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@ough
I'll probably be the only one with a bad story this weekend, then: my left knee is playing tricks on me since a few weeks ago. I'm alone at home this weekend and doing nothing would drive me nuts so decided to go out yesterday anyway, ride to Southend and see the sea. 10k in and the knee starts feeling uncomfortable, 15k in and it's a sharp pain that I think I can manage if I cycle rubbing the thighs against the top tube. After a while I'm convinced that the pain plateaued and as long as it stays like that I can carry on. In truth it was getting much worse but I just thought it was the same. I got to Langdon Hills through the old church road, but I had no way to put any power down and had to resort to a soul destroying walk up the lane. Decided to stop at the pub for lunch and then tried to carry on, thinking it'd be mostly downhill to the sea and I could coast a bit more. My average speed was so incredibly low that I didn't even think of it as training, and I was so far from having any sort of fun that it wasn't a leisurely ride in the country as well. It was just bollocks, really, and after a bit more of riding I had to stop because I was in so much pain that I was actually scared. Maybe this is normal for hard riders or something, but it was a complete revelation for me when my leg decided to not obey my brain at all. When I stopped the bike, I mentalised the action of my left foot rotating on the pedals, unclicking, and planting itself on the ground, but nothing happened. Foot stayed frozen, playing dead. I ordered again but nothing. So I kind of forced it to unclick and step down and when it did I had to let go a scream, and I realised my leg couldn't withstand me standing up. It was incredible, really. The problem is that at this stage I only had 12k left, and if I wanted to reach a train station it'd be at least 6k from there anyway. So I definitely wouldn't go back home without seeing the sea, and after a good 15min of despair, deep breathing, stretching, carefully understanding what movements I could and couldn't do, I climbed back and slowly went off to bloody Southend. I eventually got there, after having to stop once again, had a glimpse of the sea but didn't bother trying to enjoy it, went to Boots instead to buy painkillers, climbed on the train, back home. Cycling from Fenchurch St to home was somehow deleted from my memory.