It started so well. Legs full of beans. Sun in the sky while the south of Britain was being drenched. Great views over the Firth of Dornoch.
Then we had to leave the coast and go up and over the biggest, most barren, most windswept moor that I have ever had the fortune, and yet also the misfortune to traverse.
It's complicated. The scenery was drop dead gorgeous with fly fishermen standing in the river at we swept alongside. Except it wasn't so much of a sweep and a crawl. There was an almighty headwind trying to bowl us back to Cornwall.
The potted story is that I tried I hard, spent too long at the front, feeling great and with a smile on my face. But by the last 10 miles I was totally spent. Both legs screamed with pain. Not in a tired, achy way, but in a not sure if I can keep peddling because it hurts so much way. I crawled into Thurso. It really did hurt a lot. Really. But now am I warm and dry and about to go to the bar and all is well.
I feel too spent to wax philosophically now. That can wait until tomorrow when we cycle into JoG at around 10.30am. For now, it feels great to be so close.
I will add photos when I can. Maybe not tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment