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August 15, 2006

The joy of cycling. Or not.

Cycling The eagle-eyed amongst you may have spotted my bike rusting away in the garage where we keep all of our old "stuff". I was really looking forward to getting on it again, as all the time I've been in Greece I've kept saying "Oh, I must get a new bike", and have never got round to it. Boy, was it a shock to the system to be back on two wheels again - I think all the additional fitness we gained by marching around Europe with our backpacks on for three months has well and truly disappeared.

The first journey I made by bike was far too ambitious given my fitness level, and ended up involving about four stops, drinking two litres of water, and arriving at my destination sweat-soaked and doolally. And in the course of the journey I got abuse shouted at me by a pedestrian as I wheeled the bike across a road. And then on the way home I nearly got killed by a bus at The Bell corner in Walthamstow. That kind of takes the joy out of cycling. We always say when we are at home that the Greeks drive like crazy - but I think over in the UK the sheer volume of traffic makes it much more dangerous for a cyclist.

So now I'm just trying to do a little cycling practice each day - with a very flat route around our local back streets so I can gradually build up my speed and stamina, and confidence in traffic, before tackling another proper journey.

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