And this is essentially how I felt in October 2015 when I started cycling to work. I wasn't fit, nor fast, my borrowed riding clothes weren't quite right, I didn't know the way, and and introvert's nightmare, had to integrate myself into a group of long-established friends to learn the safe route to the CBD.
I got to within 1 miserable kilogram of my goal weight - and then had a year of rolling illnesses, injuries and interruptions to my riding, so I'm now 10kg away from my target/happy weight. Bugger it to say the least. That's a heavy grocery bag of fat or flubber I'm carting around, making everything just that little bit harder, clothes that bit tighter and necessitating blousy tops instead of tucked in shirts. Sigh.
Even in the twilight of 2016 events worked against me riding daily on my holidays; I was bitten behind the knee by a venomous spider [Jesus, I hate this f*cking country] and spent the last few days of the year with my knee swollen and incapable of bending, the bite site turned into a mass of a thousand weeping blisters and which of course made cycling painful and ultimately impossible. A week of antibiotics and doctors' visits later and I am left with nothing more than some amusingly shaped scar tissue and yet another eye-roll inducing story about how fucked up 2016 was.
So yeah, I'm not exactly what you'd call "ready" to plunge into another year of cycling. I feel lazy, and tired just thinking about Sydney traffic and how it's all just too hard sometimes. But regardless of my feelings on the subject, it's time to get moving again. I go back to work in two days, and with the traffic at wonderful holiday-induced low levels, no better time to ease myself back into bike commuting. I'll resign myself to starting again because the endorphins kick in after about too metres.