The tanning experience...

In preparation for getting hitched, I have decided it would be best to ditch my ghostly white British completion and hit up the tanning bed to get my Floridian glow back. And even more so they say being tan makes you look thinner and we all want to be a little skinnier! I walked across the street to the only tanning bed in Poole and signed myself up for 100 minutes and asked for the lotion that would make me the blackest! I explained I was getting married and needed to look like I live in Jamaica and maybe even be mistaken for Bob Marley’s daughter. I am thinking 100 minutes will get me halfway there. After getting many bizarre looks from the tanning lady, she told me to go into the middle room. As I stood up and turned around I saw these three porta-potty look-a-like pods in the middle of the room. It had to be some kind of optical illusion because there was no way an entire tanning bed fit in that tiny space. Not knowing what to expect I walked in and was shocked to see it was a standing up tanning bed!! How on earth does that work? What do I do?  How do I cover my face, how do I cover other sensitive body parts I wish to keep hidden from the UV rays, and most importantly how do I take my quick 10 minute nap pretending I am at the ocean sipping a pina colada? Not even sure how to turn this space ship looking thing on, I popped my head out and told the lady I had no idea what to do or how this thing turns on. She looked at me like I was from Mars, came over, and told me I step inside this pod, push the lift button so the floor rises up (weird!), and hold onto the bar over my head!!! I did as she said and when the lights came on and the floor lifted me up, all I could think about was my armpits burning! They have never seen the sun and are whiter than a fish’s belly. Then all flustered about having burned armpits, on top of being in this roasting machine with my arms above my head, I started seeing stars and getting light headed. I was on the verge of fainting. It was like I was over heating and there was no place to sit down! This was the most un-relaxing experience of my life! I am beginning to rethink my dream of being a skinny Jamaican and may just go to my wedding as a pasty Brit! 

Day One: The Ride to Dover

When my alarm went off at 4am I still couldn’t believe I was about to spend the next four days trying to ride a bicycle from the center of London to the Eiffel Tower! When I got to Greenwich Park I put on my best “this will be fun” smile, when I actually thought I might pee my pants right then and there from nerves! After a few pictures of failing miserably to mask my fear with a smile, we were off! I started off as the second person in line peddling my little heart out thinking “this isn’t too bad!” And about three seconds after this thought a line of my fellow bikes goes zooming past me until I was dead last, struggling to get up the first hill, with no other bikes in site. And my fear of being lost, last, and left behind began! This is when I thought I maybe should have done a few more training sessions with Lance Armstrong’s cousin, aka Andy.

Then I saw the most wonderful site at the top of the hill, Andy’s brother Robert off his bike fixing his chain!! This was probably his worst nightmare, seeing me slowly creep up the hill to latch on and slow him down, as he leads me to the others. But as the good guy he is, he waited for me promising to not leave me behind. As we peddled off, Robert in the lead and me trailing behind, I soon realized we have no idea where we are going! We stopped to examine the tiny map and I quickly learned I am not the world’s best map-reader. I couldn’t believe after approximately 30 minutes of starting off I was completely and hopelessly lost with no idea of which way to go. I wasn’t even sure if we were north, south, east, west, up, down or even still in London! So I kept my mouth shut and let Robert lead the way to correction. After about 40 minutes of riding down a few hills and turning around to ride back up them, then passing the same pub three times, we decided maybe Robert wasn’t that good at map reading either and it might be a good idea to call the support vehicle to come and pick us up. We were about 20 miles behind and spent almost 2 hours circling around London clueless as to where we were going. This was going to be a LONG four days!!

After this minor detour, I hopped back on my bike and set out with the others determined not to fall behind! All went well for about 4 hours. I was keeping up, laughing with the others, enjoying the beautiful day and stunning English countryside. Then all the hills hit me and there I was trailing behind again, walking my little bike up every hill, rather mountain, I encountered! This time Andy came back for me to help me on my quest to get to Dover and finally get on the ferry to France. It wasn’t too much of a shocker to me when Andy and I got lost. I have come to the conclusion if anyone is stuck with me expect to get lost! I can’t read a map and am significantly lacking in my sense of direction. After a couple of hours of riding around and stopping to ask for directions we were finally on the right path. However, at this point all I wanted was the support car to come and pick me up and take me to the ferry, but I was with the encourager and quitting was not an option! But this all changed when I saw the support car driving toward us to lead us into Dover where the others were waiting. And that is when it hit me that I had been on a bicycle for near 10 hours, have been lost twice, and on the verge of tears for the past 4 hours. I just couldn’t go any farther! So I packed up my bike, apologized to my energizer bunny for getting in the loser vehicle, and got in the car as Andy zoomed past us for the last 3 miles into Dover! 

lost, tired, and ready to cry!