Whilst I can't vouch entirely for the above, the prospect of limbs disowning me is right up there on my nightmare list right now. Gentle slide back into recreational biking was it? Quick gear change and punting along the seafront? Hellfire it was. Try being thrust into a woven tapestry of Biryani Gansters, Bashy-blasting Nova drivers and blue and yellow monsters belching eye watering black smog at tidy intervals. The Fallowfield-Manchester cycle path. Gulp.
That coupled with the regular bouts of "conditioning" my body's been undergoing over the past six months meant for a very sweaty and rather nauseous arrival, and despite thighs screaming bloody murder for the duration (and a momentary lapse in faith outside Chicken Cottage) victory was mine for the taking.
I kept the endorphins flowing for a good three days before cracking pre-crit this Thursday morning. I'd put the fact i'm still alive down to a canny traffic navigating ability and ninja-like reflexes. That said, a few rosary beads/horseshoes/stray leprichauns in the Geekpack of Doom never go amiss.
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