Sunday morning was a success, of sorts. I had to break into my flat two days ago, and in the process of launching myself through a small gap above my front door, in a smooth athletic sort of leap, I discovered that I had probably broken a rib.
Two nights of sleepless pain, and this morning I decide to attack the steepest hill out of town. It starts just 100 meters from my flat, and is an unforgiving 5km climb, that gets steeper and steeper as you progress. Halfway, the serious gradients start, with no chance of a sensible warm up. I took the easy option of the mountain bike, because I was feeling crap.
It was a wee bit painful, but despite it's reputation, it really was a kitten of a ride. The worst section meant just ten minutes of panting, and possible loss of dignity.
This really made me think of how I prepare myself, and why I become afraid of things when I don't do them enough.
So opening a beer is painful, but a big hill just feels like a big hill.
Interesting.
PS the 5km hill was just the start of the ride. There were more hills to follow...