I started from Tomsk's abode (many thanks for the hospitality, by the way) at the same time as Ely Dave (good to meet you!), Jellylegs (likewise) and (I think) 4 other people whose names went in one ear and out the other. I didn't see any of them again.
I kept up a decent pace, stopping in Castle Hedingham for half a peanut butty that I had taken, and again at the White Horse in Great Waldingfield, where being Billy No Mates was suboptimal, because I had to joined one queueueue for beer (a very good pint of Yard Ale, if I recall correctly) and then another for calories. I had a very tasty jumbo sausage in a bun with onions (wasn't that a Beatles song back in the day?). It didn't take me all that long and I was soon on the road again. I was in GW around 2.30, I think, and away again by about 3.20 so at least 2 hours ahead of my normal schedule.
I plodded on towards Gosbeck, all the time realising that the pain was increasing, mostly in my wrists - I haven't had a rheumatoid arthritis attack for quite a long time - but also my arse. I stopped at Needham Lakes, where the bogs were open, but there was a large queueueue for the gents. I had had the foresight to pack my radar key so used that one, had a natter to a few people, and arrived at the community centre at 5.20, with 23% of my battery still showing. I plugged it in, bought a "meal deal" (egg & bacon bap, Snickers bar and a cup of coffee) and sat outside in the cold dawn light thinking that this wasn't such a great idea after all. I needed at least 2 hours on charge, I thought, to be able to get to the beach and back to Terry's, but my hand was forced by the community centre closing at 7.30. As I progressed it became increasingly clear that the first of those two objectives wasn't going to happen. I was relying more and more upon the electric motor to get me up hills, I was feeling distinctly queasy from a surfeit of greasy food at an unaccustomed hour, I didn't fancy a swim and there was no way I could to justice to a Flora Breakfast. At 9am I rolled up at Terry's house, where he provided tea and offered calories, which in the first instance I declined, but accepted an hour or so later when his wife Janet had returned from her standard Sunday Morning activity of scavenging at a car boot sale. After a good natter, Terry dropped me off at Darsham station for the 11.44 and we'll go back in the car on Thursday to pick my bike up.
So that's it. My Dun Run days are over - I think that's 10 completed, and a cut-down version DNFd. Anno domini have caught up with me. I'll be 70 when next year's is on, and I shall stay in bed and think of everyone else.
I met a few people I knew - Andrewbr and another guy who recognised me from the Simon Legg era of FNRttC, at Great Waldingfield, and a few other people I nattered to who had seen my posts on Farcebook. I'm not entirely sure of the distance because I left the computer on the bike at Terry's but it was at least 125k, which must be my longest ride since my last Dun Run with Kim and some poor chap called Brian, who was recruited as a stoker but just wasn't rated for more than 50 miles. Poor Brian has since contracted Parkinson's disease, but I note from FB that he completed his 5th DD this morning, starting at 5.30pm and arriving at the beach at 8.30am.
It's a totally different ride now, and I blame Bradley Wiggins. Since 2012, lots of people have gone out and bought respectably good road bikes, and have become respectably good at riding them. The food stops are running out of customers long before a putative Team Slow would put in an appearance. When I cycled through Peasenhall high street, I didn't see a single cyclist, and in the Old Days there would have been lots coming through at that time. I think it had been at least 20 minutes since I saw my last one.
So long, and thanks for all the milk.
