LEJOG - Perchance to dream...
I'm on my bed. I'm very very tired. It's early in a it's still light kinda way. I'm burning up. I have an unquenchable thirst. My mouth is dry. I'm somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, dreaming of a cold cold pool of deep fresh still water. My eyes are closed. I imagine it's icy hands caressing my body, drinking it in as though breathing deeply.
I so needed my electrolytic lemon flavoured bok bok last night. With a lot more lemon and a ton of ice thank you kindly please. The humidity was hard work yesterday on the long long drag to the top of the A9 where trains play hide and seek in the DPM camouflaged mountains. I think I'm following spring north as the land is covered with bright yellow flowers. Everywhere. The river Garry shows me the way.
Short steep sharp scree covered tracks that are again good for mountain bikes and brave road riders. Sustrans are trying, very trying... This is one of the better tracks.
The crap nav reports I've cycled 844 miles and used 75,000 kcal. Riding time is 91 hours. It's more than double that allowing for stops and starts to shout expletives at the crap nav because for some reason in this part of the world it is now determined to put me on the A9, the Scottish twin to the cumbrian A66. Fecking machine... There is a safer way but it's also a game of hide and seek with the Scottish Sustrans planners mind.
Last night I dreamt as I do most nights. Tiredness does not abate. Some gruesome and twisted castle of a place on a huge mountainside surrounded by warped cafes with impossible rooms and even harder doors to crawl through. My mind mixes the good and the bad and projects the mangled results on the back of my eyelids. Not nightmares cos I do not feel scared. And no I have not and will never ever take any mind bending drug.. My mind is bent enough.
The other night too, just recalling a day or so after I wrote the 'Life and Death' blog entry where I encouraged every single one of you to smack me in the chops for being such an idiot after riding on life's razor edge of the A66. I awoke after an hour or so with both cheeks ringing as though having been slapped HARD after cheekily whispering a sweet something, Brooks style, into a beautiful woman's ear. Thwack! I sat up sharp holding my cheeks. Where the feck did that come from?!
Oops!, just a mo. Audrey II has become impatient and has just hit the start button on her old 80's Greek conveyor belt and baggage is about to fall off the end of the belt!
I'm, back.. Better :-). Need to employ more baggage handlers methinks...
I've also noticed way too many graveyards. All very pretty and cared for. But also with images of grey souls looking up pointing at the fat man on a bike doing something they wish they could do. I kinda don't like them places just at the moment but when the day comes I've asked to be buried. Don't worry Wayne. For sure you would be in good company with other folk with lots of great stories to tell too. But not yet. Not yet.
LEJOG is life affirming but needs to be worked at. I took time to have a good chat with Brooks today.
I gave him a stern look. He sat sullen with weathered leathery cheeks and chapped lips and said 'sorry boss...'. He explained how he cannot help it for some brute force keeps pushing Hairy Melon onto him without remorse as though on an overcrowded dance floor. And that he clicks his fingers to get attention for he cannot breathe. 'I'm suffocating!' he said. The 'kissing' is not so, he just wants to dance with Hairy Melon but cannot and is trying to take huge gulps of air which is resulting in the non love bites on her now sore bits. He's crying. Says he's sorry. But needs help.
I carefully look at him. He for sure is sore and worn. Unlike the twins, I have no soothing cream for him but do carefully adjust his preload and gently slide him forward a bit on his iron hard rails and turn him a bit so his leathery lips are no longer pressed hard against her gentle bits. 'Aaaahhh...' he says. Much better. 'I can now breathe'.
Were both now in heaven :-). Here's Brooks now dancing cheek to cheek with a much happier Hairy Melon...
I've been asking myself if it would be better to give up and take the long long sleep rather than facing my troubles but I am frightened that I will madly dream forever and never ever get any peace.
To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream.... for in this sleep of LEJOG, what dreams may come…
Hamlet. Ham... mmmm. Time for another ham and cheese sandwich....
I so needed my electrolytic lemon flavoured bok bok last night. With a lot more lemon and a ton of ice thank you kindly please. The humidity was hard work yesterday on the long long drag to the top of the A9 where trains play hide and seek in the DPM camouflaged mountains. I think I'm following spring north as the land is covered with bright yellow flowers. Everywhere. The river Garry shows me the way.
Short steep sharp scree covered tracks that are again good for mountain bikes and brave road riders. Sustrans are trying, very trying... This is one of the better tracks.
The crap nav reports I've cycled 844 miles and used 75,000 kcal. Riding time is 91 hours. It's more than double that allowing for stops and starts to shout expletives at the crap nav because for some reason in this part of the world it is now determined to put me on the A9, the Scottish twin to the cumbrian A66. Fecking machine... There is a safer way but it's also a game of hide and seek with the Scottish Sustrans planners mind.
Last night I dreamt as I do most nights. Tiredness does not abate. Some gruesome and twisted castle of a place on a huge mountainside surrounded by warped cafes with impossible rooms and even harder doors to crawl through. My mind mixes the good and the bad and projects the mangled results on the back of my eyelids. Not nightmares cos I do not feel scared. And no I have not and will never ever take any mind bending drug.. My mind is bent enough.
The other night too, just recalling a day or so after I wrote the 'Life and Death' blog entry where I encouraged every single one of you to smack me in the chops for being such an idiot after riding on life's razor edge of the A66. I awoke after an hour or so with both cheeks ringing as though having been slapped HARD after cheekily whispering a sweet something, Brooks style, into a beautiful woman's ear. Thwack! I sat up sharp holding my cheeks. Where the feck did that come from?!
Oops!, just a mo. Audrey II has become impatient and has just hit the start button on her old 80's Greek conveyor belt and baggage is about to fall off the end of the belt!
I'm, back.. Better :-). Need to employ more baggage handlers methinks...
I've also noticed way too many graveyards. All very pretty and cared for. But also with images of grey souls looking up pointing at the fat man on a bike doing something they wish they could do. I kinda don't like them places just at the moment but when the day comes I've asked to be buried. Don't worry Wayne. For sure you would be in good company with other folk with lots of great stories to tell too. But not yet. Not yet.
LEJOG is life affirming but needs to be worked at. I took time to have a good chat with Brooks today.
I gave him a stern look. He sat sullen with weathered leathery cheeks and chapped lips and said 'sorry boss...'. He explained how he cannot help it for some brute force keeps pushing Hairy Melon onto him without remorse as though on an overcrowded dance floor. And that he clicks his fingers to get attention for he cannot breathe. 'I'm suffocating!' he said. The 'kissing' is not so, he just wants to dance with Hairy Melon but cannot and is trying to take huge gulps of air which is resulting in the non love bites on her now sore bits. He's crying. Says he's sorry. But needs help.
I carefully look at him. He for sure is sore and worn. Unlike the twins, I have no soothing cream for him but do carefully adjust his preload and gently slide him forward a bit on his iron hard rails and turn him a bit so his leathery lips are no longer pressed hard against her gentle bits. 'Aaaahhh...' he says. Much better. 'I can now breathe'.
Were both now in heaven :-). Here's Brooks now dancing cheek to cheek with a much happier Hairy Melon...
I've been asking myself if it would be better to give up and take the long long sleep rather than facing my troubles but I am frightened that I will madly dream forever and never ever get any peace.
To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream.... for in this sleep of LEJOG, what dreams may come…
Hamlet. Ham... mmmm. Time for another ham and cheese sandwich....
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