With the temperature hovering around freezing and a steady wind from the East, bright winter noon sun falling westwards glaring back at me on my course – I knew it wouldn't be easy. Still, work has to be done, and with the threat of more serious snow in the coming days it had to be done now. How much – as yet I didn't know, but I did understand as I passed by Auerbach that I needed to turn north and look for some hills. Traffic was up. Sunday Drivers out, of course, on a Sunday. I tried some red light running myself, with mixed results. The first time I was able to create space for an oncoming cyclist crossing Heerstr by the S Bahn, the second time at Olympia stadium was not successful, with a justifiably irate driver sounding his horn as I hurriedly pulled up metres past the line. Pace was steady, the wind friendly enough and the layers I had on maintained my inner temperature adequately. I formulated the route in my head, and resolved to work hardest when climbing, taking time off in between. Down into Grunewald then, noting that many had come come out for a Sunday stroll in the sun and that the roads were unexpectedly – after the gaunt emptiness of the overcast week days of last week... crowded. I swung right, made off towards the Angerburger and the first hillock of the day, short but brutish and rendered more complex by close passing sleepy auto-drivers and the like. I attacked, or at least shadow boxed my way up, enough that I arrived panting at the crest and was still driven on down the narrow road out, by cars behind – and my desire to show off my fitness level to the strolling pensioners in a Kiez which has the highest average age in Berlin – an age level I am swiftly joining. One down, more to go, I descended Am Postfenn into the sun again, cap brim dipped, greeting brothers and sisters doing the ascent on the opposite side of the road, and this time, swung left at the bottom. More greetings, more hustle, don't forget to pull on the bottle, are you warm enough, too warm, you're not passing anyone, nobody's passing you.... Willi! The hill! My enemy!! Out the saddle, show him today, but as ever, it's a normal climb. Coming this way it sub-divides – the first section is shallow and I attack out the saddle, as do many, the second part I sit and rev on a low gear, like, umm, Chris Froome maybe, or hopefully at least like me in control, that is not weaving all over the road, maybe upping the tempo at the end, sprinting even to catch whoever before enjoying what is one of faster descents ever found on marsh and sand foundation pancake flat Berlin. Further up and further in – I hit the bottom and again remember to knock it off a bit but maintain what I hope is a crisp and even tempo past the strolling lovers and ageing married couples, the skipping children, the lone wanderers, the abandoned to Sunday rest pipe laying building roadworks area that looms by the lake, the car park where the divers congregate in summer, and up the stiff little slopes at the end of the run by the lake, remembering to dig in a bit here, pushing down to Schwani, through the lights, the sparkling lake light spraying off the moored dinghies, hitting the climb hard and arriving at the top void of strength, pedals barely turning, free wheeling past some of Berlin's richest housing and gawking Sunday strollers, completing the circle and feeling fine, start the reverse journey home. I could feel the call of the short way – up the Krone, as yet unridden today, with plenty of fast moving asphalt and no doubt, wheels to follow or be followed by.... but now, I took the leftward direction, stayed on the Havelchaussee as I hadn't done Am Postfenn going up yet and that was a lack. Still, I felt some reluctance, and whether coincidentally or not the sun disappeared behind troubling banked clouds for a few minutes and the wind was definitively not helping at this point. Also my leg was suddenly stiffening, that had been behaving well, maybe because I had been the pacesetter and had chosen light spinning much of the way. I kept going anyway, forgot to check if the guy I'd seen fixing a puncture was still at the car park entrance, then found myself at the bottom of Willi having a miniature blow up. Speed dropped, and I was crawling at hitherto unknown slow levels, still steady, but wondering if I was due more suffering than I had bargained for. To the right the valley, ahead the road, I stuck my head down and crawled, crested, descended, the leg somehow torquing in an unpleasant way, a cramp maybe, but I resolved – made the intention - to get to the top of Am Postfenn and then climb off and stretch, wait, do whatever needed doing.... I ground out the last section, somehow the leg settled enough but I climbed off anyway and got it up on the convenient brick wall that had provided this service many times before, slugged juice gratefully and watched a little for whatever was next.

The young man cycled towards me, on an old steel bike, one hand on the bars the other clutching a small phone. Could I tell him how to get to Messe-Sud. It's the other direction I gravely informed him, about three kilometres and turn right. That wasn't so bad, he offered, and I agreed. He thanked me, and proffered his hand, and I gladly took it. Although I had no chance to remove my glove first and felt remiss that he'd had contact with the receptacle of my slime and sweat of the last hour. I hoped he hadn't noticed the damp material. Here maybe the shadow on my ride earlier, that slowing, had paid off.

I could have ridden further down that way with him but felt no need, and I'd already made my intention – my “niyat” (Arabic) as he might have said – to hustle the last kilometres before the bridge. All bets off after then.....