The hill stretches out in front of me. The gradient not too unkind, for now. Yet it is continuous, unrelenting. The hill a struggle, as all hills seem to be.
When you have reached the age of 50 and your legs have thousands of miles of cycling in them, the mind is fond of reminding you that what you are doing is silly.
Cycling hundreds of miles.
In all weathers.
Up hills and mountains.
In full knowledge that hills hurt and you labour up them, looking for that extra gear or two you don’t have, looking for the crest, the summit that is often invisible, hiding, mocking. Like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow….within reach, but shifting constantly.
You reach the top. But it was false hope. A brief respite and the road kicks up again. Steepening and ever upwards.
The pain redoubled. Your efforts renewed, but your legs screaming at you to stop. Your inner voice laughing at you. Telling you to stop. The wind mercilessly pushing and nagging at you. Telling you to stop.
But you don’t.
I’ve done it before. I’ve cycled 100 mile days many times. I’ve done over 150 miles in a day. I’ve cycled alone. I’ve climbed hills and mountains. I’ve reached the top. And savoured the all too short respite of a fast, exhilarating descent.
Why do it again? What are you proving and to whom? Yourself, the doubters or the encouragers?
The answer is simple. But it is what drives me on and provides all the motivation I need.
It is never a case of proving you can and are able. It is a case of doing something you enjoy and take immense pleasure and pride in. But doing so for those who can never have such opportunities. Those who can not and will never cycle a metre, let alone hundreds of miles. Those who can not and will never take a single step, let alone climb mountains. Those who through disability or illness can not and will never experience the freedom of exhilaration, the rush of adrenaline, the delight of achievement in completing a challenge such as cycling from one end of the country to the other or standing on a mountain summit and viewing the world below.
This Friday I will begin my latest charity fundraising challenge for Make A Wish and in memory of my daughter Milla.
Cycling 340 miles / 550km from Aberystwyth to Lowestoft, the West Coast of Wales to the East Coast of England in 3 days.
Alone. Just me, my bike, the Welsh mountains, the hills of England, the wind and possibly rain.
Every hill will send my stomach turning, an apprehension of pain and a desire for it to be over. The hills will probably turn my legs to jelly at some point.
But the one thing this cycle challenge will be is not pointless.
Because of the money raised already, Make A Wish will continue to give seriously ill and disabled children experiences and memories and happiness. Each wish granted will help in so many ways. And every child will feel as if they are standing at the top of a huge mountain, after a long climb. The world at their feet and a heart full of joy.
To support me and Make A Wish you can donate to my justgiving page;