Today I filled out forms for the London to Paris ride. And although I have had this trip planned for a few months, the reality of insurance forms and medical questionnaires gave me a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Judging by the questions, it’s pretty obvious the ride organizers don’t want me keeling over somewhere between Calais and Abbeville. Believe me when I say I’m going to do my best not to.
Heart trouble? No.
Epilepsy? Fainting spells? Migraines? No, no, and no.
Shortness of breath? No. (Well, except when my friend Brad is killing me on the hills where he rides, but I don’t think that counts.)
Maybe they should add these to the form:
Scared? Sort of.
Feel a bit crazy for trying this? Definitely.
Ready? Not yet, but will be.
Oh, they asked one other question:
Need a train ticket back to London from Paris? Nope. I’ll be staying on a few days in Paris, thankyouverymuch. After all, a little race called the Tour de France ends there the very next day after my epic ride does.
Excited? Unbelievably so.