Addiction, adrenaline and the power of rage

It was peeing with rain even before I left home this morning but I couldn't even think of taking the bus. The idea of standing at the stop for hours when I could be nipping round traffic, being sworn at by van drivers and getting really wet and cold was just too much. I knew it was wrong but I wanted to ride. So I did. Surely doing something you know will hurt in the long term and against your better judgment is an addiction. Oh dear.

Anyhoo.

I was tootling along in the cycle lane near my home, and in the rain, when someone tried to turn left right across my front wheel. I screeched to a stop a mere centimetre from their passenger door. After shouting something along the lines of "What on earth do you think you're doing?!" I sped off. And I mean sped.

What is it about getting really angry at a rubbish driver that makes you forget that your legs are on fire and you're soaking wet? The adrenaline and rage were such that I went a good four miles before I realised I was dripping and sore. When a really bad squall hit me near a handy station complete with bike racks I decided enough was enough.

If only someone else had nearly killed me I might have been able to go all the way in. Sigh.