Sitting up in bed with a start, I had the feeling that I'd slept in but checking my alarm clock it showed there was still an hour before it would ring to wake me from my warm bed. It was currently 4:31am. Outside the wind threw the pouring rain against my bedroom window and I remember thinking 'I really love sleeping' as I turned over and drifted off again.
An hour later my alarm went off. I swung my legs out of bed and turned on the bedside lamp; a tiny pool of light illuminated the dark morning. I opened the blinds a small amount and looked out to the deep puddles outside. For a few seconds I thought 'It's too wet this morning, I'll go back to bed'. But, as the rain pelted down outside I decided to just go through the motions of getting ready for a ride and not think about the weather. Next was breakfast so I put the kettle on for coffee and dropped two slices of rye bread into the toaster. I was feeling pretty good really, despite the early start, although it did cross my mind that I might be a little insane for going out riding when I could be sleeping.Organising my various layers of clothing came next, layering up my bike shorts with winter tights over them, my base layer, jersey, arm warmers and then waterproof layer, my bike shoes encased in neoprene shoe-covers and finally a cap, my helmet and a pair of padded gloves. I felt completely protected from the cold, but then, of course, I was going to get wet. As soon as you accept that you're going to get wet, that's the time you start to enjoy yourself. Often it's just thinking about getting wet that makes you want to avoid it. It's true that the worst part of a bike ride in foul weather is the part just before you leave the house.Stepping out of the porch the rain cascaded onto me in torrents and splashed off the empty streets. This was some serious rain. I swung my leg over the frame, wiped the front of my bike computer and pressed 'Start'. All I needed to do now was pedal for a while...Arriving at the location for my 'loops' of a section of road I felt warmed-up, so I stood up on the pedals and accelerated into the darkness. My bike wanted to go, so I pushed a little harder up the slow incline; my tires making a sucking sound as they pushed through standing water. It's at that time of the morning, in the gloom and the darkness, that you feel quite alone. Not in a lonely way but in a way that you're responsible for yourself. All thoughts drifted from my mind as I focused on my cadence and breathing, the raindrops soaking my outer layers of clothing and dripping off the peak of my cap. The low light makes it difficult to see, so it brings with it a need for some confidence to keep pedalling into the darkness, avoiding the autumn leaves piling up in the gutter and spilling out into the road. The occasional car passes me now, but gives me space. I appreciate it.Each loop is 5km and it's difficult to remember how many laps I've done. It's too dark to see my bike GPS without putting its light on, but I have no real need to know how far I've cycled. I've entered that phase where things become simple; keeping your cadence in the right zone, your breathing and heart rate in the right zone and keeping your form on the bicycle. The occasional thought drifts through my mind but doesn't linger. The water drips down into my shoes but the overshoes keep my feet warm. Pedal, breathe, pedal, breathe...the sound of my tyres slightly louder than the wind whipping through the trees at the side of the road. I gently steer the bicycle through the rivulets of water pouring down the road towards me as I push harder. This is my 'fast lap'. As I round the bend in the road I can feel the wind swing to face me so I drop my body position and grip the drops, curling my fingers against the bar tape. I flatten my back slightly and cut through the wind and rain, the droplets of water being brushed from the lenses of my bike glasses.I arrive back at the lap point, slow my pedal stroke, take another drink from my bidon and keep pushing on. Turning left back up the incline I look for cars, swing wide and carve the bicycle around, standing up and pushing the pedals as my bicycle responds and shoots off up the straight. Getting a good speed up I drop back into the saddle and change up a gear. Around and around the loop I go. My mind wanders but never far. I can feel the water splashing me from the rear wheel but my winter tights keep me warm. I'm happy and in my own world. It starts to get light after an hour or so and more vehicles are on the road. I'm now mixing with cycling commuters too. My legs are an hour and a quarter into a fast ride so I flash past them as if they were standing still but I'm not racing them. They seem to be from a different world, although a world that I will be part of when I commute to my own work on my bicycle. But for now, I have a different goal. I glance at my GPS and it tells me my current distance. Two more laps then I'm at my target for this morning. I can't remember how many laps I've done, but I push on, remember my breathing and keep my head up. Push on. Pedal. Breathe. Push. Pedal. Breathe...Soon enough I've finished and I'm in that weird place where half of me wants to keep going, to keep riding forever. But the sensible part of me knows I've ridden enough for today and there will be another ride soon. I also need to keep some energy for my commute.Back at home I rinse my bike down, take a shower, massage my legs, have breakfast, get changed and then swap bikes. After all, I need to cycle to work now.