Slow Coach

I’m just back from a bike ride, not a long one. Just about 20km, in a few minutes over an hour. I needed to get back as DH needed to go to work.

If you ask my boys why Mama goes out on her bike, they will say it’s to stop her crying
It’s true, I cycle to help dissipate the fog that engulfs my brain during down cycles. Yes the drugs I’m on help, but I am convinced the exercise is how I truly survive.

Anyway that’s the why; so today I was out cycling; my mind off with the fairies; avoiding a couple of potential crashes with those four wheeled vehicles; thank goodness; until I arrived at the “old road”. This is on cycle route 46 (I think) and most of the route is car free, yay.

I was cycling along, having overtaken a couple of other cyclists (not a common occurrence to be honest) and a gentleman who was old enough to be my father (I am 37) overtook on my left.

He looked so calm; as if he put little effort into the ride. As I chased to catch up, he turned a corner onto a different route.

I just kept laughing and calling myself a slowcoach in my head. I awarded myself a C+ for today’s bike ride; must try harder; though extra points for actually getting out at 09:00.

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