Sunday, August 3
what i've learned by cycling to work ...
... five miles each way really isn't that far
... i'm not as lazy as i thought i was (now i don't think i'm pushing myself hard enough!)
... the ride is different, so very different, each and every time i do it - new sights, smells and sounds greet me on every journey: each morning the sky changes, painted with colours from a new day's palette, with a variation of cloud type and density; each day the river flows with a new rhythm, with more or less urgency, fluctuating depth and waves; every morning there are new flowers and plants growing, a variety of scents from the foliage dependant upon what's blooming and the weather which assails it; so many different birds, not all of which i can identify by their call alone. all of which is very obvious and i was of course aware of, but somehow missed it all on every previous journey cocooned as i was in the car
... freewheeling is fun
... wet grass is slippery
... falling off hurts
... especially on concrete
... i bruise like a peach
... and whine like a whiney thing
... i can smell the fresh scent of washing drying on the line as i cycle past
... i can cycle through a river
... the edge of the pedal is sharp - although i don't think my brain has fully appreciated this fact yet given the alarming frequency with which i pierce my leg with said pedal
... the sewage works really smells some mornings
... i have discovered my very own 'cyclists wind' - no matter which direction i cycle in, no matter which way the wind is initially blowing ... it is always in my face, with occasional gusts from the side
... pedestrians can sometimes be more of a hazard than cars
... keep my eyes open for clouds of bugs, and my mouth closed
... and just to be doubly sure, breathe out through my nose when cycling through them, on no account inhale - as this leads to a noseful of bugs (not pleasant for them or me!)
... there is no small amount of pleasure in being able to cycle up that big hill in a larger gear
... much as i adore the sun (oh yes i do), cloudy days make for better cycling than thirty degrees in the shade
... it's best not to breathe in when a bin lorry passes
... the leaves are starting to fall already
... the person/people who developed padded lycra should all be made saints
... there really are otters in the river
... i feel a smug, guilty pleasure as i cycle past all of the cars that, having whizzed past me five minutes ago, are now stuck in a traffic jam
... i'm not as lazy as i thought i was (now i don't think i'm pushing myself hard enough!)
... the ride is different, so very different, each and every time i do it - new sights, smells and sounds greet me on every journey: each morning the sky changes, painted with colours from a new day's palette, with a variation of cloud type and density; each day the river flows with a new rhythm, with more or less urgency, fluctuating depth and waves; every morning there are new flowers and plants growing, a variety of scents from the foliage dependant upon what's blooming and the weather which assails it; so many different birds, not all of which i can identify by their call alone. all of which is very obvious and i was of course aware of, but somehow missed it all on every previous journey cocooned as i was in the car
... freewheeling is fun
... wet grass is slippery
... falling off hurts
... especially on concrete
... i bruise like a peach
... and whine like a whiney thing
... i can smell the fresh scent of washing drying on the line as i cycle past
... i can cycle through a river
... the edge of the pedal is sharp - although i don't think my brain has fully appreciated this fact yet given the alarming frequency with which i pierce my leg with said pedal
... the sewage works really smells some mornings
... i have discovered my very own 'cyclists wind' - no matter which direction i cycle in, no matter which way the wind is initially blowing ... it is always in my face, with occasional gusts from the side
... pedestrians can sometimes be more of a hazard than cars
... keep my eyes open for clouds of bugs, and my mouth closed
... and just to be doubly sure, breathe out through my nose when cycling through them, on no account inhale - as this leads to a noseful of bugs (not pleasant for them or me!)
... there is no small amount of pleasure in being able to cycle up that big hill in a larger gear
... much as i adore the sun (oh yes i do), cloudy days make for better cycling than thirty degrees in the shade
... it's best not to breathe in when a bin lorry passes
... the leaves are starting to fall already
... the person/people who developed padded lycra should all be made saints
... there really are otters in the river
... i feel a smug, guilty pleasure as i cycle past all of the cars that, having whizzed past me five minutes ago, are now stuck in a traffic jam
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