely chosen a steel bike when all about me chose carbon. And they are fitter than me. I was off the back a lot. But just like everyone else, I pressed on.

For that is what we do isn't it? Occasional defiant shows of support, minutes of silence, but ultimately anything for a quiet life.

So time for a rest. Remedies. Gratitude. Mindfulness. Come back refreshed and I hope stronger. Do a lot of things that I know will work, whilst apply my thinking to come up with new ways to tackle some of the issues. And revisit history to ensure I don't repeat the mistakes of the past. Make sure I understand what is different about now, and what is the same as then.

That's how constructive change works, a bit of marginal gain, a bit of transformation. A bit of tried and trusted and a bit of thinking the unthinkable.

When will you learn? This is not about me, it's about you.