Shhhh, don’t tell anyone, we’ll keep it our little secret. Fat Lad is
getting some extra miles in. On the road. Utilising my old SaracenMaxtrax with some skinny slick tyres I’m firing to work and back a couple of times a week.
Changed out of my work clothes and into some lycra
I pulled the tarmac taunter out of the bike shed ready to go. On the
way in the gears had been constantly trying to climb the cassette when
putting any pressure on the cranks. Looking at my chain it was immediately apparent why. One of the plates on a link of the shitano chain (I run SRAM on everything else) had sheered of. Brilliant. So I’m stuck at work, no power link and all my minions (believe
it or not I’m a manager and actually responsible for people,
frightening isn’t it) had gone home already. Nothing else to do I put
my steed away and walked to the bus stop for the peasant wagon. Sitting
amongst the great unwashed of Leeds I silently fumed lamenting at the
loss of both time and fitness building opportunity as the rickety
diesel noisily headed home. Then it hit me, why don’t run back from the
town center to the suburbs. I’m fairly fit now how hard can it be?
I
hopped off the bus and started as I desired to go on heading towards
home. I got to the end of the pedestrian section of the town centre and
I wasfecked….. I walked for a bit ran a bit more walked for a bit ran a bit more all the way home.
1.3 miles later and I was bollocksed. Totally and utterly knackered. I can ride in the hills proper now all day munching the miles beneath knobblies but this was insane. Seriously why would anyone do this to themselves? How is this fun? Sascha, your nuts woman.
Fat Lad
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