I greet them with the familiarity of an old friend, only they’re not welcome here.

They used to visit occasionally but as I get older their intrusion becomes more regular. Again it’s unwanted.

I get home from a day’s work and I have a small window to get any training done for the day. I rush through the door full of good intention.

“You’re nearly 45, why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? It’s a silly hobby and nothing more, why are you wasting your time?”

It’s a familiar jibe but it still stops me momentarily in my tracks.

“You’ve had a hard day, sit down and have a brew, you deserve it” this sucker punch sometimes catches me out and I give in. The clock ticks down and the opportunity to get out of the door slips away, till tomorrow.

Somedays, most days, I can swerve the sucker punch, get my kit on and get out of the door. I feel happy. This is what I’ve done for a long time, my feet pad the road, or press on the pedals, my breathing becomes rhythmic and I move. The voices fall silent, work melts away and for a moment I’m ageless, my form is eternal and I’m happy. I then glance at my Garmin…