today’s riding was the apotheosis of winter training, with a firmly stressed first word in that collocation. WINTER. WINTER. it was so damn cold i couldn’t breathe. i was speaking to Peter Graham today (name drop) and he said it was like breathing in sawdust. i’ve never been so cold. the ride was of benefit if only to show me how cold it can really be. it’s like the time i rode a 50 mile time trial in some sort of summer cyclone; nothing else seemed all that bad for quite some time after.
i am behind on the miles because of saturday’s insane dronkenesse. all i can think of is chaucer’s fantastic words on the iniquitous drink; ‘dronkenesse is full of stryvyng and of wrecchednesse. Oh dronke man, disfigured is thy face, sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace’.
i swear on Goddes digne bones i am still hungover.