As you know, I am setting off to cycle to London and back from the cathedral city of Worcester on 24th April in order to raise money for Scope.
In essence, the challenge is a simple one. Get on your bike, point it in the direction of London, pray for a tail wind and start pedalling.
My previous cycling and running charity challenge where I cycled from Worcester to Liverpool and back as far as Kidderminster and finished with a 19 mile run to Worcester, was supported by two fantastic friends.
Chris Lynam (left) and Simon Whitton (right).
We've been friends since the days when we were all thickly quiffed, dressed in school uniforms and berets, suffering mathematics and double history together and gradually wasting away on a diet of runny scrambled egg, fried bread, lumpy curry, chicory coffee (!) and tea the consistency and flavour of dish water. Friends since school, many a year ago.
Chris drove many miles more than I cycled - doubling back to check on my progress, leap-frogging me and finding suitable rest stops. Simon kept me supplied with a constant stream of oat bars, Mars bars, bananas, isotonic sports drinks and they both supplied endless verbal support, witty banter and encouragement.
I couldn't have done it without them.
And now I am indebted once again to my wonderful friend, Simon Whitton.
Simon has kindly agreed to drive up to Worcester from Cardiff on Friday before le grand depart. He will then drive painfully slowly tailing or leap-frogging me all the way as far as Watford. Although the congestion charge doesn't apply on Saturday, Simon will leave the car at our friend Matthew Colgate's house in Watford and then hot-foot it to Big Ben in time to welcome me.
He is then going to drive back to Worcester on the Monday in the same capacity....driver, navigator, nutritionist, moral, spiritual and (maybe) physical support, maker of hot cups of tea, force-feeder of bananas, Mr Motivator, comedian and official photographer.
Simon and I have gone through a lot together. We first travelled around Europe in 1986. 2 innocent 17 years olds, backpacks overloaded and weighing us down, a wanderlust for discovering Europe and its cultural pot pourri. We had a great time, but ended up in rainy campsites eating 'gebackene Bohnen mit Speck' (baked beans with bacon) cooked on a camping stove and eaten out of Army mess tins. We didn't have a lot of money.
Since then we have been chatted up by Romanian prostitutes in Bucharest (we just thought they were being friendly - we didn't have a clue; no honestly), woken to the unmistakable sound of machine gunfire in the streets of Amritsar in India (though Simon slept through it and thought it was 'people banging doors').
We've enjoyed the courtesy of PIA - Pakistan International Airways, who kindly put us up in a Karachi airport hotel after the plane we were on had a complete hydraulic failure and nearly crashed landed in the desert, as well as interrogated by the Iranian secret police as we left Iran (don't tell them your Dad is a soldier!), slept in a hotel in Gilgit, Pakistan for the princely sum of 35p a night, endured 36 hour bus rides on disgutingly greasy seats in China, suffered the worst toilets the world can show you, climbed many a mountain and volcano and shared many a bed; not out of choice, but out of economics / lack of sleeping options or damn cold (you need body warmth at 2,000m).
Simon is one of life's true gentlemen. A true friend, always there, never judgemental, always a joke, a witty comment or a downright purile observation. We are 41, born a week apart, but when we get together, it's like CBeebies - we're 11 year old first years at the Duke of York's Royal Military School, all over again.
So, to Chris and Simon. Thanks for being such great friends, for giving your time and supporting me, helping me through the difficult moments and keeping me going.
To Simon, mate you have really stuck by me and helped me and I couldn't think of anyone else who I would like to be in a car, alone, for 8 hours, watching my lycra-clad bottom and heaving chest as I struggle up and over the Cotswolds and Chilterns.
In the words of the inimitable Sweaty Ann Fry, doyenne of the Duke of York's cookhouse, keeper of the pig swill bin....OI! Pick it up now! Cheers Simon, see you on the 23rd April. I owe you a big beer or 6 for this one.
Tony.
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