What a contrast

This time last week Bristol was under several inches of snow and riding on anywhere other than main roads was near impossible. Seven days on the snow had melted and there was a glorious orange orb in the sky.

After several weeks in the gym it was good to get out on the bike. On Saturday I went for a long run and a short ride. I bought a new bike - a red Bob Jackson road bike with a triple chainset and a frame perfect for a single speed conversion - and took it on a few short laps of the city.

On Sunday I took my road bike out on a long ride to Cheddar. I was aiming for a 66-mile route but only managed 50 due to a slow puncture.

I rode out across the Suspension Bridge to Failand, Wraxall and Clevedon before heading south to Congresbury and Highbridge. Halfway through the ride I realised my jacket pocket was open and my fruit cake had fallen out of my pocket. With no food I had to stop at a petrol station in Highbridge. As I saddled back up, weighed down with Rice Krispie squares and sweets, I felt that all-too familiar clunk of metal, tyre and Tarmac. I had a puncture. I suspected it was a slow puncture so I took my chances, pumped it up then headed east back to Cheddar for dinner at Helen's parents. I just about got away with it. I had to pump up my tyre twice on the remaining 10 miles but I was saved the indignity of removing the wheel on the roadside and getting covered in dirt and grease.

So 50 miles through mostly flat Somerset countryside at a relaxed average of 18 miles an hour. I managed 35 miles on a big bowl of porridge before having to stop for food. It was a warm January day and I think I got my clothing just about right: overshoes, leggings, merino top, jersey, gilet, arm warmers and ear buff. I felt pretty good afterwards too.

Next time I try this route I'll leave myself a bit longer and hopefully manage the full route to Glastonbury - and with any chance there'll be a venison casserole waiting for me next time too!