Old and tired

What a palaver. I had two and a half hours spare on Saturday, between stripping wallpaper and picking up Sam from a party, so I wheel out the Inbred for a quick hilly blast. I remembered that the rear disc pads were getting a bit low, and after Wednesday night’s muddy trudge I thought I’d better check. Yep, they were on their last gasp. I whipped them out, binned em and set off for my ride via the local shop down the road, intending to put some new ones in on the trailside.

The shop had the right pads, but not the usual Hope brand, so they came without the spring and pin, which I’d chucked in the wheely bin with the old pads. Back home it is then, foraging around in a stinking bin looking for some tiny metal bits. I finally found them, put them in and set off smelling like an old tramp.

I’d only got an hour an a half left, just enough to snatch a ride from jaws of defeat. Down onto the Sett Valley trail I went, a mile on the flat before grinding up onto the moors. The slight headwind made my legs ache, until I’m standing up to pedal, on the flat. I realise the fatigue that I thought would drop away once I got moving is not going to shift. I felt absolutely shattered.

So I turned round and went home, defeated. Sleep, that’s what I need most.

I feel old and tired, and that's not a nice feeling.