Where to start? With last night’s chips and gravy induced diarrhoea, or the most beautiful road I’ve ever seen? Hmmm, toughy. Well, one offers more of an advantage than the other that’s for sure. All you really need to know is I felt empty all day, a little bit wobbly, and was struggling to control my body temperature. I don’t think the rain helped. There was a light drizzle for about two hours and one huge downpour. But, by the time I headed back around the other side of the loop the sun was just about shining and, well, I still couldn’t control my body temperature, but I was at least dry. 

     I wanted to go to this particular road (Winnats Pass) since The Dad drove me there when I was exploring buying a house up in Sheffield years ago. The weather was horrendous, an actual blizzard hit somewhere on High Peak as we were driving around, and whilst for some that would just confirm that it was grim up North, I was mesmerised. I had been dying to come back for years. I was pretty sure I had found the exact location, I was probably 96% certain and didn’t want to ask as I wanted to test my knowledge. A gamble that thankfully paid off when I topped out and looked down at the incredible view below….

….a combination of me being a scaredy-cat when it comes to descents, the rain and the sickness made me stop at the top and second guess whether I should go down on the bike. I took a moments breath and opted to walk down. The road is 20% and I knew I’d be concentrating so hard I’d basically miss all the beauty. So I walked. I held onto my handle bars in the same way that I hold my partners hand when I am in awe of something, strong but soft, hoping that he feels as captivated by the magic as I am. To most, a bike is an inanimate object, but my bike, my ‘Julian’, is not. He is my best friend. He accompanies me when I am at my lowest; offering everything I need to pick myself out of whatever mental hole I have fallen into. He accompanies me when I am at my most elated; reminding me to always stay focused, humble and not get carried away in the moment. He is there; come rain or shine. He has travelled with me up and down the land, and even in the air to the cycling mecca Girona.

He came into my life when I won a bid for him sat around a campfire with the best of friends, late at night, when I really wasn’t sure I could spend all that money on another bike and my partner at the last minute said he’d make up what I couldn’t afford as part of my Christmas present. It was June. I named him ‘Julian’ right there and then because it was the day Julian Alaphilippe had gone into the yellow jersey at the Tour, and this very special bike was a little bit yellow. He has carried me over mountains both actual and metaphorical and today he carried me when I felt like I should really be somewhere entirely different, like hiding under a duvet. So I held his handle bars, and thanked him for getting me to the place I dreamt about for years. It was far from perfect circumstances, but I was there. He was the best company I ever could have asked for….

….I re-mounted and after not too long found a lovely spot for lunch…

…and I felt really good about eating my lunch, obviously…

…and then before I knew it, the road began to climb again…

….it was…hard. I stopped three times to gasp for air and give myself a good talking to to ensure I got to the top…

….I don’t know how I wasn’t sick. Perhaps because on the other side there were suddenly loads of people, or perhaps because my body really knew it needed to hold onto this meal if I was to get home in one piece. 

     I rode on and strangely found a wonderful rhythm when I got onto the Sheffield Road, despite its long drag of a hill I weirdly felt like I suddenly had diamonds in the legs. I guess anything would have felt easy after the last climb.

Just before the road descended again I stopped off a couple of times to make some new friends….

….on the way down I really did feel like if I closed my eyes I could fall asleep. Thankfully I didn’t. And I managed to re-route myself, feel the roads with my nose rather than my Komoot and located a stunning off road path that led me to the canal…

….I got home and fell into a heap. Eventually I ran a bath and now i’m debating going and finding some chips. Sans-gravy this time I reckon.