"Out of my comfort zone" was the most interesting line of the story for me. At 56, 30 pounds overweight with asthma, or possibly COPD, I can't ride the 17 miles to work with any load on the bike without having to stop. Getting out here on the bike can be difficult due to the almost relentless winds. Mainlanders come here on holiday, young(er than me) fit men come here to ride their bikes and I can almost guarantee that they will all say the same thing, "you can't train for this". But I am not committed enough to sit on my 18 speed Tern, it's rear wheel connected to some resistance gizmo and cycle away in the front room. Cycling is about getting out there, fresh air in the failing lungs, sights to see. Neither can I resist the pan full of sausages, too many cakes and sweets and all the other temptation so prevalent in my environment. Tomorrow I ride from Aberdeen to Braemar, between 59 and 63 miles, depending which route planning app You want to believe. I have 11 hours to do the trip, but can't imagine I will make it. I don't know whether I will just run out of energy, the legs will give up on me, the butt pain will be unbearable or some other malaise, but there is a bus route following my route, or perhaps vice versa, and this one takes bikes in the bowels of the vehicle. It's an easy escape and guarantees that I get to my accommodation in the shortish window when you are allowed to arrive. When I return to work I will tell my colleagues that I only managed to do x miles, they will all say that they couldn't have managed half that distance and will look at me as some sort of athlete, albeit a misshapen one, and I will feel a fraud in a way, but secretly pleased that I managed whatever x miles was. I am not doing this to extend my life, and it certainly makes no difference to my waistline against the competition to increase it, the only reason is to take me out of my comfort zone.