CORNISH NASTY

Part of the fight is devoted to keeping your front wheel and the tarmac acquainted

There are 130 kilometres on the clock, and some 3200 of climbing metres to boot, in a thoroughly exhausting day’s work when the heavens opened to stick in the knife. Oh, and I’d also run out of food, and there were 30km still to go. My legs trembled with each pedal stroke, on the cusp of cramping. I wasn’t climbing any Alpine or Andean monster, rather the steepest hills of Cornwall, and frankly, in that moment, I didn’t know which was worse.

“It always rains in Holsworthy!” A bellow through the fog, as we tipped over into Devon, briefly jolted me into life. It came from my day’s road captain, local Strava legend Craig Harper, who was cranking up the tempo. Craig is always sphinx-like, with no grimaces or visible signs of pain across his face at any point. He appeared annoyingly fresh. He must have been feeling it, though, as this had been a monstrous day in