I haven’t posted since day 19, when I said I was going to stop being pathetic and go for a ride. I did. I set out with the intention of just riding to the top of the hill and back, so I didn’t bother with my helmet or any other cycling paraphernalia. Then it was rather lovely, and so was the view, so I came back by an offroad route, realised it only takes one stone in the wrong place for your pimped hybrid to twitch all over the place, and scared myself a little bit. Maybe a helmet wouldn’t really make any difference, but I did feel a bit exposed. But a happy little ride nonetheless.
Monday, day 20, and I was coughing again. A last minute token ride round the housing estate. Tuesday, still coughing, a ride down the hill to running club, a fell run (more coughing), and a ride back up the hill. Technically a ‘brick’ session I suppose, although it’s my chest that aches more than my legs.
Wednesday, day 22, and it’s Hurstwood again, but this time with both Kids 1 and 2. Kid 1 hadn’t been for ages, and managed to do the whole route unaided, including the steep ups and scary downs. I have a serious proud Mummy morning as she focuses on pedalling and steering and conquers everything in her path. She looks stronger and more confident than her 5 years, and she looks genuinely athletic. She’s proud of herself, but I’m not sure she could ever be as proud as I am. Kid 2 has not forgotten his tumbles on a previous trip, and is nervous of the steepest drop, but still gets down it with me helping him. He also makes it up one of the little hills for the first time. Both deserve their milkshakes at the International Grill in Burnley afterwards.
Thursday just didn’t happen. I missed a chance to try out a trailer bike in the park in the morning, and then I was knackered. I should have gone out for a token spin round the housing estate, but my soul was broken. The problem with living half way up a hill is that even the most token gesture ride is going to involve an uphill. Feeling repentant, I got up first thing on Friday morning, jumped straight onto the bike, and repeated Monday’s up-the-hill-and-down-the-wood ride, this time in the fog. This leaves me slightly light headed, and makes me crave healthy things for breakfast – maybe I should ride before breakfast more often?
Or maybe not. I am coughing again, and sneezing – so much so that I awake in the night to find my husband has decamped to the spare room. He is riding the Fred Whitton Challenge in a fortnight, and the Etape du Dales the week after. He does not need me sneezing on him in my sleep and scuppering all his training.
And so we’re up to date. It’s day 26. Today’s ride was another token effort, though this time it did have a purpose – I needed to check the path we’re hoping to use as a walking bus to school. School is half way up a steep hill, so I’m prepared to accept that very few children will ever ride to school, but if we can get a few more out of their cars and using their legs it can only be a good thing.