On Thursday evening I watched a television program about some celebrities raising money for charity. On Friday evening I sent The Bear a text about said program. Two texts later we had somehow arranged something really rather epic.
I used to ride bikes, specifically mountain bikes, a lot. I don’t now, I retired, in all honesty it’s due to laziness more than anything else. I have a bike still – it’s in the cupboard off the balcony gathering dust and cobwebs – although I can’t remember when I last rode it. It’s going to have to be taken out soon though, and I’m going to have to start putting the miles in.
The Bear and I have decided that next year we’re going to ride from Land’s End to John o’ Groats (or the other way around). Which, by road, is a 874 mile ride. It will be a ride of truly epic proportions.
Are either of us capable of doing it? I have no idea.
Will we be completing it on mountain bikes? Not a clue.
Will we be raising money for charity? I don’t know yet.
Will we be wearing capes? Probably, yes.
Am I already regretting sending that initial text? Absolutely.
Am I tempted to back out? Not in the slightest.
We’re going for it.