Autumn and armwarmers

Autumn – described by Keats as  ‘the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’  is certainly here, there may be  some lingering sunshine  but it has chilly topnotes.  There was mist around this morning here in Lancashire, always a bit of a worry for those of us who live in the shadow of  Pendle Hill, though on closer inspection it was more of dank rain.  A bit of a blow as  a cycle expedition involving canals and scones had been planned,

Following a vast amount of dithering, tweeting and texting we cancelled, then miraculously the sun burst through and  plans were rapidly re arranged, sadly the scones were dumped but a quick 20km whizz down the canal and back speedily took place.  Keats poem has generated a wide range of analysis and interpretation but for me, today the word fruitfulness is uppermost, all the cycling work over the summer was about training for the Cycletta  event and  it did indeed come to fruition 2 weeks ago. Now we are reaping the harvest from the work,  and we are entering our own seasons of fruitfulness, of being able to enjoy the rides without thinking of times and distance but just enjoying riding, chatting as we go and appreciating the scenery,

The canal was rather lovely today and the ducks were  adabbling as they should uptails all but it was a bit chilly and in the rather hurried preparations to leave before the deluge I conducted a fruitless search for a T shirt to wear under a sleeveless cycling top in order to prevent unsightly goosebumps.  However in my voyage of discovery around the bedroom, I uncovered the perfect solution, a shrug  which slotted perfectly underneath and provided the requisite degree of heat to the arms.  I therefore completed my ride in some style with silver and black animal print arms, now I know there is a whole industry in cyclewear including hi tech armwarmers but whilst my home made effort may not make it onto the pages of Cycle Chic,  it did attract a favourable response from my cycling companion.  On my first cycling outing up the rocky trails of Gisburn Forest I almost wept at the outfit I was wearing and  was not sure I would ever be able to ride without feeling stressed, tense and terrified.  Well as the season has changed,  so  have I,  and whilst  I may not be leading the next cycling style movement or break records  I have reaped a harvest in that I can take a mellow approach to all aspects of my cycling and rejoice that the work has borne fruit to be enjoyed.

 

Smells like Team Spirit

The Daft and Determinds have finally hit the road… well a fire road and trails which at times did appear to be the boulder strewn aftermath of a major landslip. But 13 kilometers through Gisburn  Forest proved that we can all function at various levels of fitness and can in my case just about stay on the bike. A motley crew, several of whom had never met before, fought their way through torrential rain to the sunshine side of the Ribble Valley and  assembled at the designated time and place minus only one of our number who uncovered a minor glitch in bike transportation, But as we said that’s what the practice was for and who could have foreseen that a bike carrier would not fit either the car or the new bike?  However, thanks to the intervention of Buddha  inducing a state of zen she refused to miss out and arrived to take part by running and was there to greet us all on our return.

There were children and dogs and a true feeling of belonging and team work as  the more proficient cyclists displayed endless patience  with those of us  (ie me) who having not ridden a bike for many years and certainly not one with gears caught up and  at times walked up the sheer rock faces… sorry gently undulations.

But above all we had fun, spent two hours in glorious countryside,  chatted, sweated, laughed, encouraged, almost cried but all made it to the end, though my face  at the end was almost as purple as the Peril. The Purple Peril made it round, it has had a makeover worthy of a Channel 4 TV series and gleamed in the sunshine, though whether it makes it to the main event  is slightly moot at this point.

At the wonderful pub at the end  we all ate fabulous food in the open air, chatted with new and old friends and celebrated a birthday with a chocolate cake which reminded us that we are doing this for our charity wwwthejohnburytrust.co.uk . In fact it was the thought of cake which drove us on and got us up the short cut  ‘Hill of Death’ where the possibility of a collective sob and strop was dissipated by the  magnificent view and the knowledge we were only half a kilometre from cake heaven.

So we are off and on the way – next run on the road and by the sea, aches and pains faded in a  long bath with  glass of cold wine – all in all a  jolly good Sunday out!