Hang on. I’m coming back to this. It’s been almost two fucking years since I badgered the shit out of this. Did you think I’d not been out on my bike? DID YOU ACTUALLY? You bellend, how very dare you... as if I would not.
I’ve done more riding than ever. I am fit as a goddam fiddle, sinewy all to fuck in the shins and the vein-popping calves. I gots three bikes, one fixed, one retro, one swish-fuck. I gurn out churn climbs for breakfast and dinner, this year I whippered the Hell of the Ashdown (which it turns out is a big piece of piss) and even whelped out a 200k audax in April, which, as it turned out, was not a piece of piss, but wasn’t a fuck-pile of hell-sqwawk either. I now visit the Ashdown every Saturday, for a 75 or 80 mile weekender-bender. I’ve rarely missed a midweek churn, and I spin the fuck out of a geario to work. One sad thing; no longer do I ride the Weapon to work. The chainset cracked on a roundabout, iced up to hell, near Arthur’s Seat, back in January. I abandoned it soon after. Not in Edinburgh, I just tired of it, and sold the frame to a nice girl who roasts coffee for a living. I bought a secondhand Equilibrium frameset from some whip-skinzo dude who works in Rapha; when I went to get it, they put me on a Wall Of 2017 Hopes + Dreams. I said I’ll do a 200k and come back.
I never did, reader. Reader, are you still there? Is this still an inner monologue? I got so much to say.. well, not so much. It’s still just “I went out on a ride and wrote my own auto-wheeled-biography” type shit. But that’s the ballgame. Cycling’s now all disc-brakes, fucking gumwalls and neon jerseys. It’s a wankfest as much as ever. And I, dear people, still operate at the ice-shit coal face of pain and incredulity. I am back. And here’s why: I remembered the password for Tumblr. ABOUT TIME. Sorry about the swearing. I’ll calm down. I wrote this after a glass of pepsi max.
