I like it when it's hard - cold, wet, and shitty. Sensible people would stop, but people like me (and most of you) just tuck down, clip in and press on. Motorists gape, trucks skim by, but your legs find a tiny bit more power - hour after unbelievable hour. At twilight, you stand in the hostel or campsite reception with a pool of water expanding on the floor around you, feeling like a god inside whilst looking like a fat shipwreck survivor on the outside. You put some food on and immediately unfold the sodden map to see where tomorrow's adventure will take you. Sleep hits you like a baseball bat, the rain pours all night, but the next morning can't come quick enough. This is living; using every craft, skill, sense and muscle you've got. An hour of two of sunshine makes you feel as excited as a ten year old kid, a whole baguette and half a pound of blue cheese is a sensible morning snack... you shout and sing randomly for most of the day... and dread the deep-buried knowledge that in a few weeks' time it will all come to an end and a ferry or a plane will take you back to home, work and reality. I love my cycling, it defines me.
