‘Twas the night before Peaks-mas, and all thought the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Energy drinks, gels, bananas prepared
A terrified rider is also found there.
A whistle to keep in the pocket will go
With a waterproof jacket (you just never know)
A survival bag bought in Two Thousand and Seven
Some massive-range gears (42-11)
Chicken levers on top of the handlebars which
Might just be the thing to avoid a peat ditch
Cables all checked. Cables all checked again.
Bolts all re-tightened – there’s no play in them.
Tyre and tyre pressure – deserve their own verse
Being shaken to death is less of a curse
Than valuable minutes spent fixing a flat
But is 55psi enough for that?
And nervous riders prepare for their bed.
Pre-hydrated enough? Is it all in their head?
Just in case another glass of water is fetched,
Carbos consumed, legs loosened and stretched.
Tucked in, alarm set, spare alarm standing by.
Curtains closed – the sun’s still there in the sky.
Rest well my friends, for tomorrow we fight
With three brutes of mountains. Good luck, and sleep tight.