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| Signs of the season: winter blossoms, blue sky, sunlight. |
I still had 10 minutes to make my first appointment of the day, but it was on the other side of town. I closed the file I was working on, rushed out the door and grabbed my bike. I was no stranger to this drill - running late and trying to make up time are very familiar components of my normal working day, but as I threw my leg over the bar and jumped on the seat I realised that because of Ramadan, suddenly everything was very different.
My first appointment was with a client I see often. I know the route well, and can cycle there comfortably in about 15 minutes. If I'm running late (which is more the rule than the exception) I can shave off about 5 minutes but this involves riding as fast as I can, dodging through traffic, cutting corners and jumping pavements. All this in the hope of preserving a skeric of punctuality by arriving almost on time. Unfortunately any streak of professionalism that remains is quite probably dashed away by the heaving and sweating mess that greets clients when they answer the door.
But as I was saying, when I pushed down hard on that first pedal stroke, hoping to make up those precious minutes lost to distraction, I realised that things had changed irreversibly. Sure I was running late, but as I filled my lungs in anticipation of the heavy exertion ahead, I felt the air rush through my already drying mouth and suddenly remembered I still had over 10 hours to go until sunset! If there was any way I was going to last until then without drinking I would have to seriously rethink my strategy. Today was a fairly busy one, this client being the first of 3 I would have to visit, but they were all living on different sides of the city. If I did my usual running-late sprint between each one, I would probably end up passing out from dehydration in about 4 hours flat.
To compensate, my pedal stroke immediately got lighter, I adjusted my breathing and calmed my nerves. This was going to be a long day and to make it through I would have to use brains as opposed to brawn. With every breath I took, it felt as if my mouth dried out a little more so instead of speeding up physically and pushing harder on the pedals, the only thing I could afford to accelerate was my thinking. At the same time as my body's actions slowed, I literally felt my mind race ahead as I systematically began to analyse each factor that might cause unnecessary use of energy. Routes would have to be calculated precisely, hills would have to be avoided, and above all I would have to ensure I allowed plenty of time to ride more slowly and steadily each destination. With so many hours left until sunset and a warm day ahead, a raised heart-rate due to rushing could spell disaster. I began applying these strategies immediately and was struck by a curious analogy. Returning from family road-trips as a child, I remember my father used to turn the car's engine off at the top of a certain hill to see if we could coast all the way home without using anymore fuel. This was exactly how I felt right then on my bicycle. My body was a machine running on limited resources. Every expense of energy had to be accounted for - I could not afford to waste a scrap.
By the end of the day, this truth became ever more apparent. It had been a hot day and my mouth was parched. Swallowing was something to be avoided, and I was constantly performing mental checks for symptoms of dehydration as it seemed I was running dangerously close to my limit. Pedalling carefully to the last appointment of the day, I felt victory was around the corner if I could just maintain a very calm and steady output of effort. But approaching a particularly dangerous intersection, this resolve would be tested again in a most unexpected manner...
