The air was cold and crisp; the wind stinging my legs - perfect cycling weather and before I knew it we’d passed Shoreham, the old Cement Works, Steyning and Storrington and entered Pulborough - 25 miles in, at a fantastic pace of 14.4mph. I decided to stop and admire the beautiful Sussex countryside, framed by the bright blue spring sky. Pulborough is magnificent. Gemma and I sat opposite a school on the main road and a cricket pitch, nestling under the chalky green of the South Downs. What a place to grow up. Hard to imagine such a peaceful place can harbour paedophilic murderers - and such a shame that is probably the only reason I, and I expect you, have ever heard of Pulborough. Not for its beauty - for its beast.

Anyway. Gemma and I carried on through the delightful countryside, on past Midhurst and along the best bit of all - a long stretch of perfectly flat straight road across the Hampshire border through Petersfield and toward Winchester. I stopped at Cheriton - a small hamlet outside of Winchester - 60 miles in. It was 1pm. I was still averaging around 13mph but was really starting to feel the heat. For the first time in about 5 hours I spoke to someone; the owner of a house whose driveway I was using as a parking bay. He seemed oblivious when I told him I had come from Brighton and was halfway through a 120 mile trip, but instead seemed to be more interested in the manner by which Gemma was leaning against his wall! Fascist. I wasn’t bothered as it had dawned on me - I was halfway - mint!

The happy halfway feeling had all but evaporated upon reaching Winchester. Not only was the 5 mile route from Cheriton one big hill after another over a horribly hectic main road, but I got completely lost! This time, a far more congenial Polish passerby with whom I next conversed was suitably impressed with my feat and even stepped back in shock when I enquired ‘which way to Warminster?’ ‘You’re not gonna cycle there are you mate?’, he enquired in reply. ‘You’re crazy’. Maybe Mr. Just Maybe!

After a short break for refreshments, Gemma and I left Winchester on the A338 Stockbridge Road with Warminster and Bath in our sights. We soon regretted ever starting the stupid ride. The road consisted of one steep hill after another, 6 minute assents followed by 20 second descents. I reached the foot of a valley between two of the thousand hills and entered a National Heritage car park in which to have a short rest.

This was where Gemma became real. The sun was so hot, the hills so tiring and the lack of company so dull that, without even realising, I had been having an out-loud conversation with some Rubber and Aluminium for 10 minutes. We decided, during this conversation, that actually, we weren’t in a race, we could give up whenever we wanted. Just jump on a train. What did it matter? We read the map, then tore the map (accidentally) then spilt water on the map (again, accidentally) before deciding Salisbury, not Warminster let alone Bath was far enough. We would give up there.

The first hill after Stockbridge, 80 miles in and, if i’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, typically they did. The last remaining strap on my bag broke (did I mention the first snapped as I passed Hove Lagoon 2 miles in?!) I’d just reached the A30 - the nastiest road of them all. Perhaps it was just the time of day, or simply that the roaring of passing traffic had yet to get to me, but I suddenly became very aware of just how scary vehicles travelling at 70mph a foot away was. Lorry after van after ignorant-car-driving-bastard-not-eff’ing-moving-over was doing my head in!

I pulled over once more to sort out the bag and found there was no alternative but to tie the bag around my neck. I continued, half asphyxiated, seriously overheating, sunburnt, out of water, my face covered in salt from 8 hours of profuse sweating, legs like lead weights, frustrated at not being able to complete the challenge and, with every passing car, scared shitless that I would be splatted into fleshy pulp like the 20 dead badgers I had passed at the side of the road during the day.

I neared the end of the A30 and the section I had been dreading the most all day - the dual carriageway before Salisbury. 90miles. 5.30pm. Rush hour before a bank holiday. The traffic really was as bad as you might imagine. Not only was the dual carriageway busy and very fast, but it began at the foot of a steep descent and continued up a long steady incline. This of course meant the cars gathered speed going down the hill and roared up the dual carriageway past us - while we struggled to travel at 5mph on the assent. The fear at this point was overwhelming so I gave up, climbed the grassy verge and pushed up the hill for about half a mile until I reached the end of the dual carriageway.

Finally, with a mixture of frustration and relief I reached Salisbury train station - 94miles and 9 hours after leaving sunny Hove. My average speed had been 10.4mph. Satisfactory but not great. I do wonder now if I will ever make it? If I had company other than Gemma(!), a decent bag and a slightly longer, cooler day I think i could. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to try again - mainly thanks to wanker car drivers who don’t move over - but there’s an overwhelming sense of ambition which tells me i will definitely be trying again!

So much has happened  since my last post; loads of training for the Randonnee, a trip to St Mary’s to watch The Saints lose, Sean and I having a quality weekend in Brighton and a couple of good nights out in London. I’m not going to reel off my experiences however, i’ve had instructions from a certain colleague to be more creative in my commentary! Time to reveal something, err, creative, then?!

The summer really is on its way, despite last week’s chill. Alex, Chris and I sat in the beautiful warm sunshine on the seafront yesterday lunchtime with a portion of Brighton’s finest sausage and chips. It was so warm I even felt compelled to expose my bare chest which promptly cleared the seafront of seagulls, scared of the biggest pigeon chest ever! The dark winter evenings have gone now too of course, so this evening, I went out on my new mean machine for a ride in the delightful, if a little misty, evening sunshine.  I managed a one hour road ride at pace between Hove, Shoreham Power Station, and Rottingdean; 16.6 miles. An average of 16.6mph (of course).

So where am I going with this? Well, this time next week i’ll be preparing to embark on my first attempt to realise a dream I have had since I first came to Sussex 8 years ago; to cycle from Brighton to Bath in a day.  Next Thursday I’m hoping to complete the ride in 12 hours. I’ve mapped out a non-motorway coursevia Pulborough, Winchester, Stonehenge and into the south of Bath via Norton St Phillip. The full distance is 119miles - which at today’s average speed will take 7 hours! Of course, maintaining 16mph for 7 hours would put me in the bracket of elite tour de france cyclist, which of course i’m not, so at an anticipated 10mph, it should take me 12 hours.

I’m really looking forward to it. The route takes me through parts of Mid Sussex, Hampshire and Wiltshire I’ve always wanted to visit. I’m hoping Jim and Alex will accompany me - if only for part of the way. There are plenty of ‘chicken runs’ on the way with train stations to take the weak back home :-). If anyone fancies coming along too - let me know! Jonny?!

We continued around the park which is dedicated to Gaudi and yet more of his fascinating work. One of the centre-pieces of his work - a large Dragon snaking down the steps to his house and museum - had been vandilised and had its head chopped off a few days before - a huge controversy as I been led to believe by a spanish guy i’d met the night before. It really was a shame as it looked cool, but it wasn’t completely ruined and i’m sure can be fixed. We wondered around in awe to the underground caves with elegantly carved pillars all representing the natural world.

We all felt particularly rough so headed off to the beach to chill out and sooth the hangover with more beer! On the way we went up a large column which looks a bit like Nelson’s column in London. The experience was rather sickening as the thing had sloped floors and swayed wildly - making you feel like it could collapse any minute. It was here we decided not to go up any more high things - despite wanting to go up the huge cable car over the sea! That evening we chilled and experienced the inside of a few more bars and a spanish curry restaurant!

My birthday started with another day of doing the tourist thing - a trip to the Casa Batllo (pronounced bat-yu Jon!) - another incredible Gaudi designed building. Our hostel was in the perfect location - sandwiched between the Casa Batllo on Passiage de Gracia and La Ramba de Catalunya. I’ll let the pictures do the talking about the Casa Batllo - needless to say the guy is a genius. We couldn’t help thinking though - If we were given endless money and the run to do what we wanted - and copious amounts of Marajuna - Jon, Dan and I reckon we could design something similar!

After more drinks we headed out to the Camp Nou once more for the finale of our holiday - FC Barcelona vs Racing. Fantastic experience - Ronaldinho scored twice. Valdes saved a Racing penalty. The English sang loudest and we all took part in a metal mexican wave which went twice around the stadium! We rounded off the holiday with Tapas in 2 restaurants and drinks until about 3 before our 7am wake up call and the flight home.

So I’m back with mixed feelings. I loved Barca so much - I really want to go travelling or just live somewhere warm and different. I’ve returned to a new world however. I’m not going to comment on this myself - but needless to say it will change my life over the next few years. I now work for one of the largest search marketing agencies in THE WORLD!! The opportunities for paid travel are possibly endless! Its so exciting but with a mixture anxiety - I want it all now - I want to just travel europe or the world and learn new languages now! My time will come though - anxious/impatient/excitement? No emoticons for those so i’ll just use thoughtful!

On Thursday my Marathon training resumed with a 13K jog with Lottie - my first run in 10 days since my bout of Flu. It was really nice running with someone who can actually run (sorry Alex - you have been well and truly beaten by a girl!) We kept a steady pace and I finished in 1 hour 20 mins - not exactly a world record but it made me happy. Today, I continued with a short 10k before lunch, hungover and in bright sunlight, I subjected the many families enjoying the sun on Hove seafront to my luminous red sweaty face! I realised I run perfectly in time to the beat of Bloc Party - Banquet. The new album is out tomorrow. Exciting! I’m a little obsessed with the Fratellis at the moment too. Jon and I went to the Arc last night for Indie night. So So good! I wonder if we can find an Indie club in Barca?

I didn’t comment on my trip to Manchester, or Cambridge did I?! Find them sneakily added below!