The reactions of people are telling. When I told friends and colleagues that I was planning on travelling from London to Edinburgh and back (LEL) again the first question was usually “are you flying or getting the train?” Telling them that, well, actually I was cycling up and down over a route that was 1400km (around 900 miles) long elicited the first raised eyebrow. Adding that there was a time limit of 118 hours generally resulted in a glazed look of incomprehension as they figured out that this would involve travelling 200-300 miles a day. Justifying that this was for the challenge and fun of it, not for charity, meant the verdict of just about everyone I told was that I was variously “mad”, “crazy” or just plain “bonkers”. As the event approach I was tending to agree.
At the start of the year, the furthest I had ridden was less that 100km through the lanes of Surrey and Sussex on the club’s Sunday rides. From February, when I decided to enter the LEL, I committed myself to getting the miles into my legs. With rides organised by Redhill CC, participating in events organised by Audax UK (the long distance cycling association) and other events (such as the YMCA charity ride from Redhill to Paris and back) by the time I took to the start line on Saturday 24 July at Lee Valley, I had cycled around 5,000km. Still, the longest single distance I had successfully ridden in one event was 400km so it was with trepidation and a real sense of foreboding that I headed north.
The route itself basically started out from Cheshunt to Lincoln, across the Humber, up to Northumberland, over the Pennines via Alston (the highest town in England!), crossing the border close to Carlisle before heading northeast towards Edinburgh. Oh, and then back again. Along the route were a series of checkpoints at about 80km intervals which doubled as feeding stations and sleeping quarters (if you had time to catch some shut eye!). These were manned by volunteers (wonderful group of people) and almost all involved the local community in some way (for example, schools prepared artwork to encourage us on, local families helped out at the stations, parish magazines asked for interviews etc etc).
Riding between the two capitals really brought home the diversity of countryside in the UK: from the rural south with it’s pockets of dense urbanisation, to the stretched out isolation of the Yorkshire moorland, to the serene beauty of the Pennines and the drama of the Scottish hills with it’s picture perfect vistas. This variety is something that you only get a flavour of if you drive or take the train, and miss out entirely if you fly. Tying this patchwork of habitats together, however, was the feeling of community throughout the UK – yes, people speak differently as you ride up the country, but British people are generally warm and welcoming, and keen to encourage you, often with a slice of wry humour.
My personal highlights of the ride were descending down a Scottish hill for around 15 minutes at speeds of up to 60kph keeping an eye out for errant sheep and rabbits, speaking to other riders from all around the world (Japan, USA, Germany, Holland, France and Italy stick in the mind), and cruising up the Pennines with the rumble of High Force waterfall as background music and beautiful panoramic vistas for eye candy. More challenging were being stung on the eyelid by a wasp, literally bunny hopping over a rabbit that scrambled in front of my bike, the general lack of sleep (generally I would ride from 5am to 12pm every day, with a fitful 4 hours sleep as a reward at the end of each day), the general stress on contact points with the bike (hands, feet, backside) that gets progressively uncomfortable as the day wears on, and the final 100km that was ridden through a mixture of drizzle and outright rain. But even these challenges gave a perverse masochistic pleasure, and added to my feeling of achievement on crossing the finish line.
I arrived back in Lee Valley 108 hours after I left, rolling in on Wednesday 28 July at around 8:40pm to applause and hollers of well done and much back slapping. At a guess the event drew 300-400 “bonkers”, of which around a third were from overseas. There were rumours that quite a lot had not completed (due mainly to lashing rain which, thankfully, I managed to avoid) bringing home what I had acheived. So I swaggered up to the bar and ordered a beer, and toasted a successful event with other riders: I tell you, beer has never tasted so good!
One last thing: I’d like to thank the club members (particularly Graham Haysom and the other committee members) who gave me encouragement in taking up this challenge. Any thoughts I had of giving up when my energy stores were depleted or the discomfort of riding discouraged me were banished with memories of the best wishes you gave me. Thanks!