Postscript

I arrived in London on the sleeper train from Inverness. Navigating my way through a maze of near-stationary traffic on the Euston Road, I reached the bottom of Pentonville Road and sprinted up it.  It seemed much shorter than it did two weeks ago.  I turned left at the top soon reaching my flat.  My legs weren't too bothered about stopping so soon, they are quite familiar with my flat anyway.  I showered, had breakfast and started unpacking my kit.  My legs said 'Hey, what's going on, we're ready, let's go cycling'. Time passed with no cycling. I put on some jeans.  My legs said 'wait, what are you doing, you can't cycle in those?'  Gradually it dawned on them: 'OMG, he's going to the office.  He's not going for a nice, long, easy ride in the countryside, he's going to join the morning cycle commuter race.  Oh no!  That's so much harder and more dangerous...'