Jon George
Mamil and couldn't care less
- Location
- Suffolk an' Good
Whilst my primary profession is writing, I've had a little part-time job for a number of years and I'm afraid it is currently inducing a level of how-much-of-this-nonsensical-crap-am-I-prepared-to-take stress that I am uncomfortable with. In fact, I'm wasting so much time thinking about it, I'm occasionally becoming morose.
Until I go cycling, that is.
I went out this morning for my usual Sunday spin - longer and less frenetic than my daily cardio thrashes - and, as expected, fifteen minutes into the ride I was enjoying myself, admiring the countryside, and whistling a Cliff Richard tune that I just couldn't get out of my head. I know it's a natural high, a consequence of exercise, but somehow, being on a bike makes it a little more satisfying. I'm glad to have become addicted.
Even if I'm regularly battered about the face by a stiff breeze.
Until I go cycling, that is.
I went out this morning for my usual Sunday spin - longer and less frenetic than my daily cardio thrashes - and, as expected, fifteen minutes into the ride I was enjoying myself, admiring the countryside, and whistling a Cliff Richard tune that I just couldn't get out of my head. I know it's a natural high, a consequence of exercise, but somehow, being on a bike makes it a little more satisfying. I'm glad to have become addicted.
Even if I'm regularly battered about the face by a stiff breeze.