My husband is tonight on top of a mountain. Quite literally. They have cycled the 300 miles from Scotland to Wales via the Lake District. Through breath taking scenery, six men on their bikes, one by one they have zipped past, those of us standing still. Today low on energy, as they have been on their bikes for the last six days, they cycled the last 80 miles from Liverpool to Wales. Once at the foot of Mount Snowdon, they ditched their bikes, and started the climb to the top. Tonight they will stay in tents on top of the mountain before their decent tomorrow. Their journey complete apart from a jolly good night out and a long train ride home to us on Thursday.
There is always a beginning and an end to a journey, taking you down a road in which you know not what will happen. It is often thrilling, and of course challenging to do something that you are scared to partake in. Sometimes you just have to take a leap into the inevitable. They did and look where it got them…on top of a mountain.
Want to see the view? …go climb, I’ll hold your hand.