Foston to Bawtry
This morning I lay in the comfiest of beds not wanting to move. My body had woken me a few times in the night trying to tell me something, but I’m not sure what. Right there and then it was telling me to stay put.
Two 72 mile days were taking their toll. An experienced cyclist would have little issue. But I’m not one of them. At 5 am I’d …
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