A cycle round London

The government has just awarded millions of pounds to character development projects in schools. What young
people really need is the opportunity to get outside and push their limits beyond what they previously thought to be
possible.
Since moving to London back in August, unable to run due to bending my knee the wrong way on the descent in a
local fell race, then rather unwisely racing on it in the Dolomites a week later, Ive started to become normalised
joining a gym, attending yoga (this would have been laughable a year ago), and even being put in my place by hefty
Romanian mothers in power pump classes. Ive made ventures into the previously unknown world of public
transport and have even been known to have a lie in, meet friends for coffee or eat in restaurants.
Needless to say this is a rather worrying situation and over the last couple of months Ive been starting to get
restless. It was a long time since Id set out to do something really challenging, something that I might not be able to
complete. So a few weeks ago I started to look at cycling around London not going inside of the M25. Quite a long
way and admittedly I might have underestimated the undertaking
Sat in the pub after work on Friday I checked the weather forecast; with only a bit of rain due on Saturday morning
there was no excuse not to go. I naively assumed it wouldnt take more than 12 hours plenty of time to be back for
a birthday party at 8pm.
In terms of high performance nutrition, I made six jam sandwiches, put the remains of a box of cornflakes in a bag
and found a packet of dextrose tablets which had gone out of date in 2009. I fixed some new cleats on my too big
shoes, packed a pump, inner tube and some forks from the cutlery drawer as I couldnt find my tyre levers and put
some air in my rather worn tyres. All set.
I barely slept the night before and it felt like Id just drifted off when
my alarm sounded at 4:45. I shared the train carriage with some
rather bleary eyed souls, clearly feeling the effects of the previous
nights exertions.
Arriving into Brentwood at 6am I set off south and it wasnt long
before I hit the Dartford Crossing. I called the bike transport and
waited for my ride. Apparently when the bridge was built, it was
enshrined in law that cyclists would always have passage across, so
theres a 24 hour service in place - handy! Whilst I waited, I devised
what was to prove to be a very useful contraption instant
navigation. All the more so given that I had no map and was working
from three sheets of directions Id written of my convoluted route.

How convenient

I left Essex behind and went west through Kent, into rather undulating Surrey. I seemed to be on the Saturday
cyclists route, with groups of middle aged men passing me on their expensive carbon bikes. The trouble with having
written directions rather than a map is that when youre told to
take the second exit at the roundabout in Slough, and then the
Premier Inn doesnt appear on your right hand side and the nonEnglish speaking car washers cant quite fathom what youre asking
them, youre left to rely on a compass bearing. Which although
often proves successful, isnt always wise.

The height of navigational sophistication

Unfortunately North of the M25 there isnt a nice W-E road, and I
spent a frustrating amount of time zig zagging North and South,
occasionally hitting the M25 and having to retrace my steps,
heightening my increasingly demoralised state.

My positivity faded with the light, as I realised just how far I had left to go.
Cycling along the A414 dual carriage way as night fell was a particular low point;
I was just waiting for one of the huge lorries to hit me as traffic hurtled past.
Earlier in the day I had made the gastronomic discovery that cornflakes add a
rather delicious crunch to a jam sandwich, and once it became fully dark and I
was no longer racing the light, I paused for 5mins to eat the last of them.
At one point I found myself crossing Lea Valley Park, weaving along potholed
gravel paths in the pitch black. I knew if I headed directly south I could be home
in about an hour, and I started to question what the point of carrying on was.
Id not stopped for 14 hours, I hadnt felt my feet all day, I was numb with cold, it was starting to rain, and I wasnt
entirely sure where I was going! But then I thought how disappointed Id be with myself to have come so far and
given up at the last moment through pure weakness.
M25 - Bugger

A car stopped as I was having a directions dilemma somewhere near the M1; a lady and
her daughter apparently thought I was a Transformer, with my flashing light and
reflective bands. She was wholly concerned, insisting that I couldnt possibly continue.
She said I was an incredibly long way from Brentwood, the road was unlit, very hilly and it
was just plain dangerous. I must admit I got a lump in my throat as she asked if I was ok
I cant say I felt on tip top form and shed hardly spoken words of encouragement! But I
declined her lift, and her advice to return to Epping and take a more direct road
The alternative to continuing
south. She didnt understand the challenge!!
The next hour or so was a rather miserable slog up and down pitch black country roads Id had problems with my
cold hands earlier in the day but by now my left hand had ceased to function and I was forced to either bust my
quads up the hills in the big ring or when they were just too steep, lean across and change gear with my other hand,
occasionally slamming on my brake in the process. Cars were whizzing past and although useful in that they lit up the
forested way, quite a few got far too close for comfort and angry beeping horns didnt do much to raise the morale.

Where did my knuckles go?

Having had to divert a long way east to avoid the M25, it was an amazing feeling
heading back south, knowing that I was going to finish. The takeaways of Brentwood
looked very enticing but I headed straight for the station as I knew there wouldnt be
many trains; it was now 10pm, Id just cycled somewhere close to 200miles without
stopping and the thought of a long cold wait was not appealing. I was pleased to
have finished, but elation was somewhat tarnished by general knackeredness, a
pounding head (maybe should have drunk more than two bike bottles of water!), a
crippled knee and malfunctioning hands which had taken on altitude form, thats
to say, theyd lost all form.

It certainly ranks quite highly on my list of challenges. Id definitely recommend it as a ride, but maybe over a couple
of days with some company, warmer weather and perhaps even a map