Chris, my workmate, is cycling from London to Paris for charity.

He told us, ‘The ride take three days and covers 234 miles — and I’ll be trying to do it on my single speed. No gears!’

‘Wow, Chris,’ we marvel.

‘I might have taken on more that I can handle,’ he admitted. ‘Especially on the last day, when I have to do 85 miles.’

I nodded. ‘I remember one time that I bit off more than I could chew. I had just learned to ski and found a nice flat blue run. I soon found out it was steep, too steep for baby Joan skiier. But it was too late. I was now on the slope. I spent the whole time falling and crying, falling and crying, falling and crying, all the way to the bottom.’

I made a sad face.

‘So don’t worry, Chris. Once you start, you’ll get to Paris, one way or another.’

‘Thanks, Joan.’