Fondo

fuck me.

I haven't put myself thru
something like that in a
long time.

I'm not even looking
at reasons why.

It was a bad day compiled
by poor preperation.

These legs of Sept are not
those legs of summer.

I cracked at mile 50.
Though I got thru the
third timed section ok.
Heart revs were there,
was still ticking over the
gear, seemed good.

And then the lights went out.
There was a big battle with the
cramp monter in those dark
back alleys of slum town.
Classic stuff...

Why in the fuck,
am I doing this?
Asked a lot questions,
I didn't wanna answer.

The second 60/100 split
at Aid 3 was one of those
turns.  You know there is
no good to come from
either choice.

Bail = Months of gnawing regret.
Ride on = Me pushing my fucking
road bike up a climb because I had
nothing. Kip clop, Kip clop, Kip clop.

I ain't proud, fuck it.

What a fucking day.

And the with that, all I can say
 is Thank-you.

Thank you to Ralph & his crew for
putting on one hell of a series. Always
awesome to catch up with old friends.

And thanks to all the volunteers, your
loooong day is much appreciated.

And a special fuck you to the 'cakes, good stuff.