As I sit here, mere minutes after my last test ride with all my gear on, the reality is setting in. The clock is ticking down, just hours until the adventure begins. Panic is creeping in like an unwelcome guest. What have I not prepared? What have I forgotten?
Normally, I’m the king of planning, the lord of logistics, or at least I like to believe that. But this time? Not so much. I don’t even have tomorrow’s route mapped out, let alone the next 11 days. My confidence in my organizational skills is currently experiencing an existential crisis.
Oh, if only it wasn’t too late to abandon this trip. We’ll see what my body decides come morning – it might just give up.
Right, time to get serious. I need to book a place to stay, chart the route, master the navigation system, and somehow squeeze in some rest.
And food – why didn’t I eat more? Tomorrow I’ll need the stamina of a Tour de France cyclist, and I’m here running on fumes. If only panic could be converted into calories.
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