I've finally found the local trails. Looping figure of eights to get lost in 800ft slog up the hill outside the door. It's a tarmac slog but not so bad at 7:30am. Left the rode and the curious horses staring at the panting girl, found a cat, lost the cat, found the cat again, dinged the cat to save it. Rode left, turned left again, somehow ended up coming back down the first left I'd taken. Round the other side up the side of the stone wall, turn left, miss a turning that looked interesting, take the 2nd turning, come out down the 1st turning that looked interesting. Growing suspicion that someone else has been here before me, many times, by the berms developing in the ruts in the corners of the mud. Sticky gloopy mud stuck to tyres, back down the road, ding ding ding as the bits of stone and tree hit my spokes then my rims then the road and me.
Arrive back at the house dripping, covered in mud from my tyres and with a bloody big grin on my face. Arrive back just in time to see boyfriend off to work. Laughter as he looks at my bike 'found the mud again then'.
Always find the mud. Doing that again.
Next time I might even remember my bottle.
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