23°C;wind=nil;clouds=nil(or as near as damnit).
67.0 miles – first to Staunton Harold, the place with the right-handed house martins. Then onto Bosworth Water Trust, specifically Cafe Kouts.
I was clever enough not to get burnt. Though didn’t feel very strong all day, plenty of stamina, but average speed was low (@15.7mph). As low as a winter ride on my (heavier) winter bike.
And came down…
still it remains a hill.
Near Welshpool, the next one along from Rodney’s Pillar – which more people go to . A tall steep ridge with gritstone moors atop. The sky was relentlessly blue, and the still air was punctuated by a Cuckoo. There was a hill with false flats which I ran up. Then I ate some food followed by running down.
joy! The only downside was lots of driving. The other only downside I notice in the shower, my forehead is all sunburnt. I swear every year that this will never happen again, and every year…
Summary: this weekend has not been my own, though there have been good bits, the only other other downside is that to get painting , got up can at 05:00 hrs, when else?
——————————–
See relevant pictures below- but note: if you are fewer than 18 years old, don’t look at the second one.
As ever,Sunday- out cycling – something happened that day though that had a real effect on me.
Cycling in Leicestershire from Staunton Harold heading south, Normanton Le Heath I think it was. It was a beautiful day, witha light wind from the North West. Suddenly, right in front of me a bird flew low over the road, which they often do – probably to use ground effect but this one crashes in to a tumbling heap and fluttered violently into the gutter. I hate seing birds dying.
I rode on a little way, thinking what can I do and as soon as it was safe, turned round. When I got back to the spot, it was lying motionless on it’s back, a sparrow. I decided to move it to the grass verge just to er.. let nature take care of it. So I took my gloves off and cupped my hands around it to pick it up.
Suddenly it jerked itself upright, and was standing on it’s feet. I carefully put my hands around it’s lil’ fragile body ready to lift it without damaging any feathers. It wriggled free and with aflutter flew from between my thumbs towards a tree across the road, ( in the direction it came from first). this time it seemed to have no trouble flying straight, no trouble at all.
So as you can see, it’s a Miracle. One of my cycling friends suggested that it was woken from it’s state of shock/concussion by the warmth of my hands. But of course they are wrong, I do miracles!
Micycle 