Robert Frost once said:
Sometimes the only way out, for the time being, is out.
In times past, when I’d feel a well of sadness rising up inside me, the tonic I’d spring for was a bike trip on the continent. It’s not like I expected answers to magically appear over the crest of the next hill.
More than anything I was looking for the space to ask the right questions.
To this day there isn’t much in this world I like more than a pootle around France on a touring bike.