My legs are pumping, sweat drips from my brow, trickling down my nose, my hands are slipping on the grips and through half shut eyes I watch the distance slowly rise.

More! Faster! COME ON!! I silently urge myself, blocking out the slow burn of acid in my muscles, pushing myself on, adrenalin surging round my body whilst I gasp for air.

The timer counts down, seconds to go, I know I won’t make it but I have to try, all the way, 100% until there is no time left, push push push, the pedals spin and my legs scream at me to stop.

The timer hits zero, I sit up in the saddle and gulp down air. Huge mouthfuls, a drowning man saved. My legs slowly calm as I slow down.

I look down at the display, hoping for the distance I want, the distance that was set, the target that spurred me on.

The LCD glows. 10.4km.

I silently curse.

I slowly cool down, stretch my legs and head home. Why can’t I do it? Why am I so far away from it? I’ve done it once before, mere weeks ago, what is wrong with me??

And then it hits me.

Two weeks ago I sat back after spending 40 minutes on the bike. I ‘travelled’ 12.1km. Excellent, I thought. A good target. Since then I’ve only managed around 10km, quite a drop, and it’s taken me until now to realise why.

I’m only cycling for 30 minutes.

My brain is trying to kill me.