Secretly I was hoping for a brass band and ticker-tape with proud smiling
children holding a banner bearing my name. In reality, with rain stinging my
eyeballs, my one-thousandth mile passed with nothing more than a grimace.
Nine weeks before Christmas I’d taken my beat-up old Toyota to the scrap
heap and set myself the challenge of giving up all forms of carbon emitting
transport. Gone were trips to the supermarket in the luxury of a heated vehicle
and here to stay were Lycra leggings and pedalling...a lot of pedalling.

I don’t fit the mould of a hippy. I’ve not thrown my arms around a tree since I
was climbing up them and my bike still had three wheels. I just couldn’t shake
the guilt of knowing that I should be doing something about the environment.
If the twinkle in my eye was to one day enjoy trips to the Norfolk beaches
were I grew up then more action was required and that action was leaned up
against the wall in the hallway.

At first it felt like a novelty. Through strangely warm October mornings and
dry dusky evenings I pedalled. The twenty-five mile round trip South East to
West ate up the miles as I ate up the snacks, guiltlessly scoffing everything I
could to offset the 1600 extra calories fuelling my daily commute. Whilst this
return journey to work was made easier by the presence of a shower at both
ends, maintaining a normal social life was more tricky. I turned into a cycling
superhero wrestling with a Lycra uniform in a pub toilet whilst my friends
waited patiently. At closing time my Lois Lane became an eco-widow sitting
lonely on the bus as I sped off to save the world hoping physical prowess
alone would impress this tough one-woman crowd.

By the time Winter properly arrived the novelty had worn off and my morning
routine would start with me lying silently in bed listening for evidence of rain. A
good downpour could see me starting my working day wringing my socks out
in the sink. With the rain also came the punctures. Pointy road debris washed
towards the gutter seemed to be magnetized to my tyres and I regularly found
myself huddled over my upturned bike trying to patch a holed inner-tube with
numb fingers. Three times in a week was the frustrating record I managed to
set in this category.

It’s easy to focus on the hardship, on achy legs, numb toes and a pain in
the cycling shorts that only Vaseline will cure. The highs though were far
more numerous than the lows. Speeding past queues of motorists slogging it
through the jams, setting my own pace in my own personal space, finishing
the month with an extra £140, feeling superhero fit and saving enough
carbon to make three thousand cups of tea. It’s showed me that I can make
a difference if I put my mind to it and has provided the catalyst for further ‘eco
challenges’. Next month I will start trying to live without generating any
household waste. I’ll keep you posted.