Day 10 Cremona to Imola "Soave sia il vento . . "

The leg. When I was in hospital and the nurses wanted to adjust the anaesthetic or the pain killers they would invariably ask me to assess the pain on a scale of 1-10. One is easy. Most of us live in a state of oneness most of the time. Then there are those who look as if they constantly to sustain a higher score. I have always put this down to the burdens of judicial office. Ten, though, is more of problem. I'm not sure I've ever had a ten and, if so, I am quite happy to keep it that way. But how do you know? I was always reluctant to ask the nurse for fear of getting a sharp whack in the bollocks by way of illustration. I used to make up a number which I hoped would keep the epidural cranked up without appearing to be too much of wimp. I explain this to assist those who have been anxious for news of the leg. I can report that it was bumping along quite happily at about pain level 2 or 3. It hurt more walking than riding. The stroll around Cremona last night was a bit of a hobble but no worse. The French shin creme was totally useless. 100% girl stuff. I had a go at translating the instructions. It is made from thermal spring water and promotes the healing of damaged skin by dint of "trace elements" of which "potassium is the best known". It made potassium sound like a holiday destination. It is often reported, possibly incorrectly, that the Eskimo do not have a single word for snow despite being surrounded by the stuff. In the same way I suspect that the French do not have a word for bullshit. If perchance they do, then "cosmeticobiologie" must surely be one of its synonyms. If the stuff can repair damaged tissue let's see if it can repair my arse after a week and a half in the saddle. Now there's a challenge. The other French bum cream is fine by the way.

Back to the leg. Half an hour after setting off this morning the pain level moved up a notch or two. About 10 minutes later it shot up several more points, missing out those in between. After an hour or so, I was just weighing up the chances of completing the event on one leg (and swearing, of course) when the pain subsided to the point where it was hardly noticeable at all. I intend to declare the cure to be a miracle and crank up the price of the indulgences. Walking around Imola tonight has restored it to level 2/3.

Today should have ended in Bologna after about 160k, a reasonably steady ride. It occurred to me that I could avoid trying to get in and out of Bologna during rush hour. Indeed I could avoid Bologna altogether if I pushed on to Imola. A quick look at the map seemed to show Imola to be only another 20k or so which holds no fear for a sore arsed pro like me. Pride comes before a fall. There was a slight headwind as I set out this morning. It took a couple of mph off the cruising speed. The terrain was the same as yesterday but without the rice, flat and straight. Tedious cycling. The wind steadily gathered strength. There is nothing to slow it down this side of Yugoslavia. By mid afternoon the flags were sticking straight out and flapping and I was riding into the teeth of it. Suffice to say it was eventually 125 miles - all of them into the wind. I am now knackered and going to sleep.