Today, the infection took over. I've finally transformed into a full blown were-cyclist.
I'm pretty happy now, as I've ridden further and further and slowly become more and more obsessed, most of my car driving friends have ridiculed me in increasing amounts.
Now when I get to work, the ball is in my court.
How do I figure this?
I have my final piece of cycling kit.
Tight bike shorts.
This is going to lead to endless mornings, where I get off my bike, haul my tired ass into the elevator, step out, and treat everyone to a far too revealing eyeful of between my waist and knees.
Now, being a were cyclist is no ordinary thing. Basically, whenever a traffic light goes green, you turn into a snarling evil creature which intimidates other vehicles. Usually, the larger the vehicle, the more intimidating a cyclist is.
So, the were cyclist - this is the guy you are afraid of in your giant 4WD, as you sit there, perched far too high off of the ground living in what can only be described as mid-suburban soccer mum fear.
Roll up the windows, press the central locking button and try not to make eye contact! Think to yourself oh those cyclists think they own the road! and try not to make physical contact as you accelerate off.
If a were-cyclist should make contact with your car, you'll turn into one at the next green traffic light. Soon, you would turn on your friends and families, loved ones and pets - you'll sell the petrol guzzler and buy a prius.
Before you know it, the infection has spread further, in a horrendous mix of the Tour de France meets 28 Days Later.
How do you know if you are infected?
You might wake up one day with strange textures on your hands, hooves, and a hard carapace on your head.
You'll have an urge to climb up hills for no particular reason, insatiable appetite, and you'll get very aggressive about personal space on the road.
Scary stuff, isn't it?
There is one huge benefit though, which simply can't be understated, and which I have gained: you end up with energylegs.