Oxford life. Thirtysomething challenges. Music leanings. Anything really.

Just competed in a Trailbreak Fat Tyre. Two hours of night-time mountain biking, navigating through the mud and grime of the Ridgeway. 'twas a gorgeous night, totally calm, and pretty mild for December. Low cloud reflected the orange of the surrounding towns.

This was the first ride I have enjoyed since coming back from Italy, two months ago. I've been wallowing in a post travelling hangover, I think: it's been the equivalent of spending saturday on the sofa, feeling sorry for myself. Tonight, I knew right from the start that tonight's ride was going to feel good. Driving to the event, I hadn't even been sure if I wanted to ride, but once astride my favourite steed and following the beam of light illuminatin my way, I was at home once more.

Muddy trails. Singlespeed bike. Challenging navigation. And it all flowed sweetly. Nothing was difficult, and the pace felt wonderful. It didn't seem to require any effort to maintain what I could tell was going to be top class speed. Even though many of the trails were quagmires that gripped selfishly onto my bike as I tried to pedal through, nothing could dampen my spirit.

I got to the finish knackered, but elated. I'm back. I am finally enthused to get out and ride again.