Oktober

[Sweder]

Autumn's touch spreads an auburn glow across Sussex. A chill wind sweeps in from the west, rough countenance enhanced by biting, bone-chilling cold. The sun shines, flooding the downs with spectacular early light, warmth fleetingly felt as icy marauders plunder the trails.

Two days into October and two outings for the Large One.
Yesterday a slovenly scrape across the downs, Quasimodo hunched against Parisien ire shuffling into the west. It was a most ugly affair, much grunting and sweating, the only redeeming feature the completion of the circuit without collapse. Four days and nights in the company of SP, The Tipster and Captain Tom in the fleshpots of suburban Paris left me wrecked, a scoured shell of a man, a twisted blend of stiffness, indegestion and ibuprofen.

Today it was the bike's turn. I battled once more into that unforgiving blast, succumbing at last on the approach to Blackcap, sliding off the vicious little saddle to haul the machine to the summit on foot. Having recovered my breath (if not my dignity) I re-mounted and set off on a suicidal plunge, strong wind shoving rudely as I clung on to the handlebars, knuckles white, for fear of being slung into the hedgerows.

Neither outing will last long on the memory. The significance of back-to-back struggles should not be underestimated. I feel I've turned a corner to begin a very long haul indeed, but as someone once said, a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, albeit a rather wobbly one.

Here's the elevation capture from my Garmin. You can see the wobbles on the early climbs, and appreciate the difference in speed on the descents.