bikes and things

I like keeping lists. I use a little app called Simplenote and have it synced across every PC / Mac / Phone I use and jot down anything that comes to mind. What I need to get done, things that might come in useful, snippets of thoughts or just things that need writing down, rides, films to watch and so on. There were many things in the “Rides” list for 2016 but one which kept on jumping out at me was to attempt to ride the South Downs Way. What I really wanted to do was ride it one way this year and then have an attempt at both ways the following year. I’d seen various people do it and it’s one of those things that looks like a challenge but somewhat achievable, one way that is. There and back looks ridiculous but had hoped to be able to work up some fitness towards that goal.

So I floated the idea of it with a few friends, some London, some Brighton based and all met up in Winchester to start the journey. All pretty excited for a nice day out on the hills. Apart from we (London lot) were waiting at the station larking around and they (Brighton lot) were waiting at the King Alfred statue in the centre of town. Cue faffing, missed phone calls and starting 45 mins late after obligatory photos at the statue and chatting about a beautiful retro Marin with a man.

So we’re off. Racing up hills, chatting, introducing ourselves to each other generally having a nice time. A few little wrong turns. Beep. Garmin check. Back on. More hills. Faffing. Gates. So many gates. Bash decides to come off in a puddle. We trundle along, generally enjoying things.

I’m only a few weeks back from my collarbone snap and I’m not as fit as the rest of the group. Jo is recovering from a chest infection and Bash didn’t sleep. Excuses mount. Matt takes a tumble at high speed on a descent slicing his elbow open and more worryingly scratching his frame at the same time. Adam is as fit as always and doesn’t complain.

We meet a variety of characters who we end up passing, stopping, passing, stopping and so on. One was an older gentleman who tells us that he comes out and does the SDW in little sections. He’d done routes all around the country, doing a little section then ending in a pub. From the sounds like it he had covered quite a lot of ground in the UK. He had an ancient bike and no fancy kit but the smile on his face was enormous. As we cycled away I thought that he was probably the only person I’d ever met entitled to use the hashtag #outsideisfree. What a way to spend your retirement!

Back on with more trails. Lots of cows. Some fun descents and a lot more chatting.

We stopped for lunch against the better advice of Jo. Ten pounds for a baguette and a coke each and we’d lost a lot of time. Back on out of the valley where we had stopped an on. Hills became tougher but I found some new strength after lunch. We stopped on a hill to help a man who was having trouble with a puncture. He’d got the wrong sized tube, the wrong type of valve and no pump and was on an immaculate £3500 bike. Sympathy faded a little more after each fact was revealed but we helped him get it sorted and wished him well. More time lost.

By the time we got to the YHA near Brighton we were flagging. Mentally mapping out the hours we’d need to get to Eastbourne seemed to more to dampen our spirits. I was of the opinion that we must and should complete it. But then by the time we’d made the climb to Devil’s Dyke I too had caved in. Arriving at 10pm in Eastbourne probably wasn’t going to be much fun. Sure we’d have done it but it would have been a bit of a schlep and then to get the train home without any social time or laughs with our friends. Hard to believe I’m writing this but we all caved in and went to the pub. It’s not a very good pub but it was what we all needed.

I spotted a great photo of everyone looking out to the low sun in the sky and the silhouette they were creating. As I raised my camera a kind woman literally forced me into the photo. How nice to actually be included in the photo to record the day when I’m usually the other side or there’s one person left out of the pic.

It’s probably one of my favourite cycling photos as it captures having had a great time as well as the characters involved. Four pints (each), six packets and crisps and two bowls of chips later (between us) we rolled down the hill into Brighton and got the train home. We didn’t achieve what we had hoped but the laughing and smiling in the pub til it hurt more than made up for it.

The following week Beth and James went out and completed it. They had horrific weather for it and ended up finishing in the dark. Congratulations to them both but I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that we hadn’t pushed on. Especially as it was such a glorious day for it. But there’s really no point in regret, it’s just a waste of energy. Best just get on with it and do it again. I really did want to get it done in 2016 and not regret it. Even though regret is futile.

The trouble with this idea was that the evenings were drawing in and alarmingly so. The days were getting shorter and shorter which however you set it up means finishing in the dark. Being exhausted and tired mixed with the risk of bad weather is not my idea of fun, or a particularly safe ride. Wet chalk and tiredness – no thanks. So I came up with the stupid idea of starting in the dark. Why not get the dark bit out of the way before and then end in daylight? Adam and Bash were up for it. Matt had dislocated his collarbone and couldn’t. Jo was maybe and “I’ll see” on the day. Train times were pushed back and forth and a date agreed. I was coming from London, Adam from Brighton. How best to meet and not hang around in Winchester alone was discussed.

So a few weekends back we met at Clapham Junction at 11pm to get a train to Winchester to begin our silly little adventure. As expected the train was full of drunk people commuting home after an evening in the pub. What we hadn’t envisaged was it being completely rammed. Fuck. Not that door. Shit. Not this one. Run. ‘Scuze meeeee. And just about squeezed in both bikes around the drunk people. A man was lying slumped against the door clutching his phone who appeared to wake occasionally before grinning and then falling asleep again.

The train thinned out as we went further South which allowed a bit of repacking and faffing. I realised I hadn’t fitted my helmet light properly and was bobbing around. I fashioned a little support from a spare business card I had in my wallet and a train ticket – thanks Matt for the business card.

I’d set up my SPOT tracker for a few friends and family to follow our progress. Although this required a little faffing too. In addition we had some support from some of the Brighton lot and Vic was offering to pick us up if anything went wrong. I cheekily asked what counted as an emergency (asking for a friend). To which the response was…

Less than 999, more than a ‘bit tired’

I found this highly amusing and kept me going in some of the darker moments. The thought of others looking out for us also helped a great deal.

As we got off in Winchester we ended up having to explain ourselves to a group of guys coming home from a good night in the pub. Rather than the idiotic reaction expected they were thrilled at the idea and encouraged on our way before shaking our hands as they left to get in their taxi. Good luck lads they shouted as they drove off.

Whilst on the train I found myself becoming more and more nervous as I often do before big things like this. My mind thinking back to a stressful week at work and that the last sleep was last night and I wasn’t going to be getting any more until Sat evening.

This is silly.

This is stupid.

Both going round and round in my mind wanting for some reason to not do this.

We got on our bikes, flicked our lights on and headed down to the King Alfred statue for a quick picture. It’s the official start so only right we started there. After that it was onwards out of town and up onto the Downs. Immediately I thought of how I hadn’t ridden for about 7 days and had a bit of a holiday with too much food and booze. Adam was immediately stronger and doing a better pace. I’d said to myself that I would plod along to get it done and not race up or down things for fear or peaking too early and / or coming off on a descent. Normally I would prefer to ride with someone next to me and hate seeing someone up ahead. For some reason being completely pitch black it was actually good to follow someone and see their light ahead in the distance. We rode together for the wider sections and chatted about work / life / cycling adventures and so on for a few hours. At around 3am I think we both stopped talking and just got on with riding.

It was a cloudy night and really thick darkness with little light pollution. This meant it was completely and utterly dark. Pitch black. The tendency was to focus on your own light ahead to track where you’re going. Stopping allowed a broader view of the areas we were passing through and a bit more context – this is that bit or we’re near that bit. All felt completely remote and wonderfully still and silent. It wasn’t as hard as I had thought and felt pretty exciting to be out exploring when everyone else was safely in bed.

Occasionally we stopped and turned our lights off and just appreciated the silence and stillness of it all. You could hear your own breathing over anything else. Each of us was beaming from ear to ear just enjoying the isolation and silliness of it all. I tried to take a picture of the nothingness. With little light around this didn’t really happen. I wanted to record it somehow but will have to make do with the memories of it.

I was really pleased with this one of Adam though. My light off and just his lights illuminating the immediate foreground. Again I imagined people seeing these lights moving through the countryside and wondering what the hell we were doing.

Riding trails off road was so much fun in the dark after I got over my initial apprehension and soon picked up a bit more speed descending. Tuck in and trust your judgement and kind of just go with it. One descent I did slow down for was the Butser Hill descent. Adam didn’t seem so bothered and flew down it. Each time I caught up with him at a gate he was beaming from ear to ear. He was clearly loving every minute of it.

We surprised quite a lot of the nature around us. We saw a few owls, plenty of foxes, rats, young deer and a few badgers. I’m pretty sure we saw a few birds of prey too but couldn’t tell you what they were. Not forgetting the countless cows and sheep that we saw who all looked pretty surprised to see us. We also had spiders webs appearing on our handlebars as they had strung them across the various trails we were passing through.

Speaking of sheep, on one descent at the back of Queen Elizabeth Country Park I had taken my clear glasses off as they had been steaming up a bit and annoying me. Of course this meant that a massive lump of sheep shit went straight into my eye. Cue lots of washing my eye with water and generally trying to get it out. No I just made it worse and then for the rest of the day I spent wiping green muck out the side of my eye as well as having a bright red stink eye to show for it. Always wear eye protection!

We had been making good progress and areas that I recognised seemed to arrive quicker than expected. Having ridden the route before it really helped. I dread to think what it would be like navigating it in the complete darkness having not ridden it before. I was starting to tire a bit though, more mentally than physically although that was starting to fade too. We’d been in the darkness for so long and I was counting down to when I thought the sun would be rising. In addition it had started to rain a bit and a thick fog had set in. This made seeing even harder as the light just bounces off the moisture in the air, more lumens doesn’t help at all.

The darkness seemed to go on forever. 6am came. Still dark. I’d mentally been working to 6am and it threw me a bit that we were still surrounded by it all. 7am still kind of dark and then within minutes it seemed to lift and we had a little sunrise to watch. Sadly it was partially obscured by the clouds but it still felt like the hardest part had passed. This also coincided with a neatly timed descent where we stopped half way down to admire the view. This looks good so we stopped, unpacked and got on with breakfast.

I’d packed my little Alpkit stove, brew pot and two pre-measured bags of coffee (15g each). We’d both brought little coffee pots with integral plunger which are a brilliant bit of kit. We both had fresh coffee and enjoyed the view whilst I boiled another batch of water for porridge each. Not fancy by any stretch but it tasted damn good to have something substantial sat in the middle of no where. Like some kind of sanity in the mad thing we were doing. Of course it’s all a complete luxury and could have managed without but I find these little things help to keep you going. I got a bit cold sat down and took a while to warm up again in terms of my core temp and also the legs after a stop. Of course the next thing is another great big hill to climb. Super!

By now more people are starting to be up and about and of course we say good morning to everyone we see. Dog walkers, people out fishing and also farmers and so on. We met a lovely farmer who kindly pointed out the tap we had missed a few hundred metres back. Filled water bottles and a bit more energy in the tank from breakfast we kept on. The next thing to aim for was Bash coming to meet us with more food!

We got to the agreed spot and negotiated with Bash where we were and how his progress was. We had to wait a bit in the car park but were kept entertained by the coming and goings of a local running club made up of mainly retired folk out enjoying the paths. Black labradors seemed to be standard issue and one tried to steal a sandwich from Adam’s frame bag.

Bash arrived and was sporting a Sainsbury’s bag which had been fashioned into a rucksack with straps made from duct tape. I wish I’d taken a picture of it but was a bit broken by that point and damp and cold still. In the ghetto rucksack were pastries and bananas. Wolfed down we got on our way again.

Adam was still much faster than me and Bash and him soon disappeared which sent my mental state through the floor. I find it hard enough at the best of times being dropped but was not thinking very straight without sleep and in my tired state. Rather than chewing on it I just said something and they both dropped the pace accordingly. It’s amazing how those tiny little things get to you as well as how much I find I need the support of others to get through a tough event like this.

I was still being really slow on the hills and just grinding away. Even my 36t on the back wasn’t enough and found myself doing that stupid thing of clicking away for more gears even when you know there’s no more. A mixture of desperation and exhaustion I think.

Having Bash arrive with fresh legs and being a little bit more mentally able helped massively. We chatted away and I found this extra energy really helped get through the next bit. We ended up at the familiar spots we’d ridden before closer to Brighton. The pig farm on the top, the Youth Hostel (more water here) and then finally the top of Devil’s Dyke.

The next thing to aim for was George who had agreed to meet us with more supplies. I’d kind of shut down a bit mentally by this point and then I saw Adam ahead talking to someone a bit longer than you might expect for your average ‘good morning’ type chat. I got a bit closer and it was George. Brilliant, so good. I was so happy to see him (and the thought of more food). We didn’t actually need food there and then and he agreed to drive a bit further along to meet us. This was actually much better as it allowed us to cover a bit more distance before settling down for another stop.

The weather had improved and the temperature risen and most layers had been removed. We ended up meeting George and his lovely kids in a sunny spot by one of the taps next to Housedean Farm. He’d laid on an amazing spread although admitted that it wasn’t as plentiful as before due to the kids snaffling a few bits and bobs. Coke, crisps, Haribo, bananas, chocolate bars.. everything a hungry cyclist could dream of.

After this we’d got to the point (at least I had) of trying to work out how many hills were left. I could clearly see from the Garmin how many kms were left but this probably wasn’t the issue. FIVE lumps left. Ok, let’s do it. This is achievable. FOUR. Ok, entirely possible. THREE. Actually there’s a little extra lump Adam had forgotten. THREE again. We were getting there though. I was still super slow and my glutes were in a lot of pain. A few Ibuprofen and we’re good. We got a nice flash rain storm as we hit Alfriston and quickly sheltered and then it suddenly passed and we were on our way again. Counting down. Our next target was the end obviously but also the mussels and chips place that serves the Belgian beer. God that beer was in my mind for so long.

And then as if by magic we saw Eastbourne in the distance.

YES! We’ve almost done it. After this we traced the SDW as far as we could looking for some form of official finish. After we while we both gave up and then sped down into town to our reward of food and beer. The restaurant kindly let us bring our bikes into the lobby to avoid getting hypothermic outside. Three orders of bread, two mussels and chips and two strong beers later it was time to get the train home.

The only problem was trying to stay awake and not have my bike stolen. That and the stench of my kit and self. I couldn’t face the cycle back from Clapham Junction so got a connecting train to Denmark Hill. Even the short ride up the hill was painful.

The vital stats were 162km ridden, 3525m of elevation climbed, 10.5 hours moving time and another 4 hours for stops on top of that with an average moving speed of 15.5kph. We set off at around 12.15am and got to Eastbourne around 4.30pm the next day without any sleep.

I’m incredibly proud of having achieved it with Adam and so grateful for the support of so many people who helped us get through it all.

Edit: In my haste to post this I forgot to add this little video clip which is from a service called relive.cc. You connect it to your Strava account and then it sends you a little video of your ride through an aerial perspective overlaid on Google Earth type graphics. Nine times out of ten this is boring as hell, laps of Regents etc, but this is really interesting as it traces our path along the South Downs and shows the fascinating topography of the whole area. Whilst we go up and down a lot we do traverse a ridge for quite some time.

Blog posts are now few and far between. There’s a load of events I haven’t written up and experiences I’d like to record here. It usually takes longer than the actual event to compose thoughts, pop a few pictures in, fuss over it, edit and then post. I used to use this place to record interesting videos or links but now that’s all Twitter / Facebook and occasionally Instagram.

Rides, like blog posts, don’t necessarily have to be ‘epic’ (used ironically and with a wry smile) to require a post. So it was really nice to head out on Sunday with an old friend, Neil. A quick trip to Daily Goods for a coffee and then headed out towards Kent to find Pilgrims Way and follow it all the way to Whitstable. The route is called the Whitstable Winder and I thoroughly recommend it, it’s a personal favourite of mine. I can’t remember how I came across it but it’s described as:

Quite possibly the nicest cycle to the coast from London there is.

You quickly reach the countryside south of Dulwich, & then it’s just miles of lovely rolling South Downs cycling. The stretch on the Pilgrims Way Area Of Outstanding Natural Beauty is simply divine.

A couple of lung busting hills: Hollingbourne Hill being the worst by a margin.

Last year I rode with Seb to complete my Festive 500 and was a stunning last ride for 2015.

We waved and smiled at everyone as we went out. Our average for waves / smiles back was really quite poor until we actually got to the countryside where everyone seemed to be a lot more friendly. Maybe the pollution is making everyone miserable in London.

We had a beautiful day for it. Sunny and autumnal and with the wind blowing in completely the wrong direction. Two out of three isn’t bad. Some chatting. A few photos. A bit of filming for Bowman and their new bikes and just pushing on. A bacon sandwich in the place that wasn’t very good last time but was really good this time and then onwards.

I love the rolling countryside and the way you traverse along the side of the ridge almost all the way there. There’s some really lovely open lanes as well as some nice tight closed in ones. It’s largely quiet and free of traffic. I bored Neil to tears with how much I loved my new Rapha Brevet jersey although I had a good laugh at the microphone adaptor he had on his phone for filming.

The wind got up just as Neil’s energy levels went down. I lied about how many hills were left and then got my head down and towed him in the last 20km or so. The last bit is particularly bleak as you turn the corner and all protection from trees is lost as you go along the coast to Whitstable. A dash for fish and chips followed by another dash for the train only to hear the dreaded words of “Bus replacement service“. Oh. Always check the trains are running! So we can still get back to London but the train goes via Dover and will take over two hours. Fine with me.

All that’s left to do is sit back, eat our fish and chip supper, gulp 7up and relax. Oh and then Neil gets cramp really really badly suddenly moving from his relaxed stance to half way under the table writhing in agony. A first I’m concerned and then I realise it’ll make a hilarious picture.

Thoroughly enjoyable!

I love a good Strava challenge. I like the monthly Fondo and Monthly Training Series things and the ‘stupid little badge’ and so on. I know Strava winds a load of people up but I like it. I like the gamification and social aspects of it and I’ve found it inspiring and get a great deal out of it. I love seeing the big adventures people go on as well as the small improvements people are all making. I don’t sweat about KOMs or anything like that but it’s a great tool for motivating yourself to work a bit harder or drag yourself out before work.

Also, I don’t care what you think.

For the last few years Rapha, in association with Strava, has been doing an event over the Christmas period called the Festive 500. Any cyclist who has a web browser cannot have escaped it in the last few years through the prevalence of the hashtag #festive500 and various media surrounding it.

Since 2010, the Festive 500 has challenged cyclists to ride a total of 500km on the eight days between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. Once again we invite you to join tens of thousands of riders in testing yourself on the bike over the holidays as part of this growing festive tradition.

2014 was my first full year of riding and recording on Strava. I went from riding 80km per week to 350km fairly comfortably by the end. That was a massive personal achievement for me and also meant I went down a dress size or two. But at the end of it all I felt that I didn’t need to do another challenge, I’d achieved enough. I wanted to spend time with my family who had been so supportive throughout and just relax doing some of the #festering500 instead and #alloutforgout.

This year I felt slightly different. I’d got into longer audax rides and felt more comfortable on the bike. I floated the idea with Emma and she didn’t have a problem with it. I did resolve to try and not be too antisocial about it though and still spend plenty of time with them but get out in the downtime bits of the day where everyone is asleep or watching Coronation Street. It also fitted in with hitting my riding targets for the year and making a nice round number for kms ridden in 2015.

So I made a plan. I listed out all the days available in SimpleNote as I do each month except from the 24th to 31st. I spent time looking at routes and working out where best to go depending on where we were staying at the time and then packed a bag full of all the riding kit I thought I might need.

24th December

This was to be the first ride obviously but I was constrained by time. We were due to drive to Bath as well as picking Grandma up in Weston-Super-Mare. I wanted to get a quick 60km in before we left and thought a quick trip to Kent would be good. I have a little pre-work loop I sometimes do but felt confident enough to not plan anything and just take a turn here and then do this bit or maybe that.

It wasn’t too exciting but out to Pilgrims via Beddlestead, along a bit and then back up Brasted hill, which never seems to get any easier. It was incredibly windy and even riding with Will it was hard work. I didn’t have much in the legs but made it round and back for a quick coffee with Will before heading back to Bath for Christmas.

63km / 437km left.

25th December

I had hoped to get up early, get out, do 60km and then be there for everyone waking up and getting breakfast. Turns out I couldn’t be bothered. A ride the day before, a long drive, a warm bed and a wet outlook conspired to keep me at home. I was kind of glad I did but still felt a pang of guilt. We enjoyed the day, I had a few beers, a glass of wine and loads and loads of food. I don’t normally drink that much at Christmas as around family and I’ve usually eaten too much. By the time everyone was dozing off on the sofa I found myself wanting to get out and turn the pedals. My jacket felt a little tight around the tummy area after that massive meal. The route I had planned for the morning wasn’t suitable so I just headed into Bath on my old commuting route – it’s down the A4 but it was so quiet it didn’t matter. Into Bath, a quick look at the Cathedral, a look back to Putney Bridge and then back through Batheaston. Getting to my usual turn I decided to take the steeper Bathford Hill. As soon as I turned onto it it started to get significantly darker. No more streetlights and just my dynamo light which was more powerful than I’d seen before on the streets of London. Even so it was pretty isolating at first with a kind of slight feeling of sensory deprivation. I could hear my breathing more than I remember and I don’t think it was just due to the big lunch. I carried on up, past the Kingsdown golf course which was a brilliant flat out descent, again in the pitch black. The corner at the end came up a little quick for my liking but fortunately made it round. Over the roundabout and then turned right at Chapel Plaister and around Wadswick lane. As I came round the corner I caught sight of a flashlight ahead which turned out to be a family out for a walk. They were equally as surprised to see me appear out of the darkness – I bid them a Happy Christmas and carried on. It was still pitch black but then I started to see Melksham and Chippenham glowing on the horizon which lifted the light levels considerably.

Back up Park Lane and home. It was surprisingly warm out and I really didn’t need that winter jacket, even with only a baselayer. It was still windy although not as bad as the previous day. Kit in the wash and back in time to catch up with all the soaps and a celebratory beer.

I’ve been posting a pic of each ride to Facebook from Instagram during the Festive 500. I normally refrain from doing this but thought I would for this. Only one per day but you know, some people offer encouragement there which is nice. And then…

More to life than clocking up miles mate. Go see your family.

Ahh, I knew it would come at some point. That ride was a total of 1hr and 10mins away from my family – all of whom were asleep as far as I could tell. My mother was furious when she saw that! Fortunately she refrained from commenting.

34.4km / 393.6km left.

26th December

Although I didn’t manage the super early start I’d hoped for I still managed to get out just before 9am. I did the route I had planned for Christmas day heading out towards Westonbirt and the famous arboretum. I’d completed a similar route with Dad before towards Sherston previously but managed to add a few different fun looking roads when planning it on ridewithgps.com, by far my favourite part was riding the beautifully straight Fosse Way with a tailwind. The Fosse Way is a Roman road stretching from Exeter to Lincoln and large parts of which are still used as B roads today. Much like Pilgrims Way in Kent certain sections are gravel roads or even just bridleways now but the form of the historic way is largely traceable. My route planning failed to take account for this and almost took me on the muddy path it turned into. A quick check of the Garmin and I neatly carved around it. Normally I’d just give it a go but I was time limited and didn’t want to tempt punctures. After that it was an extremely muddy series of lanes which took me further into the Cotswolds, beautiful houses and fancy cars aplenty. I ended up at Westonbirt and realised the road I was intending to take was private and didn’t look like a goer – another route planning error on my part. Never mind, back to the main road to smash it up a bit further to get back on track. I’m getting good at re-planning routes on the hoof now having cocked it up so many times.

It was windy as hell all the time I was out, which was great on the way out, but having made it to the top of the loop it was now time to head back. Ugh, that really was horrid. Facing into hit along rough country lanes with the wind in my face and little shelter was horrid. Not having someone to share the pain with made it even more frustrating. Just try and tuck down, make myself as aero as possible and keep pedalling away.

I was rewarded for my earlier poor route planning decisions with some fantastic country lanes which guided me back towards Colerne and the now somewhat run down RAF base there. Amazingly I’d had so many lovely drivers give me so much space on the lanes that day. People literally throwing their cars or land rovers into the hedge to give me plenty of space. I really couldn’t believe it and greeted each one with a smile and a wave.

Having hit Colerne I knew what was next. A back road which is not for cars / access only which takes you from the valley floor right up to the top of Box Hill in a fairly short and brutal climb. It peaks at about 20% and was also covered in farm muck. Having made it up I wiggled back round the Quarrymans Arms and the lanes and home.

67.5km / 326.1km left.

27th December

Again not quite the early start I had planned. After driving from Bath to Cambridge the day before and a big meal and plenty to drink in the pub I finally dragged myself out at around 10.30. It was raining, more was scheduled for the day and there’s a gale blowing. Super. At least it wasn’t too cold.

I’d ridden most of this route before but again had a bit of a play in ridewithgps to see what I could do to remove some of the less pleasant bits I’d done last time. I realised that I was pretty close to the Blue Egg Cafe with my loop so dragged it down a little further on the off chance it was open. I wanted to make it just over 100k to get a good chunk of the distance done and get past that half way point in terms of distance.

You can see how grim it was from the above picture. 10.30 in the morning and barely light with all the cloud and rain. The first hour was horrid. That sinking feeling of, oh god what have I put myself up for. It was fine rain at first. The kind that soaks you through little by little. Sure enough my soft-shell was soaked on the forearms and chest and reducing it’s ability to keep me warm. On goes a rain jacket and try to keep warm. I passed pretty quickly from Cambridgeshire into Essex. The roads were good, drivers were generally considerate and after the first hour of pedalling I’d warmed up and got into a bit of a rhythm.

The scenery was pretty good as the weather cleared slightly. Lots of old farms, oast houses, windmills and water towers. Although it’s pretty flat round there it seems to be rolling countryside which is deceptive. You don’t get a good go at a hill like in Kent or Wiltshire. It’s these long slow rolling climbs which are deceptive in terms of effort required and you don’t really ever seem to get a good flat section to have a break. It would have been nice to stop and admire more of the concrete water towers but I was aware of time away from people and wanted to push on.

I recognised a few places as they were on the Dunwich route. The lovely green and bridge of Great Bradfield was lovely to see in the daylight. Round the corner was the Blue Egg which was sadly closed. I was kind of counting on this but couldn’t find anything on their website or social media saying they were closed. No bother. Had a bar, a glug of water and got back on with it.

The route had been brilliant so far, lots of villages, quiet lanes and not many cars. Of course this had to come to an abrupt end at some point. After successfully navigating around a short section of muddy road I didn’t fancy I found myself on a much longer section that looked like this.

Fuck it. It was a bit warmer, the weather had cleared a bit and I thought it can’t go on for that long can it? I rode through the first one using the logic that the middle of the puddle is the hard surface and would mean I wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. Woo, it’s a deep one. Past the bottom bracket and covering both hubs. Err, keep going, try not to lose too much speed. Cleats are a bit sticky, almost fall in. The sealing on the dynamo hub is pretty good as it’s continued to work since despite being fully submerged.

This went on for ages and finally the ground firmed up and was more rideable and then turned right onto a proper road. I couldn’t help feeling smug about having ridden it and enjoying the stupidity of it all. It’s the kind of thing I’d normally ride on a MTB or CX bike. The bike was completely filthy.

The loop back was a bit easier. A bit of a tail wind and I’d managed to find myself on more lovely quiet country lanes. As I headed further west I passed more cyclists and a club run out on their local loop. After a final detour round the back of the main road and over the railway line I was back on the road towards the pub. I was so filthy I had to strip off most of my kit in the yard, wash myself down and then go for a shower. Food, a tin of coke and a pint of IPA later I felt brilliant. I felt like I’d really achieved something on that ride and was so glad I’d gone out.

113.1km /213km left

28th December

A rest day! A trip to Cambridge with Emma and her Mum, a nice lunch in the pub and then a drive back to London. I cycled the pizza bike to meet Richard and Tom and hear about their festive 500 at the Spitalfields Cycle Club which serves beer rather than just the coffee at the Soho one! Tom had already completed his – he’s ten years old. So it gave me an extra incentive to complete it. Sadly my phone didn’t record the ride there but an extra 10km back didn’t do any harm to the overall total. It felt like it was achievable but I really didn’t want the last day to be about getting extra kms in to just nudge it over the 500km mark.

10.6km / 202.4km left.

29th December

It felt good to be up nice and early for this one compared to the rest. An RCC ride had been organised to head out to Kent for ‘about 100km’. No route was available and the ride was fully booked. It was being run by Will who I’d emailed the night before to see if it was ok to tag on to. If it was full on the day I wouldn’t go with them and just do my own thing but had a sneaky feeling that not everyone would turn up to a mucky ride round Kent over the Christmas break. My suspicions were correct and we met with a considerably smaller group at Gails in Dulwich. The coffee is considerably better than the thick brown liquid served at Cafe St Germain in Crystal Palace. Off we went, and it was so good to be riding in a group and with wheels to follow as well as not being too worried about directions. That’s someone else’s problem. Plenty of people in the group didn’t have mudguards and the lanes were filthy. I managed to move around the group so that I didn’t have to sit on anyone’s wheel which was spraying up crap. It meant spending a bit more time on the front but a small price to pay for not having a face full of crap.

Whilst thinking about mudguards it struck me that those ass savers are the most selfish thing you can buy if you’re riding in a group. You’re making sure your ass is dry but showering the person behind in crap. Get some proper guards! I also used to think it was just about keeping spray from going up your back and chin but having used them two years in a row they significantly reduce the amount of crap that gets thrown over your legs and body, improving your chances of keeping warm and clean(er).

The route was taking us East and towards Tunbridge to an amazing coffee place Scott (Mr Caffeine Mag) knew. A few roads were familiar from a previous Knatts Valley loop but most were new to me which was great. Most were strewn with muck which had been washed off from the fields in the recent rain and storms. Some people winced at it but I loved it! Big tyres, disc brakes and mudguards were perfect for this.

One person was plagued with punctures and left the group fairly early as he needed to be back in time. The rest of us pushed on to Tonbridge where we were treated to a decent downpour for the 20km leading up to. At least there’s posh coffee there! We get to Tunbridge and said posh coffee place is closed. So the next stop is the train station which has a little coffee shop out the front. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that. Cue 12 wet cyclists huddling in a station foyer trying to warm up with bitter coffee and cake.

On we go and back onto the final set of lanes heading back towards London, legs spinning to try and warm up from the stop. Again more new lanes to me. Neil and I lose the group slightly but carry on what we think is the route. I give a bit of a push up a hill out of the saddle and snap a rear spoke which makes the wheel all out of shape and a bit egg like. It’s certainly not round anymore. A quick roadside wheel bodge with a spoke key and it’s enough to get back. We catch up with the rest of the group at the Ide Hill cafe where we bump in to Will and Marta who’ve just come out on a bit of a jaunt for cake and fresh air. A banana and a Tunnocks tea cake provides enough fuel for the return leg.

After this the group forms a more organised bunch as we head on the main road around Biggin Hill airport. The pace rises with Will and Tim on the front. 45 – 50kph and we’re tanking along. Oooooh this is what I’ve missed from the laps sessions. Feels great to be in a bunch again. All that remains is the final sprint back into Crystal Palace and up Annerly Hill. I’m pretty much done by this point and can’t muster the energy for a sprint up the hill. We end up with coffee, coke, beer and cheese toasties at Cadence / Fee & Brown whilst the mechanic there kindly repairs my wheel.

122.3km / 80.1km left.

30th December

Another rest day. A trip into town with Emma, two exhibitions, a trip on the Thames Clipper and a burger on the way home. Not a bad way to recuperate really. My legs were sore though.

31st December

This is it. 80km to do. I’d talked Seb into riding and the weather looked surprisingly good with a slight chance of rain. The temperature was dropping compared to the previous warm days but looking like not a bad way to end it. Rather than stretch out a Kent route or go out to Surrey I thought a ride to Whitstable would be good. The route follows Pilgrims way for the majority of it, at least for the sections which are rideable.

After a chilly start the weather turned out to be glorious. We had a slight tailwind and managed to tank it along Pilrgims lane although again was strewn with mud and puddles. Kent was beautiful in the sunshine though. The furrows, vineyards and farm houses all looked incredible in the winter light.

We had a few spots of rain but no more than 20 mins in total. I celebrated when the Garmin ticked over 80km knowing that I’d completed the challenge! Dan left us 20k before the end with knee issues and we pushed on to Whitstable. As you crest the corner off Pilgrims and onto the seafront the wind hits you. Seb seemed to surge into it and I struggled to keep up and even hold a wheel. My excuse was that he hadn’t done as much riding as me the week before. We got there, fought our way through the Whitstable traffic and found the best chip shop in town. A long queue had formed but it was well worth the wait.

A quick trip to the seafront for a terrible staged photo and then a dash for the train.

In our haste we hadn’t purchased any beer to celebrate and there was no trolley on the train. Never mind. The fish and chips was amazing. I day dreamed of a hot bath and a cold beer.

122.1km / 533km completed!

All that remained was a slow limp home from St Pancras south and to upload that final Garmin file. At times I really thought I wouldn’t do it. It was far further than I thought it would be. I know what 500km feels like but doing it in winter was more of a challenge than I thought it would be. The hardest thing was doing rides solo and into horrific headwinds. It’s done. I have a real sense of achievement and my legs have just about recovered.

Including the ride back from the station I covered 543km and managed to not fall off or have any punctures. The only mechanical was a broken spoke which isn’t bad going really. It also meant I’d hit my riding targets and passed 12,000km and almost 100,000m of climbing. Pretty pleased with that.

Next year? Maybe not, I feel I’ve done this challenge now and ticked it off the list. We’ll see.

It’s time to clean the bike.

And here’s a pointless heat map generated from Strava of all the rides.

I really enjoyed seeing people’s Strava and Instagram posts about this event in 2014. Leo and Claire both rode it amongst many others and seemed to have a great time. It looked like a really amazing day out and my interest was piqued by starting to think about longer Audax rides.

So in Jan 2015 I thought sod it and put down the money for the event. Looking back I feel slightly ashamed that I was interested in doing it because I wanted an amazing ride and that the charity aspect was really a secondary thought for me. I also have/had a slight problem with riding a cycling event for charity having quoted the below on my post on the Dunwich Dynamo in 2014.

In England they ask: “Is it for charity?”

In France, Spain, Italy or Flanders they murmur: “What beautiful madness.”

I was also slightly conscious of people saying to me

…but you love cycling, why should I sponsor you?

So in that respect it had to be a challenge and something out of the ordinary.

Two things changed my perspective on this. The first was this thread on the centre of road cycling negativity and hatred on the internet – road.cc. The second was attending an event at the Rapha Cycle Club in London. I thought it would be fairly light hearted but I came away far better informed about autism and with damp eyes after hearing two fathers explain the highs and lows of supporting their profoundly autistic children. One such anecdote was the thrill someone had where his 11 year old son was able to drink through a straw for the first time – things that we all take for granted of course.

In hearing all of this it was amazing to hear about the charity founded to assist them, Ambitious About Autism. It was started by five mothers who were unable to get the care they needed for their children and decided to do something about it. That in itself is quite an incredible feat. Having heard about a series of young individuals who require constant care 24/7 and struggle with the most basic of things, I was inspired to start fundraising properly. I started banging on about it on social media and annoying the shit out of anyone I could. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram.. even LinkedIn wasn’t safe. I emailed everyone I could think of. Friends, colleagues, consultants I’d worked with etc. So many so that I got a load of bounce backs from people I hadn’t spoke to in many many years (everyone’s Hotmail was dead). So what. I wasn’t ashamed about this and was totally behind this cause. When was the last time I raised money for a charity? Well I absailed down the civic offices, very quickly in 2001, in Portsmouth. I raised £50. I sponsored others, I have monthly direct debits to a series of charities but I’d never done a big push like this and somehow felt slightly ashamed of this.

To my pleasure and surprise everyone was incredibly generous and I hit my target of £750 pretty quickly. This managed to get me a free entry into the Ride 100 event courtesy of Ambitious About Autism. That really was a great but incredibly intense ride!

Anyway, fundraising continued and the date drew nearer. The question looming over me from those I’d pestered…

How’s the training going?

Good I guess. One of the things I said when I started raising money was that this would be the longest ride I had ever done. I kind of killed that narrative by riding Dunwich and back with Will (400km). I couldn’t quite resist the temptation of this big ride but did feel a pang of guilt, like I’d cheated people. Without this longest, hardest, fastest type mentality I felt like I’d lost some of the reasons for doing it. Would people care? I guess not really but I decided that it was still a serious challenge and that actually it was still well worth fundraising for. I focused on the 4000m or so of climbing, and changed tack slightly to push the ‘largest climbing narrative’ and carried on fundraising.

So the event drew nearer and I had a slight sense of arrogance about me. I’d ridden a 300k audax at pace, Dunwich and back, Ride 100 at a very fast pace (for me), so this would just be another ride right? I tried to shake this before the ride an give it the sense of respect it deserved. Having a week sat on my arse by a pool in Morocco eating and drinking all week did a lot of damage to this idea of just another ride. I lost so much fitness and aborted the first ride I tried when I got back. Coupled with that work was getting busier and finding time to go riding was reducing at a rapid rate. I managed a chain gang or two the weeks before and a ride round Richmond Park but didn’t feel super prepared for it all.

Sure enough the time came and it was time to pack everything up and get on the train to Manchester. We’d booked first class tickets months in advance which seemed like a luxury at the time but it was amazing do have all that space and a silly little meal served to you. We’d even had the pleasure of the first class lounge at Euston where we met a bunch of others heading up for the event. Again, more free stuff!

When we got to Manchester it was a short walk to the hotel and no expense spared on a Premier Inn. All we needed was somewhere clean and quiet. We also weren’t too concerned about the view which was fortunate as it wasn’t up to much really.

There was an event on at the Manchester Rapha Cycle Club in the evening but registration was open all afternoon. We headed over from our hotel and I was amazed by the beautiful range of buildings on display, generally not the new ones but the tall warehouses and former banks and trading halls. There were some really quite amazing buildings on display. Some streets almost felt like New York with their tall masonry clad buildings. Anyway, I also really liked this car park which reminded me of the Tricorn Centre in Portsmouth which is now sadly demolished. Later on I was told that people race down this on skateboards.

The Manchester version of the Rapha Cycle Club seems so much nicer than the London one. The atmosphere is better and benefits from being arranged over a number of floors. The first floor cafe with the big picture window overlooking the street is amazing. So much nicer than the one in London which somehow manages to feel quite intimidating.

There were plenty of familiar faces at the club including Marta, Andrew, Dean, Kat, Lindsey and others. We signed on and got our ‘stupid little bags’ which also included a ‘stupid little hat’. Emma’s words as to my growing collection of musettes and cycling caps.

We came back later to have a final pep talk from the organisers. At this point they’d praised so many people for the extent of their fundraising. One person had raised over £8,000. Surely he works in finance or something but good on him. Sadly it also seemed like some people hadn’t raised anything at all and were just doing it for the ride which seemed to miss the point entirely. They were also down on the amount they raised last year.

After this we headed back to the hotel to sort out some final prep and then get some sleep. Fussing, fretting, checking, re-checking and finally just laying everything out for the morning so that we could get up and out with the minimum of fuss.

Lights off and go to sleep. Whoah, not so fast. My brain is suddenly racing and full of all sorts of useless thoughts. All I want to do is sleep but for some reason my body wants to keep me awake. Then all the drunks start banging around in the corridor. And boom, then it’s time to get up. It’s 5.15am.

As usual when you’re up at that time in the morning you’re sharing the streets with drunks and a surprising amount of dog walkers bizarrely. Then a left turn into the National Cycling Centre and the bright lights of more cyclists equally dazed at being up so early in the morning. A quick last minute check of a few things and then we lurch towards the start. At this point I can’t see any point in hanging around and really just want to get going and start turning the pedals and getting my legs going.

There’s a bit of a queue at the start and we’re set off in groups at regular intervals. Off over a little bridge and then out into the Manchester streets. Nerves still jangling we get going. There’s a few groups haring past and the temptation to surge and sit on their tail comes and then goes. Then we pass that group after having a puncture. Then the Garmin bleeps… OFF COURSE. Eh, we’ve only just started? Some people carry on but I’m suspicious and rightfully so. It’s the official route in the Garmin and someone has clearly removed the first marker. We follow the Garmin and go against the tide which gets us back on track although I do wonder how long those other people went on for before turning around?

A few seemingly odd little turns through some backstreets and then we’re on a big hill up heading out of Manchester. There’s plenty of this to come as we’re meant to get most of the climbing out of the way over the peaks. It does seem to really keep going up and up and then we get to the Peaks. Then the sun rises. Oh my.

The funky colours are the by product of some out of date film but even with an iPhone it was pretty stunning.

It was hard to not stop and just admire the view and sit there for 30 minutes. I took a few shots but didn’t even unclip the left pedal as I didn’t want to linger too long. Somehow it didn’t seem right to keep stopping and taking pictures. There also seemed to be a fair bit of momentum and didn’t want to get left behind the main group as we’d got a good start.

We pushed on as the sun continued to rise and burned off the mist as the day warmed up. Jackets, arm warmers and so on were removed and the warm sun was welcome after a positively chilly start. James and I seemed to be doing an ok pace and ended up with another guy who was a local MTB racer and knew the roads well. After a while our pace differed and he pushed ahead. The climbing has eased slightly and it was good to see the first food stop. The H Van was there as well as a great deal of food, drink and some amazing volunteers. A quick food top up, Instagram check and we were back on our way. Again more lanes followed although we didn’t really have much of an idea of where we were. We were using a GPS tracker device to let our friends and family know where we were en-route and it was great to see their comments and encouragement being posted on the page.

The time seemed to pass and James and I kept tapping it out. Keeping a comfortable pace and enjoying the scenery and trying not to stop for too many photo / Instagram breaks. At the back of my mind was the desire to do a good time or keep up a good pace and prove something to the people sponsoring me, again coming back to this idea of it not just being another ride I could easily do. We occasionally got overtaken by someone on some fancy carbon thing with that woosh of carbon rims with well inflated tyres but by and large we were on our own and sometimes overtaking others. We weren’t racing but it was reassuring to see that we weren’t trailing anyone.

One thing I was really looking forward to was the monsall trail, a 8.5 mile former railway line which is now a shared use path which goes through two incredible tunnels. This partly informed my choice of bike for the day, opting for the Pilgrims with 28mm tyres. By this point we were well warmed up and ended up tanking along the gravel at 40kph due to it being so flat and a gentle tailwind. I really enjoyed speeding past those same carbon wheeled riders with 23mm tyres on my relatively inexpensive bike! Smug indeed. Sadly this came to an end although we still had plenty of beautiful lanes to ride.

Following this we were heading toward food stop number two which included a stretch of busy two lane A road which was clearly unavoidable. The route had been so well planned that everything was on incredible country lanes and also with very few traffic lights which kept the flow of it all. Whilst on the A road I switched into my usual ‘get me the fuck off this thing‘ mode and started ramping up the pace. Again a nice tailwind and a sense of self preservation took us up to 45-50kph along this which felt great although I still wanted to get off the thing. I was glad when it was over and we were back on the country lanes heading to a beautiful country house. A few kms before James’ Dad had headed out to join us and ride with us to this one which was great.

The venue was incredible. A stately home with an amazing spread of local food along with fresh oranges, water, coke and loads of other bits and bobs. You couldn’t possibly want for anything here in terms of food and there was also a mechanic on hand for any issues you might be having. We probably stopped too long here just enjoying the food and sunshine and seeing others arrive.

One guy had tagged along with our group and asked if he could join us again. Of course, no problem but then when it was time to go I spent 15 minutes trying to find him before giving up and going anyway. We later found out he’d gone ahead.

Back on the bike, turning the pedals and trying not to think of what was left to ride. I kept breaking it down into 50km chunks to make it more manageable. To make it worse I’d reset my Garmin every now and then to avoid corrupting the file over 200km but had completely lost track of where I was in terms of what was left to do.

At some point the person we had waited for joined on our group again after presumably being dropped by another bunch ahead. We also managed to attract a fair few others who wanted to sit in our slipstream but not take a turn on the front. Occasionally people took a turn only to blow up and go straight to the back again or drop off completely. Fair enough if you’re not strong enough but at least be polite enough to ask if it’s ok to just sit there. Earlier in the day we had helped another out who was struggling and encouraged him to grab a ride for over 60km until he felt a bit more rested, but to just join the group, not do any work and not say a word is just shitty in my book.

The riding continued and yet there’s nothing really special to say about it. We kept a decent speed, kept turning the pedals, we enjoyed the scenery and the weather was kind to us. One moment that did stand out though was when the signs changed from red to blue indicating that we were half way and that we’d broken the back of it in terms of distance and that the majority of the climbing was done. That was a damn good feeling. The signage was superb throughout and I barely needed the turn by turn on the Garmin for it.

We were still working for others though in that we had a guy in our group or simply refused to do any time at all on the front. By the end I calculated that he had done 120km sat on mine and James’ wheel. Not a single turn on the front. Fucking madness. Sure he was nice enough but he was strong enough to do it judging by the way he surged off every now and then to then just return to the back. I tried not to think about it but as I became more and more tired it wound me up even more.

The only other amusing anecdote I can remember from the day is James getting a puncture and then saying, “…I wish that support van was around“. No sooner had he said it than the support van came round the corner, pulled in, whipped out a track pump and a new tube to replace the one he was using and helped repair it in record time. You couldn’t make it up! They were two lovely guys also and keen to discuss how we were getting on, what we were riding and so on.

The support throughout the day was amazing and even included a motorcycle paramedic who one person referred to as the grim reaper! When you think of it like that he didn’t seem to friendly. He was going up and down the route looking for anyone in difficulty obviously but I was very glad not to need his services, especially after this nickname had been firmly planted in my mind.

Getting to feed stop 3 was amazing. We were shown into this incredible private walled garden in a country house and welcomed with more food and drinks. Mr Mottram himself was there to greet us all individually. I got my brevet card stamped by him and Jess and made a joke about whether it was being run under official audax UK regulations? No. Silence. Missed the mark on that one. Ahh well, never mind.

The musette bags had been driven forward for us from our drop off in the morning. I found my musette bag from the pile and gladly wiped my face with baby wipes before putting on my box fresh socks for the final leg. God that felt good. A can of coke, some cheesy chips and a banana later I was good to go. I took my gilet and some arm warmers out thinking that the jacket wasn’t really necessary on a day like today, so left it. Surely it wouldn’t be long now and it was a glorious day in late summer.

Off we went ready for our last leg with one more feed stop to go. We still had our man sitting with us refusing to go on the front. Again James and I shared the work on the front although I still found it difficult to let him do the work. I’d got myself in the mindset that I was going to help him out a bit and that we were going to finish together and that I was going to do more work on the front. James suggested he wasn’t as strong as he’d been studying but I wasn’t entirely convinced at times. In hindsight I should have taken more time to recover.

As the sun set we got to our final food stop before the finish. Coaches awaited those who weren’t going to make it, more grim reapers (medics) and an army of helpers, mechanics and people serving food. James had a slow puncture and it was swiftly taken care of for him whilst we went inside for some food. We didn’t even have to fill our water bottles up as someone was there and kind enough to do it for us.

We probably stayed here too long in hindsight and by the time we had got outside the temperature had dropped considerably. On the way out we met someone who’s electronic shifting had failed meaning they were down to just two or three gears! Having ridden this last section the week before I refrained from mentioning how hilly it was.

We rode out with Kat and Grace and a few others who had formed a loose group determined to get this ride done. I was struggling with the cold and flagging. I’d eaten enough but wasn’t feeling it. The Hertfordshire lanes were dark, really really dark. The trees grow over the lanes creating this enclosed pitch black space. I had a decent light on the front but it’s not like the Dun Run where the lanes are open and the moon helps you out. Being tired, a bit grumpy and cold as well as needing to concentrate heavily was really not much fun. Trying not to crash on the pot hole and branch strewn lanes was my primary concern.

In addition to this was one person, and there’s always one, who insists on screaming LEFT, RIGHT, WE’RE GOING RIGHT… NEXT RIGHT and so on. You know over indicating. The Garmin is telling me it’s right, the sign tells me it’s right, someone is indicting with their arm it’s right and I really don’t need you screaming RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT. One of the pleasures of riding is the peace and quiet of the countryside until some asshole comes along and shouts out every fucking hole, divet and turn. Cycling can be so beautiful but this way of moving through the landscape is seriously ugly. Blood sugar low, anger levels high.

And then the scenery changes, we’re out of the lanes and into the suburbs, past that weird garden centre we stopped at the weekend before and into Sat night traffic in London. Oh god. More concentration. More people sat behind me. Flick the right arm. Flick again. Ok, LET ME KNOW IF ANY OF YOU WANT TO TAKE A FUCKING TURN ON THE FRONT. I really have had enough by this point.

Do your fucking turn or piss off. Please.

Sure enough someone comes through and then the group surges and drops me. Ahhh for fucks sake. Never mind. None of the people I know.

More riding through traffic and left turn and we’re into slightly less busy traffic. Then a guy in commuting gear and a hybrid takes us. He’s no idea how many kms we have in our legs. Well done though! We’re then through an industrial estate, under a bridge and then there’s a man pointing us to the velodrome. Suddenly I find enough energy to sprint to the finish and race James to the line. Pathetic of course but there’s people watching. We both shoot past the line and then look kind of confused before turning around and seeing Emma, Stuart and Patrick who’d come to meet us.

Done. The end. That’s it. Utterly, utterly ruined.

Someone hands me a beer, Mr Mottram again shakes our hand and says thanks and then we kind of chat to a few people and let the adrenaline drain from our tired bodies.

And then the 1000 yard stare.

and a slightly better picture of us both with smiles this time!

No ride would be complete without stats. We covered 355.7km at an average pace of 28kph, sat on a saddle for 12hrs & 48mins, managed 3995m of climbing and used 8,590 calories with an ‘epic’ suffer score according to Strava.

The more important stats are on the Just Giving page. After finishing I saw a flood of donations which was incredible. People have all been incredibly generous and I’ve ended up with £2,657.79 and £532.94 in gift aid. To me that makes it all worth while. Thank you to everyone who donated!

Even as a die hard Apple fan I like to think I’m able to have a little bit of perspective on some of these things these days. I used to dread going for a job where I would have to use a PC for work but now really couldn’t give a shit as it’s just a tool. I use whatever I can to get my job done. I guess growing up a bit helped me out of that irrational phase of my life of Apple fandom. Whilst the Mac vs PC argument seems to have subsided it’s now iOS vs Android and so on, but this time I couldn’t care less. Use what you want and enjoy it if you like it. Just don’t bang on in my ear about it, especially with some badly researched thing you read on the BBC. I couldn’t give a shit which phone you have. I like mine, I hope you like yours.

This is the same way I don’t really care about what wheels you have or your opinion on my choice of groupset or how many Rapha jerseys you have. If you like the colour that’s great. I don’t want to talk tech on a ride, or ever really.

Recently I was reminded that to a lot of people brands mean a lot and they’re passionately either for or against some as well as spend a lot of time thinking about this. My friend Mathew suggested it was a tribal thing. Being aware of this madness isn’t unusual if you ever read a tech article on the Guardian or such like as you scroll to the comments*.

So the reason for this post was that this graph appeared on Twitter recently which I was kind of taken aback by.

Hold on a second. 15% of your time being angry at Rapha? Wow. I get the controversial nature of the brand and yes I’ve read the occasional Road.cc review of a Rapha garment of clothing and the overt frothing of the mouth that follows from those who prefer to wear a club jersey or like their cheaper clothing brand. Some of which is fair perhaps and yes I’m not mad keen on the ‘suffering’ aesthetic, of which there’s a nice Medium article on. But the clothing is good and I like it which just is a choice. I don’t like Castelli as much but then I don’t proclaim to hate it or judge people who prefer that. I also really like my club jersey from Brixton.

Ok, so I took the bait and replied. What’s the problem with Rapha? 15% seems a lot for an adult to spend being angry at a brand.

@andymatthews £200 (golf) club membership. Join a club for £30/yr + learn group riding ppl! Red mist descending… must go to my safe place.

Naturally I took issue with this. Not with the membership issue – £200 is a lot and certainly isn’t accessible, if you’re near one of their clubs it’s a great deal on coffee though. But what I took issue with is that I actually learnt to ride in a group on the Thursday morning rides round Regents Park, best of all they’re totally FREE. I made this point but it was ignored as presumably it didn’t fit the narrative of hatred. Not only are those rides free but they even give you a free coffee for turning up. So yes I guess you can pay the golf club membership fee, or you can just turn up on a free ride in your DHB tights and club jersey and go riding. Having been going consistently to these since September I’ve met an amazing group of people through it, a point I again made. Whatever you think of the brand the riding that goes on through their clubs is pretty decent as is the local club scene at Brixton. Both are good and both have their benefits. That illogical hatred and unwillingness to have your viewpoint changed is kind of odd though. Isn’t it actually about the riding?

And then I think to the fact that I’ve been spending a lot of time with my 93 year old Grandmother and think how fortunate we all are to have the time to get angry about a cycle clothing brand for 15% of our lives. We could all do with being a bit more tolerant.

*Adam Buxton beautifully took this madness apart in one of his Bug shows which you really should watch.

I wear my cycling clothes a lot – for commuting, weekend rides and also popping to the shops or pub. They get stupid amounts of use and inevitably they wear out reasonably quickly. In the case of cycling jeans I usually get a year out of them and then a further six months when they’re less than presentable as the crotch has worn out. I had this with a pair of Swrve jeans and then binned them when they became too ventilated shall we say. This time I tried the Rapha jeans out and they have lasted really well, as well as being a nicer cut. They also smart enough to wear to a meeting with a shirt, whilst cycling on the Brompton there. So I was a bit gutted when the crotch started to go meaning they couldn’t really be used for smarter occasions. But then I remembered that there is a free repair service. I filled out a form which is this neat little PDF where you can describe the issue and dropped them off at the store in Soho.

Two weeks later they were delivered back with whole new sections neatly sown in where they had worn through. The quality of the repair is incredible and you’d never know it had been done. It’s not like that thing your mum used to do where she’d take the pockets off your stone washed jeans and stitch them over the knee area leaving a bright blue pocket bit. It’s almost invisible and is incredibly well done. I also had a set of 3/4 length tights which had some stitching come loose round the chamois. Again, fixed with beautifully neat stitching and came back like new.

On top of that I also received a little email from Hamish letting me know they had received them and were working on them. He also enclosed a nice little hand written note. Thanks Hamish for the incredible service!

I recently got handed a rather nice looking flyer in the Rapha store about a hilly route in North London. I thought I’d give it a go but unfortunately the URL rapha.cc/hillride is dead / kaput / 404’d etc. Google didn’t turn up anything so I ended up contacting Rapha.

After contacting them it took a while to work out what it was actually referring to but it turns out it was for the Pantani Commemorative Ride on the 11th May. So some more searching got me to this Eventbrite page which has a link to a GPX file. So I’ve taken that and re-made it in Strava routes* and will have a go on Thursday. Rapha have a load of other rides on their Ride With GPS page.

So why write this post? Well hopefully the next person searching for it will find this page first without having to go through all those steps. Or maybe they’ve run out of these flyers now.

*it’s very annoying not being able to import files into their route builder yet.

My heart has always been in mountain biking, even though I own a road bike. Given the preference I’d rather ride a trail and get muddy than zoom around on the roads. This video is about as close as anything has got to tempt me otherwise though with its stunning scenery and sense of exposure.