Tumbled vegetation drops to the green levels that flood in winter.

In the far distance is a highway.

This morning, in a lane, on a straight stretch, a hare ran ahead of me for a minute or two. He knew my speed. He was pacing himself.

(So different from rabbits which zigzag randomly and nearly run under my wheels.)

In a low gear the bicycle creaks. It’s hard.

Sometimes, on hard stretches, I think about the mechanics of the bicycle to distract myself. I have been reading about bicycles.

I still can’t fathom whether a low gear “amplifies” or “reduces” my “torque”. Those terms I don’t really understand.

I do understand “cadence” now. Cadence monitors the optimum rate for turning the pedals, the best way to use your energy. I guess the optimum rate must be based on the weight and mass of the load and the force you yourself can comfortably supply.

I don’t wear lycra. I wear grey jerseys and base layers from a firm called Mon Chapeau. And I wear black shorts, and black mountain-bike shoes from Shimano.

I have a titanium-grey helmet and put a grey or green bandana beneath it in summer.

The hare has reminded me of Barry Flanagan. I once knew him. He made the wonderful bronze hare sculptures.

I tried to picture them on my ride. And later collected some images from the internet.