With Mrs Rouleur deep in to the write up stages of her PhD thesis it means that for the last couple of weekends it has been quite tough to find any real time to get out on the bike for more than my daily commute 1 mile to the train station and back.

However this past weekend was proof that every cloud has a silver lining. The 5am wake up from my son (the future rainbow jersey) constituted ‘The Cloud’. ‘The silver lining’, I could squeeze in a ride before a depressingly small and healthy bowl of muesli (aka dust with raisins).

With no events booked and no ride partners around (one in Spain, the other with family commitments) I was alone with no place to go. But sometimes this is the best scenario and indeed so it proved.

Knowing I was only going out for an hour or so meant I didn’t need to fill my pockets with all sorts of paraphernalia (read inner tubes, tyre levers, pump, gels, overshoes, rain jacket, spare saddle, additional gearset, kitchen sink!). Instead water bottle filled, Lycra pinged, and my very useful Vittoria bottle cage tool bag packed, off I rolled.

Importantly, Garmin, heart rate monitor and phone (no training apps today) were all left at home so it was just me and the bike and (hopefully) fun.

I headed off to one of my old routes that I used to think was pretty tough given how ‘hilly’ it was, but now more experienced on what a hill really is (White Downs I’m looking at you!!), I feel a little fraudulent calling it ‘hilly’, still it would at least test the legs a little.

Seeing more riders than cars in the just over an hour I was out was a nice change, as were all the happy acknowledgements I received from fellow two-wheelers (normally there is at least one not interested in the niceties of a nod). I chased no times, no sign posts and no traffic radars, and instead just rolled along at a nice steady pace (approx 26kmph if you must know).

It’s cliched but it really did take me back to thoughts of riding my bike when I was younger, when the bike represented my first real hint of freedom. Riding to the playing fields for a game of football, or to my nans for one of her very famous (and very greasy) fry-ups cooked in 5 day old fat, or even riding to the park for an illicit bottle of White Lightning (yes I was one of those ruffians) with my mates, cycling was always for fun.

In these days of Strava, ever increasing distance challenges, and more sportives on the calender than you can shake an inner tube at, I certainly seem to have lost sight of the joy and relaxation of going out for no reason at all.

But no more, from this moment forward I hope to remember that riding doesn’t always have to be a flat out effort, but instead every now and then its fine to just ride for myself, for fun, for joy……………..