Moving on

It's been a couple of days now since my bike was pinched and I guess I'm starting to come to terms with it. Although it still sort of stings that someone stole from me, at least they just took it when I wasn't looking. I wasn't mugged for it, nobody broke into my home for it and (I assume) nobody was hurt (although it is due for a service...).

I guess whenever something like this happens, you are forced to reevaluate a few things. In this case, my first thought was how I was going to get home. Then I worried about how and whether I was going to get it back. Then I wondered what I would do in the medium term about commuting. The answers to all of these have sort of surprised me. For starters, I ran home. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be - even The Hill (Dartmouth Park Hill, for those who may know it) was pretty manageable.  If I ran home say, three times a week, at least I could stop feeling guilty every time I opened the biscuit tin.

As for whether I would get it back, I blogged, I tweeted, I Facebooked. And people came back with suggestions, offered sympathy, etc. People I have never met in real life asked their friends to look out for my bike. A friend from the other side of the world even dropped a message in to say hi, sorry and recommend a couple of his favorite children's books. The number of nice people far outweighed this single horrid, selfish thief. It restored my faith in humanity, to say the least.

And what am I going to do now? Well, it was always on the cards that my office would move, I just had to bite the bullet and move it. One reason to put it off was that it won't be moving to within cycling distance, I will have to drive. I'd been putting off buying a car too, but it must be done. It's part of the plan for the next chapter of my life: the post-London years. Having my bike stolen has forced me to knuckle down and start dealing with the nitty gritty of moving everything on, and I really do want to move on.

So, do I want my bike back? Yes, of course I do. And if I ever meet the thieving little toerag who pinched it, I might not be wholly responsible for my actions. But there is usually a silver lining if you look hard enough for it, and I think I've found it here: I am lucky to have such depth and breadth of friendship (both in person and in 140 character messages) the time is pretty ripe for moving on, and nobody has stolen my running shoes (to be honest,you'd have to be pretty desperate - give a whistle and they'll come running of their own accord....).