This has been a horrid winter.
Cold to the core and winds have kissed my face to crisp.
That’s the message. That’s the email. That’s the holla.
Cold. Severe. Winds.
Chills and hills that never end.
In England we get nine months of severe weather followed by an occasional summer that may last a further three months. If lucky, the sun might shine, and at best the rain will cool us off.
Either way, this country hardens any rider to the core.
Here, our county of Derbyshire has hills and open velds that blast headwinds for days on end. Neighbouring Nottingham has flatland and woods with trails muddy enough for you to catch up on Sasquash during lunch. Forests and nights in Sherwood.
This is what we have.
This is all we have.
Horrid. Dangerous. Painful.
Training through hills, slippin’ skids on tarmac to the very core.
The rolling hills never end.
The winds never end.
Yet sometimes the Sun says a solemn hello.
So soldier on kid.
For what it’s worth kiss the bliss when it rains.
England.
This is all we have.
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