hot and windy: why do the amateur or occasional cyclists come out on these days? they're the worst possible days for riding.

edging down hills I usually whip down, hands over the brakes, left foot out of the clip, wary of the gusts of wind blowing leaves and bark across my path, gusts that feel like they might blow me off. climbing the hill near the old asylum, thin threads of spiderweb glowing bronze, stretched out horizontally across the path by the wind.

times like this all the training takes effect; that I go out at all (habit) and that I manage the hour-fifteen ride without collapsing, even passing a few of the boys for a change. (fitness and bloodymindedness; once I start a particular circuit I almost always do what I set out to do).

have just finished reading Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running: apart from the fact he clearly hates cycling and is as much a runner as I am a rider, I understand what he's saying: that discipline and practice matter in any field. and sometimes just doing it each day (like writing) is enough.

he treats his body as a kind of third party, his muscles as something he communicates with by means of using them: I do this much work, you grow that much, kind of thing.