Hubris In High Gear - A cycling odyssey

At last, a ride bathed in sunlight. Naturally, I was still clad in full winter gear because, despite the deceivingly cheerful sky, the temperature remained at a level best described as unfriendly.  The day’s mission?  Another 65-mile loop, this time to Huntingdon, soundtracked by classic trance mixes—a fitting choice, given the slightly hypnotic nature of long solo rides. The key objective remained the ongoing flapjack trials, along with the noble pursuit of stretching the distance I could ride without needing to stop.  All was going smoothly until mile 40, at which point my energy levels started to resemble an old battery in winter—technically functional but increasingly unreliable. And then, as if placed there by fate (or an intimate knowledge of exhausted cyclists’ weaknesses), I rolled past a mobile coffee seller by the name of Perky Beans . I made it a full 50 yards before caffeine-induced decision-making took hold and I executed a dignified U-turn. The barista, sta...

No Gran Fondo today. No grand odyssey across the land, no triumphant century ride—just a modest 40 miles of steady pedalling, featuring some quality time with gravity in the form of hill training. Included in today’s itinerary: a climb I had successfully avoided for three years. Clearly, my self-preservation instincts are slipping. The ride itself? Cold, wet, windy—essentially, a simulation of cycling through an industrial-strength hairdryer set to “miserable.” By mile 30, I was profoundly grateful for the latte,  Wooden Hill Coffee , a beacon of warmth and caffeine in an otherw ise bleak landscape of endurance. Even the Barista seemed surprised that anybody was out cycling today, "Are you ok?" But today’s true mission was something even more ambitious than surviving the weather: learning to eat while moving. Historically, my fueling strategy has been simple—don’t eat on the bike, except for the occasional emergency energy gel when things start to go dark around the edges....

With the reality of Chase the Sun creeping very slowly closer, I devised a foolproof training plan: a few 30–40 mile rides per month, plus a monthly 100km+ ( Gran Fondo , for those who enjoy making long rides sound more sophisticated). Simple, structured, and, most importantly, just vague enough to be adjusted at will. Armed with my newly acquired winter tyres—far superior to my old summer tyres, even in dry conditions—and a set of mudguards that had already tested the limits of my patience during installation, I set off on my first Gran Fondo of the year: a relatively flat circuit to Cambridge and back. The ride itself was uneventful, at least until I stopped at the 1st café. Inside, a collection of people were engaging in the great British pastime of extended elevenses, while I, decked out in full winter cycling gear, looked as though I had accidentally teleported in from another dimension. I opted for a cookie and coffee, resisting the siren call of overpriced cake. Cambridge, as a...

It began, as many regrettable human endeavours do, with an innocuous conversation and an ill-timed sense of optimism. Years ago, a school friend had completed Chase the Sun—200 miles of relentless pedalling in a valiant attempt to outpace the Earth’s rotation. Intriguing? Certainly. Practical? Not so much. At the time, I was somewhat preoccupied with the minor responsibility of keeping a new-born human alive. Then, of course, the world shut down for a while. Convenient excuses all around. But time passed, memories faded, and the human brain—never one to learn from history—once again began seeking challenges . Enter Boxing Day 2024: a bleak, midwinter ride through conditions best described as “character-building.” Midway through, I found myself at a coffee stop, chatting with a fellow cyclist. I mentioned the Chase the Sun event in what I foolishly believed to be a casual, throwaway remark. And that, dear reader, was my first mistake. Because then the thought took hold. Why not give it ...

Ah, the human mind—capable of art, philosophy, and apparently, the inexplicable urge to cycle 200 miles in a single day just to prove a point to an uncaring celestial body.  Yes, in an act of supreme confidence (or hubris ), I have enlisted in Chase the Sun 2025 - June 21st, a charming little event in which participants attempt to outrun nightfall itself.  Spoiler: The sun has an excellent track record. This log will document my descent from naïve enthusiasm to grim determination, interspersed with moments of existential dread, excessive carbohydrate consumption, and the occasional burst of misguided optimism.  Will I succeed? Will I learn a valuable lesson? Or will I simply emerge at the finish line, a hollowed-out husk of my former self, vowing never to do this again (until next year)? Let the absurdity commence.