EARLY-MORNING ADVENTURES AND LIFE REBOOTS
The red- eyed clock blinked at me. It was 3.30am. I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep… I tried all the tricks I’d learnt over the years to fool my mind and body into succumbing to nothingness, but the insomnia bug had bitten.
I looked at the clock. It was 3.35am. Insomnia was just one of the many reasons I started cycling. I wanted to be so tired – dead-to-the-world dog-tired – at the end of the day that I would collapse from exhaustion.
And for a while, cycling gave me the gift of sleep; but recently, demons – worrying issues that gnaw at one’s soul – had invaded my night, depriving me of shut- eye.
It was 3.40am, and I knew that there would be no more sleep for me that night. And I knew it was useless to fight it, so I got up. I didn’t have the attention span for reading, and watching TV would wake up the household, so I fired up Facebook and Twitter. The social media platforms were crammed with depressing, mind- numbing posts, murder- mayhem- blah- blah- blah. What I really needed was porn – dawn porn.
So I hopped onto Instagram, and flicked through photos of spectacular sunrises and moonsets. People in time zones across the world were waking up and embracing the day – many of them on their bikes. One photo caught my eye – an idyllic sun- dappled countryside. I could almost hear the birds tweeting and the wind whistling through trees. This was the very picture of peace.
As soon as I saw that photo, I knew what I had to do. Fifteen minutes later I was kitted up; I put new batteries in my front and rear lights, and threw my leg over my bike. It had just gone 4am as I made my way through the inky- black darkness of Cape Town’s traffic-free roads.
I didn’t quite know where I was headed, so I just rode on into the dark. I found myself on the road opposite Kirstenbosch, and joined the network of singletrack on the side of the road that leads to Constantia Nek.
But the difference between riding singletrack by day and by night is, well, day and night. In addition to the roots and rocks, you also have to negotiate shadows, as the ground disappears under your tyres. Surprisingly, I actually rode better than usual – probably because I couldn’t see the obstacles, and took lines I would normally avoid out of caution. But what you can’t see can’t hurt you, right?
It was 5am by the time I got to the Nek. The world and his wife were still sleeping. I made my way through the corridor to Newlands Forest, stopping to admire the sun cracking open the sky, and soaking up the tranquillity. The world was… crisp.
My mind wandered as I moved, and soon I was lost in my pre- dawn thoughts. Morning makes for focused thinking, and the problems I’d sweated over just a few hours earlier melted away. And so I made my way home, to the sounds of the city waking up.
It was one of the most satisfying riding experiences and moments of exhilaration I’d ever had on the bike – just the reboot I needed to recalibrate my life. I spent the rest of the day in a euphoric blur.
Since then, Tuesdays have become a pre- dawn ride ritual. I set my alarm clock for 4.30am. Before I go to sleep I prepare an instant pre- ride coffee fix. I make sure my kit is ready, my batteries are charged, and my chain is lubed – it’s just a matter of coffee, kit- up and ride.
And it’s easier to keep to a morning routine than an afternoon one – something always comes up to give you an excuse to skip an afternoon ride. If you build a ride into your morning schedule, it will happen.
There have been some challenges. I once wore my bibshorts inside out (because dressing in the dark); but hey, there was no- one to notice my wardrobe malfunction. Also, once a bush jumped out at me. After my heart had settled back in my chest, I realised the bush was a porcupine I’d startled.
For me, dawn- patrol riding is not so much about training, although that is a bonus. There’s just something magical about riding into a sunrise – it’s the earlymorning light at the end of the night that brings with it a new day and a fresh start. When I throw back my post- ride coffee I feel smug, knowing that while people are still wiping the sleep from their eyes, I’ve already had an adventure. And that’s called super- sizing your life.