The joy of cycling
It’s cold outside. Umpteen layers fend off the chill. Heavy rucksacks carries supplies. I traipse to the garage, fumble with keys. They skitter across an icy floor and rest under the planter. ‘Damn’. Bend, stretch, groan, collect, continue. Spiral through surfeit of lock keys. ‘Damn’. They all look the bloody same in January half light. Drop keys. Pick up keys. Unlock door. Unlock bike. Can’t find lights. Where are they? Charging, blinking soundlessly in the dining room attached to a USB umbilical cord. Lock door. Back into house. Shoes off. Cleats and wooden flooring make uneasy bedfellows. Find light. Shoes on. Into garden. Unlock gate. Gloves? GLOVES! Where did I leave them? It’s below zero. I stare into the middle distance and retrace steps. Radiator. They’re on the radiator. Fumble with keys. Drop keys. ‘‘Damn’. ‘Shi*t’, ‘B*llocks’. Vocabulary plumbs depths. Frustration wells. I want to be in work early today. Nano-seconds are not for wasting. Enter hall. Shoes off.
‘The joy of cycling, huh’. My wife chips in.
‘U-huh’. Gritted teeth. Murmuring.
Pick up the gauntlet(s). Shoes back on. Cap on. Gloves on. Helmet on. Rucksack on. Saddle bag attached. Bike lights flashing.
The cars move slowly, but a bike is less inhibited Brief involvement in heavy Llandaff traffic replaced by empty trail and warm red sunrise. The Taff takes on the pink tinge of rose petals. Early bird student heads to Uni. Frost glistens in dark hollows. Steam at the weir. A runner approaches. A dog walker strides across the grass. Faint distant traffic noise drowned out by staccato blasts of bird song.
The joy of cycling.
‘The joy of cycling’ poster was created by Airside. I was reminded of it this morning.