Back in the saddle

Or... Why I stopped cycling for a week.

It's easy for the regular cycle commuter to become evangelical about their personal transport choice. I always tried to steer clear of fundamentalist belief and attempts at conversion, but I could never hide the sheer pleasure it gave me and pass on some of that goodwill. But harder for that same cyclist is admitting when, for whatever reason, it has all become a bit of a chore, and that, in all honesty, you've started looking at the bike with a sense of glum resignation before the morning slog through traffic and weather and hills.

Ladies and gentlemen, I hit that point about 12 days ago. The legs just weren't willing to move into that headwind, and I wasn't taking any true gratification in passing by the motionless streams of motorised traffic. It wasn't serving me as the stress relief that I'd believed it would always be. In short, my faith was being severely tested.

Even harder than admitting you've hit that point is then taking the decision to leave the bike in the garage and, *gasp*, consider other options. But I'd decided on the break. Monday I took the bus in and walked the four miles home; Tuesday I was given a lift halfway, walked the rest, then walked home; on Wednesday I took the car to work and back; Thursday morning mirrored Tuesday, then after staying in town for a haircut I bussed it home; and then Friday I walked an 8 mile day, sauntering to the office in the morning sun, and strolling back briskly with the promise of some alcoholic sustenance at the end.

It was good. Genuinely. It was a break that did a few things for me. And strangely it wasn't the epiphany I expected that "bike is best". Rather it was "bike is different", or "bike can be or generally is better". Okay, so I'll never take to the bus. It wasn't too bad in the morning, though the 20 minute ride matches the bike time, I'm deposited a mile from the office, so the walk doubles things; and coming home on the Thursday night was a 45 minute purgatory.

The car, on the other hand was.... Relaxed. Yes. Really. I just said that. The thing is, if you tune into the fact that you're going to get stuck in traffic, and give yourself time accordingly, it's a really nice way to travel. Put whatever radio station on that you want. You have your own space. You can sing along, or swear at the politicians on the news. Sadly so many people see the commute to work as a race, and by god some of the moronic driving was... Well... Moronic.

Walking is a true joy. I took the big wildlife lens on the Friday morning, left early, and really properly eased into the day. The weather is a bigger factor than when on the bike simply because you're out in it for longer. But on a gloriously sunny day it can rival the bike easily as a great way to get about, and like the bike is basically exercise without really thinking it.

But the time off the bike had brought about one result that I'd expected. It had got me wanting to get in the saddle again, and this morning's ride to work had just subtly altered from the last time the leg was swung over the frame. Again, it wasn't some great eye-opening "oh-my-god-this-is-amazing" moment, but it was enough, that time away and realising the other options I'd have to take otherwise, to rediscover a bit of the stress busting nature of the daily commute (helped in no small part by spotting a Buzzard, then a couple of Kestrels in quick succession on the bike path).

And so with it being dry I got home full of a desire to go out on a night ride once calm had descended on the streets. I'd only intended to pop to the train station to pick up some tickets bought a little while back online, and maybe put in a ten mile loop. In the end I did 20, and racked up over a 1,000 feet of climbing as I took in the Braid Hills and Arthur's Seat, as well as the Royal Mile and a couple of short, sharp steep cobbled sections. And I loved every minute. The legs felt good; I was smiling and swooping round corners and not quite hitting 40mph despite my best efforts into a headwind; and I'm looking forward to the ride tomorrow.

I'm going to leave the evangelism to others. This is for me, this works for me, and I'm well aware it seems bonkers to others. I'll spare you the lecture from the pulpit if you'll allow me this one moment of satisfaction, as well as the realisation that, y'know, I don't always have to take the bike, and I can have a break if I want.

[Edit: Seems March 3rd is "Sit cross legged for a long rambling post selfie" day for me judging by the year ago thumbnail]