Shit gets real

 

There are some Americanisms which I love for their pithiness. 'Shit gets real' is one of them. The moment when the thing that you have been anticipating in theory starts to become a tangible reality. Like when you are tied into your zipline harness, or you turn up at the stadium where the final is being played. 

Anyway, my most recent 'shit gets real' moment just happened when I opened the packet in the mail and out slipped 4 cycling shirts in the colours and logo of Myeloma UK. This is the charity that is organising the sponsored cycle ride from London to Paris which I will be starting in (checks calendar) 25 days! We will be covering around 300 miles in 4 days and even if you think 'that should be OK' you know that on May 14th we will be pushing the pedals down for real and then going all the way from South London over the South Downs and to the ferry port in a single stretch, broken only by lunch and two snack breaks. I am sure I am not the most worried or trepidatious rider but even I would like to be sitting down in the port rather than on the start line, thinking either "Oh that wasn't too bad" or "God, my arse hurts".

I am of course looking forward to if for a lot of reasons too. The sponsorship is going well and I hope to be able to better my £3000 target before we start. The obligatory can-rattling link is here:

London Paris bike ride sponsorship site

I am also looking forward to meeting lots of other people who have the same cancer as me, to hear their stories and how they manage their lives and their conditions. There are about 20 people with Myeloma doing the ride (I don't want to call us 'myeloma sufferers' or 'people living with myeloma' and I'm not sure how to name us anyway). I understand that at the end of the ride, as we reach the Eiffel Tower, the riders with Myeloma have a group photo first, before the whole group. Which I am looking forward too. 

I also anticipate the camaraderie that comes from doing something difficult together with other people. We can compare our aches and pains over dinner each evening and plan for the first drink we will have after the Finish. Mine's a beer, and I suppose it should be a Kronenbourg. And there is a big celebration dinner in the evening for which my 'smart casual' will have to come out of my pannier bags. 

So I am genuinely looking forward to it, and I am happy that the funds we all raise will help with research and support and public information about this cancer that you only usually find out about if you get it or a loved one gets it. The total raised by all 100 riders is just tipping over £200,000 as I write. 

And, rather sneakily, I do have a personal secret weapon in my saddle bag, which may help me or may not. The secret weapon is that in 2008 (and admittedly with legs that were 18 years younger)  Cro and I did cycle from Lands End to John O'Groat's for charity, and survived it. So I have long distances under my wheels in the past, and mentally there is no obstacle of doing something for the first time. But I will tell you in blog posts afterwards (and possibly during the ride) whether 18 years have left their mark on my knees or my bum. 

Onward and upwards!