The Gospel According to Andrew

I have this friend Andrew
He is older than me, so wiser I guess
He always tells me the wind is my friend

When I am cycling in the sunshine and the light summer breeze is cooling my sweating face
The whispers of wind sneak into the gaps in my helmet and cool my heated head and dry my hair
I am enjoying the feeling of freedom. The bike and I are one, birds chirp and the summer colours are beautiful
It is great to be out enjoying all this, away from the teenage music and the tea preparation

Around the next corner and the wind creeps down my open bike shirt,
Lightly fingering my hot skin and cooling me
My legs are on auto pilot and I find my mind wanders to planning Christmas holidays and BBQ menus
I am flying although my speedo does not seem to register the speed I think I am travelling at

Ahead there is a bend and I try to calculate in my mere female way, if the wind will then be at my back

I decide the wind is male
It is sideways and tries to push me.
I find myself riding in a wiggly line only straightening when going past the pine tree row
The pedals are suddenly harder to push and the wind is whistling through my helmet.
I can no longer hear myself puffing but I know I still am

I turn the last bend and yes here is the wind
Full frontal
My speedo takes a beating
My legs say we should have settled for coffee and the newspaper in the lazy boy

C’mon, Be positive now, remember Andrews words
I struggle on thinking I may be faster if I walk
The wind delights in playing this game with me
It is stepping up the tempo, almost stopping me
My chest cries out or is it me
I yell at the wind. I hate Jim Hickey, I hate the wind

I am sorry Andrew – I ride the last way home planning this wee note

The Gospel According to Deb (and Mark Ireland)
The Wind is a F---King Pain in the ARSE