Oh Blimey!

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!