I don’t like riding uphill

1 day, 12 hours, 55 minutes, to go.

“Are you doing the Wild Wales this year?”
“No, I don’t like hills.”
“But you are riding the Fred Whitton – that doesn’t make sense?”

No, no it doesn’t.

This weekend I head off up to the Lake District for bit of an adventure. Butterflies in my tummy – but heading off with a group of about 15 cycling club mates to arrive, head out for food together, sleep, and then by all accounts what I expect to be the hardest and most painful day on a bike that I have ever experienced (…and I have been riding at a club level for over 20 years)…. oh, and I am not confident I will be able to complete the course either.

As you can appreciateĀ  – this does not fill me with a sense of joy – but one of foreboding.

However – still I am going. There must be something wrong with me. To be fair, athletes we are not, so I take solace in the fact I am not alone… there must be a lot of faulty thinking going on.

If you want interesting things to happen, do interesting things” – as I read this week – while unrelated, it made me think. Somewhere between that and the “Plan B: Cancer to Corsica” film – there is a truth – a ‘good pain’ – a knowing you are alive – meeting great people who get that, people from all walks of life – no matter what you’re riding… you are there… you are feeling the same pain (although it may be at different speeds). I guess it is about stretching yourself, putting yourself to the test… to grow, to learn, it’s okay to fail – hell, its a written down, paid up, in the book requirement.

So whatever the weekend brings – here is to the people – the scenery – the banter… and how much I am going to be cursing your name Fred Whitton.

*I still dislike riding uphills.

Oh – and I signed up for the Wild Wales.

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