We are the Champions

I've let out some howls,

When hurting my balls.

I've had pain and torture

and everything that goes with it,

And cursed them all.

It's been no bed of roses,

No pleasure cruise,

I've had my share of gravel under my tyres,

But I've spun through.

We are the champions, my friends.

We kept on cycling to the end.

We are the champions,

We are the champions,

No time for losers, 'cos we are the champions.

Of the world.

I've clicked in my shoes,

Time after time.

I've swallowed some midges,

But passed them through fine.

And bad mistakes,

I've made a few,

I've had my share of water splashed in my face,

But I've come through.

We are the champions, my friends.

We kept on cycling to the end.

We are the champions,

We are the champions,

No time for losers, 'cos we are the champions.

Of the world.

Written on the last day to John O'Groats
Chris Gooderham 31/8/01

Bicycle Race

The red bike and the blue bike had a race,

All red wants to do is stuff his face,

He eats everything he sees,

From steak to carrots and peas,

But smart old blue, he put less away.

Blue wants a meal which is

wholesome and light,

Just enough to fill his appetite,

Yes, smart old blue, he put less away.

Written after breakfast at Aberfeldy
Chris Gooderham 27/8/01

Lonely Cyclist

I cycled lonely as a cloud,

That struggles hard o'er vale and hill,

Then all at once I cried out loud,

My bottom hurts and it's raining still.

Written on the way to Tetbury, the
longest, wettest day so far.
Chris Gooderham 17/8/01

Limerick

John and Chris took their bikes to Lands End,

With three weeks of cycling to fend,

After a week and a half,

Chris had to laugh,

'cos John's left knee would no longer bend.

Written the day after John hurt his knee 
Chris Gooderham 21/8/01

Maybe its a testament to the monotony or the hours of pain but the long distance cycing experience inspires the imagination. Here's a few poems that kept us going in our darkest hours and possibly kept us from killing each other!

Psalm 23

John is my shepherd, I shall not want,

He maketh me cycle in green pastures,

He leadeth me beside still waters,

He restores my soul.

He guides me in paths for bicycles,

for his own sake.

Even though I cycle through

the valley of the shadow of death,

I fear no evil,

For John is with me.

My gel saddle and mars bar comfort me.

The B&B prepares a table for me,

At the top of a hill - my enemy.

I anoint my bottom with sudocrem,

My bottle overflows.

Surely my bottom will hurt

all the days of my life,

And I will have to stand in my house

forever.

Written while making our way between Glasgow
and Edinburgh. Chris Gooderham 25/8/01