The End (to End)

Today I completed a 16 mile walk in preparation for Bermuda End-to-End on May 1. Considering the full route is 24 miles, I'm a little worried at this stage. But my walking amigos, Carolyn and Jen, tell me that there is food and drink (mine's a dark 'n' stormy) every ten minutes so that's ok then. Everything is going to be fine.

This is my second mammoth training walk and I've come to the conclusion that long-distance walking endeavours are seriously under-rated as a poor/unfit man's marathon BUT I dispute this. Yes, running is completely knackering, so I've heard on the grapevine and I live with three runners so that grapevine speaks to me very loudly; but the pain and misery ends relatively quickly. This walking malarky lasts for hours and, somewhere around the two hour mark, your hips are crying out for some WD40 and your inner thoughts communicate only in expletives.

I thought I was prepared today, having learnt some very important lessons about blister control following last weekend's jaunt and that Baz Luhrmann wasn't wrong with his advice about sunscreen. This week I have been mainly walking with a limp whilst bits of my forehead surround me. I even caught sight of my nose peeling out of the corner of my eye during a client meeting - very professional! However we were missing a vital element, H2O. Pretty important considering it's been in the high 60s today. As it was a nice day, the owner of the only garage for a five-mile radius on our route decided he had other places to be and shut up shop. That Shell sign was like a mirage of the worst kind. I could sense it was getting serious  when our usual anglo-american banter about how phrases like fanny pack translate and my mouth started feeling like a thick-pile carpet shop. Luckily MarketPlace came to the rescue.

For most of our route we followed the off-road path of the long-gone Bermuda Railway as this island lacks pavements but not crazy drivers blatantly flaunting the 35kph speed limit. The Railway lasted only a mere 17 years from 1931 to 1948. Apparently it was massively over-budget and unprofitable, not surprising as most of it seems to run off-shore, hence it's demise. It does however make for a handsome walking trail though these days and I have to say after three years of the London commute I'm not that upset to not see a train carriage for a while :-)

The worst bit is actually the end when you stop and everything ceases up like early rigor mortis. Thankfully my trusty steed, Dame Kelly the scooter, was there to carry me home. After half an hour in the bath and half a hour in the pose of a (crying) child I was able to shuffle enough to fix myself a nice Corona and reach the sofa, where I shall stay for many hours.