Normally I'd ride the 20-25 miles up to London for a Friday night ride to the coast, but I just wasn't in the right mood so yook my bike on the train. I figured I'd be fine once on the bike in London, and maybe I'd ride home again in the morning.
Actually felt pretty good doing my usual thing of cycling by a few London landmarks.
Then over to the meeting point to see lots of familiar faces from the Fridays. I was feeling good again, glad I'd come out tonight. In fact, I really needed this ride after a hell of a week trying to balance work with a worsening family care situation; I needed some time for me, and cycling is my therapy.
The Fridays right south towards Brighton was largely old turf, heading to the halfway point at the Burstow Scout hut via Oval, Clapham Common, Wallington, Farthing Down and Bletchingley. All very social too, and by now I was relaxed and in my element.
Returning to my bike after the halfway stop, there was light in the east, and what I assumed to be Venus hanging in the sky. Heading off again, the food wasn't sitting right in my stomach. At a regrouping point, I felt more than a little sick. Letting the group know I was bailing out, I had a wave of dizziness, and had to sit for a few minutes, watching the red lights fade away in the distance.
My last glance of Turner's Hill.
Cycling back north, my stomach "rebelled", after which I felt a lot better; i briefly considered trying to rejoin the group, but with a 15 minute head start and not being sure of the revised route, that seemed insanity.
Got back to Crawley, and realised I was near to a couple of missing veloviewer squares so went and bagged them. Then made my way home in gorgeous early morning sunshine./
Didn't fancy an ascent of Box Hill
Got home at about 8am Saturday morning, which means I'd been awake for 26 hours. And with 71 miles on the clock, I was exhausted. Shower & bed.
(Edited due to missing words, and generally not making sense. It ain't perfect, but that'll do)