Does everyone hate turbo trainers?

We had two weeks of snow and ice in the Chilterns. Cycling outdoors was impossible. Well, not impossible, I daresay. But I was one of the wimps who didn’t try it.

So, in addition to the dull up and down in the swimming pool, I ran like a hamster on a treadmill at the gym. God, I hate gyms. And then I retrieved from the garage a turbo trainer that’d been lying forlornly (and expensively) unused.

Why is it that I can cycle comfortably and with pleasure for a couple of hours outside; and yet, after 40 minutes on a turbo trainer I collapse in a bored, sore-bottomed and sweaty heap?

And I had imagined that by now I would be starting to feel a little lithe and fit, jumping out of bed in the morning with a more athletic gait.

I wish I couldn’t, but I can remember what it feels like actually to be fit. A long, long time ago, when I was 21, I was a keen and very fit rower. I remember the feeling of wanting to run everywhere, because walking was so slow; of standing up on the pedals of my old bike all the time, because sitting down was an unnecessary luxury; of being able to eat and drink what I wanted and still have a lower than 10% body fat.

But now, instead of feeling fitter, my knees creak. The low-carb diet is making little discernible impression on my midriff. My heels hurt from fallen arches. And frankly, instead of climbing into Lycra, I would sooner put on my comfortable cardie and sit down with a cocoa in front of Upstairs Downstairs.

But spring is in the air, I have a proper cycle planned for the weekend and the forecast is for sunshine.