Lands End to John O'Groats, Day 15 - Two Pounds Mhairi, Two Pounds!

Day 15 Morning

I had a cracking sleep at Helen and Ru's house, it felt good to be in a proper bed and my ribs hadn't hurt half as much that night, maybe because I'd managed to get in a position that didn't involved being wedged against the motorhome bathroom wall! Helen made us all Bacon rolls for breakfast! what a star! After a cracking brew we posed for photos and then left for the start.

Ant, Myself with Bonnie, Helen, Ru and dad after our bacon rolls.

 Yet again dad was sporting his fetching 1990's black Ron Hill traksters - slightly better than his blue ones, he was wanting to cycle with me again. I didn't bother arguing this time, there's no point once he has an idea in his head. We started our day just south of a village called Forth - I'm not sure if its named after the River Forth or not but we were heading towards the Firth of Forth and I was really looking forward to crossing it. Crossing the Firth of Forth would put me further north than I had ever been in Scotland. I'd wrote in my diary that the village of Forth was quite ugly but that the scenery was lovely. I think that was probably a bit harsh, there were lots of building covered in a really drab looking grey pebbledash covering. There were also lots of grey council houses - that was something I had noticed right the way through Scotland so far. The houses weren't scruffy, the village centre and other surrounding villages weren't dirty. They weren't ugly they were just different to the chocolate box cottages of Devon and Cornwall. The rugged countryside was some of the best we had seen up until this point.

We started at one of the few painted houses around.

A lively scene

 I loved the first few miles of this push, I was losing the altitude I had gained during day 14's big climb. We'd driven along the route on the way to the start line from Helen and Ru's house. I knew that every single one of the steep descents was followed by a climb. This meant I could finally let rip on some steep drops. I dropped Ant on the very first one, dad used to be a good club level cyclist so he managed to get back to me on two or three of the climbs after the fast descents but I managed to drop him too after the biggest one. Dropping cyclists is one of my favourite things to do, it shouldn't happen when they have gears and we don't. When you do drop a cyclist you feel good and anyone with a sporty dad knows beating them is a real buzz, however old and crocked they are! I was having great fun, especially when I hit 40.9mph.

Tucked in nice and low ready for a descent.

When we got to the bit where on the advice of Helen and Ru we needing to go straight ahead to avoid a gorge on the route we planned there was a sign up saying the bridge was closed. So we had no option other than heading to the gorge we'd been warned was too steep. The positive spin on this detour was that it took us right past Helen and Ru's house. It took us a while to get there but when I did Helen and Ru had gathered some neighbours and brought them out to cheer me on. Ed must have phoned them to let them know we were coming past. It seemed a nice way to thank them; to let them see me in action - even if it wasn't actually our decision to do a fly past.

The next thing on my mind was this gorge we were heading for. I'd been told it was very steep and winding both down to the bottom and then climbing up the other side. It didn't take long before we spotted the signposts saying Avon Gorge, it wasn't the Avon Gorge near Bristol (thought I'd let Nick know for when he reads this). On my way in to the Gorge I had to keep the brakes on to stop me building up speed and missing the nasty bends. Even with the brakes on I struggled to keep my speed down. Just as I reached the bottom and turned the final downward corner, Bang! My back right tyre popped. 140psi escaping from the tyre makes quite a loud noise. Ed came past in the motorhome, He must have known something was wrong, he slowed down and  wound the window down. We told him and he said he would find a place to stop asap. The road through the gorge was narrow so there was nowhere for him to stop until he got out of the other side. I sent dad ahead to ride to Ed and help him get my spare wheels ready and of course to put the kettle on. Ant stayed with me as I crawled out of the Gorge with the flat. I held traffic up quite badly, it was busier than usual with everyone following the same diversion as us. Two artic trucks struggled to get past. I was going as fast as I could with that flat tyre. Eventually I reached the top, one of the truck drivers had spotted the motorhome and all the spares scattered around. He'd parked up to go and make a donation and wish me luck. I'd been panicking thinking I was pissing everyone off by holding them up. That was proof of me over thinking things. That said, the work Dave from The Academy Of The Sporting Mind had got me through this little mishap. I'd expected to get a lot of damaged tyres on the trip but this was my first one at way over 500 miles, not bad going. It did happen in the worst place possible but I handled it without having a massive meltdown!
I finished the morning by crossing the Firth of Forth on the Clackmannanshire Bridge. It was stunning! There were cracking views up and down the firth and straight ahead of us the Ben Cleuch mountain, still with snow on top. Seeing a tiny bit of snow on the mountain with made it hit home just how far I'd travelled. Two weeks earlier I'd been looking at peoples gardens being extremely jealous of all the exotic plants in the gardens which would have just died if I'd been silly enough to put them in my garden at home.

Clackmannanshire Bridge, not my photo but you get the idea!

I'd now got myself further north than ever before in Scotland. I'd covered 33 miles, a whole day's worth of miles in just the morning session. I was made up with myself. It was day 15 and rather than being the wrecked shell of a human that Brian had suggested I would be if I attempted 33 miles a day I had just done 33 miles in one push. I was obviously tired and my ribs were sore but I certainly wasn't embarrassing anybody with how useless I was like the scenario that had been talked about at that meeting.
We stopped for lunch just after the bridge in what has to be one of the most scenic laybys in the country - We'd visited quite a few of them by this stage so I feel well qualified to say that! We weren't far from Stirling or Bannockburn and as a massive history geek I could feel my Scots blood stirring. It would have been great to go and visit some of the places so pivotal in Scottish history but I had a world record to break so we had lunch instead. Again, it's another area I want to go back to.

Day 15 Morning Stats

Miles: 33.56
Time: 2:50:55
Average Moving Speed: 11.8mph
Top Speed: 40.9mph (fastest yet)
Slowest Mile Split: Mile 21 - 11:12
Fastest Mile Split: Mile 8 - 1:57 (fastest ever)
Total Ascent: 1219ft
Average Heart Rate: 138bpm
Max Heart Rate: 158bpm

Day 15 Morning Progress Maps

Day 15 Afternoon

Ed and I checked the map during lunch, mainly to reassure me that we weren't heading for the bloody great lump of rock the road was aiming straight at! Luckily we didn't have to break out the ice axe just yet. We were keeping to a road that passed between the mountains and the Firth of Forth heading for somewhere called The Crook of Devon, this was another one of those times I missed Nick, I wanted to hear his views on passing through The Crook of Devon and the Avon Gorge.... in Scotland - I imagined him saying something like "Can they not think of their own names up here?".

Thankfully we were heading around the mountains not over them!

 The afternoon was another damp one, I was struggling to with getting my gloves to stick on my wet push rims. I still had my spare wheels on the chair as we hadn't changed the popped tyre at lunchtime. We hadn't modified the spare wheel's push rims with tape for extra grip in the wet like we had done with my best wheels. After 10 miles I'd lost a lot of speed due to the slipping but also the bearings in my spare wheels were old and stiff. I decided to stop and change the tyre on my best wheels so I could use them to squeeze an extra few miles from the day. With leaving in a hurry at the start of the challenge my spare tyres only got delivered the day before we left for Cornwall. Normally I would blow a new tyre up to stretch it so it would be easier to put on, I hadn't had time to do that this time. Getting a tub tyre on a carbon disk wheel is a nightmare. Ed and Ant hadn't even seen it done before let alone  tried to do it. Dad and I both have a hereditary condition with our hands that stops our grip being quite as strong as it should be and alters the way our fingers moved. There wasn't enough room for all four of us to wrestle the tyre in to place so Ant resumed his role of tea maid, He was very skilled at it after all! Ed, Dad and I worked up a proper sweat trying to get the tub on, I don't think Ed believed how hard it was to change them up until that point! You end up with blisters on your thumbs, bruises on your fingers and hands and pouring in sweat. I'd already told Ed about getting a puncture in a race, you have to change the tyre yourself and without taking the wheel off the chair. Many wheelchair athletes choose to push home slowly instead of trying to change the tyre. Quite often your arms are too tired to get a tyre on by yourself, especially if you are new and inexperienced. You also have to deal with the spectators trying to help you. They mean well and they have no idea that if you accept help you will be disqualified from the race. People just don't listen when you ask them not to help you, especially when you are struggling and you need help. The frustration of not being able to accept the help you need, the panic that chairs are going to come streaming past and the fact you are pissed off that all your training has gone to waste as there is now no chance of breaking a PB all adds up to wheelchair athletes looking like arseholes telling people trying to help to go away. After beating the tub tyre in to submission and finally getting it on my wheel I think Ed had a much better understanding of how frustrating punctures in races are.

We started to pass lots of tree plantations.

 Tyre changed I managed to get my good wheels back on my chair with the push rims taped up, after our brew we got back out on the road. My speed was now much better, we pushed through The Crook of Devon and headed for Loch Leven. I think the damp had got to Dad and Ant, they were both pretty quiet again.

Causing a mini stampede was fun, I could feel the vibrations they caused! Beautiful Cooos!

To try and stop myself switching off I was doing sums in my head, I do this in races to take my mind off how much things are hurting or how far I have left to go. I try and work out my finishing time or what speed I need to push at to get a certain finishing time. Paula Radcliffe used to count to 100 when running to take her mind off the running itself. I'd spoken to Dave my sports psychologist about this and he said if it was a tool I found worked for me to go ahead and use it. On this push I couldn't predict finishing times as I didn't have a set finishing point so I started working out how far I thought I could go and what distance would give me some nice numbers for the day. I settled on going for 20 miles in this push, that would mean 53 miles for the day which seemed to sit right as I was pushing for The 53 Foundation. It would also mean a total of 100 miles over the last two days. That's what I aimed for and that's what I achieved, maybe it wasn't just the rain that had quietened Ant and dad down again maybe they were just knackered!

Ant looking proud of his 100 miles in 2 days, me looking knackered!

 We headed for yet another free campsite, Gallowhill Campsite was in the fields around a very old farmhouse. It had breath taking views in every direction, views that worried me for the next day as it seemed like there were mountains in every direction. We weren't much above sea level at this campsite so I knew we'd be climbing on Day 16. Ed went inside the farmhouse which doubled up as reception to ask them where to hook up for the night (the motorhome you mucky lot). He came out crying laughing. Apparently Grandma of the family was sat at her antique desk working the reception, Ed had told her who we were and she had called one of her grandsons to come and take us to the pitch. Granddad had overheard Ed thanking her for the free pitch and jumped right in to the stereotypical Scottish tight arse role. In a thick Scottish accent he'd shouted through from the other room

"Two pounds Mhairi, two pounds. They can have a free spot but get two pounds off them for the electric!"

Obviously Ed wasn't going to argue over two quid so he paid it and then the grandson arrived to take us to the pitch. Ed told us the story on the way, him and dad had some sort of competition in thick Scottish accents over who could ask Mhairi to charge people for the most ridiculous things.

"fifty pence Mhairi, fifty pence. They can have a free pitch but get fifty pence for the air they will breath! see you jimmy!"

More and more ridiculous! The grandson made sure we were ok with the pitch and pointed us in the direction of the showers and other facilities and then shot off on his quad bike. We were still giggling like school kids over granddads Scottishness when the grandson reappeared with the two pounds, clearly he'd been back to the farm and heard from granddad that he'd got a couple of quid out of the cheeky English buggers wanting a free pitch. He was really embarrassed by it bless him, we said we didn't mind and we'd had a joke about it. He threw a bit of change in the collection bucket, wished me good luck for the rest of the journey, apologised again and shot off on his quad.

Gallowhills Campsite.

I went for a shower, entered the cubical, stripped off, then couldn't work out how it switched on until I spotted a notice that said coin operated, place coins in correct slot near the door. The door in question wasn't the cubicle door it was the door of the male changing rooms, I had to bloody crawl past the showers, past the changing areas, past the sinks and past the toilets to put 50p in the slot. I had to make the journey twice more during my shower! You can imagine the comments when I got back to the motorhome and told everyone the shower had cost £1.50! We were all in stiches laughing at how Granddad had found a way to get a bit more money out of his campers. The site was lovely though and I'd have no second thoughts about going back and paying full, even with all the extras it would be a cheap place to stay.

For the rest of the evening dad and Ed would randomly shout out 'two pounds Mhairi, two pounds'

Day 15 Afternoon Stats

Miles: 19.85
Time: 2:03:39
Average Moving Speed: 9.5mph
Top Speed: 25.7mph
Slowest Mile Split: Mile 8 - 8:54
Fastest Mile Split: Mile 14 - 4:00
Total Ascent: 949ft
Average Heart Rate: 140bpm
Max Heart Rate: 157bpm

Day 15 Afternoon Progress Maps

Total Daily Mileage: 53.41

Lands End To John O'Groats Day 7 - The Flying Cripple Situation.

Day 7 Morning

After the excitement of going public on Day 6 of the challenge I had been adding up the figures for how far I had travelled in total and how high I had climbed too. Before Day 6's total was added it was somewhere around 225 miles and 18,000ft of climbing. I was happy with that but I now had two bust ribs to deal with. Whilst adding up the mileage something had dawned on me and it had me worried all night. Nick was only supposed to be cycling for two weeks as that is all the time he could take off work with such short notice. The original plan was to have Nick show his brother Mike the routines when he joined us on day 14, Nick would then carry on with us until the Scottish border around day 16 or 17. A combination of Mike's work and his dragon, sorry I mean wife, meant that he couldn't take part due to the date change but that wasn't what was worrying me. Nick had set his heart on cycling the entire length of England but we now had two or three less days than planned, there was no way around it, Nick had to leave on day 14 or he would risk losing his job.
  Nick wasn't only cycling to help me out, he was doing the challenge in memory of his son, Charlie. Charlie had come in to the world too early and despite putting up a big fight he sadly passed away. Without going in to too much detail I think it is fair to say that Nick had struggled to cope with the loss of his little man after just a few precious days. Nick wasn't much more than a kid himself when it happened so it must have been absolute hell for him. He had been trying really hard to sort his life out and had made big changes to his lifestyle, not least moving from London to Rossendale to be closer to his brother. I knew how important it was to Nick to get to the border, I knew I needed to do whatever I could to get him there in 14 days!
It was another wet morning but at least we'd left the hilly west country behind us. It felt nice to be heading north instead of heading east like I had been doing for the first 6 days. I had totally underestimated just how long the west country is. I was in front of schedule but I didn't feel much closer to Scotland as I was still down the bottom end of England. We got on with the morning routine and set off to Berkeley Heath where I would be starting my push. Ledbury was 30 miles away so I thought on a wet day and in pain with my ribs that would be a good target or maybe 5 miles further down the road.

Damp Day 7

  Oddly, after being in heaps of pain all night and not even being able to sit at the breakfast table without being in tons of pain, once in my race chair I felt much more comfortable. Myself and Nick got on our way and once Ed was happy that I was ok pushing and not going to need him or Ant they shot off to get some shopping and fuel. I got myself settled into a nice rhythm, pushing along at a speed not too far behind my race pace. The roads were flat so despite the rain I was doing well. It wasn't long before we crossed the River Severn (which I excepted to be more impressive) and we could see Gloucester Cathedral in the distance. When checking the route the previous night Ed and I had been unsure if we should head through the city streets or use the ring road which would be shorter and faster but more dangerous. Ed was going to scout the start of the ring road out on his shopping trip and let me know what he thought when he got back. Unfortunately Nick and I had been following the road numbers we needed and completely missed the junction where we'd have to choose between ring road and city centre. We found ourselves already on a busy ring road. We pulled in to the first layby to phone Ed and Ant to see where they were, they were on the road further down towards Bristol looking for us. They told Nick not to use the ring road as it was too busy but it was too late we were on it! They turned around and headed back towards us but we made the decision not to wait for them as we were getting very wet and cold. I was pushing hell for leather, faster than my race pace, trying to get us off this bloody dual carriageway. There wasn't a hard shoulder, just a 2ft wide bit of tarmac beyond the white line. Nick could get his bike into that thin strip but I could only get one wheel in the space. I was trying to keep my front wheel in the tiny gap between the rumble strip and the cats-eyes but this was really hard work at speed and in the wet. Each time my front wheel hit a cats-eye it squirted water all over me. After 5 or 6 times of getting a face full of filthy water I tried getting my front wheel the other side of the rumble strip but that meant every so often my back wheel hitting a cats-eye and squirting Nick. Each time I heard him shout I giggled to myself, partly nervous laughter as I thought I was about to be run over but mainly just the thought of Nick getting a face full of dirty road juice.

Nick being Nick

Once off the ring road we found a layby for Nick to phone the lads, we had 8 missed calls from them but there had been nowhere for us to stop safely on the ring road. Apparently they had been up and down the ring road 3 times looking for us and had thought we'd got lost or taken a different route as they hadn't spotted us. They weren't far away so it only took them a couple of minutes to find us in the layby. Ant put the kettle on, you know me, any excuse for a cup of tea! A near death experience was definitely a good opportunity for a brew. Nick and I told Ed and Ant all about the ring road like a pair of school boys telling their mates what they'd been up to on the summer holidays. Brews drunk and stories told we were on our way again.

Back out on the country roads

There was quite a climb away from Gloucester, my arms were tired from racing to get off the ring road, my ribs were sore and it was wet so maybe it seemed a little tougher than it should have done. The climb was followed by a steep descent which I was really enjoying until I saw brake lights in front. I tried hard to stop but wet gloves and brakes did nothing to slow me. I was headed straight for the back of a car when I spotted a left turn onto a residential road running almost parallel to the main road a bit like a layby with houses on it. I took the turn to give me more time to stop. A split second after I turned I hit a speedbump and took off, all three wheels in the air. "fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"  Obviously when you have no wheels on the ground braking is impossible. I landed with a thud. just metres away from the next speedbump where I got air time again "shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!".  Luckily I just about managed to get control as the road met the main road again and the row of cars that were sat waiting at the lights. I wonder what they were thinking seeing a lad in his wheelchair flying through the air, twice. Then Nick caught up, came to a stop with a skid and gave me a right bollocking! He sounded just like my dad! The lights changed and I set off tentatively, not sure if I had damaged the chair, the wheels or even myself. Everything seemed ok and it wasn't long before Nick was laughing at the flying cripple situation. Threatening to get me a cape and playing the song One Call Away on his phone singing "superman's got nothing on you" at the top of his voice.
Before we knew it we were in the Malvern Hills and just a few miles from Ledbury, I didn't feel tired at all so I pushed to Ledbury where we stopped for lunch. Almost 31 miles! When I got out of the chair my ribs started hurting like mad again. I found sitting at the table for lunch too painful so I ended up eating whilst laid on my bed. During lunch we had to cancel the campsite we'd found near Ledbury as it was going to be too far away from the finish point now.



Day 7 Morning Stats

Miles: 30.87
Time: 2:50:43
Average Moving Speed: 10.8mph
Top Speed: 33.7mph
Slowest Mile Split: Mile 28 - 9:21
Fastest Mile Split: Mile 4 - 3:42
Total Ascent: 1358ft
Average Heart Rate: 144bpm
Max Heart Rate: 169bpm

Day 7 Morning Progress Maps

Day 7 Afternoon

Back in my chair after lunch I felt comfortable again I found it really odd how being in the position that had bust my ribs was the only position I was comfortable in! We were now in our next county, Herefordshire, the weather had brightened up and the scenery was the stereotypical English countryside, lots of green fields, ancient hedgerows and rolling hills. The houses we passed were amazing too. This was a posh neighbourhood. Lovely place.

English countryside.

Still damp

We started to see signs for Hampton Court Castle which confused me for a while as Hampton Court is in London not far from where my now ex club trains. Eventually my tired brain clicked that Henry VIII's gaff was Hampton Court Palace not Hampton Court Castle that we were about to pass. As we got to the gate house I could see Ed and Ant poised on the opposite side of the road, ready to take photos of us with the gatehouse in the background. It took everything I had to fight the history geek inside me. The history geek wanted to turn and look at the castle but there was no chance I was going to stop and pose for a picture or go back and do a rerun for a staged picture. I kept looking forward and didn't get to see the castle at all. I am so glad I made that choice because Ed captured my favourite photo of the entire trip, Nick and I going fairly fast, the gatehouse and through the gate up to the castle. This is another of the places I want to go back to - if only to see it with my own eyes!

Hampton Court Castle, my favourite photo of the challenge.

 I kept a fairly steady pace through all the rolling hills and I managed an enormous total of 50.2 miles for the day. Partly this was because of my growing confidence that I was going to get to John O'Groats but mainly this was the start of me trying to get a head of schedule to get Nick to Scotland in memory of Charlie.

Our new campsite for day 7, another freebie, was called Nicholson Farm and it was a fully working farm. As soon as we headed down the lane and into the farmyard I was excited about the stay. Ed went in to find out where to hook up and the farmer had given him a firm warning not to damage his grass. I love farms and I love country people. The place was absolutely stunning, there were cows everywhere and the farm dogs just wondering around. They came to say hello to Bonnie and they all had a run around the field together. I was desperate for a shower, they were housed in an old outhouse for the farm, possibly an old pig pen. They weren't the cleanest but I didn't care, I loved the place. The showers were full of spiders and I was grinning to myself thinking that Nick and Ant were going to struggle as they are both soft arses when it comes to spiders. Right as I was lent against the wall showering and dodging spiders the bloody light went out and as there were no windows it was pitch black. There I was, naked, fumbling about looking for the door lock so I could go out and turn the light back on. I secretly hoped the same would happen to Ant and Nick!

Back at the motorhome Ed was talking to the owner of the only other caravan on the site. An old man from Oldham, he had come on holiday with his wife and two dogs but sadly one had taken ill and needed to be put down. He had been due to go home a few days earlier but he wouldn't leave without his dog's ashes. It was such a sad thing to hear, I don't know where I would be without Bonnie!
After we ate the lads went exploring the paths around the farm and down to a lake, they come back thinking they'd been to the wild west because the cows had followed them. Ed found it highly amusing that he'd found another animal that Ant was petrified of!

The Nicholson's cows!

In the evening we were treated to the loudest bird song I've heard for years; Ed managed to get a short video:

Day 7 Afternoon Stats

Miles: 19.34
Time: 1:57:59
Average Moving Speed: 9.9mph
Top Speed: 23.9mph
Slowest Mile Split: Mile 3 - 8:46
Fastest Mile Split: Mile 7 - 3:26
Total Ascent: 856ft
Average Heart Rate: 143bpm
Max Heart Rate: 163bpm

Day 7 Afternoon Progress Maps

Total Daily Mileage: 50.21 (17 miles beyond the target)

London Marathon Build Up 2015

When I returned from Lisbon I was met with the welcome news my new chair had arrived from Japan, not a minute too soon as I have been struggling with my old chair. My old chair had been braking in most races and was costing me a bomb in welding services! My new chair was ordered and measured up by the British company Draft, they built my old chairs but have started to get a reputation for delaying chairs heavily. The lads at draft are great and I like their chairs but I needed a new chair as fast as posible so I decided to get them to order me one from OX in Japan.
  As soon as I went to draft to pick my chair up I knew I was going to like it. It looks brilliant and when I tested it out in the car park it felt amazing! I had just 15 days to get used to my new chair before the London. My first few pushes were promising, I was slower climbing but I was much faster on the flats and downhills. I needed to find the right positing for me to sit in to get the most power out of each push. My new chair is a solid kneeler which means I kneel on a solid metal plate, my old chair was a soft kneeler where you kneel in a sling. The solid kneelers are much more efficient because they flex less each time you push, more of the force is transfered through the wheels and into the ground producing faster speeds.  The problem I have is that I can still feel my legs, I had been told by coaches, that pretend they know more than they do, that I would never be able to kneel at all let alone in a solid kneeler. After being told that I had always thought I was pushing my luck by getting a soft kneeler. Now I have a solid kneeler I know those coaches were talking out of their backsides! The solid kneeler is much more comfortable and I'm glad I picked it.
The last 9 days before London wasn't great as I had three punctures to deal with. I ended up going out pushing on the dodgy front tyre I'd had to change before the Lisbon Half, it was fine on the first push but the second time I used it I had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a learner bus driver who had thrown the anchor out when he saw a car on the opposite side of the road. Where do they find these people? Anyway, within 3 miles my tyre had punctured. Miles from home, with no spare and no phone. I saw two women stood chatting whilst having their cars cleaned so I went and asked to borrow their phone the only problem was I could remember my mum's home number and no others, she wasn't in. Bloody great. So I started pushing home but the roads in Rossendale are awful and I was scared I was going to do some real damage to my wheel. Front wheels cost around £700 so you can see why I was worried! After 4 miles I decided to pop in to the local cycle shop Ride On, these lads are always really helpful when I pop in for bits and pieces. They were soon crowded round my chair debating if they could fix it and how to attempt it. The tyre had completely had it, there was a patch without any rubber left on it and this is where it had blown so when the lads tried forcing the anti puncture solution into the tyre it ran straight back out. They tried a couple more ways to repair it but it was having none of it so the situation called for drastic measures. Out came the gaffer tape, they wrapped it round tight and put some more solution in to the tyre. They then managed to get about 40 psi in the tyre which was enough to protect the wheel from Rossendale's nasty road surface. I headed home gently trying not to rip the tape. I got to about 200m from home and had to use my brake which ripped the tape off and gave me a face full of gunk! I returned to ride on the next day with a box of chocolates for the lads as a thank you.
  The next few days were an anxious wait for the delivery of my new tyres, I didn't have any spares so I had to train on my handcycle instead of in my chair. They turned up the day before I travelled down to London for the marathon. Talk about a close shave! That day was spent changing tyres, packing my bag and getting a massage on my back. The mother came to get Bonnie my dog as she was dog sitting for me. Then I tried to sleep but I was too excited/nervous so I barely slept at all. Me and dad set off for London early on the Friday, I wanted to get checked in and then travel across London to the Marathon exhibition.
   The runners have to attend the exhibition to collect their race numbers but the wheelchairs do not  need to go, I just like to as it reminds me of when I used t o go and watch dad race. It gets me in the mind frame to race in one of the biggest events in the world. At the exhibition you get plenty of freebies and good deals on new kit and nutritional supplements,  you also get info on other races around the world. I got a few good ideas for events, watch this space! We ended up going for a Singaporean meal then crashed out early, knackered from travelling and shopping at the exhibition.
  On Saturday we went to the Victoria and Albert museum, true to form as soon as we entered the building I had a drama. My bloody caster flew off my chair, I think I must have damaged it on my way to the museum. I was lucky not to have been thrown out of my chair into some priceless sculpture but I was unlucky in the fact I couldn't see the bolt that holds the wheel on anywhere. I got out of my chair and started to look, dad was on his hands and knees and soon he was joined by several other, middle aged folk crawling along the floor looking for my missing bolt. I must have been a lovely shade of red, talk about embarrassing!  Eventually the museum staff radioed the maintenance man and he found some spare bolts and washers to temporarily fix my chair. We then got on with our museum visit. My sister, ugly to you and me, and her boyfriend arrived in London and met up with us at the museum.  There are some brilliant sights in the V&A it's a shame we wasted an hour and a half sorting my caster out! 

Me sat in the V&A whilst everyone looked for my bolt!

  That evening we had the technical meeting, I hate the London Marathon technical meetings, we are split up from the best guys. Our hotel is a complete shit hole and we are charged £150 a night which doesn't even include breakfast or wifi. As well as getting an awful hotel we get officials that don't have a clue. This year's antics at the technical meeting included some poison dwarf threatening to disqualify me for folding the number which was to be taped to the side of the main shaft of my chair. For some ridiculous reason they give us numbers the same size as the ones the runners wear on their vests, they have grown to around 9 inches high nowadays as they have become advertising boards for the race sponsors logo. The main shaft of my chair is 3 inches high. How the fuck did the poison dwarf expect me to tape a 9 inch high number to a 3 inch high part of my chair without folding it? Any sensible race organisers would provide an extra, small sticky number like the ones we use on our helmet so we can stick that on the chair, simple, problem solved!
  When I told the poison dwarf that we never have these problems at races like the Lisbon Half marathon she anounced that was because "They didn't know what they were doing!" She then proudly introduced some doddering old git as a member of the international paralympic committee technical delegation. I couldn't be arsed arguing with them so I just got on with what I was doing, about 5 min later my dad asked "is that safe?" and pointed at the poison dwarf and the doddering old git who were covering John Smith's front wheel in gaffer tape. They were trying to cover the wheel manufacturer's name and logo up. I pointed out that the technical delegate and the woman who thinks the Lisbon organisers 'don't know what they are doing' should really know better about sticking gaffer tape around the front wheel. They didn't have a clue what I was talking about until I pointed out that if John pressed his break the tape was going to get wrapped around it and cause a crash. The poison dwarf then protested that he'd not be allowed to race with the wheel unless the advertising was covered with tape. "Do you have shares in gaffer tape? Why can't he just peel the manufacturer's sticker off like the rest of us do?" Was my answer to her. Absolutely unbelievable,  this is supposed to be our country's premier road race and they can't even find officials who could run a successful school sports day. After the usual battles with the officials they did their little safety speech which was identical to last year. We found out the buses left at 6:30 am for the start and with that Ugly left for her hotel as her and her boyfriend would have to leave their hotel at 5:30 am to reach me in time to travel to the start with me.
  The rest of us were fed and I was amazed that the food was much better than last year, it was only lasagne but it was good. Pudding was a really rich chocolate tart, John didn't like it, Martyna wasn't keen but if they had have offered I would have eaten theirs as well as my own. We had a good laugh around the table particularly when I'd been asking if anybody had a spare washer for my dodgy caster and Martyna, who's English is normally better than mine, asked "what's a washer? Do you mean a sponge?" Haha! I can't really take the piss because I can't speak a word of Polish. We all arranged to wake each other up if we didn't arrive for breakfast in the morning and then headed off to bed.