It really was One Of Those Days. Mel left first thing in the morning, she's away for three days on an outdoor training course. I'm jealous and will miss her. I had a glass of juice and a bowl of cereal, nice and relaxed. I picked up my commute bike. Overnight puncture. Arse. Now in a rush, I grabbed up the newly built (or rather bodged) touring bike. It needs some reworking, and reminded me about it all the way to the office.
Work was too much, well, work. Nothing went to plan, and seemingly nothing got done. I found-out that my Challenger team-mate, Chewy, is injured and plans for the Dynamic at the weekend, and our trip to Cyprus in a few weeks are up in the air.
I rushed out as soon as I could leave, looking forward to the long way home. Then on the first off-road section I binned it over the bars at a fair old speed. My left foot failed to come out of the, well past it's use-by date, Time pedal. I landed on my knees and chest, for a split second it want that bad, then the rear rack crashed down on my coccyx. Argh. I lay there for a moment, checking I was OK. A bit bruised and battered but not that bad. I picked myself up, and headed home on the road. Within three miles I nearly got hit by the same number of cars. First one cut a corner at speed, second one overtook me then turned off a few feet later, then a red light jumper. Some really bad driving.
Sometimes I really wonder how we live so long! I think I deserve a beer and another couple of chapters of The White Spider. Hopefully tomorrow is a better day!