I ventured out on the bike in the snow and ice yesterday. It hadn't dawned on S when he left for work that the only way I could get to the midwife appointment was by foot, pedal or two busses.
Since we'd had a hard frost overnight, I imagined that the snow and ice would most likely be crisp and after the Monday morning rush-hour the main roads would be ok. My deduction was spot-on and I enjoyed a slow ride through the woods and park with my fat, lower pressured tyres making a satisfying amount of crunching sounds as they rolled over the ice and snow. Any glassy looking bits, I walked around and over the whole of my 11 mile trip, I hardly lost any traction on any uphills.
The ride took a long time, mostly because almost every dog walker I passed fancied a bit of a natter (having mondays off work is brilliant for this; people out & about during the week seem to have more time to say hello and it makes the world feel like a friendlier place as it seemed when I was growing up). I popped into the garden centre in the park to pick up part of my mum's birthday pressie (I dont recommend carrying ceramic pots in back packs, but my fatter tyre bike has no pannier rack) and made a detour to get butties and a couple of Manchester tarts for lunch with my mum.
It feels like yonks since I last embarked on an epic monday ride, but these little blasts through the trees still bring a lot of calm and restore my sanity after I'm either stuck in buildings or braving the town centre (both of which make me very grumpy).
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