It's hard road (dead or alive)

My ride to work yesterday made me think I was starting to make it all sound a bit too easy in my posts on here. It's never easy.

There was no noticeable difference between yesterday and any other day. It was a non-skeddo bank holiday, so there wouldn't be much traffic around, if any (something to relish). I'd had around the same amount of sleep I usually have (ie not quite enough). It was a bright, fresh morning, not a hint of the wet stuff anywhere.

My wife brought me a cup of tea as usual - she always wakes early, but today she'd woken a little later than usual, so everything was slightly more hurried. As I struggled through breakfast I noticed I was a bit snotty - certainly not a full-blown cold, or, God forbid, manflu, but my face was definitely a little bigger than hitherto, and my breathing more laborious, punctuated by the odd sneeze. A mild headache, nothing worth troubling the medicine cabinet with.

I eventually got myself out of the house over 10 minutes later than usual, and as I've tried to make clear in previous posts, every minute counts at that time of day. I couldn't rush around though. All my movements were slow and laboured, like I was moving underwater.

The gears on No.1 bike need a bit of adjustment - it's still rideable, but it's annoying. So, I took the Rockhopper. Bulkier, heftier, but on the plus side, lower geared.

It was hard work right from the gate. It felt like the back brake was stuck on, so hard was the pedalling (I actually checked!) I set off slowly as I always do, but this time I stayed slow. Every turn of the pedals was effort. It became clear along the route that I was going to be a couple of minutes late if I didn't put a spurt on. I couldn't put a spurt on if my life depended on it. I continued riding "within my means", and clocked in at 8.02am. The ride had taken 1 hour 22 minutes, and I hadn't stopped anywhere.

My lungs and sinuses were a little clearer for the ride, and I did generally feel marginally better for having done it. It took a couple of cups of tea before I was ready to lift the first bike into its stand, but despite the glory of the weather, work remained hard throughout the day.

The ride home was more of the same. I got changed out of my uniform with 10 minutes to spare, and sat and had a cup of tea before setting off as extra hydration when you have a cold is essential. The afternoon was also incredibly hot for the time of year. I still made it home in about an hour, spurred on along the trunk road by playing keepy up with a road bike for a while (it really annoys them when a mountain bike holds their wheel!)

I remember a phrase used in a letter to Cycling Weekly, back in the days when I actually took the time and effort to read it, when a reader said it felt like he'd "taken the wrong legs" on a ride one morning. It happens to the best of us (and I'm far from the best!). However fit we are, however accustomed we become to long rides and hill climbs, there will be days like this. Most peculiar, mama!