Jnr unexpectedly suggested we get about for a ride this evening. He’s not sporty, hardly ever asks to go out riding but enjoys it when he does.
First time ever we have ridden together and he was riding at my pace. It wasn’t fast, but he was pushing himself, even on the hills, and I wasn’t having to back off so he could keep up with me. (Not that I’m quick by any means)
He still struggled a bit with stamina towards the end, but came back looking like he felt he’d achieved something. With a big grin on his face. And he left that tell tale trail of grit in the shower that shows a good ride has been had.
Turns 13 next week, suspect I may spend the next few years wondering if tonight really happened.