Never have I felt such an overwhelming desire to get out on my bike. I've not ridden properly for almost a month. Ill for two weeks, last week here in London. I'm still here now, and I need to escape, I feel edgy and restless, like an addict twitching, waiting for their next hit.
I'm going cold turkey, as ridiculous as that seems.
All I want is that feeling of the open road ahead of me, the challenge of a hill climb, the thrill of a decent. Or the process of unloading my mountain bike, putting my pads on, and that first decent at Hopton, skipping over roots, cutting berms, and flowing jumps.
I compensate here in London and go for a run in a suburbanised park. It isn't enough...
...I've forgotten what it's like to be exhilarated by speed.
I've ground to a halt.