LEJOG Day 3

I left Moretonhampstead after a great night's sleep. My hosts at the Longhouse B&B had suggested the Union for dinner but in order to complete the LEJOG gastro tour fully, I had a half in the two other pubs in the village. The medicinal effects of Lager as a recarb drink should never be underestimated. Plus it had been a killer day, in every sense.

Anyway, the Union was true to form. I selected three items from the menu (I was starving) but the manager said after Spag Bol was ordered, 'Can I stop you right there? Eat the Spag Bol and if you're still hungry, carry on.' A decent chap as he also gave me £5 in change as I had neither BB or mobile signal and beat a hasty retreat up the hill to the red telephone box. I knew my Dad was worrying. Minimum charges are now 60p for a call. Good God. When I were a lass..

Anyway, I got back to a ski size portion of spag bol and devoured it beyond my appetite which is meagre at best usually. He was impressed but so was I. I could only manage a glass of red and then had to plead tiredness to go and lay down in a darkened room in consequence of feeling like I'd eaten the entire EU subsidy of Italian pasta (there will be one).

Fortunately, I'd jumped at the chance to have porridge from the range for breakfast in place of full cornish or devon on the basis that so far, english breakfasts hadn't quite provided the nutritional requirements I needed. Good move. The 5 miles hill out of Moretonhampstead is deadly on porridge, never mind sausages and fried bread. I'd like to say I enjoyed it but in truth, I've seen more low (or is it high?) gears than ever these past few days. The one anyway that let's you pedal up Everest even though you don't move anywhere at all. I guess I'm hilled out.

It wouldn't be so bad if hills didn't go downhill. I decided today that I have to face facts. When I ski, I look down the hill, look at my feet and think 'It's a no from me'. When I climbed Mont Blanc, there's a picture of me at the top which has the fear of a woman who knows the trick is to get down (not up)and last year, like this year, in Ironman, I am to any form of downhill what Eddie the Eagle was to Ski jumping. Never in danger of being first and usually assured of being last.

I suppose I should mention the weather. On the basis that the weather card may need to be played later in the trip (and most likely a lot), all I'm going to say is it wasn't as bad as the past two days. I'm disappointed in was torrential in the middle section after the first 25 miles of hills were over and I knew I had only 30 miles left on 'relative' flat. I did see the sun. Well, glimpsed it. Bizarrely, I appear to have got sun burn but as I know it can't be, it must be wind burn. That, I know, it can easily be.

I saw a lot of fabulous churches today. I saw vineyards. I joined a new club as well. Cyclists are the lowest of the low in motorists world but today, when avoiding lots of old cars that seem to be the norm in Cornwall & Devon (driven very fast as if in an emergency) I got quite a lot of cheery salutes from tractor drivers and caravan drivers. It occurred to me that in motorists world the hierarchy is probably cyclists - caravans - tractors on the basis that at least tractors produce food, rather than deliver it. I think someone should contact Jeremy Clarkson because in some ways today, it felt like being in one of those Top Gear episodes where they race to let him win in the most ridiculous way. He's from Doncaster I believe. If that's true, he'll enjoy showing me how to do LEJOG. Though I doubt he'd approve of the push bike as a committed Motorist. Although maybe I could 'learn' him rather than teach him, a trick of two.

People have been sending me some fantastic messages. At about 4pm today, exercising minute by minute living once again, I remembered something that Prince Charles said to me last year when I had the honour to be invited to meet him as Patron of the Haven. When introduced his first words were 'Ahh.. Pink Power' and I immediately melted (as a die hard Diana Groupie). Considering I thought that 'brand' up round my kitchen table only nine months beforehand, you just don't expect our future King to know what you are about. Well, I didn't. Anyway there is a fabulous picture of us laughing as he chortled after asking 'But Sarah, don't you get saddle sore?'. My response was, 'Well, yes Sir, but there are ways of dealing with it'.

Here is my way. Before breakfast take two full strength paracetamol and Ibuprofen. Repeat as required. Generally, I've find on account is better than too late. A bit like childbirth. If you are too late for the epidural, catch up and pay at leisure.

I took a double dose today. I also took a whole dose of 'shots' which are jelly electrolytes at the same time because I still had 20 miles to Bridgwater and I knew it would get dark. Around that time I was rewarded by two of nature's greatest and most spectacular moments. Firstly, an extraordinary rainbow which caused me to sing the childhood song 'I can sing a rainbow' very loudly to a lot of amused passerbys. I'm hardly Top of the Pops in the voice department.

And secondly, a gorgeous pink sunset just as I had to decide whether to risk riding from Taunton to Bridgwater at least half in the dark. I saw these natural signposts as pointers to go for it. So I did. Riding in to town feeling rather pleased with myself to be at mile 166, I suddenly realised it wasn't exactly overflowing with somewhere to stay. An hour and a half later after being told there is no room in any Inn due to a major power outage at a local power station (you mean no one knew I was coming???) a lovely lady at the out of town Premier Inn with no room in her Inn, pulled a favour with her mate and here I am at the Old Vicarage next to a ginormously attractive Church across the way. I know I keep mentioning it but the Church was once so powerful and you only notice if you are cycling slowly through the landscape that there's one in every village, never mind in every town and city and multiples there of. It reminded me a lot of Cambodia. But that's a different blog.

I almost enjoyed today. I was less wet, less cold and less fed up. I met a nice man from Bolton who immediately offered me cash for the cause. I directed him to www.justgiving.com/pinkpowerchallenge2011 and hope he finds it. There's such a long way to go, I feel afraid to accept donations.

What has cheered me up - a lot - have been all the fantastic messages and support from people I don't even know. Social media may be incomprehensible to me but it seems to have a life of its own. When we need folk, we need folk. And boy have I needed all you folks. Thank you. XX