She's the cream of the crop
It was infatuation.
That friend I had to chop.
Text conversations
I needed to tell her.
I was losing patience.
I wrote her a letter.
Intended flirtation.
Lead me to frustration.
But she was motivation.
Kept reminding myself.
I had dedication.
I promised that I would
be right beside her
heartbroken found out
She was  just another *nightrider

Where is now the sound
Tired of want for scream of noise
When Silence
cools the wind
Yet void of  earth
unbound usurp
With weather of its whim
A thing of Air
Does saturate
For want
of cricket chirp
Yet To dawn
They bid farewell
With shine not to elate

**** you, virus; all dripping nose, spluttering cough, nasty rash and sensitive nerves. **** you lack of sleep, eyelids drooping. **** you forgotten helmets and punctured tyres. **** you bitter cold night, and neverending space and time. **** you Canary Wharf, with your windy streets and unfriendly rules. **** you to missed signs, leading to wasted miles and wrong turns. And **** you London roads - every lump, **** and bump.

But thanks to caring friends, generous donators and 4,000 fellow do-gooders. Thanks to a bike that is well oiled and shifting smoothly. Thanks to free cycle surgeries, to 'Spicy Bikers' crisps, and an early dawn. Thanks to stunning landscapes and landmark buildings. Thanks to high-fives and whoops from strangers. And thanks especially to Luke, with his hot thermos of coffee at 4.30am.

Another 25km still to go...