Getting to work

  It's not often that you'll hear someone rave enthusiastically about a day that started with an alarm set for four thirty, especially when they woke up at four just for the fun of it. Though the day involved a lot of physical labour in a location almost a hundred miles away, it was all worth it, and here's why.

  You may remember mention of a place where bikers (like me and my homies) meet. As you'd imagine, there are plenty of biking opportunities to be had that start there but for me, I have to cross London to get there, which, as you can imagine, is a bit of a traffic and pedestrian filled faff. Can you see where this is going yet?

The daily commute.

  At five am, just before sunrise, during one of the warmest spells of the year, the roads across London were delightfully empty and, in my slightly naughty fantasy world, my own private race track. Seeing as there weren't any actual timing screens to light up, I did exercise a modicum of restraint but... Wow!

  Truth be told, I don't think I can think of another time when I've enjoyed riding thirty miles to work as much.

Kirk out

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