Day 30: I've paid my dues...

Lancaster, Lancashire to Warrington, Cheshire Via Greater Manchester and Merseyside
69.84 miles (1661.29 miles cumulatively)

You may well have noticed, as this Cycle England challenge has continued, that if there is something I can moan about or be sarcastic about, I probably will be! I seem to have linked into my sceptical side and been milking it for all it’s worth. Maybe that’s because I’m British and find me a brit that doesn’t actually enjoy having a good old moan about something. Or, maybe it’s because I think reading a blog most days, no matter how long or short, has to be a little more interesting that I did this, I did that and I arrived here.

With this in mind, I was thinking what could I possibly moan about toady, or what sarcy comment could I come up with to provide the witty base for my blog? And I have to be honest, I have to come clean, I struggled. For one particular reason. Normally, one of my biggest moans has been about the wind, the forceful weather condition that seemed hell-bent on forcing me backwards when I was trying to pedal myself forwards. I would have happily jumped on this bandwagon again today had it not been for the fact that it was a great friend to me today. Yes, a great friend and I am happy to admit that I am fickle when it comes to liking and disliking things. I hated the wind a couple of days ago, yet today I loved it! Brilliant. The strong wind helped to propel me southwards and onto Warrington and I arrived sooner than anticipated. When it works with you, you see, so much more can be achieved.

Worry not though, there was one thing that happened today that I feel was worth a little gripe, if nothing else, although here I feel I should tread carefully as it was involving a member of the public that was completely oblivious (and rightly so as they were doing nothing wrong!) to the burning rage and anger that was building up inside me! Let me paint you the picture. I was cycling out of Wigan when I came up on a man on a bike, with my guess being that he was just leaving work. He was what you might term and regular but not ‘serious’ cyclist I think. Obviously used to being on a bike but in no way looking like he should have been on a bike, and by this, I mean clothing-wise and not ability-wise. Massive workmen boots, ripped jeans showing the ever present builders’ bum. He was wearing a high-vis jacket…but nothing else on his top half and no helmet. I hope that you are putting the image into you head.

I pulled up behind him and followed for a little bit, as traffic was relatively busy and I was feeling pretty tired, 50 miles or so into the ride. You can imagine staring at this ‘crack’ poking out above the swaying jeans was not my idea of a pleasant view, and as I had not been working particularly hard to keep up, I put a little burst on and got by. What really, really irked me, was simply the fact that I could at any point, pull away from him. No matter how hard I worked, he was there behind me, no matter how fast I attempted to climb the hills, there he was, like a limpet to my back tyre. Here I was turning a section of today’s challenge into a race, plain and simple, and I was losing… to a bare-chested, bum-showing, massive boot-wearing commuter! I have to say, when I had pulled away eventually…alright, when he turned off and I carried on, I had to stop and give myself a firm talking to. Cycle England isn’t a race, it’s isn’t a competition, it’s about finishing and as that line gets ever closer, I, it seems, am having to work twice as hard to make sure that my focus doesn’t falter – I need to get from A to B and it doesn’t matter how many barely dressed cyclists keep up with me, or even pass me, I just need to get there.

Yet another lesson taught at the wheels of Cycle England.