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Thursday, 23 January 2025

Ride London 2024: My Epic Ride Through Rain, Sausage Rolls, and a Dirt Tan

Ah, endurance events—the perfect blend of grit, determination, and the occasional existential crisis. This weekend’s adventure was a masterclass in how not to prepare for a long ride, complete with catastrophic weather, tech failures, and the comforting embrace of a Greggs sausage roll. Buckle up, folks; it was a journey.




You know when you're regretting all your life choices? It was 0400hrs and I was sat in a car on the M1 watching the windscreen wipers whip past on full speed while flood water splashed up the windows. 

And I was on the way to cycle 100 miles.

It'll be fine. FINE. 




I mean why wake up at 0300hrs to drive to an airport and fly somewhere warm on holiday when you could wake up at 0300hrs and drive to London and cycle in the pouring rain for 5 or 6 hours.

It'll be FINE.

I realised when I got to the start that my Garmin was almost as dead as my enthusiasm to cycle 100 miles in floods and a headwind. 10% battery. Yeah, that'll be ok for 100 miles and 6 hours of cycling, right? 

It'll be FINE.

I'd also brought my water bottles empty as I didn't want them to leak in the car. It's a cycling event – there's be somewhere to fill them up before the start. There wasn't.

It'll be FINE.

Besides, it was tipping down with rain. I could always lick my own face. Or that of someone I was passing. I'd say hello first. Didn't want to make it weird. 




Ride London 100 was was a rolling start and we didn't have a wait this year … we just kept rolling over the start line. Nice. 

Rich’s Di2 battery warning came on. This battery controls the order of the gears on his bike. If the battery failed, he wouldn't be able to change gears. 

It'll be FINE. For me. It'll be fine for me. 



We got going. We'll deal with the problems when they become major problems. If the gears are working now, then we'll go with that. I had a coffee on the way so not particularly thirsty and there'll be an aid station at 25 miles. And the Garmin … well I can always update the data after the ride. It's not as if I don't know the distance of this ride. 

We'll worry when shit starts getting urgent. 

But it was all going SO WELL. **cough** I had to laugh. I might be crying too but you couldn't tell under all this rain. 
   
Got to Epping at mile 25 which was the first aid station. I hopped off the bike and filled up my water bottle. It was probably lucky that I hadn't had anything to drink yet as there were no toilets at this aid station. Apparently the toilet lorry had broken down on the M25 … At least all the motorists stuck behind it would have something to go on.

The plan for this aid station had been:
1. Fill up water bottles – done.
2. Have a wee – no loos = no wee.
3. Have a nice M&S sandwich – also foiled. 

We'd stopped at Marks & Spencer last year and bought a wrap which had been the perfect breakfast. However, our start time had been earlier this year so M&S was still closed. Gutted.



 
However shining like a blue beacon of hope was Greggs. So we went for the beige food. 
I had a steak bake. Despite the fact it probably never been an actual cow, it was delicious. Pastry for the pedals. Had a nice chat with a couple of lads in the queue who also reckoned that Greggs would be the PERFECT fuel. 

Sold. I'm sold. 

Who needs toilets and a posh wrap when you can have floods and beige food. There’s nothing quite like a sausage roll and a group ride through floods to bond with strangers. And yes, that pastry was exactly what I needed.




We left the aid station and cycled on a bit further and spotted a long queue of people ain cycling kit. Apparently a couple of portaloos had made it as far as the park up the road. We hopped off the bikes and joined the long queue snaking across the wet grass. Despite it being a bit of a disaster, everyone was really happy and friendly. I was also happy and friendly having scoffed some beige food and having finally found a loo. Life was good.




My Garmin beeped to tell me it had 5% battery. Shurrup Garmin. 

Bladder satisfied, we climbed back onto the bikes and joined a group of cyclists and took turns at the front into the wind. It was nice. Got to have a chat, a bit of a break from the wind and get an easy ride. A few of these cyclists had just come back from Spain and had enjoyed the sunshine. Seemed a different world away from damp old England.

The 50 mile aid station came around quickly. We were halfway through already. The beige food had been such a win at mile 25 it seemed silly not to try the same again so I had a sausage roll and cup of coffee from the van. The grass was soaking wet still so I sat on a tree stump to consume my feast. Typical for the day, this aid station had no High5 tablets. Maybe the tablet lorry was stuck behind the toilet lorry.



Hopped in with another group who were really pushing the speed and had a couple of really quick riders. I nearly dropped off the back a couple of times but took my turn at the front into the headwind … ouch! I wasn't much good … no-one gets much benefit from the little one being at the front!




We rode along with them for a few miles and then slowed the pace down at the top of a hill. This was meant to be a zone 2 ride for me and Rich, in preparation for Ironman Kalmar and it was turning into a bit of a mad tempo ride. It was fun, but it wouldn't do the training any good if it took a week to recover from.

Oh, and shoutout to the lady with the “Baby on Board” badge on her backside. Absolute legend!




With a final beeeeep of protest, my Garmin died at mile 58. That's pretty decent for 10% battery!



Rich, however, hit the wall around mile 70. His legs staged a mutiny, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Between the headwind and the fact that marshals ranged from “cheerleader extraordinaire” to “actively napping,” morale was hanging by a thread.

Somewhere around the 75 mile mark at Ongar—seriously, does that not sound like a character from Willow?—the weather decided to give us a laugh. A two-minute rainstorm arrived just long enough to drench us again, only for the sun to pop out like nothing had happened. Thanks, weather gods.




By the time we rolled back, I was sporting a dirt tan so spectacular it could’ve been featured in Cycling Weekly: Endurance Edition. My legs were toast, my Garmin was toast, and Rich was questioning all his life choices. But hey, at least we met some nice people, ate some iconic Greggs, and had a proper story to tell.

Ride time: 5 hours 15, distance 103 miles.




Lessons Learned:
  • Charge your Garmin. You pillock.
  • Don’t trust 10% battery to last 100 miles.
  • Always carry High5 tablets because aid stations are unreliable. Also try and carry a portaloo if you can. 
  • Rain and sausage rolls make for a surprisingly solid combination.



Would I do it again? Probably. But next time, I’m bringing a backup Garmin and my own snacks.


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