Mountain biking

Last month I wrote that it was summer.  I don't know what I was thinking of.  The calendar might be of the opinion that it is summer, but anyone with their eyes open can clearly see that, if there is any season that we are not it, that is summer.  Cycling through the woods yesterday was hard work, due to all the time sinking in the wet slurry that the paths have turned into. Despite my best efforts, my speed dropped 10% below average, and in the evening all my joints were complaining. The heavy rain was so persistent that my wonderful winter boots, which kept my feet bone dry all the way through the winter, filled up with the water running down my legs. And apparently the layer of mud that was I coated with was so impressive, that a group of children I passed burst into laughter. At least I suppose that was why!