Saturday started with the first Wifey Weekend Roll Out in almost three weeks. I think even Anna would admit that she struggled.
I've somehow raced myself into fitness (ha!) over the past fortnight or so. Anna decided that she wanted to lead. Just out of Alresford and she came up with the old cliche of crosswind, and asked me to take over.
I didn't mind, but it would have helped if I knew where the route was taking us.
It was roughly out to Lawford, and then back in via the Tendring back lanes. Much like the ride on Friday evening, we were continuously cloudbusting.
The roads were heavy with horses early on Saturday. 7am at the weekends is a different world out there. Cyclists and the tally hoe set emerge from their slumber and take over the world for a couple of hours.
You'll be telling me that post 9am comes the time when cars rule the roads...
I'm starting to experience rides now in different stages. There's the early enthusiasm that then gives way to the serious riding. The third quarter of the cycle is where the monotony sets in. The final stretch is the kick for home with a sense of achievement.
It could be 30km leg stretcher or a full on 100km+ roll out. Those four stages all appear for me at almost exactly each quarter stage of the route.
We made it back to base under bruising skies. Make hay whilst the sun shines, or something.
The reverse ferret was to catch up on household duties. These were carried out to perfection with some podcast catch ups.
@davebriggs is producing some wonderful interview style probing with various tech / social web folk. His recent conversation with Andy Mabbett is wonderful listening for anyone with a passing interest in all things Wiki.
Cafe Calcio was cued up next. Intelligent fan based culture is something that first attracted me to When Saturday Comes back in the day. The Calcio crowd are now capturing a similar ethos via audio.
Oh. And #METROKNOBBERS.
Not long now until the Champion Hill Blues return, Comrades...
To the canoes! ...came the shout mid-afternoon. We both got encased within black rubber bondage and prepared for the walk of shame down to the Quay.
The bloody estuary rain had other ideas. We were prepared to paddle through the drizzle, but not a bloody downpour.
Wellies replaced the body rubber, and a brief hack through Wivenhoe Wood and towards the University on foot was the substitute.
It was alright as walks goes. The sun started to emerge as we turned around at the University and headed down to the Trail. Photographing the calm after the storm is one of my favourite subject matters, especially so when there are still drops of rain to match the rays of light.
Not the best of photoblog posts, but it captured the moment.
There was still sufficient water remaining some three hours after high tide. We probably could have got a little paddle in, albeit a wet, wet, wet row up and down.
Football finished off the day.
Back of the net!