Nearly two weeks since my last outing on a bike, which is pretty disgraceful even taking into account the array of reasons, no, excuses accumulated to explain the situation. Work demands, family commitments, fear of vehicular murder in London, torrential downpours; pitiful all, but sometimes you just end up in a loop of not-riding and it takes a deliberate effort to break out again. In penance I thrashed myself around about 60 kilometres of Peak District, gave myself a headache crawling up Holme Moss in the muggy evening heat, and even swallowed an enormous, suicidal flying insect of some description on a fast descent. It flew straight into my mouth and down my throat, I could feel the thing wriggling below my larynx and had to stop and neck half my water to wash it down. It wasn’t small either, a horsefly at the very least, possibly even a medium-sized moth. Disgusting. I hope the cycling gods are appeased.
I’m glad I went out though. Sometimes you just have to eat insects along with the good stuff, it can’t be helped.