Sunday saw me putting off doing something I’ve been dreading for a while by doing work on a sunny autumn day that would have been perfect for cycling. Eventually I could put it off no longer and I was forced to put on my cycling shoes and learn how to ride a bike while me feet were welded to the pedals because this, I’m told will make it easier.

I’m skeptical to say the least. Rowers don’t attach their wrists to the oars and tennis players don’t tether themselves to the tennis racquet. So quite why cyclists feel the need to bond so literally with their cycle is beyond me but, in my quest to be just like Chrissie Wellington I tried to smile and clipped myself to the bike.

Extreme cycling on a fifth floor balcony? No. I’d been advised to practice clipping in and out a few times while propped up against a wall before trying this new form of physical abuse out in public. So that’s what I did. Several minutes of  shouting ‘Why won’t it work?’ ‘Is the pedal the right way?’ and ‘Is it in yet?’ followed before  I headed out to the park away from that 50ft drop.

I managed all of 10 metres of propper, clipped in, woman attached to bike cycling a la Chrissie before this happened… but at least I remembered the big grin! And as I was reminded by Cake of Good Hope, even Olympians fall off.