Crunching knees all the way to work today. Running is the tool of the devil and it seems to have pulped my knees so badly that gnashing swearing pain travelled with me on the morning and evening commute. Who would know that running 10km having not run in years would hurt no matter how much cycling you're used to? Who would know that going on a 4 hour ride the next day would be bad? And then 100km the next weekend. And then 120km the weekend after. I probably deserve trashed knees.
So it's time to put on the sensible hat and stop riding my bike for a while. Welcome to Surlyville, but not in the good way. On the plus side, after a summer of tipping the scales for the physical, it might be time to let them swing to the intellectual. The Turner Prize is back; Soweto Kinch has a great new album to get stuck into; and it's finally time to grab a hold of Irish History.
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