When I prepare for my longer weekend ride I am far more methodical about my approach. There is no longer the need to simultaneously drink coffee, empty my bladder and brush my teeth - My pedal deity actually affords me some preparation time.
Whats more the time is now in daylight.
This enables me to have a fair chance of actually seeing what I am doing and also wearing.
It ensures that I am not later mistaken for a two wheeled advert for Josephs and his technicolour dream coat.
I sometimes wonder what it would be like to choose items other than clothing to accompany my ride.....Like a slim Torso, a thick mane of hair to protrude out of the side of my helmet, but most of all to have some 'bike legs'. I usually find my own about June time but it would be nice to borrow somebody Else's in the meantime.
Saturday saw my 8th consecutive day of cycling and 78 miles deep into the Yorkshire Wolds to the tiny village of Thixendale. Most local cyclists shudder at the name as it is usually features in all of the local sportives providing challenging descents followed by gruesome climbs by four different routes out of the village.
On this particular morning my legs were definitely not my own.
I strongly suspect that they had been provided from Shaun of the dead or donated from Douglas Badder they quite stubbornly decided that they did not want to obey my request for high tempo spinning, electing instead for a more sedate rotation.Seemingly this obstinate stance was contagious with the elements catching on.
We set off heading North - Gentle Northerly Breeze.....OK
Then North East - Brisker North Easterly Breeze ............mmmmmmmmmm
Then East - Brisk and cold Easterly.......Not Funny
We then headed back towards Beverley due South.
The wind playfully turned to a near gale and moved over to the South West.