My bike has three gear settings – “easy”, “hard” and “broken”. The “easy” setting is far too slow, and the “hard” one becomes “Lance Armstrong” with rough weather. This is why I hate headwind, with a passion.

The autumn weather in Copenhagen is unpredictable. Usually, just before going out I take a peek out the window and if the sun is shining and the trees still standing then it means I’m good to go. But when I step out the door a mere two minutes later, everything will have changed and, as I have less patience than an air traffic controller, I set off despite the horrible conditions. And the horrible conditions usually manifest themselves in headwind.

Because on “easy” gear you move at the pace of a retarded child, I have no option but to LiveStrong. Trodding the same path every day means that I have no desire in just cruising and enjoying the scenery. Or as countless stags have told countless hookers at the Hanoi Hilton penthouse: “Lady, I’m not here for the fucking view”.

The Danes themselves seem rather accustomed, and even smug about the whole thing. Some day as we were sitting at an 8 o’clock lecture at the uni, one of us confronted the professor over the undelivered promise of good weather for the morning classes, to which he replied, with a broad smile: “I know what I promised. But I ordered the bad weather, to keep you awake.”

“Doesn’t it make you feel so alive?” he further inquired.

The inquiry was met with a resounding “No.

I can see the offshore wind turbines from my window. I think the fifth windmill is broken. Maybe I should call someone?