Rebook flights, a transfer to Inverness and a hotel so we can coast on day 9. The end is in sight, just need to keep it together for day 9.
Day 9 - set off in the dark and rain, both Louise and I are in a rubbish mood. Everyone and everything is annoying us, especially people shouting "on your right". The 20 mile uphill stretch goes on and on and I think boredom has well and truly set in.
To break up the monotony I pull up to relieve myself, by now undertaken while perched on my stationary bike in pretty much full view of anyone unfortunate enough to look. I am tired and fail to notice the different road surface on the side road, the fact is it wet, that I'm going too fast and break as I turn. On cue my bike slips from under me and I get hurled across the road. Next thing I go ballistic screaming and roaring fu*k this ride, fuc* this day, f*ck this bike...and on and on all the while kicking my floored bicycle.
Eventually Louise tells me to get a grip and I think I have broken my toe so was stopping the bike abuse anyway, walk to the side of the road and angrily pee. Then I don't speak to anyone for the next 45 miles.
I also make the mistake of eating two Ginster cheese and ham pies at the second pit stop after which I am far too bloated to cycle and all the blood rushes to my stomach. More petulant cycling with Louise about a mile behind our group...until someone shouts 5 miles.
5 miles to go - Louise and I take off the unnecessary rain jackets and begin speeding past all the people that have overtaken us.
4 miles to go - I throw my newly bought winter gloves into the fields, we are motoring.
3 miles to go - we have caught our group and are riding at the front pushing all the people previously riding at the front to the back.
2 miles to go - we have one dextrose tablet as we are now quite tired again but refuse to come off the front. We can smell the ocean. Truth is we have been cycling by the ocean for hours.
1 mile to go - it dawns on us that we are so close to finishing this. Before we know it we are over the finishing line, have a medal, a photo with the sign, have packed our bikes and are waiting for the transfer to Inverness. Ride. Across. Britain. Done.
The reality of what we have just finished is yet to sink in and it feels a bit like the anti climax after completing an exam. It turns out I'm in the bottom 12 cyclists to have made it through and Louise is about 6 places higher up. I'm numb both emotionally and physically, I'm glad it's over and can safely say I went though hell in the first 6 days. I'm not sure I am in love with cycling but that doesn't really matter now, I've somehow smuggled my way through this and after all I did 10 miles more than anyone.
I also win the final falling competition between me and Louise 4:3 so that's nice.
Driving back to Inverness in a car feels somewhat weird and far too fast. The sensation of sleeping in a bed and changing my clothes while standing is equally novel, as is the sight of my full body in a mirror. I realise that I'm in a state of shock and this may take some time to wear off, my head feels strangely empty.
Tomorrow I travel back to London, rest for a bit and in a week will begin my boxing career. I'll just have to buy some equipment and gear...
Over and out.
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