The text read “what have I done?” with a link to the first blog about this ride.
I woke the next morning to find a reply waiting for me. To my surprise, actually I shouldn’t have been surprised Laura’s a glutton for punishment, the reply wasn’t “you’re a moron! WHY?” but “Epic! When? Can I come?” I had to think for a split second, and then re-read it. I replied telling her that since writing the blog the distance had crept up to 247 miles. The texts rattled back and forth for a while, then “Can I join?”
If I’m honest I had always pictured this as a solo ride, not because I didn’t want anyone with me but because I assumed that I didn’t know anyone who was mentally unbalanced enough to want to cycle from Plymouth to South Wales at all, never mind in 24hrs. It’s not like London to Paris. You don’t get to finish at the Eiffel Tower, or wonder along the Seine once you’ve finished. You’re in South Wales, it cold, you’re tired and it’s probably raining, a lot. But you can get a pint of Brains for your efforts.
To be honest we could have cycled from London to Paris, Plymouth to London, or even Plymouth to Barcelona – but finishing in Pontardulais just felt far more appropriate. More symbolic. If a little less glamorous.