Well, it might have been a bit breezy, but as it was dry and bright, so I thought I would head out for a bike ride. I told Catering that I was off for a cycle and in a fit of (as it turns out misguided) enthusiasm, I said I thought I might attempt Dolsden Lane, for a change and a challenge. He then slightly took the wind out of my sails by announcing he would keep me company – after 5 days of self-isolation together, I think he may be missing the point of the bike ride, but hey ho!
I issued instructions to wear something bright and then set about gathering all the kit I need when out and about on my bike: bike lights, bike helmet, cycling jacket, tissues, lip salve, sunglasses, phone – seriously the list is endless. I turned round to be confronted by Catering more than brightly dressed in one of his louder rugby tour shirts, worn over the top of a bright orange thermal t-shirt – I know I said he should be visible but really. It was so vivid that two pelotons of cyclists we encountered, actually commented on it . Not a chance of us being overlooked (squashed) by passing vehicles.
Dolsden Lane is a long and fairly relentless climb uphill. It’s probably only a mile, but somehow it feels much longer. True to form I forgot to change gear until too late, the gears on my aging bike refused to go where I wanted them to go and a somewhat foul-mouthed tantrum ensued. That over, and gears now being as low as they could go, I wobbled to within site of the stile at the top and then got off and walked the final 200 yards, again in a bad-tempered fog of f’ing & blinding. Catering fortunately did not join in or venture an opinion. He wisely remained silent and rode on to the top of the hill, where he waited patiently for his hot and bothered spouse to eventually join him.
He decided sensibly that if, after 30 years of marriage. his motivational slogans have not had a noticeable effect on my capacity to knuckle down and push on through the pain barrier, then perhaps now was possibly not the time to give it another go. Phrases like “Go on! and You can do it!” have always had the opposite effect to that they were designed to produce, and usually result in my throwing in the towel and stomping off – with the notable exception of two rounds of childbirth. Even then, the first time, about six hours in, I told Catering to get my coat & shoes as I’d had enough and was off home.
Still, I eventually arrived at the top of the hill and recovered my composure, apologised for the tantrum, and proceeded in reasonably cheery spirits, which had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the journey being either flat or downhill. Not sure he’ll be putting his hand up to keep me company next weekend. I have a challenge now, to be able to cycle to the top of that wretched hill in one go before Easter.
