The day before day zero

It’s 48 hours before the event and I wake up with a throbbing pain on my right foot. I just think I must have been cycling in my sleep and accidentally kicked the wall, so don’t think much of it. Then I roll out of bed and realise I can’t really move my big toe, nor walk, so I look down and lo-and-behold my foot has grown to comedy size. Just Great!

I intended to pick up my bike from Big Yellow up at finchley that day, and taking a 5 mile spin as my training schedule prescribed, but after taking what felt like an awfully long time limping from the front door of my BlackHeath AirBnB flat to the corner of the road, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

So I run a few chores: pick up some Euros from Covent Garden exchange, buy a second water holder for my bike, a dozen energy bars and a diatonic drink (todo: find out what the hell a diatonic drink is) and then rush home to wait for my luggage that Iberia misplaced. Oh yeah, Iberia forgot I might be needing my luggage somewhere between my San Sebastian – Madrid – London leg.

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