Where

Since returning to UK from Portugal in late November last year the frequency of my rides, my enthusiasm for rides, and my enjoyment of rides has plummeted. 5kg put on since I got back GRRRRRRR. It’s been cold it’s been wet it’s been muddy.
Now, there is a sort of enjoyment about riding in atrocious conditions, it’s not really the enjoyment it the overcoming of adversity. – I still prefer the sun though.
For a reasonable amount of time now I can quite categorically say I am in a bit of a fug.  Motivation is low and it seems winter is carrying on forever.
There has been some pretty inclement weather to contend with. First there was the snow and ice covering the roads and paths. Brett lent me his turbo trainer but it got about as much use as a (hmm thinks of an analogy about lack of (no) usage can’t think of one, bugger. Then straight after that I seem to have contracted some kind of virus, first I was supposed to do a FTP test, I did 5 of the 20 mins and gave up, I took a few more days off hoping to cure my ailment then went out with my club on Saturday and did 20 minutes, I waved my colleagues on, turned round and went home. Eating Eating Eating. The irony of wanting to lose weight, being unhappy about failing so eating more fatty food is not lost on me.

I know exercise is the route of all happiness it keeps away depression, it elevates the sole. The shot of endorphins each day is enough to keep me happy.

But there is a small ray of light, it’s a twinkle in the distance. Beautiful aqua mosaic tiles, walls of perfect azure, sand dunes stretching off into the horizon, ornately carved wooden doors, sweet sickly sugar laden mint tea poured from a pot up high into miniature glasses,  the piquant smell of spices rising up into the nostrils so strongly you can practically taste them. Every morning the Mu’addin’s call to prayer for the islamic faithful. And the mighty High Atlas mountains rising over 4000m of elevation.
Josie Dew wrote of her cycling travels in north Africa, she was there in 1985. I remember thinking how young she must have been and how old I was at the time of reading (nearly 40). It finally dawned on me that I was a complete wimp and I needed to buck my ideas up and get a backbone. The tales of her travels spurred me on to get on my bike and tour, Africa was first on my list of places to go to…. it seems my list was out of sync, Australia, UK, Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Slovenia, Croatia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Greece, Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Egypt – yep that is Africa, nearly first on the list anyway.

I know when I leave my house on a tour that I am still scared nearly to death with fear. The unknown is a scary thing, people, dogs, bandits, dodgy drivers, bears, badgers, bombs, voles…. axe murderers who have been waiting behind a tree for 30 years ready to jump out on you when you put your tent down for the night – he’s still there waiting.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Photo by Akhil Chandran on Unsplash

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Photo by Sergey Pesterev on Unsplash

Morocco here I come. Not for ages but I am keeping the dream alive.