IT’S just after lunch and I’ve already been forced to sprint to the loo several times.
My stomach’s a boiling mass of turbulence and my head is pounding with the kind of incessant pain that sparks a nervous twitch – making me look like a slightly manic midget.
In just a few hours we’ll board a plane and forfeit life as we know it and I’m worried if my head doesn’t explode first, my backside will.
While it’s a pretty damn ugly reaction the funny part is Scott and I have dreamily pondered this precise moment for months.
From the comfort of a couch, while nursing steaming hot chocolates, we would excitedly ask ourselves “I wonder how we’ll feel on the day we leave”? And now that D-Day has arrived the harsh answer simply is: “nervous to the point of gross physical illness”.
Rather than feeling brave, I feel ill. And rather than feel sure of myself, I’m beginning to wonder if I was roaring drunk when the notion of cycling the world first entered my head.
I mean who the hell do I think I am?
This morning I chucked a tantrum when someone turned the cold water on while I was in the shower and for the last few weeks I’ve been complaining bitterly of the “cold” weather after Brisbane temperatures dropped to a low of 16 degrees celcius (I kid you not – I whipped out the thermal socks, thick fleece and chunky scarf).
In fact I’ve never doubted myself more in my life and if the sheer worry over what lies ahead hasn’t turned me into a blubbering wreck then the thought of leaving behind some of the most important people in my life has.
But tumultous bowel movements aside the bags are packed, the kindles full and the passports in hand with the clock ticking deceptively fast until we leave our comfortable lives behind.
The flight leaves tonight at 10.30pm and lands us in Taipei, Taiwan at 5.30am. We’ll then have a whopping 16 hour wait for leg two, which takes us to Paris.
See you on the other side!