Ask and ye shall receive

Except I didn't ask.

Nevertheless, I have received - offers of beds for the night from people I've never met (some of whom are about the most quietly inspiring people I've ever come across), cake, tea, send off parties, greeting at the other end bods, endlessly epically useful advice which I am already acting on - there's an order for another pair of fingerless riding gloves out there - and I'm slightly overwhelmed by the encouragement and shine coming from people I've never met.

It's a wonderful thing. I think it might be a thing. I noticed it among climbers before I stopped going thanks to the inability to stand on tip toe suddenly for more than 10 seconds (it's kind of crucial, you know?). The camraderie, support, encouragement and twinkle which comes from a community who perhaps know that from the outside looking in their sport looks a bit bonkers but love it so much and with such dedication that sharing it and passing it on is as natural as breathing.

I'm planning more for this little trip than I've ever really needed to plan for anything before. It feels like a mini adventure, something entirely for me - and I don't ever do anything entirely for me. I am not the sort of person to choose to be alone for long hours at a time. But I'm also not the person I was 12 months ago either, and the joy of pedalling and exploring unknown territory will keep me going.

I'm not going to do a recce of anything but the pass over the top of Foulridge tunnel - because there isn't time, and because of the lure of the unknown. I've always been the kind of person who, as a passenger, would buy a Michelin map and proceed to direct my lovely other half down 'interesting' roads - one memorable occasion resulted in arm cramp from the number of successive hairpins in the Pyrenees. But you can't view life from behind a car window - the spirit is obviously there - I read of others noticing tracks disappearing off the side of the road and thinking 'that looks interesting' and I do too. The only difference is fitness and a skill level which could deal with anything the trail could throw at me.

So perhaps, ultimately, riding for the longest I've ever ridden (I'm not convinced I'm going to stop at 30 miles a day which is why people asking me where I'll be on certain days is proving tricky because I would like the option to keep going if there's anything in my legs to do so) on my own is not the challenge it appears to be. I know have the determination and focus and bull headed obstinancy, though I don't know where it came from, but here it is. It's fitness and stamina I don't have, but all I need to do is track the miles, pace myself, track my breathing and not let it get out of control and look ahead and that's it. That's all. The rest will come from the joy of freedom, I suspect, which I know sounds cheesy, but for someone who was once very timid, shy and nervous of the world, I think the victory will be mine 5 miles from Liverpool. Getting to Leeds will be the icing on the cake, but I'll get there.