Day 41: Mud, Misery & Miracles

Day 41: Mud, Misery & Miracles
Ah, Day 41. The day that tested my patience, my wheels, and possibly my very will to exist. Okhampton was the launchpad, and while we gained a new team member (hi Molly, you lovely human), what followed was... less than lovely.
It started deceptively okay—some scenic bits, a couple of big hills (the kind that look at you like “come at me”), but manageable. And then, oh then, we turned off the main road onto what I can only describe as the lost back alley of Mordor.

This country lane wasn’t just “rustic,” it was “utterly unfit for human use,” let alone a wheelchair. It had it all: deep mud, rainwater rivers, logs of doom, a carpet of sticks, and gravel that may have been personally sent by Satan. Even a mountain bike would've thrown in the towel.
My hands were soaked, coated in mud, slipping all over the wheels like a bad soap opera. Every push got me nowhere, every downhill was a death trap. The rain poured like it had a vendetta. By about 12 km in, I had to make the call. I stopped. Not gave up—just… surrendered to logic. It was either that or a headline: “Brave soul lost to countryside swamp.” Could have done without yet another episode of public barading by the one who was supposed to be 'supportive' but you cant have everything!!
We drove to the accommodation, the Trufflicious Country Club (I made that name up—it wasn’t nearly as posh as it sounds). The receptionist had the warmth of a defrosting carrot. I was soaked, muddy, visibly DONE—and she reminded me check-in was at 3:30. It was 2:00. I asked if we could check in early… for a fee, of course. Suddenly, the room was magically ready. Isn’t that convenient?
That night, we all shared a room. Lovely bonding experience—except for the usual: toilet trouble, a massive flare-up, and trying to boil a kettle at 1am like a ninja to avoid waking anyone. Standard.
But then came the silver linings. Cat, Paul and Theresa took me to Bude Rugby Club. The people were lovely. Sweet, kind, bucket-shaking kind of lovely. Then, we had a surprise celebrity takeaway dinner (no autographs, please), and although I couldn’t eat straight away due to my leg deciding to wage war on me mid-car ride, little Nico noticed I was struggling and quietly placed his hand on my shoulder. Honestly? That moment saved the day.
Even the stubborn radiators eventually gave in and helped dry out my chair, shoes, and soul.
It was the worst day of the challenge—physically, mentally, emotionally. The first time I even thought about giving up, not physically, but emotinally. Only so much bullying one can cope with! But dont worry, I didn’t. I paused. I adapted. And I kept going. Because sometimes, just making it to the end of the day is the victory.
Onward.

Share this post