It really isn't a race.
If it was, I'd be wearing a number. If I'm following a route marked out by cones curving across several lanes it's only because it's impossible to not do so at some point on any journey of reasonable length through a modern roadwork-filled city. If it was a race I probably wouldn't be wearing a rucksack, certainly not one containing a litre of coffee in a metal flask, a bag of sandwiches, a muffin, half a litre of fruit juice, a heavy non-compact camera and an entire compartment packed with multi-tools and sufficient spare batteries to power my lights for a week. I'd probably not race with all my lights attached, nor both my locks, nor my mudguards. If I was racing I'd probably have cleated myself to my crank, not worn my all-purpose trainers to push cheap flat pedals.
When I head out on my bike, I'm either going to a defined somewhere (to work/back home, a shop, or another specific geographic thing) or just popping out for a random trundle to an indefinite anywhere constrained only by time, deciding as I approach each junction where to head next. The route I take to and from the fixed location of my work varies according to the weather, traffic or time. It can be adjusted as I go but will usually just be the route I select when I set off. A shop could be as specific as a particular branch of a named chain but might be as vague as wherever might have the required item(s) in stock, outside which there's something to which I'd be happy to leave my bicycle secured and which is open at the appropriate time. Sometimes it'll be whichever shop is far away enough to render a trip to it a reasonable exercise. If I have enough free time in the evening to head out for a ride just for the sake of it I'll sometimes go somewhere specific but sometimes I'll just wander with no intention other than to perhaps go up or down a road or path or two along which I cannot recall having previously travelled.
Apart from the optional variables of there being somewhere specific to end up or something specific I have to return with, I go where I want to go at the speed at which I wish (or happen) to travel, adjusted according to the conditions whether of the weather, the road surfaces, the traffic or my legs: I sometimes feel fresh and full of energy and go faster; sometimes I feel weak or tired and inclined to take the easiest route I can think of at an unstressed pace. Traffic generally means motor traffic, as it may determine my choice of route as well as my speed; the first turning I take out of the office every evening entirely depends on the size of the queue of cars heading southwards at the end of the road. If it's raining reasonably heavily and I wear a waterproof I'll have to go slowly to not sweat myself damper than the rain would have made me. If I find myself on a particularly poorly-surfaced road I'll slow down to ensure I have time to avoid the worst wheel-knackering surprises; if I accidentally select a cobbled street I'll go slowly enough to feel assured that my frame won't be shaken apart, nor my lights or locks rattled free from their housings.