Amy would laugh with her mouth wide open and had the inner confidence that meant she wasn't too worried about what others thought of her actions.

Instead of getting mad she'd get quiet (but never mean) and she was self deprecating enough to laugh along with the rest of us at her obsessions with pink and weddings and princesses...while driving around the block again to get a proper look at what the bride was wearing.

She had time and interest for everyone and thought she was taking the soft option for branching into another sport at an elite level while the rest of us continued into day jobs and real life.

And she would attack the icing on a family sized Baker's Delight bun with the same singlemindedness that meant a training regime was never questioned or pursued halfheartedly.

But most of all, she was the type of friend you could pick up with five minutes, five months, or five years later, and slot right in where you left off.

Nine years later, we miss her just as much as we always have. 

If raising money for the Amy Gillett Foundation helps to prevent more families, more groups of friends, more husband and wives and mothers and fathers and children from having to miss their vanished cyclists ... then this 1400km ride is worth doing. (Even if it's 600 kms longer than I thought it was when I signed up. No, really. Simon will kill me yet.)