LEJOG - One Man and his Blog...

I gave a little whistle and a 'here boy!'.   Balloon Dog came bounding over.  His tongue hung out like that of a fit butchers dog, only he's a small one with overblown goggly eyes, trotting in the heather as happy as Larry and as light as air...  (well he kinda is - he's a balloon dog for God's sake).  'Away boy, away!' I cry.  And off he goes like a small pocket rocket towards a distant white post with a thruppp!, as though his knot has been untied..

C'mon children, look here!  The twins come skipping over, jumping up and down on the 5 Bar Gate's pedals.  Brooks! Hairy Melon! will you two please stop dancing and smooching and have a look at this.  Hey Audrey II, please please stay where you are - don't come up for a look.  I'll eat a photo or two for you in a moment....

We ride together up to a significant weathered white stick atop the cliff early on a bright cloudy afternoon.  It  has a few important pointers on it...

Here we all are...

Several times on the run up to JOG, just the thought of getting here has had me surpressing a tear.  A proper deep gut wrenching one.  In the way one gets when important thoughts pass through ones mind.  Whether remembering a once much loved pet dog, or Mum and Dad, or friends and the happy times before they were gone.

Its of a similar magnitude for me and there's no hiding the fact my emotions at times have spilled out, like laughing uncontrollably on the bike on a hard hill climb and about to crash just thinking about Pat asking what a Balloon Dog was.  I remember some bloke in his driveway in Cornwall looking at me and probably thinking, '...There must be something wrong with that fat bloke on that bike...  He's just cycled up ball breaker ridge and he's laughing!..'

I was unsure how I would be today.  The moment of reaching the goal and whether I would collapse in a sobbing heap wrapping my sunburnt arms around the post and wailing profanities and expletives to God.  But no, that did not happen.  Just one moment about 5 miles out but then all OK.  Like the journey had washed me clean of all my emotional baggage.  I felt settled and satisfied in a good job done.  And so happy to speak with folk about the journey.  'You've done what?  Wow!  Hey honey, you'll never guess what this fat bloke has just done.  Wow..'... kinda comments.  All lovely.  And for the second time, the first being in Moffat, a complete stranger tried to press money into my hand for the charities I'm supporting.  Of course I've pointed him at this blog and the online Just Giving pages.  Many thanks my friends.

I could write lots about the many many memories I now have and perhaps will do some time in the future.  Although some things are best kept to oneself and not writ on paper; for that would ruin a good whine.  However, I would like to say something about the 3 most important memories from this journey.

1.  This fantastic country of ours is all bloody up hill.  Baby fecking Garrowbys everywhere!  That's what it feels like seeing as I come down hills 10x faster than I go up 'em.  So 90% of cycling is up!  It's left me with a strong feeling in my legs.  The sense of pedalling against some huge smooth inertia like trying to turn the Earth.   The thrum and scrunch of tyres on varied roads.  Of riding low (gear) and very very slow (speed) dropping lungs and other bits on fantastical hill climbs along impossibly narrow roads littered with potholes the size of a toothy giants sweet enraged cavities.  Of angel butterflies on steep hillsides and moments of absolute serenity.  Of the occasional long long downhill sections on clear roads with a feverish eye watering blast of wind.  And of being chased all day, every day by 10,000 faraway Zulus in my Rohloff hub.  And the pain and numbness of it in my soles as though Kathryn's fur ball dad, an ex mortar board and cape wearing masochistic teacher of yore, had stuck my head under the handlebars and caned the bottom of my feet !  Go low and slow old man.  Everything has an end point.  Every uphill has a downhill to look forward to.  You will get there, but not yet, not yet.

2.  My body has been screaming at me most days, from anywhere and everywhere.  As you know I've written this blog based on their experiences of the ride and of me.  I'm not such a bad father but for sure I was a bad 'un at the start.  It took time and a willingness to listen and to change that settled the twins and helped Brooks and Hairy Melon to dance.  And of course poor Audrey II and my disrespect and continued abuse of her as I have done for the best part of half a century.  And for not being able to help poor old Balloon Dog who has been somewhat numb for the last 3 weeks.  Take care of yourself, Wayne.  LEJOG should never be undertaken frivolously.  Learn about and respect yourself.  But also of seeing too many graveyards and images of souls crying out to share my joy of life and the journey.  One day I will be there too, but not yet, not yet.

3.  And finally of the wind which has been my constant dancing partner.  From light gentle finger tip caresses to howling icy jet blasts.  Why do you think this country is littered with wind farms?  Strikingly bright white Martian tripod invaders like huge aero engines that are powering the rotation of the planet itself.  Feelings of the Sun and cool rain on my back, overwhelmingly intermingled with the fantastic feeling, as one crests the rise of a hill, of the cool sweet breath of fresh air as though it's been momentarily dipped in ice water and fizzles the harsh sweat from my back.  And it's tickled my bits on the fast downhill descents into every valley bottom.  I love the wind.  One day I might not.  But not yet, not yet.

I have never been alone whilst riding my bike.  Every time I stopped there is always someone to speak to, to say hello to, to help, and a huge thank you to those who did.  The fear of loneliness and isolation on solo journeys is one thing that stops many people from doing something / anything.  You soon find that you are never alone.  So I did this on my own did I?  Nah, you were all there with me.

I've enjoyed writing this blog as much as riding my Koga 5 bar gate.  Especially the long legged runs striding out to infinity and the feeling that my body could cycle on forever.  Through to the bum on a bike times with rough stubbly beard whilst dragging a shed load of smelly laundry around in scratch and sniff proof panniers.  Just like this..

The blog has allowed me to record my journey.  Its not just been a ride.  Everything written is true, perhaps with a bit of artistic licence to make it less funny.  But I have done this so that my moments will [NOT] be lost in time like tears in the rain.

For sure this blog will help me over the coming years to recall this mad, bad, lovely, exhilarating, painful, life reaffirming journey.  It for sure will act as the catalyst from which other activities and memories, too numerous to write about (and for sure I will bore you about should we ever meet) will come to the fore.

I've cycled 1050 miles according to the crap nav.  Used 90,000 kcals.  Google says I've ascended 42,000 feet and I've done all of it without oxygen.  I did say that if I enjoyed it (and I have) that I might continue and ride across the top of Scotland and if I really really enjoyed it to cycle all the way back home to York.  How bloody selfish can I be?  I've not seen Kathryn for some time and I suspect she would rather have me back.  I still need to cycle to Inverness though which is another 115 miles away for a train which is booked for the 12th.  But please excuse me if I do that alone, that will be my time.  

I'm tired.  In that nice tired way at the end of a very long hard days work. 

To sleep, perchance to ... nah, stop that crap now, Wayne..

Thanks for reading, friends.

It's time to go home.

With Kindest Regards

Wayne Tyssen (wtyssen@live.co.uk)

ps.  I will do a final epilogue entry when I get home and in a couple of weeks time to cover some of the other things I have been tracking like weight and HBA1C (need to go to the doctors for that) to see if exercise alone has made a difference to my type 2 diabetes.  And to add some more video of the ride for I have fecking Gigatons of it to edit down into the special bits.  Job for life eh?

If you have enjoyed the journey with me and you might want to help in some small way those in significantly more pain and with significantly more need than I have ever had, then the two charities I'm supporting [this time] are:

Cancer Research UK at:
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/fatman-on-a-bike-lejog

The Royal National Lifeboat Institution at:
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/fatman-on-a-bike-lejog-par-deux

Else, next time you pass a collection box, just drop a quid in it cos a now LEJOG qualified fat man thought it might be a good idea :-).