The insistent buzz of my alarm woke me with a start. I reached out into the pre-dawn darkness to switch it off, then snuggled back down under my duvet. Getting out from the cosy warmth of bed has been proving a challenge of late, and on that particular morning my legs were having none of it. ‘C’mon guys,’ I urged them after five minutes had gone by. ‘You can do it.’ Nothing. Another few minutes went by with no sign of movement, so I made them an offer: ‘If you get me out of bed I won’t make you cycle into college today.’ That got their attention. It’s always difficult to motivate myself to get on my bike at this time of year – but this year it feels even harder. I thought it was because I was bored of my commute – and who wouldn’t be, after five years ploughing the same furrow? I thought, once I started my new commute, I’d rediscover the joys of cycling again. But that hasn’t happened. Already, after just three weeks of pedalling to Lambeth and back again, I can feel the same reluctance. I can hear that little voice in the back of my head that says, I’m tired, I’m cold, my legs ache…I don’t want to do this. Where I used to resolutely pedal through the even the worst weather, I’ve started to use the slightest excuse as a reason to leave the bike at home. I’ve found myself sitting on the Overground, book in hand, thinking how glad I am not to be on my bike. I’m just not getting the same joy I used to get from cycling. It’s turned into a chore. Compare that to yoga, which I started doing a few months ago. Yoga has certain advantages over cycling, not least that I can do it without having to leave the comfort of my bedroom. I can even do it on my PJs if I want to. The biggest benefit of yoga, however, is that it’s pretty much guaranteed to make me feel better. The day’s stresses and my body’s tensions just melt away. After a yoga session, I feel relaxed and happy – it’s like a high, and it’s addictive. Cycling just doesn’t have that effect, not anymore. (Cycling does have one major advantage over yoga. No matter how flexible I get, even if I manage to get my legs behind my ears – which is unlikely to happen soon, if ever, as I’ve only recently become able to touch my toes – yoga will never be any good as a means of getting from A to B.) I did have one brief glimmer of hope over the weekend. I was on my way to a friend’s house for a late lunch. She’s notorious for her appalling timekeeping, so I wasn’t particularly worried about getting there on time. The sun was just starting to peek out from the clouds, and there was a tiny hint of warmth in the air. As I pootled along with the sun on my face, I realised I was enjoying being on my bike for the first time in a long time. Most of the time when I’m on my bike I’m pedalling headlong to get somewhere – to college on time, to home, to get out of the cold. Perhaps if I weren’t so focused on getting to where I’m going – perhaps if I took the time to enjoy the journey, and if the weather were better – I might rediscover my love of cycling.