Together we make a difference.

 Day break saw yours truly head south with Superwoman (Lorraine) and Spiderman (Gareth) as one of us was about to embark on a south to north bike ride from Chepstow to Prestatyn, roughly following Offa's Dyke by road on my super duper racing steed built by Mr Chris Boardman, I know he built it as its got his name all over it. Gerry the Disco was also dressed for the occasion and stuffed with goodies and clothing that a fat bloke on a mission might need. It also had a spare bike so poor Spotty dog was left behind which was just as well for the potential for disaster with a 55kg dog cooped up in a Land Rover is massive.

 Final shot before the off, no iconic pic of the Severn Bridge due to mist and an unwillingness to venture off piste and risk getting mixed up with motorway traffic. So what can be said for the first part of this journey, well it whizzed past. I had already decided to plod along at 12 mph, not too set off fast, focus on the journey ahead, but by the time we rolled into Hereford for a bacon butty courtesy of Pritch we were already over 17mph average. Mind you a 47.6 mph descent did blow the cobwebs away and help pick up the average, as did the mods on the rear wheel with the new cassette being just what a weighty cyclist needed.

 Convinced that diets are for wimps I got amongst the bacon sarnies while Superwoman and Spiderman bothered passers by and the customers of a garage for donations. Refuelled and changed into summer gear as it was a lovely toasty day we continued north and by midday, six hours after the start we were 80 miles to the good and stopped again waiting for my beautiful and oh so patient wife to arrive with the boys to wish us luck. It was at this point I got some idea of how mental this all was when a motorcyclist, the born again type, enquired how I was doing, fine was the honest answer, 80 miles done, at least 80 more to do, what today! Yep. He sorted out some loose change and wandered off shaking his head.

 Pose for publicity shot at halfway point. All is well.

 However some 35 miles north just as we joined a very busy section of the road network

 no amount of looking at, pointing, wishing or sulking changed the fact that we now had some dodgy miles to do along a main arterial route where traffic lurked.

 It looks fairly serene, but this is an anomalie, most shots would have had a dozen or so lorries trying to make me a radiator mascot, cars beeping at me, one nice man was so incensed at my presence that he leaned over his girlfriend who was driving and pressed the horn shouting and making the universal hand gesture that I was an efin wanker. This from a driver going the opposite way to me, goodness knows what happened to him as a child that has made him so vociferously anti MAMIL.

 Eventually we peeled off the A5 and into Llangollen where we sat, or stood, in traffic. For almost half an hour we shuffled forward, amazing how many drivers emerging from the left see a cyclist and think, oooh a space. Normally I held my ground but a particularly belligerent bus won one joust.

 Finally the cause of this chaos was found, Thomas the Tank Engine had followed me (see a week or so ago)

 From there we headed relentlessly uphill, Horseshoe Pass, and there was me thinking this was going well. It was until I looked up and saw cars in heaven descending, the distance and height was amazing but we made everso slow progress grinding to an undignified halt some 500 metres from the top. Head bowed I pushed the bike to the start of the descent and set off ignoring the support car and the fact I was now no longer upright.

The descent from Horseshoe pass was exhilarating and would have been more fun had I realised there was no significant uphill after it but I kept thinking if this goes back up this bikes going over the hedge. So rejuvenated on adrenaline (and Vaseline) I span away, trying to keep boredom at bay by doing maths puzzles like how far is left how far have I come how much drink have I left if I keep this speed up how long til I finish what if I crash at this speed why am I slowing down who ordered a headwind and so on. Amongst this discussion with bored self came the warning that I had forgot to collect essential food from car, had no drink and should stop and get some, quick, but math monster prevailed and made me press on as at this pace I would finish the last 35 miles in an hour and a half. Inevitably I didn't and the bike got dumped in a lay by 30 miles out and

yours truly was supported by the kind warm bonnet of Gerry. It was, it has to be said, a pretty emotional stop and thankfully Superwoman and Spiderman knew well enough to let me be so I could sort my life out and after throwing most of the contents of Gerry out of the back like a deranged bear looking for food I settled on a litre of juiced, half a litre of chocolate milk, two bananas, half a bar of dairy crunch most of which I sat on and two coconut macaroons. By now I was fed up of marmite sandwiches and energy gels so raided the sweet stuff big time. Finally I was coaxed back on the bike and the last push to the finish began. And despite the events of the layby speed picked up, pain had gone and I was away. Heavy metal in the one headphone, traffic and birdsong in the other ear I was in the zone.

Which was why I got to the Offa's Dyke monument first. Where I waited. I had wondered how I would feel, especially after the previous stop but as it was I felt curiously calm and fulfilled.

This was how they found me, listening to music, stood at ease, having my picture taken by bemused tourists who had no idea how far Chepstow was and what it took to get here.

I was told to celebrate, so I did

as did the support crew.

It was 7pm, we started at 6am, covered 167 miles, climbed 7500 feet, held an average speed of 14.5 mph and hit a new max of 47.6 on a steep section at St Weonards just outside Hereford. It was done, faster than I ever expected, I hadn't really set a time to beat, just finish but 13 hours was something to be happy about. We loaded the car and headed south, and within 10 minutes it started raining.
Thank yous are extended to Mr Boardman for his bike design, not every bike can be ridden by a fat bloke for so long so far and so fast without permanent damage to one or both ( I have to admit an essential part of me is totally numb and I am hoping feeling returns soon), Glynn the retired bike wrangler who serviced and fitted a new cassette hours before the ride, Superwoman and Spiderman for their tireless helpfulness, Gerry (and Wynyards who sold him to me, cheers Greg) Glyn and Beth for facebooking the progress, Marmite for providing something to take away the taste of energy gels, Outdoor Fitness magazine for making me think I can do this type of thing, all of you who sponsored me, thought about me and sent me good luck messages, and most of all thanks to my beautiful and oh so patient wife for putting up with this type of madness from time to time. Myeloma UK have got a lot of money from this which just shows together we can all make a difference.

The next event is being planned. Watch this space.