The first ride beyond the bimble around the block was a total disaster on several levels not least of which I hadn’t realised how unfit I’ve become and perhaps three years of smoking weed to kill my back pain most probably wrecked my lungs.

Firstly living in London It can be quite an adventure getting out of town to somewhere quiet and when your last memory of riding on busy roads was getting hit by a car it didn’t take me long to work out that this bike riding business might be a bit bigger than I thought. We all know what it’s like when you get buzzed, the way the car sort of pulls you in a little, it felt like every car was that close; throw in your standard low quality road surface and I see no shame in saying I was scared.

There weren’t even any really hilly section but I was dying and I finally understood what old people mean when they say they only feel like 30, I’m not, I’m 43 but I’d never realised how shit my body was until I had to get off an take a breather after 10k riding up a very spiteful sharp short incline that I now sprint up for a ten second interval.

Coming home I got lost and ended up in the middle of a bus station which was a heart blast, my fight or flight thing really wanted to just get out, I only managed 18k before I got home, soaking wet, in physical pain and wondering what the hell I was thinking.


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