Northcliffe to Pemberton. It surprised me that one rest day can feel almost like a week. I probably shouldn’t have rest days, they remind me that life off the track is very different, that there are luxuries I like and miss when I’m on the track. I start to second guess how and why I’m doing it, telling myself that there are more constructive and useful things I could be doing, that walking out here is cold, wet, miserable and totally self indulgent. Though in writing this I realize how ironic that may sound.
