We’d had a mix up with the train booking, so my sisters boyfriend kindly piled us into his car and drove us down to the start point in Lyme Regis.
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The next morning he helped us into our lime-green morph suits before waving us off up the hill, and on towards record-breaking success.
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The weather was beautiful and Dorset flew by quickly, turning into Somerset, where we stopped for a couple of sandwiches and a cool pint of cider in the town of Cheddar.
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From here we avoided Cheddar Gorge and headed for Bristol, passing through in the early evening – determined to reach Gloucestershire before the sun set.
Magnus seemed in fine athletic form, but my method of eating more pasta and going for a couple of runs didn’t seem to be having the same results, so I was frustrated when my left knee began to seize up on day one, but figured that it would pass as I got used to the long riding days.
98 miles later we climbed the hill up to Wotton-Under-Edge and called it a day, hobbling into a pub that allowed us to make a temporary base camp and kept the cider flowing for 6 hours while we waited for the bike batteries to charge.
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Next morning we woke up in a field at 5am, packed up and set off for Birmingham.