ESpring is coming, writes the colleague. And indeed, these days the sun came through the uniform gray that has hung over our city for months (or has it been years?). There is not even a coal-fired power plant in our city that would be responsible for the gloom. And the concentration of particulate matter is only of concern to environmental aid. It probably won’t be much different for you: you’ve almost gotten used to the months, if not years, of gray.
You do sports, morosely, mostly at home on the roller or – mask on – in the studio. And, of course, the Scandinavians follow their example: they drink a lot, especially alcohol, and discover the benefits of light therapy. You buy a few special lamps with 10,000 lux and bathe the living room and yourself in brilliant light. Not only should the room be brightened up, but also the mood.
Reading is allowed, and as always it is worth taking a look at the “Apotheken Umschau”. There you will learn that ultra-bright artificial light works like sunlight: that it increases the production of the “happiness hormone” serotonin and reduces the formation of the “sleep hormone” melatonin. Sounds great, but to be honest it doesn’t really work. A look out the window at the leaden gray is enough and all the serotonin has evaporated again.
Just noticed I’ve gotten a bit off topic. I wanted to tell you that my colleague wrote that spring is coming. And indeed: The sun immediately sent rays of happiness hormones into our city. If you were locked up under a gray bell before, you were now drawn out. And what’s the best thing to do out there to get some air and serotonin? The colleague wrote: How about cycling?
Then let’s go: spring, sun, bike ride! Perfect. The only problem: The bike also had a dull autumn and a leaden winter behind it, carelessly parked in the dark cellar. Without care, without oil, without light therapy. What should you expect when you go down at the first ray of sunshine? The colleague writes it in sobering words: “Total damage. Drive. Tires. Rims.”
A less than ideal start to the cycling spring, one might say. Tires, rims, maybe you can fix that yourself. But drive? Adjusting a circuit is already a higher art of engineering, at least for me. An appointment in the workshop? It’s spring, the first ray of sunshine, the worst possible time, because that’s when everyone takes their bike out of the basement and the workshop tells you about the next possible date: the coming winter. Only one thing helps: jogging.
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