Losing that precious hour of sunshine due to a no-show rider I summoned the will and wherewithal to still head out for the mind clearing soul cleansing home run. Available distance to be judged on the fly, limited by time and the capacity of lungs/legs.
I followed the well worn trails of my hometown, the ghosts of rides past mocking my current state of fitness. Reaching the bombhole that claimed skin from my knee and the remains of my two wheel masculinity barely a week before, I followed the steep run out and from the corner of my peripheral vision I spied something new. On such a well worn route the potential for new trail should never be overlooked. With glee and curiosity in equal measure I followed the clear path along the back of the houses. The possibility of ditching tarmac from any run is tantalising and I cranked away hope rolling beneath the wheels.
A quick circuit determined it was not to be, my suspicions confirmed short moments later by a dog walker happy to share alternatives that may have appealed. Pleasantries exchanged I pedalled away with no new dirt to follow but no feeling of wasted time.
A poorly decided existing path choice resulted in the early autumn nettles and brambles tearing at my naked shins. A brief stand off with a loose horse led to me snuffing the daylighter and easing out soothing words until the spooked mare could come back the few feet it required to return to the safety of wide open grassland.
By the ruins I stopped to inhale a gel, the sun had already departed my sky to be replaced by the burnt orange urban mid evening glow. Ahead of me the long lonely lactic climb home called. I smiled a tired grin, remounted and pedalled on.
Fat lad
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