It is 5.50am and I haven't been to bed yet. Somehow that infernal and sometimes infuriating need and desire to stay up all night struck and I, like I invariably do, complied. And then I decided, as I hadn't been on the bike for a while, and as I love the very early mornings and am unable to go for a run, that I would start my 2011 by going for a bike ride. I didn't want to go far, and couldn't as I had no more than an hour left on my bike lights, so I whipped over to and along the docks, pausing for a quiet reflective sit down on the benches down from the Cottage.
And it was quiet, and peaceful, except for the odd band of roving drunken revellers, a dog walking its owner and a very vocally irate duck. And just what I needed, fresh air, nothing but the outdoors and the outside, the darkness and the light, the sound and sight of water.
I forget how much I love being on the bike, even when I toppled over at the first stop, having forgotten I was wearing cleats and failing miserable to disengage them. The feel of sprinting along as fast as I can, or gliding effortlessly, maintaining a steady cadence or just letting the bike wind down, gravity and wind taking their toll; there is nothing like it.
Riding a bike is different to running, which I also love, in many ways it is easier, in others not. It is quick, so quick, and demands less effort but a greater concentration. Well, this morning did.
So, one of today's promises to myself is to spend more time on the bike, riding to work, or simply going for a blast and a spin. Because, as much as I love being on my two feet, I love being on my two wheels as well.