A packing story

 “John I’ve got to stop!” I shouted as the pain in my neck stabbed me again. We rolled to a halt about 2 miles outside Cawdor near Inverness. It was just before 7 am and I had not slept for over 24 hours. I had completed 1182 km of the 1408 km of the LEJOG 1400 Audax event in 96 hours and there was 226km and 20 hours and forty minutes to go. I was exhausted and struggling to hold my head up riding the bike.

John Watt and I had been cycling together since 10pm the previous evening when we left Braemar as darkness was descending. The organiser had encouraged us to ride together for safety’s sake and we both readily agreed to that. We had cycled and walked over the four long climbs including the infamous Lecht with its gradients of over 20%. John had been a great riding companion. The sun was now beginning to warm us.

The intermittent pain in my neck had started to get worse when left the Braemar control. I had taken a tablet  of paracetamol to dull it, but I did not want to have any more as it would make me drowsier than I already was. Not something to be when riding a bike.

My frequent needs to stop were slowing us down, and I was concerned that at our rate of progress neither of us would finish in time. I really wanted to have a snooze by the side of the road for half an hour but the midges were deterring that. John was clearly capable of continuing faster than me, and now we were out of the hills there was less of a need for safety in numbers.

Another LEJOG cyclist went by, shaking his fist in the air in a show of determination. I shouted to John “I am going to stop and call my wife to come and pick me up in Cawdor. You go with him. Finish it for me.” John looked at me sadly and chased after the other rider who was disappearing up the road.

I phoned my wife who had been staying in a hotel in Tomintoul just after the Lecht climb. She had been watching my dot moving slowly over the map all night, and even come out to greet me at three o’clock in the morning on the road and pass me a warmer riding jacket to add to the layers of cycling clothes I was wearing.

I rolled down the hill into Cawdor where there was a large grassy area around a war memorial, free of midges. I sent a message to the organiser, stopped my Garmin recording, and sat down and waited for my lift.

That is what happened. Now here is the alternative reality. I did not message the organiser and stop my ride. I phoned my wife asking her to meet me in Kirkhill. I then got the groundsheet out of my bag, laid it on the grass by the war memorial, and slept for an hour. I woke up feeling refreshed after the nap and carried on to Kirkhill 33 km away where I slept for another two hours. My wife Esther massaged my neck and put some tape on it. I departed the Kirkhill control just before it closed at 12:15. The ride of 193 km to John O’Groats at 18 kph with one hour of stops took me 12 hours and I arrived at John O’Groats at midnight, three hours and forty minutes before it closed.

So why did this imaginary outcome not happen? I had an easy option: my wife with a car. I decided to drop out when I was feeling my worst. I miscalculated how much time I had left, thinking I could not finish in time when I could. The main lesson learnt was “sleep on the decision to pack.” Make the decision when you have had a rest and made a realistic estimate of your finish time. And beware of the easy options!

 

 

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