What an amazing first day – Cirencester to West Drayton (75 miles ish)! Felt very emotional this morning as it all came together, and the bikers, crew and hoards of supporters gathered in the Market Place to begin our journey. Forgot to check the bus times, so slight delay as we waited for the number 10 to pull out, but then we were on our way to cheers from the crowd.
There were spills, there were far too many hills, there were punctures, there were cramps, there were stragglers, there were wrong turns but we all made it safe to the end of day 1. The crew have been incredible; feeding us, fixing us, fixing our bikes. Ellie is sat next to me right now making an appointment book for massages, she’s in high demand already.
So on behalf of all my fellow Bliss Baby Bikers, a little poem …
Ode to my bum!
Bump , bump, bump
Went my poor, sorry bum,
Bouncing in the saddle
All day long.
It’s the end of day one,
And my what a farce,
My legs won’t stand, but
I can’t sit on my arse.
Every muscle is sore,
The pain is quite rotten,
But the one that aches most
Is my poor, battered bottom.
The scenery is nice,
The road mostly smooth,
But the occasional rut
Jolts every nerve in my butt.
I admit it’s quite squishy,
And prepared to do battle
But the bones in my tushi,
My how they rattle.
The only relief,
From the pains in my arse,
Is born from a grape
And comes in a glass.
There were spills, there were far too many hills, there were punctures, there were cramps, there were stragglers, there were wrong turns but we all made it safe to the end of day 1. The crew have been incredible; feeding us, fixing us, fixing our bikes. Ellie is sat next to me right now making an appointment book for massages, she’s in high demand already.
So on behalf of all my fellow Bliss Baby Bikers, a little poem …
Ode to my bum!
Bump , bump, bump
Went my poor, sorry bum,
Bouncing in the saddle
All day long.
It’s the end of day one,
And my what a farce,
My legs won’t stand, but
I can’t sit on my arse.
Every muscle is sore,
The pain is quite rotten,
But the one that aches most
Is my poor, battered bottom.
The scenery is nice,
The road mostly smooth,
But the occasional rut
Jolts every nerve in my butt.
I admit it’s quite squishy,
And prepared to do battle
But the bones in my tushi,
My how they rattle.
The only relief,
From the pains in my arse,
Is born from a grape
And comes in a glass.
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