For a few months, the closest I've come to riding my bike has been a toss-up between rearranging my kit drawer and using my bidon as a desktop drinking vessel. During this same period, I've done plenty of writing on the subject, and even plenty of planning; the turning of pedals, however, has been conspicuous by its absence.
However, over the last few weeks no whirlwind holiday romance could match the intensity of my rekindled love affair with bike riding, and the weekly washload has doubled in size to accommodate all the cycling kit getting used. My inner Mamil has been switched back on, and it's turned up to 11.
