Childwickbury Hum

02:26

37.5km

15.4km/h

40.2km/h

250m

260m

An 8°C start is a sartorial dilemma for the cyclist! I gambled on a base layer and heated socks, ditching the windbreaker in a fit of seasonal optimism.

I traded the morning commute for the dirt tracks of the Childwickbury Estate. The sun threatened to break through the clouds as I drifted through bluebells, while to my right blackbirds meticulously raided the neatly stitched furrows of the spring fields, akin to nature’s own breakfast club.

Into the 'time machine' which is St Albans, where the tarmac sits on layers of ghosts. Before the commuters, there were the Romans of Verulamium and the medieval pilgrims. I passed those delightful Elizabethan houses, so wonky they look like they’re leaning in to whisper a secret. You can almost hear the ghost-clatter of trade wagons bound for London in the old days.

Then onto the Alban Way. I let my 16-year-old Cannondale Badboy off the leash. This bike was built for stealth and speed, and despite her age, just like her owner, she’s still got something. On the flat tarmac, there’s no creak, no rattle, just the hum of my recently fitted summer tyres rolling along the ground. I tucked in and let the "old girl" go!

By Welwyn, the sun had staged a full and glorious takeover. I pulled up to take on water at a random shaded bench dedicated to Simon Charles Lee (1974–2001). It’s a strange thing to catch your breath in the shadow of a life tragically paused at twenty-seven. Of course I never knew him, but I found myself pondering on the middle-aged milestones he missed and the simple joy of the many spring mornings he didn’t get to see.

Beanie stowed in the jersey pocket, perspective reset. I finished on the Ayot Greenway, kicking up a bit of grit and soaking in the light.

A morning spin for the soul 🚴🏽‍♂️