It's So Worth It!

The first pitter-patter of raindrops had just started rolling down the window. The sky had clouded over and changed into a dark shade of grey as I changed into my bike gear. The house was warm, there was football on the telly, the Sunday newspaper lay invitingly on the kitchen table and the smell of fresh coffee permeated my cosy, secure, living space -  it was enough to make a person decide on discretion being the better part of valour and choose to stay put. But we're made of sterner stuff in this household - oh yes! As I made my way to the garage to collect my trusty steed, I took a deap breath and reminded myself that choosing to be outdoors was, more often than not, the correct decision and I would always feel invigorated and alive after a challenging bike ride in adverse conditions.

I opted for the most traffic-free route I could dream up, which meant venturing onto the back roads and countryside between Kilwinning and Barrmill - undulating rural Ayrshire: hardcore! And so, rolling across the viaduct towards Dalgarven, the journey began promisingly, as bright sunshine pierced the dreaded cumulo nimbus, illuminating the way ahead and pulling me magnetically towards Highfield (I say 'pulling me' - what I mean, in actual fact, is that there was a fairly decent tail wind!).

It was one of those days when it was a bonus just to feel that the correct decision had been made and that the great outdoors really was the only place to be. I felt fresh, happy, excited and curious all rolled into one. The surface water sprayed up my backside and the slippy road surface toyed with my nerves on the steep downhill sections, but, undeterred, I sped on, swerving adeptly to avoid a perilous pothole and steadying the handlebars as I rounded a sharp bend, praying I wouldn't take a nasty tumble. On reaching the halfway point, it was time for a selfie:

Taking time-out

The rest of the journey passed in a flash, as I was 'in the zone'. I had found my own personal rhythm, where momentum was seemingly effortless and my bike ate up the miles like a two-wheeled Pac Man, even though I was now headed into a stiff headwind. At times like these it's hard to wipe the smug grin from your face. You feel nothing but pity for the rest of the non-cycling world, realising that bikes are indeed the only way to travel and that you wouldn't miss out on this experience for anything (okay, well maybe the snow-covered Carn Mor Dearg Arete, or Buachaille Etive Mor……or new tarmac from here to Coylumbridge, or a new pair of Scarpa Mantas!). Well...almost anything!

Happiness is a warm bike!