I'm missing my friend Pete. It's the sort of thing I should probably tell him, rather than write it here. I had a request from him to join Strava today and I recall a brief chat we all had at work about the merits of signing up or not. Mike, as a result of that conversation has not used it since. When I asked if his ride home that night was up on Strava, he replied 'fuck no...I had a great ride home...went the long way, enjoyed a few corners so much I went back and did them twice, did skids and everything...fuck Strava'.
The notion of being stalked by all and sundry, becoming addicted to the antisocial network through fear of missing out and subscribing to pseudo friendships, is lost on me. I'm not joining Strava and therefore will not be able to share Pete's training. Which is a shame, because clearly he's reaching out. What I miss are the unspoken experiences, running through cowshit, getting piss wet through, frying in the sun, getting slaughtered in training, taking in the views, sharing a post run coffee, or in Pete's case proper tea...and Jo's cakes. Real stuff.
