Each morning I rise at around 6am. The house is shrouded in darkness. There is no noise, save for the creak of stairs as I gently tiptoe toward the garage. Thirty five minutes of turbo awaits. If I don’t get the chance to ride again – and I most certainly hope that I do – at least some time has been spent pushing circles (or squares, given the earliness of the hour).
To ease the passage of those minutes, I’ll ride along to a video; preferably one that contains footage of alpine passes, with snaking roads and sweeping bends. Each time the tarmac veers left or right, I feel myself leaning slightly, lost in the moment, no longer garage bound in Cardiff, but grinding out the Grossglockner in Austria. All this travelling without moving, is immersive and fascinating; how the roads trace the topography of the land, the scale of the ambition to build them and the industry of the effort to create them. I wonder how many extra miles are created by their mountain goat path, zigzagging and flipflopping all the way to the heavens (and I use that word deliberately). Do you ride these things for the challenge of cresting? Or ride these things for the white knuckle ride of descending ? To me, there can only be one answer: BOTH.
Image via Circuit days