You roll through the traffic lights just before the big uphill, and there's a couple of dudes rocking lycra up ahead. You drop the hammer just as their thoughts turn to suffering. As you hear them clicking down through their cassette, seeking solace in a nice easy ring, blast by them like a foul hot wind from the north.
Your legs will hurt but don't show it. Keep your upper body still so it looks like you're cruising.
As you crest the hill, resist the urge to turn round and blow them a big sloppy kiss.
BONUS TIP: If you suffer such a shortage of humility, it will be punished: Later that day the lycra warriors will track you down, knock you out of your swivel chair, pin you to the floor of the open plan office, close your spreadsheet without saving, then remove your skin and ride off wearing it fluttering behind as a tattered red cape.