After a month of music, madness and merriment, I thought it might be a good idea to get back on the mountain bike. I was feeling doughy, slow, and old.
Yesterday, I rose at dawn, prepared myself, and left the house at seven. I didn't fancy climbing all the way up to Mount Lofty, not after the weeks of divine laziness, so I decided that Eagle on the Hill was a big enough climb for my comeback ride.
Two of us made the trip and, as expected, it felt a little more of a push than usual. I spent much of the climb sweating and panting. I could almost feel the mince pies working themselves out of my pores...
I was breathing pretty hard, but we made it to the top without too much pain or embarrassment. In fact, I felt better than I thought I would.
The downhill was an entirely different matter. I felt like I was flying.
By nine o'clock I was sitting in Luna Rosso on King William Street, having a coffee. Erm, no cake for me thanks...