In twelve days six of us will be meeting at Land’s End. All of
a sudden, the start date is looming on the horizon. It’s too late now to gain
much from any long rides, to regret miles I’ve not done and we’re down to the questions
which may not have answers until we’re on our way: have I booked the right
number of beds in the right places? Have I got everything I need for myself and
my bike? where is my passport? Why on earth did I decide to do this? Why didn’t somebody stop me
before it was too late?
After fifteen marathons, I should be used to these sort of
feelings: the ticking clock in the back of your mind that never really switches
off, the double-checking of everything, the uncertainty of whether it’s better
to have the pink top or the blue one, followed by the certainty that
the final decision will depend upon how much each weighs and it’ll be the
lightest that wins. (I’ll admit it: I did once weigh seven pairs of shoes before
a marathon to see which were lightest and therefore which would make me faster.
It was the only time I got under five hours for the distance so it obviously
worked.) The five grams of weight I might save could be the difference between
getting up a hill or not. The cake I eat before I start up the hill may have a greater
effect.
The first place we’re staying will give us home-made
saffron buns in our packed lunch. This made me think of each day and the route
now goes along these lines: pasty, cream tea, cheese, cider, oatcakes, Eccles cakes, Chorley cake, mint cake, Moffat
toffee, soor plums, tablet, shortbread, haggis, whisky and finally Jaegerbomb with ice (that
last one’s another story!).
So, two weeks today we’ll be on our way to Exeter, having
left Land’s End two days before. We hope to arrive there before the iconic signpost is
removed for the night but in the meantime I have an alternative.
Wish us luck!
