"Make the pain stop, I will tell you eveything!!"
|Time||7 hours 14 mins|
So today was never gonna go well, maybe because some idiot has been quietly extending our distance quota on each day (Yep … Jeremy Clarkson is riding with us) Well today today the elastic snapped.... as it inevitably does when you strain it too much. Things started bad with some painful up and downs and then proceeded to get insane as we entered the forest of Bowland. Basically a brutal 25km of leg breaking … morale sapping evilness.
The road (although very pretty and nice scenery) was a 45 degrees .. wall of death or a 45 degrees decent of crazyness. Not great big hills but long enough to really hurt. Coupled with the wet weather, the corners were a river of water. We were paying the price for pushing it over the last days. Eventually the Forest of Bowland came to the end and we descended onto the relatively flat of the sprawl of Bolton and Warrington.
We limped the bikes across the Mersey and finished at Runcorn – where our fantastic driver picked us up and took us to Chester for the stop over. We booked ourselves into the local pub quiz where we realised we have no chance (although Quizzy McQuizFace as a team name hopefully got a laugh) although not as much as the question… “How many Toes does a camel have ?” After an entree of various flavoured crisps / chips / whatever you call em in your country (the pub had stopped food) we were so hungry we walked 5k to a local shop and ordered midnight Kebabs (chilly sauce required)
We introduced our driver to the custom of eating 5 bites of the garbage and then posting it into the first bin you can find. (I woke early …. to spend some time in the bathroom “contemplating todays ride”) I left it all on the road today, but The Forest of Bowland beat me up good and proper.
AND SOME WORDS FROM OUR DRIVER....
Salads out, and kebabs in.. hardcore cycling diet in full effect. | finally getting things sorted on the nutritional front. you are welcome. Now look , i like a good kebab at the right moment and was this ever the right moment. those flavored crisps above were the most awful blend of potatoes since the famine. Who takes a potato and thinks you know what would be better — lets make this taste like a mushroom/beet vegetable medley — but since the pub couldn’t figure out how to make food and focused their Q&A on obscure pop song artists from the 1980’s and camel toe the team was flagging. So leave it to the kebab man to rally the spirits and stay open late to serve the leftover kebab “meat” into some poor excuses to contract salmonella at midnight. Apparently the defense for this was to only take of few bites and ditch it in the vain hope that only inserting the tip would somehow avoid the consequences that we all knew would follow. Surprisingly no ghosts visited in the night, no cupboard rattling or eerie footsteps — also no women–because the stench and thunder that was firing out all night and morning could have kept Lord Nelson himself at bay. So far this is setting up just like watching England play football. A fast start, a good moment or three that you hope is more than it is, and then the slow steady decline into madness– but bloody meaty fueled goodness. We have finally left the salad days behind us.
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