It's one thing to talk about riding from London to Paris from the comfort of your office. It all sounds pretty inocuous when you're having a sandwich and talking it over with some other unsuspecting fool. Pootling down to Dover ("...it must be downhill - all the way to the sea....") and then three whole days to get to Paris and all the cheese and red wine you like on arrival.
Once you get the bike, the kit and you've paid your entry fee there's no going back. The worst thing is, you've told (boasted?) to all your mates about how wonderful it's going to be, you've even enjoyed their incredulous comments (you must be mad etc etc). You've made your bed and now it's time to lie in it.
The various members of our team have only compared training by email so far (which always leads to exaggeration about how many miles have been done). Last week gave me the first opportunity to find out...
It is quite a shock to see your respected work colleagues in lycra for the first time. It is only now I realise that my own authority at work started to erode from the point when I first came into the office in my cycling gear....
After a somewhat later than anticipated start, we rolled out onto quiet roads in rural worcestershire. As we turned the first corner there was a loud crash behind me as one of our team forgot to release from the pedals as he came to a stop - luckily the cars managed to avoid him - not the best beginning for our trip.
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