Awful weather last night. I dragged myself out for a local-ish loop on the Tank Bike anyway. The first few miles were harder than I thought they’d be, partly due to the somewhat-tall 36:16 gearing of the bike but mainly a hangover from Sunday’s more-epic-than-I-was-expecting ride (probably). Quite soon the rain water started to trickle down the back of my neck and visibility was reduced to about 10 feet, my HID lamp not helping matters as the retina-scorching light was reflecting off the rain and mist into my face. A steady flow of water was pouring from the visor on my helmet like a blocked gutter and there must have been a few billion extra leaves on the ground, so I was frequently riding into, instead of around, rocks – rigid steel fork sending shockwaves up my arms each time I found a big chunk.
That little yappy dog had a go at me again, as usual it came running out of the farmyard onto the cobbled road whilst barking and snapping at my ankles. I didn’t manage to make contact with its head this time, despite my best efforts. Perhaps I should have a word with the dog’s owner or something as it’s really starting to get on my tits now. I’m reluctant to go to the house and moan though on account of the deep, rumbling bark of another, much bigger dog they’ve got chained up and the fact that to them, I’m that cyclist who “kicked our dog in the head”.