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  • Seriously, you follow the signs round and your little mile-counter says you're on 103, and you get to a roundabout, and there's a roadsign saying "<<< Haslemere" and a hand-scrawled sign saying "Little Lumpy - Epic >>>" and you're already hurting bad and you just want to make it stop, and there's no-one around, and you could head in to Haslemere and nobody would know, nobody would know and your legs will stop hurting and it'll be all over, but instead you follow the signs, because you lack the mental capacity to disobey after so long in the heat and so much climbing, and then things get so much worse and a whole new world of suffering is revealed to you, and then there's a photographer at the top of the hill, grinning like a loon standing next to his moped that he used to hop from site to site, and despite lacking the energy to get each foot over the top of the pedal-stroke, there's still enough spare to despise him.
    All good fun.

    There's also proper good cake at the feed stop :)

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