Sunday Bloody Sunday... no pun intended

I am pretty chuffed with myself today, for several reasons...

1. I got out of bed at 7.45am... WHAT! Yes, that's right. 7.45am! I have not got out of bed that early for 6 whole weeks.

2. I managed to get myself and P to St James Park in Central London for todays Mayor of London's Skyride. With proper maps. And an iphone. And a few wrong turns... AND we may have gone down a few one-way streets the wrong way too, but shhhhhhhhhhh... don't tell anyone that!!

3. I managed to cycle from approximately 9.30am till 3.30pm around Central London. With a few rest breaks obviously, one in the pub for lunch, one in the park for coffee, one in the.... you get the idea!

4. I DID NOT FALL OFF! Not once! Although there was a pretty close encounter with a curb and a puddle late on in the day.

5. This was all done on a Sunday. Not any Sunday though. The day before I have to return to 'The Mental Asylum'... Oh no, wait, its all changed. It is no longer 'The Mental Asylum'... It's now 'The Mental Asylum ACADEMY'

It was an enjoyable day, mostly. Got to see some London landmarks...



Man on horse in box with NICE hat!



Thats ME!!! Check out the high vis vest!
Wearing THAT tomorrow at work.

Does what it says on the tin...

Got to see a few celebs... including Kelly Brooke (no photos of her though, sorry).



Sir Chris Hoy. That is NOT me with him.
We are however, one in the same... its hard to tell the difference
 between me and the triple Olympic Gold medalist.
But get out the picture lady! Who ARE you?



However, nothing ever goes perfectly for us. Of course it bloody doesn't.

It started a pour down with rain.

This is to emphasise how wet it was...
I did not do a Paula Radcliffe and let it all go on my marathon cycle ride.

Every item of clothing we were wearing was sopping wet and our hair... OUR HAIR.... started to go curly and frizzy! Oh my days! That was most definitely the last straw for P. Road rage had already got the better of P. Road rage over small cyclists (not the vertically challenged, the CHILDREN... tut, tut).

I could hear her growling as they cut her up. I could hear her growling as they rang their bells and screamed through tunnels. I could hear her growl as the stewards stepped out and put a stop sign up... not to protect us from traffic, but so we understood that when cycling we need to be able to stop at traffic lights and be safe. After, literally, the 30th orange bibbed idiot stepped out infront of us to tell us to stop... both P and I had had enough.

We were going to cycle home. We did not cycle home.

My ass is a little sore now.... soggy and sore. My hands are are a little achey now. My back is a little stiff. But my calves and my shin's are fucked!!! I have absolutely no idea how I managed to sustain these injuries. I suspect it may well be the pedals who are the culprits... bastard things... who needs pedals huh?!

Cycling injuries sustained due to stupid bike parts. Grrr...

Oh and P kindly pointed out that I had a grey hair. Cheers, thanks for that then.

I must add, that apparently, I have one person to thank for getting me cycling (of a kind). He would like to take the credit for getting me to buy a bike, ride it and like it. Maybe he can also take credit for my sore ass, achey hands, stiff back and bruised legs. And I might as well let him take credit for my grey hair too! 

I am eternally grateful... No, really I am. No sarcasm intended, I really am. Thanks ;-) 

My final famous last words are....

I'm going to cycle to work tomorrow morning.