I did.
It was a beautiful sunny but fresh day, everything one could dream of for a
healthy ride down south. Off I set with actionman in front of me using the
state of the art mapping technology (a few pen marks on his wrist with road numbers).
A few miles in, I realised that wearing pants as well as the padded shorts was
not ideal. The uncomfortable pain started. The wind started to pick up and let’s
just say it was not on our side or even behind us. The only thing behind me at
this point was my nice warm bed. It was an extremely hilly route but these
provided a challenge so onwards and upwards!
A quick pit stop at a petrol station off the A23 meant I could remove the pants
and then realised I had had the shorts on the wrong way round the whole time -
so the second half of the trip definitely 'sat' a lot better. Made it to the
quaintest village I have seen in a long time, the smell of freshly cut grass
the remains of the wedding celebrations from the week before made me smile
inside. The smile did not return as we arrived at the same village for the
second time after taking a small detour and following the wrong 'cycle route
20' signs. The moral was not looking good at this point. It also didn’t help
that every time I saw the cycle route sign I wondered why the 20 was not going down
as it was the route number and not the amount of miles we had left.
Finally after pushing through the pain barrier and nearly being knocked over a
bus whilst cycling up the duel carriage way we saw the gates of Brighton and
Hove, the sun shined down on them as if a sign from….well it was a better sign
than the blue cycle route sign.
Weaved our way through friendly couples and the trendy crowd of Brighton we
made it to the Pier. A lovely lunch then ensued and all was forgotten. I was
with my favourite people and eating jerk chicken, what more could a girl ask
for.
Stay put for the next episode of long distance cycling by girls x
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