It's a significant effort, up Macclesfield Road from the top of the village all the way to The Wizard Pub (4 points). The views are many, as you recall Tony's tips on form. Head up and knees high. In the 10 to 20 seconds you manage to raise your eyes before the inevitable slump, you may catch a nod from a passing cyclist or a runner coming down the other way. It's important you see the whites of their eyes, as much as it for them to see yours. They know, I know they know...we nod. There's a common respect here.
Aside from that, there's the low hanging branches from the well appointed gardens of the vulgarly-rich and not-at-all famous. Not to admire, but to dodge, else once again this morning, my protruding bobble became displaced, knocked in to a jaunty angle that I fail carry off as a fashion look. Then fatigue takes over and your eyes fall to the ground. There's a few side roads to cross, some with low kerbs, others with a cavernous drop and an equally problematic climb on the other side. Tricky when hidden under a golden carpet of damp leaves.
Sometimes it's easier to run in the road, recently resurfaced, such is the state of the pavement by comparison. It's amazing how focused your chosen route becomes as you climb, mapping out the path of least resistance. So focused in fact that on a descent of the same hill yesterday I noticed for the first time in Lord knows how many years, a couple of benches on the roadside. I don't know why I've missed them before, sirens calling upon the vulnerable. Will I have the strength to pass these wooden femmes fatales on my next climb? Tempting.
