Maybe it’s the dulcet tones of Brendan Foster and Steve Cram?

The once in a lifetime chance to meet Sue Barker?

Perhaps purely it’s just the ‘theme music’-  ’Main Titles to The Trap’?

Possibly just seeing a few rhinos, or military guys run with full bergan?

Likely, it’s the hangover and combined drowsiness (being tamed by a bacon sandwich full of HP Sauce)?

…or just the combination of all of the above that makes one particular April Sunday morning stand out, and get you feeling all motivated and inspired (from your couch)…if for a day at least…..

“To describe the agony of a marathon to someone who’s never run it is like trying to explain color to someone who was born blind.”  Jerome Drayton (long distance runner)

..but there is something at least that makes you - or in this case, me –  say, ”i want to give that a go”…

For me, it was the attraction of the much spoken about ‘hitting the wall’, and well, there is only one way to find out what that feels like. I’m sure in previous endurance events i have come close, and possibly for a short time whilst riding round Fiji, but the marathon has always had a strange sort of attraction, as has this mysterious ’wall’….

Reporter:”Mr Doyle, how do you feel?

Dennis Doyle: ”How the f*** do you think I feel?” [Run Fat Boy Run, Simon Pegg]

After 3 half marathons, and numerous Tough Guy finishes [the safest most dangerous event in the World!], there seemed to be only one logical next step. A full marathon. The London Marathon.  Primed and ready, i had a few years spare before i reached the apparent prime running age of 28….. and it was always a “one day, ill run a marathon….” so time ticked by….

And so, as i celebrated my 28th birthday rather drunkenly in Fiji’s Uprising Resort, the thoughts of marathon running were at the back of my mind…somewhere near the ‘pay the bar tab’ thought…..and this seemed to be the scenario for most of my ’29th year’..and well, for those of you that have been there…”Fiji Time!” right!? So there was no real need or urgency to find that ‘one day’ and complete a marathon, and unable to settle in one spot long enough i couldnt commit to training….until now. [though London is geographically quite far away now]

So this week, whilst lazing on my couch in South West Australia, i got sucked into the tv ad for the Perth City2Surf running event…4km/12km/half marathon and full marathon…accidentally, i have landed in one location for the foreseeable future, with plenty of training time on my hands, so couldn’t really find many excuses to not do it, so last night i signed up and entered the full-blown 42km Perth City2Surf Marathon!! Woo-hoo(ish)

Whilst training for the Adidas Silverstone Half Marathon, i got an 11 week training plan from Runners World.  Now attempting double the distance, I’ve got myself a 12 week training plan from Runners World!! Sure that extra week will make all the difference!!  Day 1 was rest day, so how hard can this be?? lol….    and City2Surf have a nice event countdown on the site, so i have now got little over 79 days to get myself ship shape and ready!!!   new trainers are currently being shipped from USA, Haribo supplies are being stocked ready in local supermarkets, and i am working on humming ‘Main Titles to the Trap’ in my head for 5 hours….its the only thing that will keep me going!!!  Though if i can get nearer 4 hours i will be very happy….

Eat Dust Kenyan's....

I have got 7 square miles of pine forest, trails and tracks to lose myself in for training, and if it weren’t for the kangaroo’s I’d have the whole place to myself!!

Of course, i am running for Raina Jensen Foundation, and more updates and news about the foundation will be in later blogs.

But hopefully, come 11am on Sunday 28th August (at the post-prime age of 31), ill  finally be able to say ‘i have run a marathon’……..and of course, i guess London will have to become marathon number 2….if Marathon No1 is successful!

Gone are the long winding rural roads, open sea front finishes and a training schedule that never started until after Uncle Noel on ‘Deal or No Deal’. (its opening boxes for goodness sake, does randomness and probability mean nothing to you people??  …..”14 is always my lucky number”…’Not today it aint love, there goes 250k!’”).

A grid like city offers plenty of loop & zigzag training options. Enough undulations to constantly change pace and rhythm, bridges, underpasses and walkways criss-cross the urban jungle amongst the rising concrete stalagmites. Static Red Men give a welcomed breather, before his opposite green man sends you on your way. Weaving through the homeward bound city workers at the end of the day is nicely different to the flat back country roads of Norfolk. Perth is an energetic city, and its people too. Plenty of cyclists and fellow runners all have the same idea for a late afternoon regime. The dropping sun and temperatures make for a pleasant, good testing workout.

On my first run i got slightly lost (pesky grid like road patterns, ;0)   , so I asked a passer by for directions for Kings park – the largest city based park in the World – and i couldnt find it. He offered i return up the steep gradient i had previously just enjoyed striding down, or continue under the highway to what is called ‘Jacobs Ladder’ – 250 steps of, well, erm, concrete. Rising 43 metres, erm….quite quickly.  I arrived at the base of ‘the ladder’ and was presented with what looked like a conga line of sweaty bodies - this place was alive with exercise goers!  Not all shapes and sizes were there, but there was a good mix, and a broad age range too - young and old. Fit, fit and the fitter…..this was like no other training i’d done before…walkers, and ‘sprinters’ shared the steps – some training with weighted backpacks. First i managed to squeeze out 3 ‘up and downs’…whilst overhearing small East Asian women discussing it was there 14th set!!! Jeez!!!  i was knackered.

I have since returned, completing 5 sets…until the quads and calves were screaming for a break….knowing i still had 2 miles to run to reach ‘home’.  The descent for some reason seems harder…i guess its the fear in taking a stumble….especially near the bottom as concentration fades – it reminds me of a short holiday to Paris about 14 years ago when my ‘brainwave of a Dad’ decided we should walk up to the 2nd Floor of the Eiffel Tower before catching the lift to the top….up was fine, but walking down again, with open metal staircasing was not such fun…especially after just seeing a fellow tourist lose a ‘flip’ or a ‘flop’ through the steps (which is which?)  But if you do ever find yourself in Paris, i suggest you try the walk as well!

At the top of ‘the ladder’ its like mini circuit session. Benches for dips, railings for stretching on, and the floor to do anything else…and 2 much needed water fountains aswell!  Its great to be training outdoors, and not on a treadmill in a gym, watching the tv, or the mind numbing feeling of watching your treadmill computer slowly ticking over…..and at the top there’s one heck of a view looking back to the City, and across the river and surrounding suburbs.

Its cardio and muscle busting at the finest level…there’s a playground out there, and i am a little kid again (/always!)….love it!

(and i also love that since ive finished my half marathon training, im currently not on any ‘schedule’ – just running for the love of it, and Perth is a great city to run around)

The 'ladder'

Following my Adidas Silverstone Half Marathon (1hr 54 mins) i am still raising funds for the Raina Jensen Foundation. From this event alone i have raised near to 500gbp [a massive thankyou once again to all those who have donated hard earned cash], and there will be more events later this year. Our Cultural King of Vorovoro, Save, has also completed his Round the Bays run in Auckland in a respectable  1hr 15 mins – not bad for a first event, and with little training – and if you have any fundraising ideas for me, or you wish to participate in your own event, please let me know

stukimberley@hotmail.com

Save talks about his run here and post run here . Save hopes to participate in a number of events this year, to raise funds to contribute to his University fees for his Architects Course, and also to benefit his Mali Community through the Raina Jensen Foundation. You can doante direct to Save via paypal     savenaca75@gmail.com

The Big Man with the Big Hair...Toso Save Toso!!!

Thankyou

It has been more than 10 years since i last ran a half marathon (GNR 2000), and i have got 15 days till i run my next one….nervous – ish, exicted – yes, fit enough – yes [for my expectations!].

My Fiji Bike Ride was the first achievement to be crossed off a wish list of ‘adventures’. The next one i hope, is a full marathon – but before i can do that, i thought it best to have another go at a ‘halfer’…

Another person i know who sought adventure is Raina Jensen. Raina was tragically killed on Thanksgiving Day 2010, in Massachusetts. I worked with Raina in Fiji in 2007, and the 4 months working with Raina were some of the best of the 16 months i spent working on Vorovoro Island. Raina had an exuberant energy for life, and shared her smile, hugs and laughter with people from far flung corners of the World. Her warmth and zest for life was infectious. Memories of Raina will never fade.

Losing Raina will always be a painful reminder as to how short life can be – particularly when her life was taken by the actions of someone who chose to drink some beer, then get behind the wheel of a car…

With Raina in Trafalgar Square, the day of final episode of BBC 2 Docu 'Paradise or Bust'

Since that GNR a decade ago, i have always wanted to take the next step and complete a full marathon – ideally, one of the Big City ones…and well, i got bored of ‘wanting’ to do one, so am now taking the steps to complete one…hopefully sometime this year….so this Adidas Silverstone Half Marathon is quite literally that first step in doing so…

A few lazy Fijian months at the end of 2010, added to the ‘holiday pounds’, so starting a new 11 week training regime the week before Christmas was ideal!  Here is my training plan, that has proved to be quite an excellent guide, and can be easily tailored to individual needs, so if you need a hand with your training then i recommend using this tool - whatever your ‘race’, even for beginners attempting 5k/10k events…

My race number and final instructions recently dropped onto the door mat, and the excitement from participating in such events starts to grow! Being able to run on the Silverstone circuit is going to be something special. The buzz and camaraderie before and during races like this is one of the attractions too….and it has been a while since i have been on a start line so sure there will be a mixture of nerves, adrenaline, and excitement come 12pm on Sunday March 6th.

My ‘unofficial’ time for the GNR was 1hr 48 mins, but since then i have experienced more beer, a small bit of Fiji time, and grew a taste for grog, so i’ll be surprised if i get close to that. Given my current training pace then i hope to get about 1hr 53mins, so fingers crossed! Though being a relatively flat course, the buzz of the day, and with good conditions then maybe 1hr 50 might be possible! (and anyone who has completed such events knows that if there is a nice ’female derrier’ in front, then you’ll do all you can to follow it…)

…and of course if it rains, then i know Raina ‘Uca’ Jensen is looking down on me….

More information about the Raina Jensen Foundation can be found here.

UK DONATIONS

To donate via paypal, please make payments to my account –  guyincognito_99@hotmail.com

Via the bank online/high street, then Lloyds TSB, Acc No 01499540, sort code 30-94-93

USA DONATIONS

Paypal as above, or cheques payable to ‘Raina Jensen Foundation’ sent to  Raina Jensen Foundation, P.O. Box 9739-1026, Portland, Me. 04104-5039

We’ll be taking the Foundation to Fiji in the Autumn of this year, so though this Foundation is commited to a long term partnership in Fiji, which will require constant funding,  i ask for generous donations now to get us off to a good start this year.

A small glimpse into the last 4 days of September 2010 as i challenged myself to ride solo, unsupported around the mainland of Fiji – Viti Levu – raising £710 ($2150 FJD) for Rotary Club Lautoka, with Lautoka Hospital to be the main beneficiary.

Starting at Lautoka Hospital, the plan was to cycle clockwise around Viti Levu, following the Kings Road around to Suva, then Queens Road from Suva back to Lautoka…is it possible to cover 500km in 4 days???
You can read the 8 Part Blog that accompanies this video here and find out about the adventures i hope to complete in 2011.

This ride was only possible with the help of the following…

• Stinger Bicycles, Nadi -  for free donation of the bike
• Rotary Club Lautoka – Peter Drysdale, Rick Eyre & Mohammed Tazim, and
  Lautoka Hospital
• Felix Chaudary at Fiji Times for covering the ride.
• Sera Janine at Fiji Sun
• Fiji Beachouse for Free Food, Beer (!) and Accomodation at the end of Day 3!
• Oasis Restaurant, Pacific Harbour for free lunch on Day 3
• Williams & Gosling Limited Fiji for donations
• Amalgamated Pest Control Fiji for donations

To those who offered words of support and donated to the cause, it is hugely appreciated.

…and Al Humphreys for the inspiration

How can you not love this place when it churns out crap like this….

Ladies and Gentleman, i would like to introduce to……The Wonderfile!!

‘Smooth Writing Surface???’..as opposed to the smooth writing surface the Wonderfile is placed on….D’oh!

Could be a rival to Fiji’s finest RC Manubhai Adverts though…

Least it might finally give some inspiration for my own ideas…”Good Afternoon Dragons, i have got this shit idea that i want you to invest in…”

In front of me, the rolling hills of Viti Levu interior. To my left, a road sign that clearly stated Nadi 36km, Lautoka 66km. I felt good to know it was only 66km, but knew that was still 3-4 hours of riding. I was getting closer.

Rick had asked for me to arrive into the Hospital grounds for 4pm. I think a combination of him being allowed to leave work, and also, for the hospital to not be so busy.

During the day 4pm became 5pm. I sat in the bus shelter a bit longer. It was slightly annoyed as I knew I could have finished at about 3/3.30pm, and well for 5pm, though the opportunity to not have to rush was nice, I was so close I just wanted to finish.

The km were ticking by slowly though. The sun was ever increasing in heat, and there was little chance for shade, and tailwinds had stopped soon after the climb away from Shangri la resort. I was leaving the coast that had offered such great views for the morning.

My mind was on the verge of delirious. Tired from the week, and baking in the sun. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough – just concentrating on the battle of keeping the pedals turning. I realized I hadn’t eaten since Sigatoka, and though a big feed, it only satisfied depleted stores and offered nothing for the day. Energy levels were well and truly in the red zone! It wasn’t safe. I disappointed myself as I knew I had to keep food consumption consistent all the way around to avoid situation like this, but I hadn’t done it. I don’t know why, but I only remembered to hydrate, and apply sun cream – and not eat. Maybe I thought I was closer to the finish than I was. I found the petrol station that marks 50km to Lautoka. A shop I had stopped at before and sat and ate whatever suitable food I could find.  It wasn’t much. It’s not good to take on too much sugar, as the low after the high could be very detrimental to my progress, but I was in a tough situation. Maybe I had hit the wall the marathon runners do. I consumed something.

I had to get to Nadi.

Journalists were now phoning me direct to get the update, and trying to arrange rendezvous along the way. Suddenly they were now trying to dictate my times and movements. I wasn’t having any of it. This is my ride, my challenge, and yes I was grateful for there assistance in raising the profile of the ride and Rotary Club, but I was tired and wanted as few distractions as possible. I stuck to my average speed progress and told the journalist I would be at the top of Nadi high street for 2pm. Even if the interview took an hour, I knew I then had 2 hours to cover the short 30km to Lautoka hospital. I arrived at Nadi at 1.45 and waited. The petrol station offered little selection other than sugary over priced snacks. I just wanted a good thick sandwich, energy and a bit of substance inside me. I was depleting my stores too much. I settled for a few bags of crisps! The journalist arrived at 2 and the interview progressed well. She had done her research, understood the challenge, and appreciated what I was doing. I was impressed. Handshakes and a few photos later I was back on the road – with time well and truly on my side. 20 metres after the petrol station on the other side of the ride was a bread and cake shop! I cursed about the wasted time sat at the station eating crisps. Ideally I would have gone into Nadi high street and devour a bed of rice and chicken, but couldn’t risk the safety of the bike.  I settled on a few cream buns, and headed to a station further down Nadi back road that I knew offered good shade.

I sat down, and tried to eat the buns. I was so hungry I couldn’t eat. I was ready to finish. I sat further to at least get my head round the next 2 hours of my life. It was a road I had ridden many times. I knew the contours; I knew there would be traffic. I knew I could at least afford one more stop along the way. 

Nadi back road rolls very fast, which probably annoys a lot of the bus and cane truck drivers. When you’re pushing over 30km and they’re trying to overtake, and show courtesy by giving room, it makes it harder for them, especially when our comparative speeds are so close. I felt guilty that even though all that had happened before, I was running the risk of annoying the drivers who were willing to show cyclists some courtesy. 

I reached Nadi airport. I could smell the finish line. For those that haven’t been to Lautoka then this is a sugary scent with a hint of pine chip. Wary of the increased traffic around me I was starting to think about the highs and lows of the previous few days. I couldn’t let my tired mind wonder too far as I still had to concentrate on riding the poorly maintained roads past Sabeto and Lomolomo, just hoping I wouldn’t venture too far out into the path of a speeding vehicle.

Expected headwinds slowed me a little, but the clock read 3.45pm. I had only 13km to go, but over an hour to go before my allotted finishing time of 5pm. I sat at Viseisei junction and finally let my mind wander over the week in the safety of a patch of grass and a post to lean on, and laughed at the moments where I broke, I thought back to the big climbs, the fast downhill’s, the no man lands and an unpaid accommodation bill. I phoned Beachouse and tried to contact the owner to try and reconcile the crime. She couldn’t be contacted, I had a challenge to complete, so I told reception I would send an email. I didn’t want any call backs. The passing traffic was a constant reminder that I was not yet home. Almost, but not quite.

I waited 45 minutes before riding on. I could have chosen to wait closer to Lautoka, but I would have felt stupid to wait for so long with only a few km to go. And at Viseisei I knew that after the short climb to USP, it was a fast finish, and I wouldn’t have to stop again.

It was a fast finish, and I probably get in the way of a few drivers rushing home, but I was rushing home too, and at that point I didn’t really care, they were the ones that would have to brake.

The km markers counted down faster than an altitude meter on a landing plane, and I wondered what Liggit and Co would say about the finish. It’s a shame I didn’t have anyone to sprint against. I had energy, or adrenaline atleast.  Kelera and Joe had come out to meet me over the last few km, and I gave them my camera to get photos and video. 5km to go. It was a long straight road. I approached Punjas roundabout and slowed over the climb past Balawa, before dropping down again to Nadovu park. Only a short climb past Drasa Avenue School to go, negotiate the roundabout and venture into the hospital grounds and I was done.  The drop to the roundabout offers speed for a bike, though the volume of traffic quickly stops that. I looped round the roundabout that I had not seen since about 8.23am on the Monday morning and felt I had finished. Hospital Road seemed to have steepened in my absence from the West, but I made it up, looped round the hospital traffic flow system, and to Rick and the awaiting photographer’s right outside the main entrance to the hospital. The mortuary was forgotten about. I had survived, and importantly so did the bike. I had cycled around Viti Levu in 4 days. The clock read 5.06pm.

“I have always struggled to achieve excellence. One thing that cycling has taught me is that if you can achieve something without a struggle it’s not going to be satisfying.” Greg LeMond, Professional Cyclist.

It was nearly 3am when the W&G Driver phoned. As expected the gate was locked so I rose from my slumber to go and meet him. Before dinner I had mentioned this scenario to security and asked what should I do in such an occurrence.

‘push the gate to Suva’ came the reply. My mind continued with comedy value of such a statement and the sheer stupidity of such an act. It was bad enough trying to cycle round Fiji, and now he wants me to push a gate to the nation’s capital. Of course, he meant for me to slide the gate in the direction of Suva, or ‘to the right’ as most might detail the situation.

The heavy gate made a lot of noise as it slid toward Suva. Quite a lot of noise infact for 3am, and the only other noise around was the sound of the idling engine of the W&G truck on the other side. It was like some weird version of Blind Date. Was my life about to change with whatever lay behind ‘Cilla’s Screen’??….I was met by a large middle aged Fijian man. Fijian winters are cold in comparison to the summers and day time temperatures, and Kamal and his travelling cab buddies were wrapped in jackets and wooly hats. I had stepped into the night’s darkness in nothing but shorts and carrying a torch. It was a strange few seconds of my life. I bet Kamal had never even heard of Blind Date.  Under the brightness of the headlights he handed me a small package, a pen, and a delivery note on which I were to scribe my name.

I don’t know what he made of it all, but like a secret covert mission and with a messy scrawl on a bit of paper and that was enough for me to receive my package, and Kamal carried on with his more regular duties of driving onward to Suva. I then pushed the gate all the way back to Sigatoka, and retreated to my room.

It has been about 20 years since I last changed a set of brake pads, but I was confident I could conquer the small challenge I was faced with. Tiredness, beer, and it being 3am started to take its toll, but not long after I started, then the pads had been changed.

Now began the fun and games. My old bike was the old school brake style and fairly simple to change. Id proven that even an idiot could change the pads. This bike however was a little more advanced than a bike from the early 90’s. It was a bit more technical, and with a bit more precision required from the tired brain of mine. I knew it would be fiddly getting them so properly aligned that they didn’t rub the possibly ever so slightly misshapen wheel, but close enough that they would stop the wheel at the right tension on the cable. By 4am I was ready to throw the bike in the sea, and admit defeat, but I hadn’t cycled 350km to give up that easily. I was more competitive than that and carried on waving the multi tool near the brake pads.

By 5am I wasn’t really sure what I was doing and the lack of sleep was starting to ruin my enjoyment of my final day.

At 5.10 I climbed back into bed trying to decide the latest I could awaken to complete the ride. Get some good rest and ride well to the finish and hope nothing major goes wrong or rise early and blearily conclude this dream of mine whatever happens.

I was happy that the front brake pads were set. For the rear, then I accepted the emergency left foot option. Besides, there weren’t that many hills between me and the finish line.

As I turned left on exiting Beachouse I was faced with my first hill for the day. I forgot about the hill right next to Beachouse. I hadn’t slept since the brake pad saga, just turning in the bed. Annoyingly, the bed was so comfy I just wanted to stay, rest, get a good breakfast, and then head out, but I had risen at 6am. Put on the cold wet clothes from the washing experience the day before, and packed my bag one last time. After checking the bike once more I ventured out at 6.45 and met the closed and securely locked reception building. There weren’t many people around, or an option of dropping the key anywhere. The life quiz that asks ‘have you ever left a restaurant or hotel without paying?”, and of course my answer has always been ‘no’, and now this was my chance to change that. But no, I had been brought up well, and ‘doing a runner’, as I had been taught, was wrong.  I also had to conclude a 4 day bike challenge around Viti Levu and well, security were as visible as they were at 3am so I had no one to confer with. I returned the key to the room, and hurriedly peddled off into the distance with a smile on my face…and up the big hill!

Surely they would understand. Wouldn’t they?

I wasn’t bothered about the lack of breakfast as Sigatoka was only 90 minutes away.

I was excited. It was the last day. Shorter than the previous two and on a road that I had already completed 65km on in training. The hills were fine, but I knew Nadi back road was fast, and the approach to Lautoka was easy. I just had to keep moving forward. After a short stop at Baravi handicraft on the way, and passing the usual questions with flying colours I rolled over the bridge into Sigatoka Town just before 9am.

A fast food outlet provided a welcome brekkie that I devoured on the banks of the wide river. The morning had gone well. I was fuelled and had the whole day ahead of me, and content that if the bike gods were to go against me again, then at least I was near to Nadi to get repairs.

I rested next to the river for sometime, thinking about the comfy bed, and how if I were to keep this pace, then I could have spent more time in the comfy bed at Beachouse…which I would have then probably had to pay for.  Swings and roundabouts.

With such an early start I hadn’t bothered to put sun cream on, but now the sun was starting to intensify, so I stopped at a bus shelter just after Sigatoka. I sat down and pressed record on my camera. What followed I think was a display of what 3 or 4 days on a bike does to the mind, combined with fatigue, tiredness, hunger, adrenaline, isolation, excitement, success (?) etc. maybe it was more than 3 or 4 days worth. Definitely the previous 2 weeks of training, combined with the challenge itself had taken its toll. The preparation had been tough. It is not just about riding a bike.  Raising money, training and learning about how far I could push myself, was testing me more than the physical aspect of a 481km ride.

Sitting in the bus stop was a welcome break. I was tired, and not just physically tired. Emotionally and mentally too but so close to completing the challenge.

Time was on my side, but not that much, so I climbed back on the bike and made progress as best I could. My legs were tired. Energy levels were gone, and I could barely exert myself beyond what was required. I think the bike was tired too. Even downhill sections seemed slow. I felt every bump, every hill, and every headwind 10 times more today. Sigatoka to Nadi was the sort of no mans land that I disliked. The sense of being close to the half way mark of the day, but becomes sluggish before Lautoka really starts to get close.  The roadside km markers which displayed the remaining distance to Lautoka had been counting down since morning, but were now counting down quite slowly. At least I wouldn’t forget how far it was to Lautoka.

I stopped at the petrol station, refueled food and water, finished the last of the army rations knowing Navua and Pacific Harbour were ahead of me for lunch breaks. I made an attempt at brake pad maintenance once again. It wasn’t good. Nothing on the back, a little on the front. Me planting my left foot on the rear tyre if all else fails. Friction reduces momentum right?? Applied forces and all that.  I spent nearly half an hour in Lami playing with the pads. That was 10km of riding – maybe more so on these faster wind assisted roads.  I was losing road time. I phoned Rob for his advice. I could have headed back to Suva to Wai Tui cycles, but I had a vague inclining that they were on the far side of the city.  They may or may not have been able to help. That would have been a lot of time wasted. I could have hitched a lift to them – or was that cheating?  They could have helped, and then maybe I could have just had a day and a half to do the remaining 210km – still possible.

I was getting frustrated and just wanted to ride. Rob accepted my desire to ride and agreed for me to carry on and he would plan to arrange to have some brake pads sent to me en route.  I decided I would aim to finish at Beachouse Backpackers near Korolevu, and that Rob would find a way to get the pads to me there. Either way, I had an emergency braking strategy and fortunately most of the hills here either had an uphill soon after them, or a straight enough stretch afterwards for momentum to dissipate there.  Maybe I didn’t need the brakes after all. The only problem would be if a child or animal would cut across in front of me in a village. My stopping distance was similar to an ocean tanker. I wouldn’t be able to stop. Oh, and then there’s the motorists that were to show me little courtesy. I was slightly nervous.

The road away from Suva was fast but an hour later I had cracked once again. I had reached another no mans land. The surrounding views were flat, empty and boring, and tailwinds weren’t what I had hoped for. I had left Suva behind me, but wasn’t starting to see the signs that I was fast approaching Navua. I was in a zone I needed to get out of. Physically and mentally.

The sun was hot. Very hot.

As I was slowly climbing the hill at Naboro I had phoned Rick, and his employers, Williams & Gosling would become my knights in shining armour, and we arranged for one of there trucks to deliver the brake pads to me at Beachouse. Only problem was the truck wasn’t leaving Lautoka until Midnight.

It was a long ride into Pacific Harbour. I was starting to numb but at least I had made it over, round or through the ‘wall’ that had hit me in ‘no mans land’. At least changes in contours get you out the saddle, change the gears and offer a change of pace. Flat roads don’t offer much other than on setting pain.

I pulled into the service road at Pacific Harbour. I knew I was stopping at Oasis Restaurant. Good prices, great food and fast service if I needed it. I knew I could fill my self up ready to replace the morning’s exertion. As it happens I had arrived in good time. Deciding to end the day at Beachouse was simpler. It was roughly 2 hours after Pacific Harbour. I had arrived at Oasis Restaurant not long after 12.30.

‘You the one going round in 4 days?’ was the question from a lady sitting at a table outside the restaurant. I hadn’t even stepped off the bike yet.

‘Erm, yeah, I think I am’

‘I think you’re mad. Come and have lunch, my shout…’ she replied.

Wow. I knew prices were good, but free lunch is even better. I had hoped that this challenge would reveal opportunities that would remind me how great some people in the world can be. This simple offer of a free lunch was one of those opportunities.

I was with the owner of Oasis Restaurant – a wonderful lady from London, England no less who has been in Fiji for 20 years. I was happy. Would this have happened if I hadn’t have stopped in Lami for so long? Who knows? We sat outside and skimmed the papers for the bike ride stories. Only short stories today, but it was good enough. With us was a couple who had earlier passed me on a motorbike on the edge of Suva.

‘Wow – you made good time!’ the rider enthused.

‘Yeah….the roads were fast’. I failed to mention that I had earlier reached breaking point and got stuck in no mans land, and I was mightily relieved to have reached Pacific Harbour, and the free lunch was to put a smile on my face for most of the afternoon.

We chatted about England and again, ‘why the bike ride’.

Lunch was fantastic. Time was good too, so I sat with the owner for over an hour.

The couple had left us – onwards to Beachouse of all places – and to put in a good word and seek further free food for me. I hadn’t even booked a room yet. Just hoping to take a chance, but the couple said there is probably room for me. We agreed to ‘see you later’.

I was well rested and happy there was now only about 2 hours to go – with a few big hills between me and Beachouse. I slowly departed from Oasis.

I knew I was making good ground, and settled for slow rides up the hills, and careful descents, only ‘letting go’ when I knew the road ahead was clear, and the oncoming hill would soon reduce my speed to another slow climb. I started to tire in what is referred to as the ‘rollercoaster’ where there are 3 big dipper hills one after the other.

I rolled into Beachouse not long after 4pm. Success. I was covered in dust, grease and sun cream, with wind battered skin and a sweaty odour that would repel most things with a sense of smell. I hovered in reception, fatigued and needing a shower. The receptionist went about her duty. I was tired. Could she not tell I had ridden 300km in 2 days, and all I wanted was a room, a shower, and a lot of food.

I put my well rehearsed haggling skills to the test. We quickly reached the usual slightly lower ‘local rate’ on the promise she would ‘speak to the manager about more reductions’.

It was still a bit too pricey for me, but I just wanted good accommodation – and I had found it at Beachouse. I emptied my bag in the room and headed off for a shower. It was good. I then spent about 20 minutes sitting on the floor of the shower trying to wash my cycling clothes as best I could. Now travelling light meant there was little choice but to pretty much wear most of the same clothes each day – with as good a wash as possible in between.

Clothes washed and wrung, I hung them on the louvers of the room, and then set about the next challenge of food. The menu was full of options, but I chose well.

I settled for a celebratory early beer. I had one day to go. A mere 130km and I would have finished.

I sat on the beach and did a video blog. Joy, happiness and a sense of accomplishment started to feature more than the fear and daunting feeling of previous video blogs. Being able to walk around, and walk on sand felt fantastic. A mini beach holiday in a 4 day bike ride!

I met Erwin and his wife (from the motorbike) and he bought me a beer. I was close to home. Another beer won’t hurt. I had been hydrating all day, and though tired, I felt good inside. Erwin got me another beer, then another. It was nice to be able to relax, yet I knew I hadn’t quite finished the challenge yet. A spoke could go at any moment remember. I decided to not count my chickens just yet, and besides, I was starting to tire, and I had brake pads arriving in the middle of the night, and I still wanted an early start the next day.

Over dinner we were joined, as I later found out, by the manager of Beachouse, and I had already at length discussed what I was doing. She asked if the resort were ‘contributing’ in anyway.  I mentioned the room rate from earlier, and that I hadn’t heard anything back. She instantly offered me dinner (and the yet to be ordered pudding) for free. I was starting to like today.  She left me with an offer to fix the room rate, and with a bit more confidence than I had felt from the receptionist. Today had gone well, almost too well. Erwin was taking care of the beer fund, but with a brake pad pit stop looming I had to refuse further persistent offers of beer and I made my way to bed.

“I don’t believe in Peter Pan, Frankenstein or Superman, all I want to do is bicycle, bicycle, bicycle” Freddie Mercury, Queen.

During the night it had rained heavily. I love the sound of the rain on a tin roof. It is seemingly relaxing and soothing. Though I would have felt more soothed if at least I knew it would end before sunrise. I awoke at 5 to the sound of rain. Another long day of was ahead of me, another 150km. Same distance as yesterday, but this time I knew the road, from Suva at least. I knew there were hills. I knew there would be more traffic, but I knew there was also the chance of tailwinds – finally! I wasn’t too bothered about the distance, I proved that yesterday. I knew I could keep going, slowly but I was starting to worry about the bike, and to be honest, I didn’t fancy getting too wet.

We finished breakfast and the rain stopped just as I finished packing my bag. The sun had started to rise. The cooler mornings were nice to ride and the night before I decided I wanted to be on the road for 6.30am. If I made steady progress there would be enough hours in the day for a good ride. Taking the bike back down to the shop to restart from the exact point I finished the day before the last thing I wanted to do was bicycle bicycle bicycle. I was tired. I always found the first hour of the day hardest. Getting started, finding rhythm, seeing how much energy the legs had. Psychologically it was always hard during the first hour of each day, but also unavoidable. Nausori was an hour and a half away. Suva, much beyond that.  The road to Nausori was rolling fast though, small ups and downs, beautiful villages and the now light drizzle was actually a welcome change. The gathering school children at bus stops would give for great photo opportunities. Smiles, Bulas, and so neatly presented – it was a wonderful image. Picture postcard Fiji. I just couldn’t stop to take the photo. I needed to make a good first hour. For some reason, I found that the more I stopped and rested from the bike, the more it would start to groan at me as it were about to give up. I reached the top of one hill, and stopped to check the rear wheel. I felt it was starting to mis-align, and rub on one rear brake. I adjusted the brake pad. It would stop the rubbing, but it doesn’t re-align the wheel – it could still be out of line, and get worse…as if a spoke were about to break. No not again. That would really end the challenge. Had I bumped one too many potholes the day before? I couldn’t really think too much about what has happened before, only focus on what is ahead of me.

Shadowing the river into Nausori town the roads were starting to get busier. A small headwind confirmed that I really needed to reach Suva, turn along the coast and hopefully catch the anticipated tailwinds. It was still too far to realistically mentally snap out of. I was already bored. The prospect of a long day, and a groaning bike had got the better of me. ‘What’s the point of riding if the bike was just going to break further up the road?  Just is a waste of effort and time.’ I thought to myself.

I rested at the far side of the old Rewa Bridge and battled my thoughts. Energy reserves were low, which looking back were probably the start of the problem. I took full advantage of the packed lunch my previous night’s hosts had sent me away with – enough scrambled egg sandwiches to feed an army. Very welcome. But I knew energy was sparse, and I took a long rest – again, physically, but also again to refocus for the day. 30km done. 120km to go (to reach Korolevu). I started to sense that perhaps more and more passing motorists had been reading about me in the nation’s papers, and I felt embarrassed to be waiting at the side of the road. Maybe my rest stops were getting too long!

I checked the bike again and now it seemed fine. Maybe I was paranoid, expecting something to go wrong. Why couldn’t I just focus on the physical aspect in mind and get on and ride the thing.  I got back on.

I had decided I would avoid the shorter, but lot busier main route into Suva. A recent taxi ride on that road had put me off riding that way. Besides, I remember the other way through Colo I Suva a year earlier offered a great view above Suva, with a steep drop down – I could make good time, then I would be on my way along the Queens Highway, heading back to Lautoka!

It had been so long since that trip I had forgotten just how long and steep the road up to Colo I Suva was. It felt a lot longer than I remembered.  I had set times for places I wanted to reach during the day, and this climb threw everything out the window. I was behind schedule. I scoured the tree tops to see how much higher the road went. The canopy of trees didn’t seem to rise much further, yet the road still climbed and climbed. It had taken 40 minutes to cover 4km! Oh well. I accepted I was on a bike adventure, and hoped I could forget about the setback faster than the 40 minutes it took to climb.  I wondered how much distance I would have covered if I had gone the other way. Not good for my mind, but accepted a challenging climb was probably more interesting than a flow of heavy traffic and stoppages at frequent traffic lights. At least this way I was always moving forward…if only very slowly.

I made it to the top, rode the ridge, then Suva Harbour opened up below me. What a morale boost. I was on the home stretch-ish. I had accomplished the unknown, dodged the dangerous youths, the gravel roads, and a big hill. I was heading home through familiar territory. Yes, the home stretch was still 210km and I wouldn’t finish till the next day, but I felt confident.

I left Rakiraki, and reached a long shallow climb. The road was straight and I could see it continuing to rise in the distance. It was long. Very long. I felt the headwind. I groaned. A local had appeared 50 metres behind me on his bike and I could see him tying to catch me up. I wasn’t in the mood for racing. I’d had an early start, already done 40+km, and got another 100 km ahead. He was presumably popping round to his friend’s house. I dropped to a lower gear and concentrated on just keeping good cadence on the pedals up the hill. He faded behind.

I reached to my phone to respond to the incoming text message. It was from my friend Tom. I had jokingly asked him for motivational texts during the ride. In training I had found long periods in the saddle quite lonesome, and tiring – and not just physically. Passing cars, waving village kids, and strange looks from farm animals break up the monotony of pedal pedal pedal, but I still felt isolated. I knew Tom could appreciate the challenge ahead of me, and I knew his humour could change my day, so he agreed to his participation in my challenge. He sent the text as it appears above. He didn’t know whereabouts I would be. He just knew I would be on the road somewhere in Northern Viti Levu. I hadn’t announced to anyone about Mondays problem, and the fact I was so far behind schedule wasn’t something I wanted to promote. Why share that this challenge was almost over as soon as it began? I read the text and wobbled over the bumps in the road. I laughed at the text. It was perfect. I was bored by the long stretch of road ahead but Tom’s words were enough to break down the physical aspect. I wanted to tell him about my early start, the gentleman in Vaileka, and the fears I had about the secret dangerous part of Fiji I was heading into. I couldn’t. I just thanked him for the motivational words, and tried not to think about the fact that given the time difference Tom was probably sinking a few beers in his local pub back in England. I rode on.

I had made it past Barotu, and in hindsight accepted Mondays setback as I think it would have been a struggle to make it there on the first day. I tucked into the remains of my early lunch.  The cold greasy half cooked chips were tough to swallow, but I needed energy, whatever form it came in. I took a long break in the shade of a welcome bus shelter.

From here I had roughly 30km of road, 40km of gravel, and a big hill somewhere in between.

I was confident I could make Korovou, though anticipated more and more frequent stoppages along the way. I was physically ok, but numbness from pressure points on the saddle became too much over time. In training I had found that 10-15 minute breaks every hour or so were enough for the pain to ease, and gave a chance for legs to rest, and another chance to eat and drink. Wait too long, and legs start to stiffen too much and riding becomes more of a chore.

The road met up with the Wainibuka River. The scenery was beautiful. The river looked so refreshing. I wanted to stop for a swim. I then noticed how much greener this part of Fiji looked, compared to the West. I had a lot of road to cover so carried on. The road twisted and turned and each time revealed a new, more impressive view of the river. Arrgh, I really wanted to stop for a swim. My mind battled with stopping and becoming fresh again, or stopping and finding that I would then not want to get back on the bike again. This battle lasted nearly an hour. I tried to not notice the river any further. Instead my mind switched to the number of villages I was seemingly racing through. I had a small map with me, and remembered the conversations with Joe, but I felt I was whizzing through each one faster than expected. They didn’t seem this close on the map, but I wasn’t complaining. Part of this challenge was to see and experience parts of Fiji I had not seen before. It hurt to ride past the cries of ‘vaka cequ’ (rest) and ‘vaka sigalevu’ (lunch). If I was on schedule, then I would be stopping, but I still had ground to make up.  A bit of food in the shade of a tree would be so welcome, but there was a bigger aim for the day – reaching Korovou.

The river valley was making for a bit more of a headwind then I would have liked, and the road made for small rise and falls. It broke my momentum easily. The day was starting to take its toll, and in my head, and I think in reality I had reached a point of no mans land. The km markers had stopped a long time ago and the villages became less frequent. The map would only offer a vague whereabouts and remaining distance, and the frequent stoppages meant I couldn’t really remember how long I had actually spent peddling. It was tough. I entered one large village, and found a mix of elders resting in a bus stop. ‘Mai, dabe’ (come and sit) one said.

I pulled into the shade and asked which village this was, and how far it was to the much anticipated gravel section, and Korovou beyond.

I was 50km from Korovou, which as the gentleman so precisely confirmed is preceded by 36km of gravel. I looked at the clock. 5pm was achievable, though I had to decline any further rests at the bus stop.

I bought biscuits from the shop, topped up my water and was confident about the next 3 hours ahead of me – including the big hill.

My mind went back to the events of the morning. The early start, the bus ride, the first hour of the day, Rakiraki, Tom’s text and so on…my day was coming to a satisfactory end. I started 70km behind schedule, and could end it only 40km behind schedule.

The tar seal started to break up with patches of gravel, as more villages came and went. Then it became a compact material. It rode well. Even with a few potholes to weave around, it gave good speed, and I felt good. Then came the real gravel. I knew good average speed would be hard to achieve on gravel so instead just focused on just keeping some momentum, and enjoying the welcome break of a lower gear.

Then I could see in the distance the big hill. The landscape was being reshaped, as a new road was cut into the hillside, big trucks, jcbs, and workmen scattered the road, along with the regular traffic of twin cabs and emission blowing buses. I was on the lowest gear, and climbing steeply. Advancing past the workmen I was going to slow enough to engage in long conversation. Smiles, “Bula’s” and ‘thumbs up’ pushed me onwards.

There’s not much to do on such a big hill other than hope for a bit more cloud cover, and to keep peddling. When my speed slowed, so did the passing cooling ‘air resistance’ and the heat of the sun seemed to intensify to uncomfortable temperatures.

It was hot!

Slowly but surely I was climbing the hill. I imagined what perhaps Cycling Commentator Extraordinaire, Phil Liggit, would make of my progress. I accepted it would probably be similar to when in 1996, on Hautacam Climb, Miguel Indurain proved he was human after all ‘He’s cracked, he’s cracked’ was Liggits  ever enthusiastic description of it all.

Eventually I reached the plateau of the hill. Success! I followed the road to the right. It rose again. Then again, then again. I cracked. I wasn’t at the top at all. How long was this hill?? An oncoming passerby called me over. He had the day’s paper and showed me an article about my ride that I had not yet seen. It felt strange reading about yourself, doing the ride that people are writing, and reading about. To stop and chat was a welcome break. After a few minutes we went our separate ways.

The road continued to rise. I then reached the top and was high above the surrounding rainforest. Feeling so high above the rest of the land was a great feeling, almost like a soaring eagle. I could see the road down in the valley floor as it weaved its ways to Korovou. – but could not yet make out the town. Before me was a fantastic descent. Fast, twisting, and I wouldn’t have to touch the pedals for a long time! Great. The speed of the air passing by was welcome, though it cooled my sweat so much I felt cold for the first time in a while.

I noticed the brakes weren’t as responsive as they were at the start of the day. ‘hmmm. Another problem. Why?’. There had been no real need to use the brakes, certainly not as much as like the training rides through the dips and rollercoaster roads of the Nausori highlands. The front brake offered just enough to slow me down…sort of.  I made it to the bottom, and back onto the compact surface, I rode for what felt like an hour. I sensed that Korovou was nearby, and the sun was just start to drop and was making long shadows in front of me.

A school student was walking on the road.

‘Bula, how far is Korovou?’

“You’re just coming to it now’

‘Ok. Vinaka’

A few undulations later had I could see the town. It was 5pm. “haha. What a day’ I laughed again.

I found the shop where I was to meet Kelera’s brother Menasa. He would be my host for the night. We loaded the bike in his van and he took me to his house on the edge of town. Nestled at the back of a dairy farm, it was nice to be in quiet surroundings. I met his wife Asenaca, their son Joe, Kelera’s other brother Moto, and Kelera’s son Joe who I had met before in Lautoka.

The rocks were warming for the lovo. I love Fiji. Hospitality always goes beyond expectations. I was very tired though. Exhausted in fact. I did a video blog for the day, and looking back, the wide eyes and drained appearance illustrate what I had been through. I was just happy to have made it, and looking forward to a carb fuelled dinner, a good shower, and a long nights sleep. 2 out of 3 aint bad. For some reason my body still refused to switch off completely. I like physically enduring challenges such as this, but in the past they have always been running based. Now I was using a bike, a bit of machinery that I had learnt, could develop problems and scupper even the most innocent of good intentions.