This morning, at the criminally early hour of 5:18 AM, I decided the best use of my time and legs was to cycle some 7o km in the rain. Because what says “self-respect” like voluntarily getting soaked before most people have had coffee? Armed with my brand-new waterproof jacket (it is beautiful!!), I rolled out into the great East Cambridgeshire drizzle. By kilometre 10, my socks were already staging a rebellion. By kilometre 20, I was negotiating peace with my left shoe, which had become a small aquarium (I think I even felt the presence of a small red fish). But here’s the twist: it was kind of… peaceful? Rain has a way of silencing the world—and your inner monologue that usually says things like, “Why am I not still in bed?” or “Have I been chased?” Between puddles and occasional muttered curses, I found a rhythm. There was no music, no traffic noise, just the hum of the tires, the patter of rain on helmet, and my occasional existential whisper: “Why?” And then—boom—Strava glory! I am now the Local Legend of “Burwell Co-op to Reach,” which, in cycling terms, means I’ve ridden that segment more times than is probably socially acceptable. Not the fastest, not the flashiest, but definitely the most stubborn. A Zen master once said, “Chop wood, carry water.” I say, “Pedal wet, curse softly.” 2 hours and 40 minutes, 105 watts of average power (basically a toaster), and a mind that—somewhere between Fulbourn and Soham—let go. No big insights. Just me, the road, and about a litre of rainwater pooled in my elbow. Would I do it again? Absolutely. But next time, I’m waterproofing my socks and bringing a towel for my soul.
Zen Mindfulness Cambridge Zenways Italia 