Day 12 San Sepolcro to Assisi "To travel hopefully? Or to arrive?"

I am conscious of the fact that every country I have ridden through has been eliminated ignominiously from the world cup. I may have the chance to nip into Germany next week if anyone wants to make it worth my while. Otherwise we look forward to some real British success in the TdF. Cav in green and Wiggins on the podium? Boasen-Hagen to give Cav a run for his money? It may be a sitting down sport but unlike the England squad it is not completely on its arse.

In the prayer of St Francis we are enjoined not to seek to be understood so much as to understand. I will try to put the full text of the prayer on a separate page. Today was a stark illustration of the difficulties of that enjoinder. With only about 80k down the Tiber valley today was no big deal on the cycling front. The ride was as good as over. I was through the first 60k in just over two hours which was a reasonable clip given the roadworks, a string of small towns and countless sets of traffic lights. I fell in with an Italian guy who was cycling out of Perugia. He knew a better route to Assisi. It was about 4k longer but, to be fair, missed out a couple of hills and a lot of traffic. We chatted for a while and then he turned off. I was on my own again for the last 10k.

I confess to feeling a bit emotional when I first saw the Basilica up on the side of the hill. The climb up to the town was shorter than I remember. As I entered Assisi itself around lunchtime I was overwhelmed by the crush of tourists. When you cycle through unfenced country roads you become familiar with the hazard of sheep. If one of them crosses the road you can be sure that others will follow heedless of your presence. So it is with tour groups. Nothing can stand between them and their guide. Do not try. But I took up the challenge laid down by Francis and made an attempt to put a human face on the ovine horde. He never promised that it would be easy.

But the reception at the Basilica was far better. The picture shows Madeline with the banner she made yesterday and me with the expression of someone wondering what to do next. Now I could stop ignoring the pain in my right shin. I didn't need to get back on the bike and cycle another 80k in the afternoon. I could stop shoving food down my neck at every opportunity, although I rather liked that one. There was a vast empty space. I found a quiet part of the lower basilica in which to reflect. I had no inclination to run around punching the air. But 1200 miles in eleven and a half days. I had done it.

For getting out of grouchy old scrote mode I can recommend an apero in the square at Trevi followed by a meal at the excellent Osteria della Siete. Some cask strength ibuprofen washed down with a bottle of Montefalco and a grappa soothes the aches and pains physical and otherwise. Cycling mode is now turned off and holiday mode is slowly booting up.

Acknowledgement and thanks are due in many directions though this is not an awards ceremony, just a bike ride. Thanks to the cycling lads for their assistance with the preparations, especially Richard and Pete who did the domestique duties for me on the way to Goring. Jill could reasonably have been expected to do all in her power to discourage such a stupid scheme but in reality did the opposite even to the point of coming to Italy to fetch me, not to mention fetching me off a cold dark moor in Yorkshire at Easter. Rachel did an invaluable job operating mission control from London, booking hotels and finding bike shops. She has also managed this blog since I started the ride. I should stress that the nonsense contained in the blog and particularly the errors are my sole responsibility. Without Rachel's help there would just have been more of them and I would have spent more than one night in a bus shelter. Finally my thanks to Andrew not just for the feed on the way down to Portsmouth but for the fact that without him I would not have been in Assisi this lunchtime.