Categories: uncategorized
Date: 21 January 2006 00:32:50
I've just come back from a ride of about 14kms, mainly along bike tracks. And my backside is so very, very sore. I remember when I was 10 or so I seemingly could ride for hours: and I never felt any pain in the behind. And now I've got a lot more fat there, you'd think it wouldn't affect me. But it does. Ow.
I've decided to try and do two small rides a week, and a longer ride on Saturday morning or evening. It was Saturday morning today.
I left from my place and headed off to the cycle track, which began at the City Farm (somewhere I'm hoping to take my niece soon!) and went through the Western Sydney Regional Park. The Regional Park was where the Equestrian Cross-Country was held at the Sydney Olympic Games. It was nice to ride past the course, which is still in use, and see all the barriers and other things (such as the water jump). It was quite a hilly start, and I do confess to wanting to turn back a number of times -- but I ploughed on.
I cycled on to Prospect Reservoir (completed in 1888; water from Warragamba Dam now bypasses it for treatment elsewhere, but in times of need water is taken from Prospect). I sat down at the picnic area and read a book while munching on a banana and drinking water. Very peaceful: only a few other bike riders, and one or two joggers, went past for the twenty or so minutes I was there.
I took The Stories of English, which I am greatly enjoying. I am up to the arrival of the printing press and the impact it had on written English: the trend was toward standardisation. I admit to a few, well, many, laughs when reading about certain pedantic persons who, when various English words had their spellings changed to reflect their origin (e.g. a b added to make doubt as it came from the Latin dubitare), decided that to show their skill and learning by pronouncing every single letter, even it if was silent.
I wanted to stay a bit longer, but it was starting to heat up [and it was already very humid]. From Prospect Reservoir, I followed a now disused water pipe way and along various creeks, passing the sporting field where we were tortured yearly with the School Athletics Carnival (you can tell what I thought of it!: I always thought carnivals were meant to be fun!), discovering new little creeks I never knew existed, before heading home via a different way. I passed my grandmother's on the way home and saw her out the front (she had just returned from shopping), so I had a bit of rest with her, and then cycled home.
I'm very happy to be sitting on a very comfortable chair now! But it was rather good fun. Cyclists, like bushwalkers (hikers for you from other lands ;-)), are very friendly: a wave or nod or "Hello" is given as you pass. Very nice.