Terence Lim | Published on: May 6, 2025 | Edited on: May 20, 2025
I’d spent most of winter off the bike, choosing short Zwift rides and skiing over anything resembling real training. As spring rolled around, I found myself low on endurance, high on self-doubt, and wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
The idea of waking up at 3:30am to drive to the start at Chalfont St Peter was about as appealing as a surprise FTP test.
However, my mate Kevin who had also signed up, was bringing along a few other friends. All very strong riders, the kind of guys who eat 400km/4,000m rides for breakfast. The weather forecast was also looking unusually accommodating. So, I thought - what the hell, let’s just get it over with.
Why?
The start
The first control at Islip came quickly. I tucked into a sausage butty and felt momentarily invincible.
We worked well as a team, rotating on the front, keeping things smooth and efficient.
Next was a long non-stop section to Tewkesbury where we stopped for a sandwich. Followed by another long section to Chepstow. That’s when things got... interesting.
Yat’s Rock: The Climb that nearly finished me
It was steep, relentless, and just kept going. At one point, I genuinely considered unclipping to walk. Never been so close to doing it before!
We eventually reached our next control stop in Chepstow at 3:05pm, still somehow averaging 29km/h. I devoured lunch including a slice of yummy Guinness cake. I was still feeling ok, no game-ending aches and my legs were still turning.
Tired legs, warm rice, and optimism
We carried onto Lambourn (315km), arriving at 8:06pm. Spirits were lifted by chilli, rice, and an amazing team of friendly and welcoming volunteers.
I noted that we were still making good time. The final control wasn’t due to open until midnight, because the organisers don’t expect anyone to finish before then. Normally, I would ride (the remaining) 90km plus a few climbs inside 3 hours. So, it would be temptingly cheeky to get there before midnight, just to show them, right?
Cold, dark and the best Snickers bar of my life
We were all running on fumes by now. No one was talking anymore, just … silence. The pace had dropped. We knew it was no longer about riding fast - it was about getting it done.
We reached Henley and stopped at a petrol station for proof-of-passage. I bought a Snickers bar. And at this point of the ride, that bar tasted better than any Michelin-star dessert! I layered up with both my gilet and rain jacket and braced for the final stretch.
By now it was pitch dark, we were cold, tired, and my legs were shot. The end was approaching, but we were hit by a never-ending array of climbs. I was climbing slowly to survive rather than with any panache, and our average speed was dropping fast ...
The Finish
It was an epic day. I had an incredible team to drag me along, and we met a cast of wonderful strangers along the way - chatting, riding, occasionally groaning together.
Would I do it again? Ask me in six months, when I’ve forgotten about the pain, and all that’s left is the Guinness cake, sense of achievement, and the best Snickers of my life.
