I don’t really know when it suddenly got so hard. I think it was roughly the last 25 kilometres. I also have no clue how long that lasted. It could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been 5. I honestly only remember bits of it but I’ve been pretty honest in all my blogs so far so I figure I may as well continue.
Problem is, I can’t put it into words very easily. I could see nothing but the light from my head torch and I felt nothing other than the wind forcing me in the wrong direction. If there’s a name for whatever emotion I was feeling I don’t know it.
At times I felt like I was going uphill at walking pace and at others I came very close to losing balance. I shouted a lot, at nothing in particular. I think I may have even started crying at one point. Not of sadness; just determination. Writing this now it sounds as if I was close to breaking point; but in fact I don’t think I’ve ever been stronger. I apologise for all the philosophical bullshit, my head is in a weird place this evening – please feel free to ignore. In summary: that last hour was fucking hard, and yes, I am riding tomorrow.