A strange addiction. Climbing to the skies, slow motion, pain, body revolting, hour after hour of mental questions. Why am I climbing this mountain?
We’re a strange bunch us cyclists. Speeding along dressed in tights, bottoms padded, riding great distances much to the bemusement of non-cyclists.
To them it’s unfathomable that riding up a mountain, a mountain for god’s sake, can be pleasurable. If only they knew.
I’ll have the one on the top right, second from left
Cyclists are not monogamists. N+1 dictates this. The desire to add to our harem never diminishes. End of year sales. Boredom. The need to protect our best bike(s). Bike porn. Ooh, shiny shiny.