Third time’s the charm

I really felt like lying in today. Just because I could.

Now that I’ve almost established a routine with this morning ride thing, my natural inclination is to break that routine; I am the greatest saboteur of anything good for me. So when I woke, I almost went straight back to sleep, reasoning that, you know… sleep feels good. I stumbled out of bed, telling myself I was just taking a piss. Then I looked out the window, checking for any sign - at all - that the weather would make riding unpleasant. Damn those blue Brighton skies.

I guess it’s a toss up between good weather and my immense personal character as to which got me outside today.

No music this morning, just the remainder of a podcast I was listening to last night, and a solemn compromise to myself - take it easy. No headlong struggles into the wind, no frantic, devil-may-care spurts of speed. It worked, too; gave me time to think, which became very self-reflective - I distinctly remember thinking about writing about the process of writing about what I was doing, which tied me into a mental knot for a second. And does even now.

I was slow and steady heading down to the beach, and quite happy to bunch up behind another rider, matching his relaxed pace on the first stretch towards Hove. Eventually I decided to vary my route, and be a bit naughty (along with half-a-dozen other riders ignoring the ‘No Cycling’ signs on the promenade). That’s when I really woke up, as I crossed paths with a leash strung between a lean greyhound lookalike and its bright red haired owner.

Apart from that, it was an unremarkable ride on a pleasant morning. Back home inside 30 minutes, to find a construction crew who started tearing up our street with pneumatic drills before I could finish this. Probably a blessing that I didn’t lie in, after all.