The start

This is how the morning started. Well, not exactly. It started in bed but the real morning started here: Ingliston Park and Ride. Slightly later than planned but an utterly joyous and childish run into Edinburgh on the bike in the pissing rain. After I'd worked out how to get past the Gogar roundabout. Sixteen miles in and back. Two or three weeks and it'll be the whole 30 mile round trip - you can hold me to that.

If all you did was read about cycling - blogs and newspapers and forums - you'd be forgiven for thinking that only maniacs would get involved in this endless war with buses and cars that cyclists can only lose. But actually it's great fun and the cars are OK so long as you don't expect them to look out for you. The only trouble I had today was with a lazy little toad-faced bald fucker on a bike who sat on my back wheel after I passed him and wouldn't take a turn up front even when I sat up and slowed to a crawl to force him to pass me. Not until the lights at Western Corner when I just refused to move until he was gone. Hate that. I know it doesn't save me any work to have someone behind me but, you know, take a turn.

Anyway, fun. Although I obviously need a new bike because, well, just because. And I need this to become another bit of who I am. Like taking photos every day. I need to find the equivalent of the blipfoto discipline of taking a photo every day. No matter how busy or how crap the weather.

Oh, and there's a fine plan for a gang of blip types to do the Pedal for Scotland 50 mile, Glasgow to Edinburgh run. Indicate your boundless enthusiasm for such a jape here.