Cycling is fun too!

This evening I went for a bike ride, and scouted out a few new running routes. Cycling can be a really useful way of doing a bit of road reconnoissance before you run, and confirming whether that loop on the map which kinda looks like a path is really more of an impenetrable tunnel through thornbushes. Cycling is like collecting free miles- if I was running and discovered I couldn't get through a path I'd planned or had to stop and walk/jump around a swamp I would be annoyed. When you are training for a marathon every mile of every run counts and often the speed at which you do it too, so if you are cut short you feel cheated, or if you get lost and run many more miles than expected you worry about overtiring and not being able to complete that long session you have planned for the next day.
So on my bike I finally discovered how the different directions of the Tarka Trail meet up near the train station, and to take a nose-peg if I'm running in the direction of Bishops Tawton. The Fragrance de la farmyard was particularly strong tonight.

Bishops Tawton is a lovely village and my ride there revealed some classic exploring finds. First up was a field full of the cutest little ponies in the whole world; about two foot high and toy-like, but they weren't the slightest bit interested in me as I wooshed past. Unlike the next animals I encountered-the huge cows pressing up against the fence all turned their big heads to towards me as I approached. Perhaps they were playing the who-dealt-the-smell game (eww I smell it too, who was that?! Certainly not me!) and my timely appearance gave them somewhere to lay the blame.

I also came across a line-dancing class- incongruous disco music blaring from a quaint-looking church hall and flashes of middle-aged men shaking their butts. A row of white-haired women sat outside taking a moments rest from their efforts, on a bench that was practically in the graveyard. I love this kind of glimpse of the unexpected side of village life, and I never would have noticed it if I'd been in a car as I wouldn't have heard the music drawing my attention over the road to look.

Later on as I arrived back in town I heard another surprising sound which made me take a detour to investigate- the rhythm of steel drums was reverberating around the town fountain. As I rode past I saw there was a whole army of drummers, grooving away in hot pink outfits, whilst a more traditional-looking marching band stood to the side, evidently waiting their turn. Amazing! The beats brought a huge smile to my face and whirled my legs into a fast finish all the way home.