I have a love-hate relationship with cycling. Today for example I took five minutes out from work to grab my first chocolate of the day and watch the men's team pursuit final from Beijing. Ed Clancy, Bradley Wiggins, Paul Manning and Geraint Thomas blew the Danes away in a world record time and reminded me how good it feels when everything is in perfect synchronicity, man and machine as one flowing irresistibly across the surface like a swelling tide. I wanted to be somewhere on a bike, anywhere.

Not that many hours later I was on a bike, Sarah's bike, on the hill up from the station. My bike is currently off the road, the consequence of a lazy "maintenance" schedule - that's an aspect of cycling I definitely hate. Sarah's is probably lovely on forest tracks but with a seat you could park a truck on, knobbly tires, no mudguards, bouncy forks and small wheels it's not exactly the perfect commuter. And then the skies unleashed their full fury. Within a couple of minutes I was wetter than when I stepped out of the shower just now - at least in the shower your clothes don't hold the water against your skin. August has had the heaviest rainfall for 100 years and most of it was in my shoes. Any part of me overlooked by the rain was covered by spray from the standing water. I was literally wet through, despite a waterproof jacket. I wanted to be somewhere not on a bike, anywhere.

And so, while Brad and company fly through the streets in all weathers striving for the extra split second that changes silver to gold, I will nibble (OK, gobble) my chocolate bar and marvel from afar.