Two weeks and I finally made it out on the bike. With friends, Jennifer, Steve and Jon (no h). Illness, and weather had put paid to any form of physical exercise for the last fortnight, so it was a relief to get out onto mucky and damp roads.
It was nothing too strenuous, but my, it was tough and my heart rate was up to 190 at its peak. Which it really shouldn't have been doing for the terrain and the mileage. But I'm still coughing. And though enthusiasm is still, lukewarm, it's a start. I'm already 100 miles down on this time last year, and the opportunities for the next fortnight are not looking great either. It will certainly be interesting heaving my lard-ridden carcass up a volcano on a hire bike in a couple of weeks.
Tenerife is not quite Morocco, but at least it will be warmer than here. I went up the mountain when I was a boy, and it was also the site of the set of the film "One million years BC", which made an impression on me when I was that age.
Should I need a map, this tune will be my guide.
I was quite surprised, amidst a horrible train journey on Friday night, how connected you can be when you set your mind to it. I now know there are three TMTCH fans in Somerset who love riding bikes. At least. And if I have to watch pissed twenty-somethings file their nails while their fat boyfriends breathe alcohol all over me, at least I can do that as I ping messages about on Twitter.
Travel broadens the mind, after all. Here's yesterday's route to Sweets and back.
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