Sporting Injuries, the curse of the drinking classes
I was really looking forward to today. Rod and Rachel are back in the UK in the middle of their year-round-the-world trip (for her brother’s wedding) so we’d planned to meet Rod - but not just at home, no, we were going to go to North Wales for a spot of drinking alcoholic beverages and riding bikes round Coed Y Brenin. I’ve not been to CYB for about 4 years, and I haven’t seen Rod since we left Whistler about 3 months back, so I was looking forward to it - after all, there’s nothing as fun as a cheeky midweek day off to ride bikes, is there?
Until last night, of course, when I had to pull up during training with a sharp pain in my leg. Curse it all, I’d only gone and pulled my calf muscle. I’ve spent all day hobbling round work (having loaded the car at 6.30 am so we could set off at 4 as planned) but a quick circuit of the car park on a bike at 3.30 was evidence enough: no cycling for me tomorrow. Bahhh!
So, a night in front of the TV again, and we’ll have to wait until Friday to go see Roderick - not such a bad thing as it’s his 30th anyway, we’ll no doubt have a pint or two to celebrate. Fingers crossed that my leg recovers in time for us to ride at the weekend - Binners has tempted us with daring raid on the Lakes.