Back up to bed, set alarm for a quarter to 7. No, not leaving it til the last minute again like I always do, better make it 6.45. On second thoughts quarter to 7 is fine. As I lay awake in my 5-foot fold up bed unable to sleep because of the gigantic meal I just finished, my nose running at will down my face, I pondered the missing gloves, the invalid train ticket and the complete lack of a plan and I really hit a low. Sure what was the point in going if I was going to have a big massive cold all weekend anyway? What if I “surf” as badly as I did in Tenerife? How would the next wedding song go - with Neilo doing the cycling, we won’t get too far. What if I get a hefty train fine? Do I even like cycling, I mean do I really? If one day in the cold was going to crush my spirits so much maybe I’m not as good a cyclist as I thought I was. How could I expect to manage almost twice what I cycled today? My alarm would be going off in 6 hours and I couldn’t feel less like cycling. But was I going to go home and take the easy way out? Not bloody likely. There’s no point whining about it, I was in a hole, I was just going to have to dig my way out.
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