Over the hills, through the fields, my riding buddies face the wet night armoured in baggies and lycra. Jousting their pedalling demons astride steeds of courage; they light up the dark woods and paths, lamps burning the evening air with their passing.
As I sit here sorting out the inevitable minutae of life I wonder what challenges they conquer, what hopes are realised and just how much “just that little bit more” will take out of tired legs. What tales of hills, spills and bellyache over beer and cake will be heard by disbelieving ears in the post pedal pub meet?
My limbs ache and yearn for the trail. My legs demands the miles. But my mind spins the rings regardless.
My body maybe at home, but my soul is out there, at it’s most, with the dirt.
Fat Lad
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