In times of crisis I like to take a walk in the rain... or the snow... or the blazing sun. It doesn't matter.

Struggling up a hill on a bicycle already in the lowest gear, my muscles burning with tension, my breath panting, sweat pouring down my forehead, burning my eyes.

The cold wind biting my nose, I feel the windshield lowering the temperature considerably. The freezing rain has seeped through my shoes, and the pick-up truck ploughing by suddenly is pouring an entire puddle over me, drenching me to the bone.

The sun is beating down mercilessly, making the pavement melt under my feet. Walking past industrial yards and golf courses, lush with recycled water squirting from sprinklers behind tall wire fences is driving the point further home: you got a long way to walk before relief is in sight.

But there is relief, always: There is a warm fireplace to dry your socks, or a cool jug of ice cold cucumber-water waiting for you. The top of the hill is in sight, and as they say in The Crow: "It can't always rain." There is one person just perfect for you, even if you haven't met them yet. And getting there adds all the value to it. Because we all know how it is, being there, without having gone through the ordeal of deserving it.