Cyclists in various states of mental and physical health are wandering around our luxurious (compared to F1) hotel in various states of consciousness following an ordeal of a day. Some people do this for fun. Those people are insane. Arduous, excruciating, soul crushing, arse shredding is what it is!
110 is a ridiculous number of miles to cycle in one day. The hills were brutal. People and bikes are broken. I haven't cried yet but it's been close, particularly when Joan was elbowing the knots out my shoulders. But we all pushed through those miles and made it up those hills; an amazing group of people taking time off work to push their limits to raise money for poorly babies and youth sport.
Let me introduce you to the cyclists:
- The Essex Boys - Andrew, Jon, Trev, Jase, Alex and me (I am an honorary Essex Boy, except I speak the queen's English and can't keep up with them on a bike)
- The Cotswold Massive - Big Dan, Normal Size Dan, Will, Chelsey, Chris, Greg 'The Power' (and me)
- The Northerners - Phil, Dean, Toby, Asia, Lucy
- The Proper Northerners (with accents) - Scarby, Pete, Hugh
- And, of course, Fadi
And the crew - keeping us organised, fed, and safe:
- Andy - the guy responsible for our suffering, has a tendency to tell big fat lies about how many hills lie ahead; former friend
- Sam - goddess of the al fresco kitchen, keeping us fed and watered; giver of fantastic hugs
- Sian - first aider and sous chef; also my very lovely roommate
- Paul and Matt - patiently driving the support vans, administering mechanical help, operating the megaphone (so motivational)
- Ian, Mike & Toby - fantastic outriders keeping us on track
- Joan - masseur extraordinaire, making people wince and cry but ultimately feel better
At supper Mr Hammond rightfully won the 'Biggest Bell End' of the day award for his part in our suffering and for lying about that last hill! A round of pool was decided on by the Essex contingent but our interest was short lived due to lack of, well, interest, and we're now all in bed. Not together. Although who knows what Andrew and Trev are up to, and Jon's in for a night of it as those 5 energy gels Jase had will undoubtedly stage a comeback.
I'm just hoping the liberal application of voltarol to my knees will stop them screaming in agony by morning. As for my vagina, I'm not sure I still have one.