Whatever that means
Since heading straight to the car and going home would have left me no more wet than going out for the bike club run, there was nothing to be gained by avoiding it and anyway warm rain is pretty good fun. It was pretty biblical though and slightly spoiled by the impatient arseholes in their cars who seemed to think that a bike has no right to avoiding the deepest parts of the puddles or couldn’t bring themselves to slow down as they drove through what seemed, on occasion, to be raw sewage. Nice.
Pretty crap ride up Arthur’s Seat. I had hoped to widen the gap between me and Scobes, who’s speeding up on his climbs and nibbling away at the 23 seconds that separates us. Annoyingly, I was six seconds slower than my best time (and 50 seconds behind Joe). No idea how far behind Mr Puddle-Shoes here who zoomed up but without Strava running.