It’s not a race… It’s not a race… It’s not a race…
On the morning of 17th of October I’ll be in Ft Bill at that bloody sign that says “Well done, you’ve finished the West Highland Way”. No doubt shivering in the rain with the prospect of riding to Crianlarich looking very unappealing indeed.
But this time I’m not alone. On an mtb beside me will be Phil, on foot will be Craig and Iain, and in lycra and on skinny wheels will be Paul and Pete.
What’s it all about? Well after last years WHW adventure I knew I wanted to go back, but as time went on I knew I wanted it to be different, so I thought of the bike. Others in our merry band have issues with WHW attempts going back years, so there are elements of this being a self help group, a co-dependancy and a grudge match. Brilliant.
We have an outdoor professional, a fitness trainer, a marathon runner, two blokes who just rode from John o Groats to Lands End, and then there’s me, the fat old heating engineer. I never knowingly make it awkward for myself, really. It won’t be fitness that gets me home, it’ll be the thoughts of the couch and cold Irn Bru from the fridge.
We’re not breaking any records here, it’s partly for fun and it’s also a big test mission. The biggest test will be for Crossfit. The guys of foot will have done no real distance training, it’s all lifting weights and shouting at yourself in the mirror.
Then there’s gear, we’ve all got kit to test, that’s easy as long as it’s good though.
Saturday night will be in the Real Food Cafe, getting the six of us there at the same time might be an issue. Weather, fitness, resolve, they’ll all come into it.
I’m really looking forward to this. I’m doing the WHW again, but this time with my chinas. Bloody marvellous.
More soon, repeatedly.
Oh, WHW*Falldoon? It’s autumn and we’re going down the way. I know, I know.