TRAT

I left you at the top of Helmsdale with me crowing in a triumphant and doubtless rather vulgar way about my unprecedented fitness levels. A man of my age should have known it’s unwise to crow.

Just around the corner from Helmsdale is its evil twin, Berriedale, a shorter but sharper ascent that some might say is a bit of an unnecessary additional climb but others would probably describe as the true test of hilly manliness. I suppose the way a cyclist would describe it might depend on whether they raced up it and, if so, whether they won.

Our last day was also our longest – some kind of sick joke there on the part of the organisers. We had 157 miles to cover, with another very long post-lunch blast of 80 miles.

I’m not sure what we were expecting really. By this stage we’d all gone through various pain barriers, come out the other side and found new ones to deal with. We knew there would be the thought of that finish line sustaining us but would its attraction prove strong enough? There was only one way to find out…

First, an apology: I was defeated by technology, tiredness and triumphalism over the past few nights so didn’t update this blog. Even if I had found it in me to seek out connections and stay up that bit later to get down my thoughts, they would have been pretty incoherent ones so I’m playing the quality control card too.

I must warn you: this blog entry could be gibberish from start to finish. I’m shattered, the cold has turned nasty and I can hardly string a sentence together. So I’m going to keep it short and sweet. Today’s numbers: 137 miles at 15.2mph average, 6000 feet climbed. We started in Kendal and finished in Edinburgh and thankfully didn’t have much urban riding to contend with like we did yesterday.

Day three of The Race Against Time took us from Telford to Kendall – that’s 136 miles with a relatively modest 3,000 feet or so of climbing that we covered at an average of around 15.5mph. That brings our total mileage to something like 445, which means we're more than halfway there.

Day two of the TRAT ride started in Taunton and finished 153 miles away in Telford. We climbed 5400 feet and managed a 15.5 mph average (any one of these figures could be wrong, by the way. I was only told them five minutes ago but my brain appears to have turned to mush).

I’m writing this in a small study-bedroom in a student hall of residence in Taunton with just one bar of mobile internet coverage with which to share it. It’s 9.20pm and we’ve been here for a couple of hours now, following our 157-mile ride from Land’s End that started at 6.30 this morning.

Never mind cycling 860-odd miles in six days, I’m struggling to work out how I’m going to make it to Watford Junction tomorrow morning with all this lot.

All being well I’ll be catching a train tomorrow morning at 0649. I’ll have to change at Clapham Junction and catch another train to Watford, where I’ll meet up with the TRAT-mobile (ok, a minibus) that’ll take us down to Land’s End.

Just four days to go now until we set off for the big TRAT adventure and I’m finding it increasingly tricky to think or talk about anything other than this blessed bike ride – to my wife’s ongoing amusement.

Just two weeks to go before my end-to-end adventure begins and although it feels incredibly foolhardy to say so, I think I’m pretty much ready to go.

My Enigma came back from the shop this week following its pre-TRAT service. It looks beautiful, hums along almost inaudibly on its newly rebuilt rear hub, and feels taut and up for it. And thanks to the generosity of Chris and his team at Baker Street Bikes in Brighton, I only paid for the parts. What a nice bunch they are.