“Free, free at last”, my body insignificantly exclaimed as I finally braved the lockdown and the cold for an early morning cycle. My mind though kept on questioning my body, ‘Free, while millions are but free?”. I momentarily cringed as the cool morning breeze kissed my face. After 2 months isolated at home, I did feel free.
It took much discipline, resilience and strength to condition myself to rise up early for my first outdoor cycle ride since the lock down was effected on midnight of 26th March. Our ride to Cape Town in March seems a lifetime away.
It almost was not to be as I noticed a front wheel puncture 200 meters from my door. Drat. Time was of the essence as the 9am cut off was looming. The tubes I had seemed to be faulty but thankfully a few friends who I was meant to meet, came over and helped sort it out.
At night, in preparation, and winter requires much more preparation, I laid out my cycling gear: jacket, top, under garment, bib, jacket, thick socks, beany, bandana (to serve as a mask) and shoe covers. I also needed to pump my bike tyres and charge my head unit and gears. I left the preparation of my bottles for the morning. This ritual together with earlier bedtime is a pre-requisite for mental commitment. Finally, I set my alarm, the first in two months. Interestingly I switched it off 5 minutes before it was to unceremoniously trigger. I was committed.
Frazzled with the delay, we quickly headed out not sure whether we should race or take it easy. The cool breeze intermingled with the warm sun was the first sign of freedom. As much as I enjoyed being on the inside, being outside reminded me of how much I missed the outside. Yet, I could not push out the job losses, food shortages and growing number of pandemic infections and deaths. What must be done?
But, for now we were like little children, out from school when the bell rang. We raced to robots, up hills, dawdled when it was not necessary, suddenly changed direction, careened down hills and mostly just rode. Freedom. I watched runners, walkers, pedestrians and cars pass by and the beautiful warm sun made a mockery of winter. It seemed a lot busier than before lock down. What a pleasant day.
9am was fast approaching and we had not had a take-away coffee and croissant. Like naughty kids we were willing to push the boundaries a little given that stage 3 was imminent. Momentarily, I heard sirens and gruff policemen voices. I could hear the clanging of jail doors. The thought of spending the weekend in a cold jail, clip clopping with my cleats sent shivers down my spine. Not a pleasant thought. Thankfully, the metro police were stationed to monitor funerals, as we passed the cemetery, or public transport, as we passed taxi ranks. Uninterested in our cortège, we rode on.
I marvelled at the beggar at a traffic light who in a spirit of social distancing, placed his begging bowl at the end of a long stick. Surely, his ingenuity can be absorbed into the economy. And, the number of beggars at robots appear to have increased. Something must be done. Clearly, this is systemic.
“Never waste a crisis”, a comment I picked up somewhere, reverberated in my head. Surely, this is a good time to fundamentally transform the economy so that we can meaningfully address inequality. Charity is unsustainable. Not being nor understanding the work of politicians and civil servants the world over, it is hard for us ordinary citizens to understand. What are the blockers? How do we attain small growing victories? How do we gain momentum?
It was an unusually short ride compared to the long 100km plus club and social rides. This was a suburban ride. We passed houses, cafes, schools and many robots and stop signs. It was surreal like we were riding for the first time. It did not matter where.
Almost as soon as we started, we reached the coffee stop. Social distancing was challenging as we each suffered from verbal diarrhoea like detainees kept in solitary confinement for months on end. We ordered and consumed the best cappuccino and croissant in ages. It was so good to meet and see friends face to face again. Freedom.
It was time to head home as we were well over the curfew and momentarily chided ourselves. Naughty school boys we were as we raced home. Satisfied and energized while millions remained cooped up, hungry and cold. Another day in paradise.
