It’s week two of life on the sidelines, restricted in what I can do and trying to avoid the spectre of cabin fever that’s threatening. I don’t care how much slither and sliding was involved in this weekend’s ride, I’d much rather have been out there.
So I’ve been using my time productively by dusting off the walking boots and getting out in the woods and on the moors. If Mark Twain reckoned Golf was a ‘good walk ruined’ then I’ll go further and say a walk is ruined if you’re not out scoping trails. It’s easier to go for a walk when there’s a purpose to it. It’s far easier to spot potential lines and new directions when you’re not having to concentrate on where you’re going.
And nothing brightens up a walk like holding onto those imaginary handlebars while checking out a path (go on admit it, we all do it), to see if it’ll go.The little mental experiments to spot the best line through a corner or down a chute. I’m hoping to build a scrapbook of new trials that I can return to ride, a little treat to make up for the enforced two wheeled downtime.
Nothing spells out anathema better for me than the idea of embracing the turbo trainer. I ride to be outside. Not for me the sufferfest, the spinning in the cellar, the artificial experience. I can’t think of anything more opposite of why I ride. If I can’t ride at least I can still explore and save up the finds for later.
I’d rather ride tarmac than the turbo. There I’ve said it.
With that in mind I’m riding the Five RS on the road, shod with sticky rubber, using the 150mm of travel to cushion the shocks that would otherwise damage my hopefully healing arm. A healthy bit of slogging to keep mind and body satisfied. It’s a compromise but it’ll do.
What did you get up to?
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