In my experience, all big adventures are made up of mini-adventures. Even a middle distance triathlon contains highs and lows – a glorious and stunning swim can be followed by a legs failing to work out how to pedal on a bike and the runs can switch from fast waddle to springing scamper to trailing trudge within the space of half a mile.

Cue, a training bike ride on a lovely sunny day. Vicki hadn’t been out on her bike for a while, needed to re-acquaint herself with the concept of cleats and gears. (For those that haven’t experienced this, the dangerous moment is not when you first use cleats because you’re always conscious of being clipped in. The dangerous moment comes when you’ve been doing it for a while, forget that you’re still clipped in and have to suddenly stop at a traffic light. Cue a slow descent to the tarmac.) We decided upon an easy ride to test the legs and bikes.

The road from Colwick out to Southwell is not my favourite cycling route. The route is a magnet for all kinds of vehicles – all seemingly in a hurry to reach farflung destinations and none of whom are enamoured by the multitude of traffic cones warning of impending roadworks. We sought sanctuary in the form of the cycle path, but such a course followed a pattern often seen with cycle paths – the sudden cessation of the path for reason known only to planning officials, the unforeseen obstacles notably those made of fine glass, deadly to bicycle wheel tyres. Consequently we sought respite by turning right and sought a path along the river.

This mini-adventure began well – the path, which was a wide gravel variety meandered along the water in an idyllic pastoral setting and we pedalled away merrily. All did not remain well, however, as the gravel gave way to rabbit path and nature sought to reclaim that which was once hers. Where once, air had circulated around the ankles, greenery of all descriptions encroached upon our space. Narrower and narrower the path became with space little wider than a bicycle tyre upon which to balance. Faced with the prospect that any tumble from the bike would result in a bed of nettles (if lurching to the left) or a bed of brambles (if to the right), remaining upright became of paramount importance. And thus Vicki re-learned her cycling skills.