bike ride

I thought long and hard before going out this morning.  Cold - and no almond croissant waiting to greet my effort.  

An extra layer for the legs, this time.  Anniemay offered an old pair of her tights.  I declined; I tried them once before and looked like Max Wall.

There's no wind to speak of, but once I'm wizzing along, the temperature seems to drop.  It's always the hands that suffer.  But ... I love it.  

I'm not at all sporty.  Hated PE at school.  I was one of those weedy ones who could only manage to climb about 3 feet up the rope in the gym.  But I had a bike and escaped on it when ever I could.  

That sense of freedom always seems to return whenever I'm on the bike.  Especially as we have such lovely countryside around our new home to explore.  

Age and health means that I need a bit of help from an electric motor these days. I've been called a cheat a few times. And I got a few funny looks this morning.  It doesn't bother me anymore than it bothered Bob Dylan at the Manchester Free Trade Hall in 1966 when he first went electric.  

There's coffee and Anniemay's fruit cake when I get back. Doesn't get much better.