I've always been pretty good at working out when things have taken a turn, often for the worse, when the novelty wears off, when something has stopped working, ceased performing, no longer what it used to be and the lockdown is no exception. To a degree its like the moment when the sun disappears behind the clouds, when the only sound is the crying jetliner circling over Heathrow, when an ice cream van in the distance somewhere can be heard playing Greensleeves. These are all signs of life turning a corner, heading towards its inevitable conclusion perhaps.
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| Heading into Kent and Westerham on Sunday |
When the lockdown started I, like a lot of people, decided to embrace it. We were helped by the weather and the fact that we were working at home and, most importantly, that the sun was shining. The weather played a big role in my happiness from mid-March onwards. There was rarely a cloudy day, hardly any rain, and it meant that I could use lockdown to indulge my favourite hobby, that of cycling. I knew the routes open to me, I've been riding them for what? Thirteen years? Something like that, and I resolved to cycle daily, first around the block (not that I couldn't have riden further, I've been cycling up to 32 miles at weekends) and then I increased my daily rides until I was clocking up 100 miles per week. I did four straight weeks of 100 miles and then last week I rode just 83 miles. Originally I said 84 miles... until I downloaded Strava on to my lap top and discovered that what I thought was a 16-mile ride was only 15.5 miles. Over the last five weeks I have riden 483 miles, 17 miles short of my target of 500 miles and yes, I do feel a little deflated about that.
As I write this the time is 1841 and I have yet to ride out on the bike. I was out yesterday and I was supposed to go out today, but as you can discern, I'm not out, I'm sitting looking out on the garden, listening to the birdsong, watching out for the fox and just relaxing. I feel guilty about that. I should be out riding the bike, but in all honesty I just didn't feel up to it and that could be because the novelty of the lockdown has turned that imaginary corner and I'm looking at the clouds (and the rain we had earlier) and thinking no, not today. I've levelled my decision with myself (always a good idea) but on the proviso that I do something significant tomorrow, and that means at least a ride to Westerham or perhaps even the lakes: that would be good if I could motivate myself to get out early, if the rain holds off. A trip to the lakes would cover me for not going tonight, but as the rain starts to fall again outside I feel rather good about not going. The rain is coming down fairly heavily out there now; I can hear it hammering on the roof above me and I know it's cold out too. Last night, incidentally, while watching X Files, I put the fire on and wore a jumper, it was like a winter's evening, the candle burning with a kind of festive glow.
My problem in life generally is that I beat myself up unnecessarily. So I didn't go today! I never usually cycle daily, I used to cycle twice a week if I was lucky and was often stopped from doing so by the rain. I've got to stop fretting about such things, accepting life for what it is and moving on. Like now, I didn't go out, I must accept the fact and get on with my life. What I tend to do is think: right, I'm 16 miles down, that means I've got to ride almost 40 miles to make up. Well, yes, it could be done. A ride to the lakes would rectify the situation, but I know that when I wake up in the morning I'll be far more attuned to a ride to the churchyard to meet Andy, a bit of much-needed social interaction, albeit from a safe distance. The whole thing, of course, is dependent upon the weather and I've simply got to stop thinking about it all the time. It's constantly in the back of mind, will it rain or won't it? Let's check the weather app on the mobile, that's pretty accurate and it has a cloud with some rain underneath it, depicting a cloudy and rainy day ahead. So that ride might be off. I could go early, around 0700, when I know there will be sun and cloud combined and no rain, at least that way I'll get a ride in. I could be really radical and go out now, the sky is blue again, the rain seems to have gone and the weather app says no more rain tonight. As you can I'm fretting when I should be reading or writing about something that isn't fretful, but let's leave it there.
The lockdown is losing its appeal. For a start there are more cars on the road, but also that kind of non-routine is beginning to grate too. Yes, there is a routine: I get up around 0600hrs, have breakfast, start working around 0800hrs, finish around 0430hrs and then consider a ride. But now the ride is becoming a chore, perhaps I've been overdoing it, but when it's time to hit the road a weariness creeps up on me and I put it off and sometimes consider not going at all, like I did a few days ago, but fortunately the sun was out and my neighbour motivated me so out I went and I felt good when I returned home to make dinner.
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| In the churchyard... |
Cycling is energising and since lockdown, when I return home from a ride, I set about making dinner for everybody and then I settle down, listen to music, watch the X Files with a camomile tea and then hit the sack. That's been my routine these past three months and it's been fine, but it's dragging a bit now, meaning a new chapter is beginning. I want to keep up the cycling and I hate it when I lapse, like now, but I've got to be more philosophical about it, not wind myself up, which I'm doing a lot these days, and just get on with it, as my dad would have said.
A brief mention of last week's riding: I did a lot of Botley Hill via Beech Farm Road, latterly discovering it's only 15.5 miles as I said earlier, but on Sunday (I think) I rode to Westerham to meet Andy but when we got there (he before me) there were big crowds on the green so we headed out of town and rode back to the Tatsfield Churchyard for a very brief chat. Andy resembled a cross channel swimmer, he was caked in sun tan lotion as the weather was hot and he suffers if he exposes himself to too much sun. We didn't have much time and soon we were on the road and heading home. Andy left me at the churchyard where I finished my tea and then followed suit, heading up Clarks Lane, turning right at the Botley Hill roundabout and heading along the 269 homeward bound. The riding these past three months has been excellent.
So here's to tomorrow's ride and the big dilemma of heading out early or risking the rain with a later ride. I'll sleep on that one.
