PICTURES BY DOUG MCDONALD.
It has been a very long time since I had to make an effort to fit cycling into my life. I have always had the ‘it’s my job’ top trump to play as I grab my kit and head out of the door. That all changed suddenly and it changed dramatically as the end of my guiding season arrived along with a new baby. Suddenly it wasn’t quite so simple to head out the door and escape on my mountain bike; suddenly I had to justify my rides, fit them in with other people, shorten them, thin them out and miss them all together. At first it wasn’t hard, the new baby kept me pretty busy and life filled the space where my mountain bike had been. That didn’t last though and soon I was getting twitchy and longing for the hills, the adrenaline and the dopamine. I needed to get out in the mountains, and soon it was obvious to my family as well.
It’s said that a heroin addict will sell their family to let them get the next needle in their arm. Well, my family isn’t for sale; however, I have been taking them to the pawn shop for a couple of hours each day to let me get my hit. Riding in the very early morning, or late evening, depending which baby care shift I am on, means that I can escape at times when I am barely missed, when the rest of the family is sleeping or resting.