Ah yes, another meticulously planned exercise in self-inflicted suffering. This was the first big test I’d been training for. Six school friends and I were converging on the Peak District for a weekend of civilized socializing, so naturally, I decided to precede this with a personal odyssey of excessive elevation gain. Three major climbs, two of the top 100 UK cycling climbs, and one increasingly questionable life choice. It also seemed like the perfect opportunity to assess the national rail network’s commitment to accommodating bicycles—or at the very least, to see if my bike and I would be allowed on board without too much existential drama. Thanks to a rare stroke of financial luck, I had snagged a train ticket for just £15 to cover the 100-mile journey to Chesterfield. Reserving a cycle berth was mandatory but, in a shocking deviation from bureaucratic tradition, entirely painless. (Yes, that is a child's bike lock.) Demonstrating an uncharacteristic degree of foresight, I had...
Comments
Post a Comment