Well, as excuses for not getting on the bike go, this one's up there with the best.
Honest, guv'nor, I was just about to pull on the lycra and don the cleated shoes when - wallop. Some clown drives into the side of our flat, smashing the bathroom window in the process.
It's icy out there at the moment, but you'd have thought people would bear that in mind when approaching a t-junction. But no. So I'm sitting down at the kitchen table contemplating an hour of intensive spinning on the turbo and the next thing I hear is the thud of a turbocharged Toyota getting on first-name terms with our bathroom. I pull the curtain back to check what's going on and see a middle-aged, dark-haired, worried-looking woman reverse and pull away briskly.
Thing is, I know she saw me looking at her, but she obviously thought it was best to just brazen it out and clear off. She also must have seen me jotting down her registration number, so why she didn't just pull over and face the music I'll never know.
Still, she'll be getting a visit from the Plod soon enough and doubtless will learn a valuable and expensive lesson.
Speaking of which, the entire episode has taught me a lesson too, to wit: doing nothing and contemplating training can be just as bad for you as getting on with it. I will get on that bike tomorrow.