Racing Myself - Solo Training Ride

I was Billy no mates on Sunday! With no cycling buddies to hook up with I took the opportunity to leave the house bright and early. 3 hours later when I pulled up sweaty and mud splattered outside my house, the Garmin read exactly 50.00 miles! I had set out with a route in mind based around the classic South Downs climbs of Harting, Bexley & Duncton, but definitely hadn’t planned it with a 2 decimal points attention to detail.

During the 45min ride north towards Harting I noticed my average speed was approaching 17mph. This isn’t unusual or amazingly fast, but it became a target to try and maintain my pace to the base of the first climb of Harting Hill. As the road rose up into the mist and low cloud, my speed dropped and I fully expected to say goodbye to a 17mph average for the remainder of the ride. I had plunged down through the murk and raced through the sleeping village at the bottom of the hill before I looked down at my Garmin again and was surprised to notice Aver: 16.9mph. 

It was a challenge that came out of nowhere but I was now hooked on the magic number of 17! I popped out of the saddle on every short incline in the road, and tried to hold a steady power on the relatively flat run into Midhurst. Despite the grotty mud strewn roads I reached Easebourne and the bottom of Bexley Hill with the average now reading 17.6mph. Even with a large margin in hand, as I approached 1 hour 30 min ride time I definitely didn’t expect to hold the 17mph average over such a long drawn out climb.

Approaching from the south the hill grinds upwards at a steady and relentless gradient. As I spun away at the pedals I occasionally glanced down at the handlebars, 17.5…17.4….17.3 down to 17.2. As I approached the crest I was out of the saddle pushing a big gear over the top. No time to stop (in the mist there was no view to admire anyway) instead I headed straight down the wet and slippery 20% decent. The twists and turns mean there isn’t any chance to release the brakes and let the bike go. I edged down cautiously my fingers griping the brakes. Adding to the perils water flowed down the tarmac, washing stones and grit out of the verge and making the corners more hazardous. It wasn’t until I’d safely reached the bottom that I was able to take a breather and pull an energy bar from my jersey pocket as I turned south and started heading homewards.

The undulating lanes around Selham and Graffham that lead through to Duncton meant repeated short efforts were needed to maintain momentum and I could feel it was beginning to take a toll on my legs. Duncton, the final big climb of the day, is a steep diagonal slope up the north side of the Downs. It’s made more challenging because the half a mile leading into the hill is also a subtle upward gradient. My legs were getting tired by now so I didn’t exactly dance on the pedals and by the top I was down to a 16.6mph average.

There is only a brief drop before I turned along the valley into a pronounced head wind. I kept my head down and the power on the pedals tickling the average up to 16.7 by the base of the final recongnisable climb of the day up to Benges. Out of the saddle I burnt the final matches I had remaining with a big effort.

From there it was now an 8 mile blast home, with downward glances at the Garmin to see how I was doing against my self created target. At Tangmere I had to cross the pedestrian bridge over the A27. I whizzed up and down the zig zags as fast as I could. 17mph for the entire ride was not a certainty yet. Once I cleared the bridge I had the final 4 mile flat run home. I kept the pace above 20mph on familiar roads, dodging the pot holes and Sunday drivers. I slammed on the brakes at my front gate having not stopped for the entire 50 mile ride. I'd averaged 17.2mph.

The totally unplanned 17mph challenge transformed my training ride. I’ve averaged more than this before on rides even more challenging, but it provided the focus and motivation that kept me pushing on when a Sunday ride on my own could have become a weekend cruise.

Winter MTB Miles

The recent rubbish weather has meant the road bike has been getting a lot of use because the local trails have turned into a sloppy, slippery paste. I've been desperate to get out on the MTB and finally after a few dry days I gambled on the mud having dried out enough and chose the MTB for my midweek ride after work.

I’m always looking to mix up the routes I take, so I rode around the back of Goodwood motor circuit and up Chalkpit Lane to the top of the Trundle, something I haven’t done since the summer. No mud here and I was even able to ride around the usual stagnant puddles that are a constant feature of the path behind the motor circuit.

For the last few weeks now I’ve struggled to push myself hard in training, it’s as if my body seems to have selected a "go slow" mode for winter. So with my heart rate hardly racing I spun up towards the blinking radio mast lights at the top of the hill. At night you get a different sense of speed and it was hard to gauge my pace, but when I glanced down I was in a much lower gear than I’d normal use for a hill I have ridden a thousand times. I was going slowly!

At the top I cranked up the lighting power to shed some extra lumens on the rooty singletrack path behind the horse racing grandstand. It was brilliant fun weaving through the trees in the dark, but there's always a slight sense of caution when riding at night on your own. Crossing the road at Benges I was climbing again, up towards another set of glimmering pylon lights at Bignor. Not only is your speed harder to assess in the dark, but I also found it hard to spot turns and paths which I know like the back of my hand during the day! Eventually, hiding under a layer of leaves, I found the correct singletrack trail that lead down to Whiteways.

The cycling mecca of Whiteways is sadly in a state of ruin. Due to Forestry work to fell trees in the area in an attempt to halt the advance of Ash Dieback, many of the classic local trails such as “Three Amigos” have been lost. I avoided the worst of the loggers tyre tracks and climbed (again slowly) up into the Rewell wood. Luckily the singletrack here is still intact, but sadly the soil seemed to have retained more of the recent rain than other areas and there were some muddy sections to negotiate.

It was brilliant to be out on the MTB for a couple of hours re-tuning my off-road skills, especially with the Brass Monkeys race now only a 10 days away. The bonus was that the trail conditions on the whole were surprisingly good. My lack of drive was however frustrating, but maybe this time of year is more about getting in some solid base training miles than tuning race speed.

Racing down memory lane!

While clearing out the loft last weekend I found a box of old cycling trophies. As I lifted out each one it brought back so many happy memories! 

My first win, way back in 2007 at Goodwood. My moment of glory stolen by a rider who cut the course and was eventually disqualified.

3rd in the team event at the 24hr Mountain Mayhem race. I'm still stoked that I was lucky enough to bag the sunrise lap.

2nd at "Are You Tough Enough" which I still think is my best ever race. I spent 4 hours fighting in the top 3 for a podium spot only to fall on the final lap while leading. I dropped to 4th when the onset of cramp meant I couldn't get up and back on the bike! Eventually I recovered and hauled myself back onto the podium with a massive effort, passing two  riders in the final mile of racing.

My first Gorrick top 10. Yes, thats right I got a trophy for 10th! Back then the top 10% of finishers took home a cup and on that particular day there was a field of over 120 riders. The glory days of XC racing! Makes the field of 40 old timers I raced the other week seem tame in comparison!

My first Gorrick win. A few years ago now, but I can still clearly remember that final lap and the disbelief I felt thinking to myself I was actually going to do it! After years and years of training and racing. That and the overarching fear of waiting for something on the bike to break!

All this nostalgia made me want to get out and race again, but also challenge at the front again. Which is not something I really achieved this year. Roll on 2020!

Gorrick Autumn Classic

After the best part of 5 months it felt fantastic to be racing again. It was great meeting up with friends in the carpark, and experiencing all the emotions of a race day - from the early morning nerves to the post race adrenalin buzz!

The Gorrick Autumn Classic was held at Area 51 near Frimley. We’ve raced there before, but the organisers have been extremely busy creating plenty of new trails that really maximized the potential the area has to offer. Similar to previous races at this venue however the course was a continuous ribbon of singletrack. Which sounds brilliant, but presented very few opportunities for overtaking. The start would therefore be critical so myself and a couple of friends made sure we lined up nice and early. When the horn sounded my friend Ian, who is known for his electric fast starts, burst off the line on my left like a cruise missile. I tried to follow his wheel but was pinched by converging riders on either side. The squeeze meant I had to back off slightly and joined the pack 5 positions behind Ian as we sped into the trees. With only enough space for single file there now followed a high speed possession, as the race writhed left and right. In fact I made no progress at all for several miles. Eventually we began to filter past a slower rider up ahead who had been acting as the cork in the bottle.

All I can say is thank god for the hills! I used my strength on the inclines to force my way past a few riders, I could then follow the wheels on the descents and made myself as wide as possible on the flat sections to ensure nobody even thought about trying to sneak through! This got me back into Ian’s wheel by the end of the 1^st lap and he even asked if I wanted to come through, but after my sprints on the hills I was just fine to stay where I was while I recovered! At the next hill I did pass Ian and I was followed by another rider. We piled on the speed and both began to break away from those behind.

I rode the second lap fast and full out, attacking the multitude of corners, leaning the bike as far as I dared in the sandy soil. Then I'd accelerate away from the bend, bouncing over roots and undulations before braking hard for the next turn. This style of racing is fantastic fun, but hard and my heart was about to burst out of my chest. For training intervals at home I’ve calculated my maximum heart rate at 180bpm, and hold this for a few seconds. During Sundays 90 minute race I averaged 171bpm!! Towards the end of the 2^nd lap I began to feel very peculiar. My heart was beating away like a machine gun, but I felt weak and dizzy with no strength in my legs. I’d gone way into the red and looking at the HR trace afterwards I was constantly above 190bpm during this period of the race, peaking at 198!! A figure I haven’t achieved for 20 years! I had no choice but to slow down, in fact I even considered having to stop I felt so odd. I pulled to the side and let the following rider through. He quickly escaped from view and I began to sense the chasing riders beginning to catch me.

Unable to put power on the pedals I was simply cruising through the corners compared to the previous lap. I could hear bikes clattering through the trees behind me but still nobody else had yet caught me despite the drop in pace. This gave me encouragement and after an energy gel I felt able to begin to push the pace again. From here I had a slightly lonely end to the race. I pushed as hard as I dared on the final lap but nobody came into sight and I no longer had any chasers behind to worry about either.

I finished 14^th from the 30 starters in the Veterans Plus category. This to my surprise is actually my best result at a Gorrick since becoming a Vet. I know my fitness isn’t close to what is was earlier in 2019 or last year, but perhaps the racing difference isn’t so pronounced.  I’ve not been able to train “normally” since June due to my accident and family commitments, added to which I came into the event on the back of a week of total lethargy and gluttony on Holiday. So I’ll take this race as a huge positive! I’m back!

A new beginning

It's 3 months since my last blog on this site. The long break wasn't intentional. A few days after my failed South Down Double attempt I had an accident while cycling home from work. I have no memory of the incident so can't tell you much other than I was found unconcious by a road worker amongst the traffic cones at the side of the A27, three and a half hours after I should have been home for dinner. It may have been a hit and run, but as the police said 99% of people are law abiding and would stop if they thought they'd hit a cyclist. Perhaps more likely then was an accidental swipe from a close passing lorry. In the end I was lucky. Other than some broken/floating ribs and some very juicey road rash I wasn't too badly injured. My ribs took about 10 weeks before feeling normal and even now I still brace if reaching for something high on a shelf or sneezing! It is the head injury that although totally invisible has effected me the most. I guess being knocked unconcious for three hours is likely to have side effects! Initially I didn't really feel myself, words seemed to come to me glacially slowly like I was trying to grab them through a haze. 

Despite this, as is normal for me after an accident, I was quickly back on the bike in only a couple of weeks. The fitness I'd built up in preparation for the summer challenges was still with me. However, my ribs meant it was impossible to make any big efforts as getting out of breath was extemely uncomfortable. I wasn't at all confident on the bike either, feeling distinctly wobbly on two wheels especially at speed. Persumably a result of the concussion. The most unusual thing for me however was the lack of drive to get out on the bike at all. It was almost as if I had fallen out of love with cycling. Mentally I guess riding had given me two big smacks in the chops in quick sussession, my failed South Downs Double and then the accident. 
 
As the weeks trickled past when I did occasionally get out on the bike I could feel my fitness was seeping away, draining from my legs with every passing day. The worst symptom though was my total lack of motivation. For the first time in my life I questioned if I even wanted to put the effort in to my recovery and bother riding "properly" again.

As races I'd planned to enter, like Brighton Big Dog passed by my motivation dipped further. When I did go out for a ride even that was depressing. I was painfully slow. It really hit me one sunny evening after work when I rode a simple 10 mile flat route I use all the time. Normally it would just be a fun quick spin around the block, but I actually found it quite hard work! I wasn't able to maintain an average speed even close to what I would normally have expected to easily achieve. 

To give myself a goal and try to inspire some purpose, I wrote 4 events on the family calendar in the kitchen. A XC race in November and my favourite Brass Monkeys Series in December through to January. I'm not expecting big things by then, my fitness will still very much be work in progress, but just having a focus may have been what my head needed.

Only last weekend did I finally get out on the bike, tick some boxes and feel like I was getting back on track. For the first time since the accident I achieved what once were the simple minimums of a weekend ride; 3 hours, 1000m of altitude gain and 50 miles. Once standard stuff but it gave me a sense of a new beginning.

South Downs Double Attempt 2019

The South Downs Double : 200 miles off-road ‘there and back’ along the full length of the South Downs Way in 24 hours.

I’ve ridden the South Downs Way in one direction from Winchester to Eastbourne three times. Each time vivid in the memory for the scenary as much as the undoubted physical challenge. My best ride time is 9 hours 45 minutes. For 2019 I always had a South Downs Double attempt in the back of my mind. It wasn’t an idea I shared with anybody, I only told my wife around a week before. I didn’t want the added pressure plus I was waiting to see how I got on at Chase The Sun, which was my first 200 mile road ride. Having comfortably completed that in 15 hours I decided the Double was on!

I gave myself two weeks to recover and relax after CTS. Doing short rides here and there to keep the legs ticking over. I was starting to get that heavy, lazy leg feeling in my thighs from the inactivity.

I asked advice from two guys I know both of whom have successfully completed the ride and also carried out some of my own online research. I took it all on board, but decided to do this very much in my own style - after all I am not unfamiliar with long distance rides! (Even if 24hrs solo is on a completely different level.)

The perceived wisdom seemed to be to start in the evening. Therefore completing the more hazardous night riding section of the ride when you are feeling more alert. I decided instead to set-off in the morning, based on the fact that I’d rather begin feeling fresh after a good nights sleep than hang around all day and then try to stay awake for almost 2 entire days! For me this was definitely the right decision, but I could perhaps have started earlier than 9am.

There are no rules of where you should start. Winchester – Eastbourne – Winchester is the common way to tackle the ride, but I started in the ‘middle’ at Cocking. Cocking is the closest point  on the South Downs Way to where I live, so it was only a 20 minute drive after breakfast. Also because I was riding unsupported, starting at Cocking allowed me to split the ride into two and leave a supply of food and a change of clothes in the car for me to pick up after 120 miles. I was also planning to get to the car late in the evening which meant I wouldn’t have to carry all my lights with me during the daytime leg. It ended up being a fortunate decision based on what happened during the day, but more on that later!

To be honest looking back I didn’t feel brilliant even as I set off up the first climb of the day from Cocking. As mentioned I was well rested, but I think my body operates best when it has been riding every day. I might also have felt sluggish due to the extra weight of kit and food I had with me in a back pack and frame bag, which wasn’t something I had particularly trained for.

The two people who I approached who had previously completed the ride, survived entirely on gels and energy bars. The advantage of these is that they are relatively easy to carry. Based on my positive experience at Chase The Sun and knowing that my stomach is a potential problem on longer rides, I took some familiar ‘real’ food. My back pack was straining with six large sandwiches! Beef / Ham and Jam my preferred choices. I also had a stack of fig rolls and banana’s hidden away in bags and pockets!

I started slow, spinning lightly on the pedals up the initial hills. I had decided to break the ride into 3 hour sections, aiming to complete approximately 30 miles between stops. I also had 20 mile time split times printed on the bike to make sure I stayed on schedule. Based on my previous South Downs Way rides I expected to be ahead of schedule at half way, allowing me some slack as I tired and slowed later in the ride.

Unknown to me the date I had chosen was the same day as the CX100 event. Hundreds of cyclists (many on cyclo-cross bikes) were attempting the one way 100 mile ride along the SDW to Beachy Head. They’d started from Winchester at 7am so I found myself riding with them. I had to make sure I didn’t get lured into chasing the faster riders, but it provided company and later in the day when further from home and less familiar with the route it made navigation much easier!

For the first couple of hours I trundled steadily up the climbs conserving energy and although I had been told to ‘bomb’ the descents I took these slightly cautiously too. Sometimes because of cyclocross riders holding me up, but also due to a fear of punctures. 25 miles into the ride and nearing my planned lunch stop at Devils Dyke, I hit a wide gravel descent and finally decided to release the brakes and let the bike go. I briefly enjoyed the speed and refreshing movement of air on what was becoming a steaming hot day. Then there was the dreaded ‘psft, psft, psft’ and feeling of latex on my legs. Oh no a PUNCTURE! I stopped. Standing still in the sunshine the temperature felt close to a million degrees and sweat flooded off me. I waited for the latex to do its job and then spun the wheel, but the hole hadn’t sealed. I ate some food while giving the latex more time, it sealed, but as soon as I jumped on the bike ‘psft, psft, psft’! Now I was frustrated and a little angry with myself. The week before I had written on my check list “Change Tyre Latex”, but it’s a faff so I’d decided not to bother. Now I was regretting that decision as the old partially dried up latex left in the tyre didn’t seem up to the job of repairing what was actually a fairly minor cut in the rubber.

Puncture - latex failing to seal!

In the end I resorted to putting in a tube and continued, reaching the 40 mile time check behind schedule. I certainly hadn’t planned to be chasing the ride this early on in the day.

There was plenty of opportunity to up the pace. As well as riding well within myself I’d also stopped to take a few photos to share with the family tracking my progress at home. I’d only just stopped to talk to Rory Hitchens, who as well as helping support one of the CX100 event checkpoints, is also one of those responsible for the South Downs Double website. In truth I had probably casually frittered away 10 or 15 minutes, which added to the stop to fix the puncture meant almost 30 minutes of standing still. Then there were regular stops for water at the trailside taps. In the heat I was stopping at every opportunity to refill my single bottle. The other factor that mustn’t be ignored and I probably underestimated was the gates! The educated guess is that there is about one every mile. I feel like I will be dreaming about gates for the rest of my life. They constantly break your flow and significantly impact your average speed.

There are plenty of taps on route so only one bottle needed even on a hot day.

I pushed on for the next 20 miles to Eastbourne slowly clawing back time. This is when my strategy of proper food had an impact. It’s not really possible to eat a sandwich while riding. So I had to stop and perch on a bench looking out over the sea. Undoubtedly it was good to stretch and recover, but in terms of that ticking clock, it was another 15 minutes when I wasn’t progressing forwards.

Physically I hadn’t really felt good all ride. Now 65 miles in, I felt as strong as I had all day. Maybe it was the sneaky icecream at Eastbourne! I suspect it was actually more to do with the lowering temperature. I wasn’t arriving at each tap now with an empty bottle and glugging the first refill immediately before topping up again and moving off. I was definitely moving along faster.

I was keen to get back on schedule by the 100 mile half way mark. Unfortunately when I got there not all of those 100 miles had been in the right direction! A problem with the SDW is that although it is a National Trail it isn’t always the obvious path, sometimes requiring you to turn off a broad gravel bridleway and down a narrow bramble strewn alleyway. I was trusting in sign posts and previous knowledge rather than following my Garmin. Head down I had missed a turn. My heart sank as I found myself at the bottom of a valley staring at the ridgeline high above me where I should have been. Not only did the detour cost yet more time, but also a considerable amount of wasted effort as I retraced my steps clambering back up through a corn field to the top of the hill.

On the evening before the ride as I’d gone to bed I’d checked the weather forecast on my phone for the 100^th time. Sunshine all day, a dry night and an anticipated glorious bright sunny morning to finish - perfect! The first mention I had heard of rain was on the radio driving to the start in the morning. The weather man mentioned cloud and a chance of overnight showers. I’d immediately checked my phone again and it now it said there was a 20% chance of light rain between 1 and 3am. Not ideal but hardly enough to put me off either. However, as the day drew on the clouds gathered and grew darker and darker and as the evening approached there was the ominous odd drop of rain.

The overcast sky meant I needed to turn on the light I had with me earlier than I might have needed to on a clear night. My ‘proper’ lights were sitting in the car in Cocking. Sunset was 9.20pm and I’d been hoping to get to the car ahead of my 11pm schedule, which might have meant I barely required the back-up light I had with me at all. Instead I faced a couple of hours with an Exposure Diablo mounted to my handlebars. It’s a good light, but it is normally used as a helmet light supporting my main handlebar light.  The effect of this was that I travelled slower in the narrow beam that I wanted and wasn’t pulling back the time I needed too.

Then it began to rain! First a light drizzle, the sort that makes everything really wet, but soon it was more persistent. The accumulation of chalky dust that covered me and my bike turned to white gloppy paste. I was soaked and my motivation hit the floor. There was still 7 or 8 hours riding ahead and although I had a change of clothes at the car I didn’t have any wet weather gear. Also chalk can be as lethal as ice when it is wet. Riding tired through the night in pouring rain was an unacceptable risk. I made the decision to pull the plug. I messaged my family who were still awake and tracking my progress at home, who all quickly agreed it was the right call. I then trudged the final few miles, reaching the car shortly before 1am. Had the temptation of the car not been there would I have carried on? Perhaps, but I genuinely doubt it.

I’ve now had a few days to review what happened on Saturday and I am still sorely disappointed. Frustrated with myself, but also the totally unexpected weather that caught me out and scuppered my plans. I suppose it balances out the freakishly perfect weather we had for Chase The Sun. However, I also have to accept that I was behind schedule when the rain arrived so the challenge was already in jeopardy.

I must however take the positives, 126 miles and 4500 m of climbing in 15 hours of riding is comfortably my longest, most challenging MTB ride and I should be proud of that achievement.

I learnt several lessons that can be applied to improve a future attempt. It definitely won’t be this year but perhaps one day in the future:

• Pick a good day. Weather is a huge factor, wind, heat or rain will all significantly affect your ride time. If there is ANY doubt that the weather may be unfavorable – call it off.

•  Replace the latex in your tyres the week before the ride. Punctures are down to luck but help yourself out by reducing the impact.

• Watch the clock right from the start. Be conscious of how much time you are spending stationary. Over the course of a day it quickly adds up.

• Take some meals that can be eaten on the bike to reduce stationary time.

• Have the route loaded on the Garmin ALL THE TIME with the off-course warning ON!

Chase the Sun 2019

I might be a mountain biker at heart, but I just enjoy riding bikes, and as people who know me will confirm, I also really like a challenge. So there was only ever going to be one conclusion when last year a friend of mine mentioned “Chase the Sun”.

On Saturday in a stuffy Maidstone Travel Lodge room I was woken at 3am by my alarm. Chris had enlisted another friend, Nigel and the three of us lined up with 750 other starters at sunrise on the sea front in Minster on the Isle of Sheppey. We would be attempting to ride 205 miles, coast to coast across the country to Burnham-on-sea in Somerset before the sun set in 16hrs and 38 minutes time. The day of the ride is selected as the Saturday closest to the summer solstice in order to maximize the daylight available.

On my side there hadn’t been a lot of specific training beyond what I normally do. For the previous 2 months I’d increased the length of my usual Sunday mountain bike rides. Pushing the time in the saddle out to 5 or 6 hours on a couple of occasions. Meanwhile I’d been checking Nigel’s Strava and he had twice clocked up 200 miles in training and Chris had accompanied him to mile 140. So although I was feeling fit I was definitely concerned how this would transfer to the road. I’d settled my nerves considerably after a 6 hour 100 miler on the road bike with Nigel 3 weeks before the event. That day I’d finished strongly which boosted my confidence ahead of the big day.  

As we rolled out of Minster, the rising sun peeping above the sea over our shoulders, we remembered we’d forgotten to text the start code to the organisers! Chase the Sun is a free event to enter with minimal support. However, you do need to check in at the start, end and half way to ‘officially’ be classified. Once we’d slipped our phones back into our jersey pockets we were the very last riders to leave town and head out into the Kent countryside. This provided us with spectacular views of the entire peloton snaking through the morning mist.

750 riders is a big group, luckily the early start means that the roads are pretty quiet so there is minimal traffic disruption. It’s strange because you forget how early it is. Everything otherwise feels like a standard weekend ride and as you ride through a village or town you wonder why is it so deserted before remembering its still not 6 o’clock!

After winding through the orchards and crop fields of Kent for a couple of hours we began to approach London. Although the peloton had spread out there were still fairly large groups of riders at this stage, which got constantly dissected and then swelled in number by the traffic lights. Luckily the Saturday morning traffic was fairly light as riders swarmed around the black cabs and red busses.  The key really during this phase was not to waste any energy. There is really no pointing charging off hard to follow a group only to then grind to a halt at the next set of lights half a mile down the road. You have to accept the staccato nature of the ride and just keep rolling. Occasionally faster riders came surging past and we’d catch their wheels, taking a high speed tow. Eventually the traffic lights would split us up, but then another group would form. As I chased one particular crowd of fast moving riders I heard Chris call me back. He was right. It might have been fun, but what was the use of racing through mile 40 at 22mph and then crawling over the line at the end.

Surprisingly given the reputation of riding in London I never felt worried during this phase of the event. Undoubtedly there is some safety in numbers and you did need to concentrate, but the drivers were all very courteous. Rather than be annoyed several, including a bus driver, paused to wind down a window and ask us about the event. Although the stop / start nature meant the average speed undoubtedly dropped I felt the miles in the city ticked off quickly as there were so many distractions and other things to concentrate on. Luckily navigation wasn’t often one of these as there was almost without fail a group of riders ahead to follow.

We had our first planned stop at Bromley. Chris’ Dad had very kindly volunteered to be our support driver. The plan was he would meet us at predefined points on route approximately every 3 hours to allow us to have a break, take on some food and swap clothing etc. So it was that in a quiet street in Bromley three lycra clad cyclists could be seen sitting around a stove heating coffee and cooking up bacon butties! Certainly a strange sight for those Londoners up early enough to witness the scene.

Before we left London we joined the weekend cyclists lapping Richmond Park, then crossed the Thames and were soon back out into the rolling Surrey countryside. Although the average speed picked up I felt these miles really dragged. Miles 40 through to 50 seemed to take an age. I began to feel slightly uncomfortable in the saddle and was shifting around restlessly. I never thought I’d look forward to getting to Basingstoke so much! Actually our next stop was the mid-point was in Bramley just north of the city.

One of the ride highlights for me - pulling on a fresh pair of shorts with cool chammy cream! Ahhhh!  We basked in the sunshine and devoured our lunches. This is where our pre-event planning meeting reaped it rewards. We each knew when we were stopping and what the expectations were. So I simply lifted my food box out of the car, took the food I had planned for that stop, refilled my bottles and stashed a new banana and fig rolls into my pockets. 25 minutes a stop was perfect to not feel too rushed, but also allow a bit of down time.

In any ride of this length you’re bound to hit a bad patch at some point. After the pause for lunch my body really struggled to fire up again. I rode at the back of the group with wooden legs while the others spun away in front. We passed through picture postcard villages, but the miles were again dragging. Then there was a hill and strangely putting in that extra effort brought me back to life! Perhaps with lunch having also now recharged my batteries I was now feeling like a million dollars! At the next climb I had to reign myself back, as I just wanted to leap out of the saddle, but knew it was important to save this energy for later.

From then on the entire afternoon was glorious. We found ourselves largely on our own, flowing along peaceful lanes with the sun on our backs and even a hint of an tail wind. We worked perfectly as a group each taking turns pulling on the front while the others took a tow. It felt like we were counting down the miles now rather than up! The section through Wiltshire into Somerset would have been torture in a head wind. Open exposed rolling hills however were great with a breeze to our backs, how lucky we were!

We came to the next rendezvous with Chris’ Dad a bit earlier than we had expected which came as a nice surprise and allowed me to plug in my power pack just in time to keep my Garmin running. It is amazing how breaking the ride down makes it so much better. 50 miles to go sounds so much more manageable when you say to yourself it’s 25 to the van for the next stop and then ‘only’ 25 to the end after that.

The route on the whole is pretty flat, but the punchiest hills come as you approach the west country. Some of these briefly split us up, but once back on the flat we almost immediately regrouped and were pulling together again. The drop down Cheddar gorge was a truly memorable experience. We stopped for a photo before dropping down the sweeping road like stones, grinning like Cheshire cats at the bottom, high on Adrenalin. The end was now in sight and we put the pedal to the metal, buzzing on a high excitement and racing towards the finish at over 20mph! We were flying past other riders who seemed to be barely dragging themselves towards the finish in comparison.

With 200 miles in the bank and with only 4 miles to go we found ourselves on a wide, straight and beautifully surfaced road. Lying prone across the central white line was a rider. An ambulance was called and later we heard a broken collar bone and shoulder was diagnosed. It just goes to show that you should never take anything for granted. It put a bit of a dampener on our roll into Burnham as we put on our “sensible heads” and eased things back a notch. Still there were massive grins on our faces as we rolled side by side along the seafront to the applause and cheers of the crowd lining the street

Ride time 15hrs 45min – we had time to sit with our fish and chips and watch the sun set over the sea!

The whole team!

So how do I rate Chase the Sun to other epic rides I have completed? For most of my big MTB challenges I usually race solo. One of the standout features of Chase the Sun was sharing the experience as part of a team. That includes the build up in the weeks before, the nervous journey up to Maidstone and ‘last supper’ of pizza. The three of us rode together for the entire day, never more than a few meters apart, looking out for each other, taking turns on the front as well as offering support and distraction! Of course we were actually a team of four, the three cyclists relying on our support driver Steve. The breaks psychologically split up the ride into manageable chunks, and seeing the van with its fresh supplies at each stop and collapsing into the fold out chairs was such a highlight. I can’t imagine doing that ride on my own.