The Bullheart JOGLE

Welcome to the Bullheart JOGLE Blog!

For a background on the riders, the reason for the ride and other sundries you’ll have to go through the entire petesgaff/cancer/cycling post I’m afraid! But go on – it’s worth it! (which is here)

I will endeavour to update this post on as regular a basis as I can. Some of our night stops won’t have wifi so I can’t promise that a nightly report is on the cards. I will try to upload the video diary at the same time, but otherwise you should find them both as links at the (hopefully operational by Tues/Weds) www.bullheart.co.uk website.

PREP DAY:

Fooking nightmare day. The morning was spent at the BRIT School, with Rowan trying to explain in laymen’s terms how the website will be operational. I, like a concrete headed buffoon smiled and nodded furiously, hoping that he hadn’t noticed just how thick-as-pig-shit  I am with IT. I had an interview with the team at BRIT FM, and then picked up the last bits and pieces needed to complete the ride. Despite an ‘putting–a-chicken-run-up-for-a -neighbour’ related delay the van was finally loaded up and I set of to pick up Meg, Laura and J from Horley/Reigate. We dumped the dog at the in-laws, loaded up all the bikes and equipment, and by the time the fish and chip supper had been dispatched it was half ten. General consensus was that the planned stop in Leeds should be forgotten, and so we set off on the sixteen hour trek to JOG.

I could go on about the significance of the journey; the emotions, anticipation and so on, but quite frankly the night drive was an arse. 6.30am saw us arrive in Edinburgh, and after a long run up the A9 we came across a bike shop in Pitlochry called Escape Route. Smashing shop, lovely staff (“Would you guys like an espresso after your long drive?” GET IN!) including a fella named Peter, who did his best to fit me into a baselayer of Lilliputian proportions and proceeded to give us a box of those cola flavoured energy sweets that make you piss like a race horse. Top work my friend!

Several hours later we arrived at JOG, weaving the van through a throng of cyclists of differing proportions and equipment ownership. There was no thrill to be there; just a desire to get to the B & B, get some food on board and sleep. Kit was distributed, god-awful curry from the local pub was consumed and a friend was made in another gent called Peter who worked for Cycle Skeddadle (I think). Great advice, an offer to assist if he could and a colossal handshake that made my balls hurt were all offered and gladly accepted (apart from the aching gonads part), and a new friend made. All that remained was to get to bed for the early start…

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