Back on the commute this morning, I felt good. Maybe too good for the time of year, making me wonder whether I shouldn’t ease back or risk peaking too soon… Truth be told, feeling good on the bike was always going to happen after a New Year spent somewhere hilly.

The last ride I did before heading back to London covered 38km and took me an hour and three quarters, climbing a trifle under 600m. This was a shorter, very slightly easier version of the ride I did the previous day. Both save most of the climbing for the latter half of the route and both punish anyone who has recently enjoyed the delights of the Festive Season.

Anyway, the endless miles spent flogging away at 34×21 or lower into the teeth of a Welsh headwind driving off Cardigan Bay were the perfect way to burn off the various cheeses, luxury sweetmeats, fortified wines and other indulgences consumed over Christmas and the New Year. They also have the effect of making cycling on flatter, smoother roads, which in this case means those of London, feel ridiculously fast and easy.

Sadly, the effect never lasts very long.