I have to admit this cold spell of weather has caught me completely off-guard. Perhaps because, not so long ago, I was cycling around the stunningly beautiful panoramas of the French Alps, doused in beautiful sunshine, without a care in the world and enjoying the best cycling of my life. Life back in Britain since has been about adaptation, which has been made no easier with the descent into winter.

It’s dark, cold, windy and raining outside the office windows. I’m in denial. I know where I’d rather be. With the race and sportive season well over and all thoughts turning to next year, which right now seems a million miles off, motivation becomes hard to muster. Hibernation seems an attractive option, to hide away until the spring when the sun makes a reappearance and the days get longer. Then I can start enjoying cycling once more. Because right now, right here, I’m struggling to see how I’ll ever get through the next few months without losing my marbles. This is it, cold and wet weather for the next eight months. Great…

It’s not helped either by having moved flat recently, where the contents of most of my life still reside in large cardboard boxes that I’ve not gotten around to unpacking yet. Most of my winter clothing from last year has been buried for months, I’ve no idea where those favourite gloves that I relied upon are, or where that comfortable jacket is.

It’s not that I dislike British winters. Far from it. I can think of no greater experience than heading into the country fully togged-up, while the rest of the population are warmly tucked up indoors, with the icy cool air biting at the exposed skin on my face and clouds of breath escaping over my shoulder. When the sky is crystal blue without even the smallest Cumulus to interrupt the 360 degrees of blueness, the bike rolling silently beneath and the faint rumble of tyres over the cold Tarmac. The leaves fluttering at the edge of the roads. It’s a beautiful time of year, a period to be savoured and enjoyed to the full by the keen cyclist.

It shouldn’t be feared. The problem, for me at least, is the transition period that we’re currently going through that I find so difficult to come to terms with. The yearly acceptance of the oncoming winter and the coldness and darkness it brings with it, the realisation that it’ll be months before the lights can be stripped off the bike, the winter bike consigned to the back of the bike shed and the honed legs shown off once again.

Clothing choice is always such a lottery. Conditions change frequently; the temperature plummets and rises on a daily basis. Not like the summer, when all you need to wear is a pair of shorts and a jersey without any fears of getting cold. No, the winter requires military-style preparation. The weather forecast is to be monitored frequently, daily, hourly even, with a sharp eye on the temperature range and the chance of rain on the horizon. Clothing needs to be constantly tweaked; the number and choice of layers forever fettled to ensure the perfect riding temperature and protection from the elements. Not too cold. Not to hot. It’s a never-ending battle.

But it’s all worth it, in the end. As much as I despise the winter, I immensely enjoy it. The rewards a soaking wet ride brings when you’re coiled up afterwards on the sofa with a hot drink fresh from a hot bath. The feeling of the icy cold air on your face awakens one’s spirit on a fresh bright weekend morning. You feel alive. Cycling is a great sport. There is no greater sense of freedom.

But still, can’t I just fly away somewhere warmer…?