It’s pretty much the end the summer already, and again I have found myself having to play catch-up again. However, the funny thing is, cycling never feels like a chore, and bizarrely it never feels like exercise. That last part might sound a little odd, not lease because I own a Garmin and end up cataloguing no end of riding data. I also up-load all my rides to Strava, and will compare my rides to those of others… and yes, of course I’m pretty stoked to win KOM’s. Lots of things go through my mind as I ride, but not of them are trying to remember that I’m having fun. If it ever was, I’d never do it. I’m certain a that I’ve said before that I don’t go to the gym. I actually can’t go to the gym, my head won’t allow me to do it. If keeping fit is byproduct of going out and enjoying myself, so be it. I’ve no idea what would happen to me if I didn’t, or couldn’t, ride. Well, I’d be fat. I’d almost certainly be fat, with the amount of cake I eat.

However, I wrote the majority of this post last weekend whilst on flights to and from a stag do in Spain with every intention of putting in more miles this week. Since I’ve been back though I’ve felt pretty rough. At first I put it down to me not being able recover from the 3 day drinking session that was the stag do, but as of this morning I have realised that I am actually ill. Bizarrely this gives me solace, even though it still gives me more miles to catch up on.


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