The Met Office website forecast temperatures of around two to three degrees Celsius for 7.30 this morning. My Garmin begs to differ and proclaims a nippy minus three. I try to spin my legs in a low gear to generate some warmth. It is only marginally successful. The landscape around me is a crisped white, turning to pink. Thoughts of my warm and comfortable car creep into my head and I start to wonder why I am doing this. Almost on queue something catches my eye: the silhouette of a pheasant perched atop a gate, framed perfectly against the pale hills and the misted sun. I’m past it in a moment, but even so it’s a longer moment than in a car. And I know, again, why I am doing this.