It rained so hard on the morning of Day 3 that I made a decision in the interests of the safety of my Friends ( rather than my own, to be honest ) that we couldn’t ride as a group of 4 bikes, in the rain and the spray of packed A roads without the risk of crashing.
Four guys taken out by a lorry, in one crash, wasn’t worth the risk.

Obviously, ten minutes after the rest rode off, the rain stopped altogether ( contrary to the forecast ).

I got helped into Kev’s van and had a spell hurling abuse out of the window at the other 11 at various points on the route.
Thanks to Toby for spraying me with water as he rode past…

We met after 50 miles and had a crepe and beer lunch, followed by me, at 2.30, getting on/into my arm bike for the second half.

Obviously it started to pour with rain ( contrary to the forecast … ) and kept raining for the next 6 hours.

55 miles later we got to La Baule, which has to have the world’s longest hotel seafront ( literally about 7 miles long ).

Shower/ complicated toilet routine and shave, then out for dinner and celebratory drinks with the lads, to end the trip.

Brief period slightly fascinated by a french porn movie ( Dan’s choice of channel ) then asleep by 1 am, and now in taxi at 8.20 feeling once more jaded.

Train back to London leaves shortly.
You get free wine on the train, but I’m not planning on having any, as it’s not exactly been a dry trip…

At 65 miles the cable of my ( only ) brake, broke.

What a crazily unsafe design? One brake?!

At that point I could have justifiably got in the van, as I had no way of stopping

Instead, I ( confessed ) to having a spare cable in my bag in the van.
Big mistake….It started to rain very hard shortly after we fixed it, and I had no further excuse ( as in I couldn’t let myself ) to give up.

The last 20 km went on for ever.
12 hours in total, including stops, and the 95 miles were up.
The lads gave me a round of applause as I finished, which wasn’t necessary, but was nice.

Was it the hardest thing I’ve done?
No way. Pre injury I did some very very hard things, but it was as hard as say running a marathon.

Would it have been the hardest thing 99% of people would have done? Yes, almost certainly.

Was it the hardest thing I’ve done since my injury? Yes.

Until tomorrow, when I’ve got to go ten miles further.

Can’t wait…

He lied.

Two years ago I came to France with 12 other cyclists and never made it to the end of the first day. Instead I broke my back and severed my spine and had a heart attack in surgery and broke 15 ribs and slipped into a coma.

Today I finished the ride and went out for a drink with those same great guys, who’d supported my ‘comeback’ unwaveringly and encouraged me through the 67 mile Day One ride.

This time I was lying down on using only my arms to propel myself. That’s a fair bit harder than using legs, take it from me.

Whilst I spoke openly about it not mattering whether I was capable of riding all the miles today, and there being no Shame in taking a lift in the support van with Kev, inside my head failure was never really an option.

After 3 hours  sleep my spasms are now keeping me awake. That’ll make the 140 km challenge tomorrow even more difficult, with rain forecast too.

No shame in getting a lift in the van with Kev, I tell myself…

Well my spasms have reduced, I don’t have an infection, and I have slept reasonably for 2 nights.

Maybe I’m over the worst of whatever it was, and I can concentrate on work and my upcoming challenge?

Pre injury I always seemed to hit good health by the date of a physical challenge… Maybe that lucky trait hasn’t deserted me?

Just discovered my 3 day arm bike ride this weekend is more like 100 miles a day than 70.

Given the furthest I’ve ridden in one go is 26 miles , that’s a fair bit more….

Ok then!

I’ve heard this song a hundred times, but never listened to the lyrics until today.

I think they apply to my future prospects.

I think back to my posts occasionally but don’t ever regret writing them.

What I don’t do is think I’ve ever been overly dramatic.

At the moment I’m at home, in the chair that holds me standing up.

My spasms are so hard/ violent that the whole contraption moves every few seconds.

It’s no fun, and  there seems no end to my setbacks – for every ‘gain’ there is a knock back shortly after.

Despite having a negative result in a recent urine test, I’m having another. I can’t believe it’s anything else. My legs jerk non stop and my middle jolts too. The chances of me sleeping are small. I’m supposed to function in the daytimes despite this, which I generally do, plus try to train on my arm bike for my. French ride next week. I’m  asthmatic too, not helping . I cough all the time, bringing up gunk from my compromised lungs. When I think back to how healthy and fit I was so very recently, never unwell, never sick from work, it is a shocking change. It’s hard enough to even contemplate it, let alone actually live it.

Its no wonder I sometimes place such little value on my mortality, as the quality of it is so diminished. I realise that there are parallels with getting old and going into decline, only I didn’t have that time to get used to it – it being a change from one second to the next , the hero to zero effect.

It’s hard to be optimistic about anything at all.

But thank you to the lovely Yasmine K ( aka The Hot Mum ) and quite a few other people, for trying. Without you , I’d be less likely to stick around.

I just drove around the bend I’ve chosen, 5 minutes ago.
Barrier, trees and a fence.
I slowed for a better look, and am pretty sure there s nothing behind the fence that my car might end up in.

Driving in tears probably isn’t safe, so I have to try not to do that, for the sake of other motorists.

I honestly don’t know why I am in tears, as I honestly don’t give a flying fuck.

As I drive to work, I’m halted in traffic so slow that I can type. Illegal I know, but I couldn’t care less.

In my sleepless night of spasms I plot my demise. Where best to crash my car, to maximum effect, without endangering anyone else.

These are not happy or normal thoughts, but they are thought coldly without any emotion.
Neither is it a cry for attention, as I consider my terminal act of no significance. Though a tear is rolling down my right cheek, which has now become several.

Will it be today? No. It’s my daughters’ first day at school, and I wouldn’t want to take the edge off that.

Why the change in my mood ( almost ‘buoyant’ of late ! )?
I can write about nearly everything, but not all publicly.

But there is someone responsible for this.