I never knew what bonking was until I tried to do 130km ride this summer – missed my lunch stop, got into a strange mindset of not wanting to stop at any of the scabby food shops, couldn’t eat any gels as after three or so, I was just going to chuck them up.
Last 50km, cutting it short were tough, and a horrible place to be.
About 13km from home, I had to stop at a garage to see if they a shop, only filling station in the whole of the area that didn’t.
Lying on the floor, on the edge of the forecourt, not sure if I was going to puke, die, cry or laugh, a lovely attendant came over to see if I was ok and offered me some water.
I shouted and swore my way through the last 13km, which must have been a suprise for the group that rode past me with me cursing away at myself and my knackered shoulders and legs.
Never want to experience that again, it ruined the ride for me, although in hindsight it was good fun.