According to that famous bit of Ecclesiastes, there's a time for everything, a time for every activity under the sun.
I'm sure there's a time for cycling from Teesside to Arnside in a day. Well, yesterday wasn't it. The wind was crippling, Wensleydale was like a wind tunnel. I had feet like blocks of ice, and if I'd wrung my trousers out I could have watered a few plants. I stopped for two hot meals, but I never really warmed up. I came out of a public toilet after not having dried my hands throughly and the water nearly froze to my hands.
It's not like I didn't wear enough layers. I had 5 layers on up top. If I'd worn any more layers, I wouldn't have been able to bend my arms and legs.
It took me 8 hours to do 48 miles. Only 6 of those were cycling hours, but at the rate I was slowing down I'd still be going now if I hadn't given up. Greater people than me have turned round before they got where they were going. That Shackleton guy was a pragmatist in this regard. I'm nowhere near in his league, but I can relate to his decision to abandon his goal in favour of not killing himself and his men. I didn't have any men with me, but I'm quite fond of myself.
Anyway, I spent today thinking about having another go at it this week. Because I don't like to leave goals unaccomplished. But then I remembered something. This was supposed to be a practice ride for a ride I'm doing in the summer. In the summer! And this is the winter! Even in the summer it can be windy, and the hilltops can be bleak, but the wind's not likely to freeze my face off, and I shouldn't need to keep stopping to top up on hot tea and sausages, and I'll have about 5 hours more daylight.
So I decided that I will have another go at this ride, but not yet. The thing about yesterday was. I was fit enough to do it, I had the legs, I went the right way, I didn't take any wrong turns, I had plenty to eat and drink, but it just wasn't the right time. And neither is tomorrow. But my time will come.
I'm sure there's a time for cycling from Teesside to Arnside in a day. Well, yesterday wasn't it. The wind was crippling, Wensleydale was like a wind tunnel. I had feet like blocks of ice, and if I'd wrung my trousers out I could have watered a few plants. I stopped for two hot meals, but I never really warmed up. I came out of a public toilet after not having dried my hands throughly and the water nearly froze to my hands.
It's not like I didn't wear enough layers. I had 5 layers on up top. If I'd worn any more layers, I wouldn't have been able to bend my arms and legs.
It took me 8 hours to do 48 miles. Only 6 of those were cycling hours, but at the rate I was slowing down I'd still be going now if I hadn't given up. Greater people than me have turned round before they got where they were going. That Shackleton guy was a pragmatist in this regard. I'm nowhere near in his league, but I can relate to his decision to abandon his goal in favour of not killing himself and his men. I didn't have any men with me, but I'm quite fond of myself.
Anyway, I spent today thinking about having another go at it this week. Because I don't like to leave goals unaccomplished. But then I remembered something. This was supposed to be a practice ride for a ride I'm doing in the summer. In the summer! And this is the winter! Even in the summer it can be windy, and the hilltops can be bleak, but the wind's not likely to freeze my face off, and I shouldn't need to keep stopping to top up on hot tea and sausages, and I'll have about 5 hours more daylight.
So I decided that I will have another go at this ride, but not yet. The thing about yesterday was. I was fit enough to do it, I had the legs, I went the right way, I didn't take any wrong turns, I had plenty to eat and drink, but it just wasn't the right time. And neither is tomorrow. But my time will come.
Glad you didn't try on Wednesday . It was awful cycling from the Transporter to Stockton along the river - nearly brought to a standstill under the Tees flyover. Still got a sense of achievement . Enjoy your blog. Brenda in the Boro
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