Last Updated on August 19, 2023
Lately I’ve been getting a bit mardy about the fact that I’ve not been getting out on my bike enough, so I decided that I would head out on a short bummel today, regardless of wind, wet weather or rank odour.
So last night I went to bed nice and early and had only a few beers and just a couple of glasses of wine. When the alarm went off at 6am I lost all resolve to get out early. This may have been due in part to the fact that my bedroom window overlooks the dock basin here in Ipswich, so if there’s a lot of weather about then I can see it all; the trees thrashing about, the rain sweeping the valley like an angry curtain (?!?). This ain’t Kansas.
I eventually hauled my considerable frame out into the elements four hours later at 10am; I have some new waterproof socks I was looking forward to testing, but not even the promise of dry feet was enough to drag me away with any haste from the breakfast pancakes that our houseguest was serving up.
I pushed my way through rain and gale from Ipswich to Manningtree (through Holbrook) spurring myself on with the fragile promise of a tailwind to push me home.
At Manningtree I dismounted and sat for a moment to soak in the scenery (soaking in the weather was loosing its novelty), and it was when I sat down I discovered that my rump was numb. No matter, I’m fairly sure my bum won’t miss the saddle when I sit down, with a rump the size of mine joining meat to saddle is as easy as using a telephone directory to obscure a Cadbury’s chocolate button. It was also around this time that I regretted not bringing some Cadbury’s buttons along for the ride.
I managed to keep the speedo at around the 23mph mark most of the way home, even although (although perhaps because) I was telling myself as long as I got home safe the pub lunch we had scheduled would be a marvellous reward.
Getting wet and windswept on a ride was not a new experience, but when bipping down the road by the dry ski slope that augments the approach to Ippo Rock City something happened that was new to me – as I crouched into an aero position and slid back on my seat one of my conkers retreated into the trunk. Odd, and not an experience I would recommend at any time, least of all at 40mph.
So this wasn’t the most athletically interesting ride of my life, and as I write this I still haven’t regained contact with my backside, but am I glad I made the effort? Of course.
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