Sunday the Thirteenth

I cycled so far today I think my legs may have seized up forever. 
I was up and about early and popped outside to hang some washing out. There was a cool wind but it was beautifully sunny so I decided to shake off the shackles of Winter and feel the wind in my hair. I took Philippa a cup of tea in bed and told her “Don’t make any plans for me this morning coz I’m off riding and I won’t be back til lunchtime.”
And off I went.
And now I can’t move anything below my waist.
This is becoming an annual event for me - the over-doing-it-physically-after-months-of-inactivity Festival of Roryness.  Usually falling sometime between St David’s Day and Easter Sunday, and usually triggered by a couple of days of good weather after a period of rain.
Some men learn from their mistakes while others go on doing the same old silly things over and over again. Just call me Mr Repetitive. 
I don’t think I’ll be able get off the sofa anytime soon so if someone could pop round and cover me with a blanket for the night, I‘d be grateful. 

RC 13-3-16