So Christmas came – and went – in a blur of wrapping paper, Nigella Lawson recipes, norovirus and influenza. January slowly heaved its tired self into our lives and oh-so-sluggishly faded into February – we’ve had cold, we’ve had snow, we’ve had those evenings when hibernation seems to have been something that humans should have taken up a long time ago. I was thinking about this the other evening just after putting the kids to bed – but then I fell asleep on the sofa. Oh well.

Now February is passing by and I can feel that maybe the impossible will happen – maybe it won’t be that long now before the weather warms up, and the evenings lengthen – and it no longer feels like the day is a short, cold trial of strength between long, somnolent evenings and frosty nights. Right now the thought of the challenges in the year to come still seems forbidding – but the hope is that that will soon turn to excitement.

I finished last year’s writing with a luxuriant ride through the accomplishments of 2012 – albeit with a sharp focus on my bike – but no clear view as to what the goals for this year is. The intervening months have brought a clarity, of sorts. There is only 1 goal, really. Only one that matters.

I mean, there’s lot’s of goals, of course – little things like learning French, riding the 100 mile sportive, finishing in the front group in a scratch race at the club (am I mad?) and doing the Etape Pennines again – all these things are good, but just the logical extension of where I was last year. But there’s only one thing that I really want to do.

I used to have dreams, you see – dreams of my own success – of promotion, of advancement, of people who would look at me and see – see someone strong, smart, big, gifted – great.

These things have melted away and I’m not left with much. But what I have, I love. I want to ride my bike this year, to write, and yes, to try to crowbar a little bit of the French language into my brain. But the one thing that really matters, the one thing I want to excel in – is just to love.

There’s a lot of training to do to hit that goal; a lot of hard yards needed to excel at that particlular discipline. But there’s three people in this house (and a then a world outside) to do it for; and that’s my goal this year.

That and the 100 miles; bloody hell that’s going to hurt.