Be still my beating heart. And forgive me, reader, if an occasional blob of perspiration drips from my brow on to the page you are reading.
(All the better to dilute this column's indecent enthusiasm, you might mutter, and smudge its breathless prose.)
I have just come in from the ride home from work, along the winding Portobello Rd to Broad Bay, into the rebuffing embrace of a mid-strength nor'easter, bum numb, endorphins in a right old tizz, fizzing fit to bust.
I recall when I first came to Dunedin, a neighbour in Andersons Bay said the wind that howled down the harbour was known as "the Burglar" - not quite sure why, although I believe "stealing time" came into the explanation.
I haven't heard it referred to thus since, but can concur that it is something of a thief: it stole a good 10 minutes from me this evening.
You see, I am well on the way to becoming a cycle bore.
I have been at it for little more than a couple of weeks and already I have the journey timed, the distance between landmarks - Company Bay, Macandrew Bay, Glenfalloch, the Cove, Vauxhall Yacht Club - mapped out in minutes, and am learning to make appropriate adjustments for the direction and force of the wind.
And the roadworks.
It can only be a matter of time before I pop into the bike shop and pick up one of those nifty little electronic gadgets that tells you how fast you are moving, how many kilometres you have travelled, what you had for breakfast and who Penelope Cruz has been snogging of late.
I blame, in no particular order, the weather, the festive season and the recession.
What a balmy summer we are having. Anyone who doesn't get out there into the fresh air doesn't deserve it.
There's no excuse for seasonal affective disorder this summer.
The convertible owners have been making hay - as in "Hey, look at us" - as have the cyclists, out in their droves, the more serious Lycra-skinned roadsters bent down over their bars, pumping hard, intent only on the road ahead, others cheerfully acknowledging a new member of the tribe.
The festive season has left its usual hangover round the midriff, so there is some belt-tightening to do.
I'm told regular cycling helps - that I'll soon be a mere shadow of my former self - and if it cuts down on the petrol bill, and the greenhouse gases, that can't be a bad thing either.
See, cycling is good for your health and will help you save the planet, too.
How righteous you can be? I've yet to study the city plan hearings, but the council, always the butt of all our objections and gripes, deserves a bouquet or two over the progress of the road widening on the peninsula.
The stretch beyond Portobello is glorious, Company Bay has a cycle way, and the road widening now in train to Macandrew Bay will carry that on.
It makes the possibility of an exclusive lane, stretching all the way from Portsmouth Dr to Taiaroa Head, seem less than a pipedream. Like all proselytes, of course, I want to share my good fortune: it could be the good fortune of the entire community.
A completed cycle way down the peninsula, combined with the area's wildlife attractions and eco-tourism, could become one of the great leisure rides in the southern hemisphere: a route of outstanding natural beauty experienced up close - wind in hair, taste of salt on the breeze and, yes, the occasional nose-wrinkling rot of seaweed and krill . . . it would be incomparable.
Did anyone mention "recession"? Infrastructure projects? Think of the spin-offs.
This weekend, 1000-odd bike nuts, walkers and runners will scramble, sprint, walk and perhaps even crawl over usually inaccessible parts of the Peninsula in the Otago Peninsula Challenge.
Being a novice at the whole business, I sought an experienced mountain biker's advice as to the status of the ride.
"You do realise the route climbs from sea level to the top at least three times," he said, looking at me sideways. So I've decided on a reconnaissance walk instead - to determine the prospects for next year.
Faint-hearted and fair-weather cyclist I may be, but I'm not ready to give up on being a bore just yet.
In fact, I'm just getting started.
-Simon Cunliffe is assistant editor at the Otago Daily Times.
