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THE HUNDRED DAYS OF HELL
It usually kicks off around 3am with the
wind, and if the rain is smashing off the
Velux window, then that just adds to the
attraction. I wake, take a wee look at the
clock and think "hmm, exactly as forecast".
The rest of the night is usually a mix of
broken sleep and thoughts of 'which route'.
Everything is planned the night before:
the kit’s laid out, right down to different
combinations of gloves so that I can
make a late call before leaving the house
at 5am. Winter demands multiple layers
of everything: two pairs of socks, shorts
and leggings, and sometimes tights too.
The hundred days of hell start when the
clocks go back: wind and rain served
on a bed of darkness in place of the
sun. Hell through till the middle of
March when we hand winter back to
our friends in the southern hemisphere.
Those one hundred days, give or take a
few holidays and some snow days, are
the most challen