Wonderful

Day 1

5:30 wake up call, breathe in breathe out, sit up, open tent flap, collect thoughts, dynamic stretching routine, put on gear, say good morning, eat clean, drink a bottle of water and serenely pedal off on my first mile.

5:30 start, wonder how much I'd have to pay to get out of this, run to toilet as I'm a little nervous, sheepishly walk to bike area to mount streamers, try applying anti-chafe-lube-can't-wait-to-never-use-again-cream to my backside whilst on all fours in tent (dignity finally gone), breakfast like a builder, trash talk anyone in ear shot, show people my backside and tell them to get used to it, lunge from breakfast area to bike area, warm up done, yell no autographs at the start line and fail to clip into my pedals as I realise I'm in the wrong gear. Mile 1 of 950.

Keep wondering if maybe I have won the lottery and I could pay an oriental looking boy to do this for me. The cycling that is.

The streamers are not getting in the way at all and i'm really glad I have them. There are a lot of people here, far too many to go through now but here is Louise at the generic campsite sign, we couldn't be bothered to go to the lands end sign and had to make due with this. When Louise had found out that I lied my way onto this cycle ride, she proceeded to do the same and a week later I was no longer the only person without a bike or helmet or any of the million things you need. It's safe to say she has a bike now.

Wondering how it is possible to start last and still get over taken. At one point I was convinced the broom bus was behind me. False alarm. Luckily I've bought a feeding bag (add another £15 to the money list) and we fill that up at the pit stops. Then, although I have promised to share the food, I subtly eat it myself without anyone knowing. This is the only time I even come close to being happy. I call it the Charlie-Cheer-Up, named in honour of a man who told me he would eat an energy bar at the mere sight of a hill and then another bar at the top of the hill just to reward himself.

I play a little game with myself. It's called "who will get saddle sores". So far it's everyone who has:

A) mocked my attire or accessories
B) anyone who has overtaken me
C) everyone who signed up for this.

This alone is likely to karma me senseless and ensure I have the sorest behind ever. Ever ever ever? Ever ever ever!

In terms of cycling, I felt sick for a three hour period and have arrived at a new low. Had it not been for Louise's metronomic pace I would have given up an gone home. Now I have to queue for a shower. Upsetting.