The Winter Rider

I cycle to work. As much as I can, anyway. The hardest part is getting the motivation in the morning to step outside in my commuting clobber and get going, but sometimes there is no choice (there is only one car in our family, and it is often needed by my girlfriend). It is only 6 miles each way, half what I used to do before I changed employer, and sometimes I feel like it isn't enough. But it isn't just the distance.

This morning it was 0&8451;. Tuesday it was -2&8451;. It is also still dark in the morning when I set off, and if it has been raining then there will likely be ice, and if I am lucky, grit. These are the sorts of things that plague my barely conscious mind as I contemplate getting dressed into an Under Armour base layer top and Garneau MB padded shorts.

The room is dark; the only source of dull light is from a few gadgets emanating a cool glow from their power indicators. I know where everything is that I need, or at least I should if I had the presence of mind to prepare my gear the night before. This time I had, so there is a small pile of clothes on the floor by the cold radiator. I reach down, selecting garments in the right order by the feel of the fabric. Even as I pull the body-hugging clothes on, I can feel a negative part of my mind wandering to the conditions outside, and immediately wandering back to tell me not to do it. Persistence prevails, and I find myself dressed and making my way downstairs with my backpack.

I switch on the light in the kitchen. I'm not going in there just yet, but the light is too bright for my unadjusted eyes so I let it pool in the doorway to the dining room where I am making my final preparations. I finish packing my bag - it already contains the clothes I need to change into at work, so I only need to grab my lunch. I travel light if I can help it. At this point I am accustomed to the light, so after getting my trainers on, I quickly retrieve my cycling jacket and get the rest of my protective gear on. I am fully dressed now, and the moment has arrived with sudden agony: I have to go outside.

My bike is locked in the garage. I open the kitchen door to a white and windy world outside, and switch off the light. Stepping out requires more than just a little effort, as that nagging brain part has returned, vehemently denying the worth of my venture. I lock the door behind me, and make my way to the garage, the icy breeze of the early morning caressing my flesh and finding all gaps in my armour to whistle through. It isn't far to the garage, but it is far enough. This is probably the first time that I have been fully awake.

Getting the bike out of the garage and ready to go is clockwork, which is fortunate as I am very aware that my body temperature is dropping. I am now looking forward to riding, getting my legs pumping and warming my blood. I get all of my lights switched on - visibility is as important as having wheels - and set off the app that records my journey.

Cycling on the road can be terrifying. Cars, trucks and motorbikes are loud, fast and can definitely ruin your day. The realisation of just how fragile the human body is hits you when a lorry comes thundering past. Cyclists are insignificant on the road, according to many motorists, which makes navigating the highways a daunting task. Fortunately there are fewer cars on the road before sunrise, so my outbound journey has less risk.

It isn't long before I am climbing a small but significant enough incline. My heart rate increases, and I have to force myself to breath the cold air deep through my nose. I can hear my muffled breathing through my headgear, chastising my weak and unfit body.

There are moments throughout my journey when I reconsider it all. Steep gradients, black ice, angry motorists. Yet in 18 months of cycling, I have covered 3299 miles, and climbed more than 100,000 feet.

Time Machine

*ahem*

It has been a very long time since I wrote anything here. Life got in the way again! It has merrily skipped past me while I toil away at work and home, often giving me the finger as it goes. Don't get me wrong - I love my work and I love my family, so happiness is not in short supply. It's just the things that I set out to do haven't happened, for one reason or another. The main reason being lack of time and energy, but a big contributor is that I have simply preferred to spend my time with friends and family, rather than chasing the dream.

I don't know why, but I feel that it has to change. I love writing, and I really need to finish the novel I started years ago. This will mean reading it again, just to get my mind back in the place it needs to be in. I am actually looking forward to that, although I know that I will hate a lot of it too. It is an opportunity to do a quick edit as I go I suppose, silver lining and all that.

So I have written this as I reminder, for myself, that I should start again. Dust it off and let it run away with my imagination. There's no going back now.

Christmas Rush

Last week, I met my recently added and enforced word count target with aplomb. I made it so effortlessly that I considered raising the target immediately, thinking that I could speed up the progress and buy myself more time for editing. I am glad that I didn't, for two reasons.
The first reason is that I would have struggled to meet the target this week, and most likely next week too. It would have been a huge blow to my confidence if I couldn't hit my self-imposed goals on only the second week of trying. I blame Christmas, of course, as it has leeched time from me like a benevolent parasite.
The second reason is that, in order to try and hit the targets, I may have slipped in my own standards just to fill the pages. I think I would prefer to write the way I want to write, instead of adding unnecessary descriptions and dialogues to beef up the passages in the story.
So, the target still stands at 1000 words each week. As writing is just a hobby for me, I think it is an acceptable amount to aim for. It is generally only one or two sessions of writing, which should be achievable, and this week I have made it by the skin of my teeth. Just over an hour to spare, and I really should be getting to bed so that I am rested for tomorrow's arduous endeavours at work (last day before the Christmas break).
27,000 words is an achievement for me. I know it pales in comparison with many, many others, but I know that I can keep going. I have to get this on paper (albeit digitally) and persevere until it is finished. I should have 28,000 before the end of the year, if I manage to keep to the target of Christmas... wish me luck!

Word Count

First week of writing targets and I have succeeded. It feels good,  although I can't escape the nagging feeling that I have made it too easy for myself. Maybe I should increase the target? Perhaps it is something I can revisit in the new year, and base the decision on how I get on.

Writing Targets

I am writing a story. I have the tale, of an anti-hero and his hidden destiny, locked in my bonce. There are several there, in fact, all struggling to escape and make their way to paper somewhere. Over the past 18 months, I have been attempting to free one of these stories, and so far I have 25,000 words of it.

The trouble is that I don't have the time to write. I am not an author, freelance writer, journalist or jobless bum. I work full time, have a baby and an overwhelming urge to do nothing but rest when the rare occasion to do so emerges. I enjoy the writing, but getting enough time to zone in on it and get some done is difficult. 25K is good going, in my mind, but it is about 1/3 of the story. And this is just the first draft - there will doubtless be a few versions once the whole yarn has been unravelled.

So, I have decided to set myself writing targets. It seems to be a good idea, and the writers that I follow on Twitter and blogs all do it. They often choose to do 1,000 words a day, and whereas that is probably an acceptable workload for someone who gets paid to do it, I think I would struggle with that sort of output on a daily basis. My overall aim is 75,000 words, so I have 50,000 left. I think I could do 1,000 a week, which means the first draft would be finished by this time next year (allowing for holidays!).
I will start with this week - I have to get to 26,000 words by Sunday evening! The target is set, the gauntlet thrown. I have some work to do...