Some Kind Of Addiction

Let’s face it, today’s ride was tokenism; a short stint around Shiplake and Binfield Heath. It was lousy weather and I didn’t particularly feel like it.

That all, of course, makes going out of questionable sense. I was only out because the weather forecasters are confidently saying it’s going to get a lot worse – very cold and with some snow and ice.

If you say it was a case of “getting out while I can” at face value that seems sensible. But if you reflect on that for a moment, if I’m getting out but in lousy weather and I’m not enjoying it, then there’s surely no point, whatever the next few weeks hold.

I’ve read in the past about joggers getting hooked to their running because it somehow releases chemicals in the brain that are both associated with pleasure and addictive. I guess cycling might be the same. Addiction, of course, can over-ride common sense with ease.

I don’t know if I’m happy with the thought of being addicted to cycling, any more than if you told me I was addicted to anything else I like – rye whiskey or something. I like to think I am in control.

I’ve read a little about brain functions and I fear that all notions of conscious control are a vanity … but it’s a vanity I’m still clinging to. If conscious control is a fiction then I’m not sure what that leaves us all with.