Monday, 10 December 2012
It's never pleasant seeing (or hearing) a cyclist hitting the deck with a thump. But that's what happened this morning.
The day started much earlier than usual - I was awake at 0500, staring at the ceiling and listening to the wind howling outside. I was in no mood to get up and go anywhere - I spent half an hour trying to get back to sleep, and then gave in and got up. There are times when you just have to face the day.
I hadn't heard any rain falling, so I was a bit surprised when I opened the door to find a wet world awaiting me. The rain had stopped, but the roads had clearly had a good soaking overnight.
Things were miserable enough to convince about 95% of the usual dog walkers and fitness junkies to stay in bed. Rather than the usual shoal of cyclists heading into town, I saw only 3 other blokes on bikes.
As I was slogging up one of the hills that litter my route, a bloke when whizzing down the hill in the opposite direction. I thought he was moving pretty quickly even for ideal conditions - that hill has a couple of sharp corners, and the road surface on each corner has been minced by trucks grinding their way round the bends.
Sure enough, a few seconds after seeing him tear by, I heard a crunch behind me. I looked back, and there he was, picking himself up in the section where the tarmac goes from smoothe to lunar. He would have made it if it was dry, but he had no hope in the wet.
There endeth the lesson.
Badly proofread by Boy on a bike at Monday, December 10, 2012