So one of the benefits of a last minute change in entry for the Coast to Coast was that I had a neutral bib. It could have been a proper one with my name and flag on it.
Landing in NZ is coming home. It is the U.K. on steroids – mountains are higher, the rivers are colder and flow faster. It is raw, majestic, real.
I honestly can’t remember whether I chose New Zealand or the UK. But in hindsight, it seemed pretty appropriate.
Dipping my hand in the Tasman Sea at dawn seemed as spiritual as being in St Peters in Rome.
That said, coming back to the U.K. is also home. I practiced finding the eddies in Waterloo so that I didn’t get swept up in the flow of the morning commute.
But I still marvel when I see Tower Bridge, St Paul’s Cathedral, even the London Eye. Outside the city, you can still sense the presence of people. It‘s intertwined with the land. The influence of those who have come before.
Home.
Tough Mother 