Date: Wednesday 19 October, 2015
Distance: 9.2km | Elevation: 111m
Start kms: 9,102.2km | End kms: 9,111.4.5 | % complete: 91.1%
There’s an untold rhythm to the roads of London.
For much of the year it’s subtle, but as the evenings draw in and we head further into winter, it becomes increasingly visible.
Stopped at a red light, you lower yourself onto the straight of your frame, perching there with your forearms resting over the handlebars.
You idly watch the pedestrians as they haul themselves and their backpacks from one side of the road to the other, bouncing off the pavement in their sensible to- and from-work trainers.
You wonder where or how they might have spent their day as your blinking headlight catches a reflective patch on the sleeve of their waterproof jacket.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the green man disappear, replaced by his static red counterpart. A few stragglers put their practical footwear to good use and make a last-minute dash across the street.
Your gaze moves from the pedestrian crossing to the traffic lights that conduct the herds of vehicles across your path. You know that the light is about to flip from green, to amber and on to red and you bring yourself upright.
As the light glows orange, you’re already starting to come up into the peddles. As the oncoming traffic slows to a halt, you’re already beginning to move, passing through the threshold of the junction just as you’re given right of way.
The roads of the daily commute don’t provide the most picturesque backdrop. Neither do they unfurl into the uninterrupted stretches of tarmac you fly along at the weekend.
But they do provide hidden pleasures. Understanding the flow and patterns of the route is certainly one of them.