Life on the fast lane

Incredible, how life can flash before your eyes. Coupled with cool wind in your hair, this is where the action is. Dodging trucks, puddles, pedestrians, iron spikes, drivers' doors, buses, potholes, slick asphalt patches, I focus on the thrill of the changing scenery of the world whirling past me. 

Fresh leaves, blooming gardens, newly planted billboard signs, and diesel prices (did the price in Topaz just drop for 2 cents? Hah, it's beating the crap out of Esso!) Indeed, cycling in Dublin is not for the fainthearted.  Red lights have extremely long interval (about 2 minutes - consider that in Ljubljana, the interval is 1 minute). Potholes are American-style: crudely patched up with asphalt, sometimes deep, sometimes morphed into a bump, always uneven. This is how real men cycle: in the local cycling community, front suspension is considered a sign of weakness.

My daily commute takes about half an hour one way, about 10 km, along the Canal road. This is where the swans hold their court, ducks play and an occasional football languishes in the water, tangled in the long grass. On average I spend  4,5 hours per week on the bike, commuting. Rain gear, fluorescent cycling jacket, tube repair kit, a pump - it's all here, in my backpack. No music, no stress, just exhilarating feeling of pumping the pedals and listening to the wind singing in my ears. And, of course, watching for the traffic.

Sometimes, the encounters are not all that gentle. Last week, a miscalculated over-confident turn into the slowly moving traffic cost me a bruise and a scratch on the elbow and some chain grease on the mitts, while the mini cooper in front of me suffered a 2cm dent just above his rear light. I was lucky to escape unhurt, especially since the driver's husband was waiting in the car behind us... :)

Although a lot of drivers use cycling lanes as parking spaces and russian roulette with the two-storey buses is a common practice, its a great way to get around and to keep fit. Even in the rain.