Half Nine, Worthing.
On Tuesday night after chips and spring rolls I rode into Worthing.
Whizzing along the sea-front heading eastwards pedalling was hardly necessary.
Not that stopped me trying to break my own personal land speed record.
Despite two determined attempts I couldn’t top 27.6 mph, held back by that burning sensation in my quadriceps as hamstrings.
It’s nice to know I’m not alone even Chris Hoy and Mark Cavendish have similar issues as the muscles run out of oxygen.
I took shelter in the streets as I wiggled my way back to Goring.
The wind, the waves, and the wheels.
What a fab way to end the day.