South Riding 7: Coulsdon to Salfords

The journey between Coulsdon and Salfords is very familiar. When I lived at Salfords I worked in Croydon this was part of my route. It was not the same as Sutton when I had to cycle, instead I rode a couple of times a week with the aim of keeping fit. It was probably the first time I had ever done anything just for fitness; previously it had always been a by-product. If I commuted by bike – well that was the way it had to be; if I played games – then I wanted to be able to keep up.

The thing that surprised me this time was how much I had forgotten. When I passed the M23 junction I thought Redhill was not far away.  But I was puzzled whenI came upon some houses so quickly “I didn’t think it was that close” I said to myself - it wasn't. I had completely forgotten about Merstham. How had that happened?

I might not have remembered a village but I was very aware there was going to be a stiffish hill on the other side of Redhill and I didn't know how well I would cope. I was feeling very tired and rather dwelt upon the prospect. In the event it wasn't to bad (low gear, maintain cadence, job done). It was bigger in my imagination than in reality - like many things.

This is one of my weaknesses: I tend to build up difficulties. Sometimes it makes it almost impossible to get out of the door as I put off facing something or other. It was after all only seven hours ago that I was standing, very apprehensive, at the start of this journey and could easily have looked for an excuse to put it off (and almost did when I had the puncture). It is the same with running. I like run in the morning before I start to think. If I leave it too long I become prey to doubts and fears: do I really feel like it? Will it be unpleasant? Am I fit enough? Have I got the right plan? Am I going to feel better or worse? Am I tired? Invariably when I get out and get on with it these thoughts dissolve and I feel the pleasure and/or the satisfaction. But damn it those mental barriers can build up.

Anyway after the hill the rest was plain cycling  and I came to my old house with a sense of satisfaction knowing this was the last stop of the day before the guest house and rest.