I envision myself as a 5'8", 13 stone bloke with thighs of granite and calves of sinewy dolphin like movements when I'm on my cycle. I'm in my early 30s and play rugby. I see myself as a dashing and fast cyclist, not as fast as the lycra warriors but better then the average Joe on two wheels. As I approached the last 3 miles of my commute tonight, having completed 11 miles, I turned left. I saw a cylist signaling to turn down the same road. She was on a sit-up bike and I thought - she's taking her time. A middle-aged frumpy type, I thought. Nothing wrong with that, at all. But I was glad I was a bit more athletic. Anyway, on I went, pounding into the wind, thighs burning, sweat pouring, lungs heaving (really). I looked over my shoulder. There she was. Right behind me. Blimey, I thought. I must be going slower then I thought. Better get the real burn on. So I pedalled as hard as I could. And she stayed behind me, literally, for two miles before turning off. And I thought - that's what I really look like. A stand up cyclist just pedalling along moderately. Not athletic at all. My God - vanity is setting in. I need to change my bike, my gear and my fitness levels.