The shop assistant was somewhat taken aback when, on asking me if he could help, I said: “Yes, I’d like a bike please” as casually as though I’d just ordered a tuna baguette. He probably gets more ‘I’m just looking – leave me alone’ type customers and I’m usually in this camp. But on Monday, frustrated by lack of running because of a problem with my leg, I decided to bite the bullet.

I have a bike. It’s a hybrid designed for commuting and it’s pretty good at doing that job. In the six years I’ve thrown it around the rough streets of central London, along cobbled paths in Wapping and down gravelly canal towpaths, it hasn’t yet had a puncture. But it’s not very fast – or I’m not very fast on it.

On Saturday I took it to Hyde Park and cycled a few laps, glum that I was on two wheels rather than two feet. I clocked up 20 miles and one (minor) celebrity sighting – it was a rich kid from Made in Chelsea although I’m starting to think he might not be that rich after all, riding as he was a Boris Bike.

As I spend less time running, more time in the pool getting my swim on, and with this week’s revelations by my swim coach, it was about time that I upgraded my steed and got a new bike. Because I’m reliably informed that that’s what triathletes do: they spend money they don’t have on their sport. I’ve also entered my  first cycle event just to prove how serious I am about this triathlon stage – it involves beer and cycling which totally counts as a duathlon!

Unlike my current bike, the new bike is a ‘road bike’, which means it looks pretty smart, it has curly purple handlebars that will give me back pain to reach over and narrow tires that will puncture once every revolution. What’s not to look forward to? It will also take a couple of weeks to arrive – so quite a bit longer than that cheese sandwich.