What have I been doing lately? As far as riding my bike goes; nothing, nada, zip.
According to my Strava I haven’t ridden since 16 June, and that feels about right.
16 June 1816 that is. It feels like fooooooooorevereerrrrrrr.
Of course, when I took that ride, I had no idea it was going to be my last for 6 weeks; I put my bike away, recharged my lights, got my bike ready for the next morning , and then boom. Or rather 'meh'.
The weather changed, the longest warmest loveliest autumn I can ever recall was suddenly and cruelly replaced by the iciest m’farking winter snap we could have the misfortune to live in.
There’s a reason Sprocketman and I live in the antipodes and it’s not for the witty repartee of our local politicians, let me tell you.
I’m more tolerant of the cold than he; I actually don’t mind a hint of autumn chill; I like the changes to the trees and the faint tang of immoral wood smoke from the neighbours still rich enough to burn wood fire and not give two hoots about the environment
I like being cold, for a little while, even if only as rest from the seemingly unrelenting heat and humidity of Sydney’s summers.
But I hate winter’s dark, sleazy co-joined twin; the cold, aka the flu, the resulting sinus infection and chest infection. I get these buggers pretty regularly now and they leave me not only unable to draw enough breathe to ride my bike to the corner, but unable to even walk up my own driveway without wheezing for oxygen like a walrus in need of an epi-pen.
And then the rain. And that nagging part of your brain that says "look fool, you’re already sick, don’t ride your bike in the rain, mm’kay?”
And because I don’t have a portable oxygen tank to get me to the station on my 20 minute walk, I’m forced to catch the bus and then the train, and I look out the window at the cyclists having fun and I gently bang my head against the train window, weeping ...
Actually no, I get massively cranky from endorphin withdrawal, and then I sit on the couch watching pro-cycling over the top of my book while Sprocketman still feeds me as though I cycle 70 km a day, and I get a bit chubbier and a bit wobblier each day, and develop a definite muffin top while wearing my jeans.
Our entire household is a disgrace...
But, mustn’t grumble!
I do have little ray of sunshine to call my own, and that is MY NEW BIKE.