When you know, you know

Six years' ago I was a typical London worker. I drank, smoked, worked hard, drank hard. I would stand

outside pubs like the Westminster Arms sneering at those silly Lycra-clad men gingerly needling their way through the traffic, cobbles and potholes on their way home, wondering why on earth would they do that to themselves.

I also took the mick out of how they seemed to spin so fast on their bikes yet seemed to go nowhere fast.

It was quite an odd stance for me to have considering I used to cycle everywhere when I was younger.

But there I was sinking yet another pint as the London diesel fumes enveloped me and merged with the tar from my cigarettes while demeaning a group of our population that were at least trying to do something about their health and commute times.

Oh how little did I know was to change.

I moved jobs to Croydon, having given up cigarettes in the meantime, and moved out to zone 6. Sick to death of the commute to Wimbledon then the tram, or worse up to Clapham Junction then down the South London line, I started to think...what about cycling?

I don't know why working in Croydon was the push. When working in London the distance was broadly the same and the commute was far worse.

But there you go when you know, you know.

I had decided to try out cycling, for the first time since I was a teenager.

But where to start?