Week 7 - Cycling on the Dry

Karen was only delighted with me this week. It turns out that staying off the drink proved very beneficial indeed.  Not only was I going to bed earlier it allowed me enough good quality sleep to be able to get up at 5am and go for a cycle.  I was going to take this cycling malarkey very seriously.

Now I can imagine what you are thinking ‘a five am cycle, is she off her bin’ well the answer is no.  I haven’t been on a bike in a while and I thought what better time to chance the roads than when nobody is on them.  This proved to be quite exhilarating.  The freezing cold temperatures were enough to keep me awake and alert and the fact that it was pitch dark made my journey longer because I wouldn’t go through the Phoenix Park at that hour which made me avoid a possible assault and an encounter with a weirdo, because let’s face it, only weirdo’s are out at that hour of the morning.

I was dressed like a glow worm, hi viz everywhere, even my leggings had hi viz stripes and the little overshoe thingys I had purchased the week before had reflective strips on them.  There was no way that the one or two drivers out there wouldn’t see me.  I flew down towards the park and contemplated (for about 5 seconds) going through it, but decided against it and veered around and followed the wall around by the ‘Hole In The Wall’ and then boom, the road turned to crap and there was pot holes everywhere.  It was like Dublin Corporation decided to say “that’s grand there lads, no need for proper roads from here on in” they were appalling. 

When I managed to finish the cycle I was delighted with myself.  Now I’m not going to lie to you, there was a situation with my arse that went on for a day or two more than I was prepared for, but I half expected that.  What I didn’t expect was that when I got on the bike again, it felt like someone had stapled two razor blades to inside the cheeks of my arse which didn’t go anywhere until I was about a half hour into my second cycle.  This time I decided to go through the park.  Bad idea.  It was a Sunday.  It seemed like every single person living in Dublin was in the Park and what’s more wanted to take their Sunday saunter on the cycle lane.

It was possibly one of the most unenjoyable experiences I have ever had on a bike.  I tried to be polite, but when you are wearing cleats, those little clip things that sit into the pedals, its very hard to be avoiding small children and young lovers walking two abreast the entire cycle path.  And what’s more is, when I asked people to stay left as I approached from behind I got, tuts and obscenities.  People, there is a walking path 20 yards to your left, why do you insist on endangering you and I.  After I got out of the park I had to endure the drivers that have no consideration for cyclists.  One guy in a jeep decided to mount a curb at Housten Station in order to try cut me off.  I’m sure he was delighted when I sailed by him 200 yards up the road as he sat in traffic.  For the next while I think I’m going to cycle early in the morning, I’m not ready for extreme sports, ‘cause lets face it, that’s what cycling in Dublin is.