1^st place, 96.37 miles, 8714 feet climbed, 5:59:05

As I rocked up to Brands Hatch at 7.30am this morning I was immediately hit by the special ethos of the Revolve 24 event. I know the organizing team and it was good to see them. I came 3^rd in the 24-hour ride last year but couldn’t do that long this year due to racing the European Championships Long Distance on the 23^rd. I probably shouldn’t be racing this weekend but settled on the 6-hour challenge to try and find some confidence in my feet for Madrid. I also wanted to remind myself that Madrid isn’t about the result, it’s the journey that got me there in quite difficult circumstances that’s important. In the final week of a 38-week training block I know I should be remembering that even if I can’t always do that.

So, as I went to try and confidence build, I had hoped for a podium but not necessarily a win. I also didn’t really expect to do that many miles to get myself the win once it happened. I started well as I meant to go on, holding circa 9-minute laps. For someone who doesn’t climb, it’s quite a brutal 2.67 miles each lap with short sharp hills. It’s also very windy and open.

By 50 miles in, I was really hurting. I didn’t want to stop at all until 75 miles as I knew that’s around where one gets a podium. I pushed onto 4 hours and circa 60 something miles but knew I had to break the monotony for just two minutes to replace water bottles and grab some sugar to get me to the end. It wasn’t a surprise I needed these things when I looked at the calories burned which was very high compared to normal (6712 in total). I’ll be honest, I was broken but I saw a text from my Mum saying I was right up there and to push on. I knew I was doing quite well as I could see I had lapped a few.

Lots of positives to take home. I don’t like holding the lead, I am much better chasing and so to hold on in the end was good. I did some pretty big digging. I hadn’t connected my Garmin to receive texts but looking at them post-race they confirm the grinding. “30 laps done, 2^nd place a lap behind”. “1 hour to go, 2^nd place now two laps behind”. “45 mins to go, 2^nd place still two laps behind”. Another positive was that it’s a good result at one of my most trained distances in my best and most treasured discipline. I ride 100 miles on a Sunday countless times in the year and generally do quite well but rarely race them. It’s nice to add something shiny to all of that grafting. And lastly, I did all this without my racing bike which is currently in flight heading to Spain. Bizzare eh.

For winning, my prize (apart from Prosecco) I will be given a personalized jersey. You bet I will be wearing that and returning to Brands Hatch next year to defend my title. Thank you as always for all of the support and well wishes. It was a bit lonely at times without my headies and when it was hard work just knowing you guys are out got me through. Now maxing out the recovery and tapering for a week.

I reposted this picture today ‘for the lols’, as I put it, when it came up on my Facebook feed as being 5 years ago. Before I reposted I did think to myself, ‘this is so embarrassing’. For starters, my helmet wasn’t fitting properly and was on the wonk, I seemed to have lost both of my gloves, and sunglasses, and god only knows what was in one of those drinks bottles. And the drinks bottles weren’t matching, a big no no for a cyclist. Sorry fellow comrades. I was riding my trusty Boardman, my first full carbon road bike and was wearing Livestrong (Lance Armstrong campaign) shorts that I still have to this day because they are so comfortable and I can’t ditch them despite their holes and rather tainted brand associations. I then noticed the jersey I was wearing, it was for the London Ride Prudential 100 miles. I might just add that it was only ever white once (you’ll see why in a minute). It was at that point that I realized despite its comical value, that this picture was a very early part of my journey, it was in 2013. I remember the ride well. It was not long after I had started riding centuries and doing so by myself. It would have been in the days where I could run a marathon but was an avid cyclist and hadn’t yet fully pledged myself to triathlon. The route was fantastic, closed roads (a rarity for a cyclist) and I remember climbing Box Hill and actually enjoying it. There was still paint on the roads cheering on Team GB from 2012. However, it remains to this day one of the longest times I have taken to ride 100 miles. This wasn’t because of my fitness, it was because of the punctures. This was the day I had no less than 7. The most I have ever had in a ride and now thankfully ride tubeless which means it shouldn’t happen to that extent again. I spent most of my day by the side of the road fixing them, covered in grease, begging spare inner tubes off fellow riders, borrowing track pumps from people’s front lawn whom were stuck in their homes because of the closed roads, stealing gels and bars off people when I got hungry. I had just fixed the 5^th or 6^th, a rear one I believe, I stood up and was about to get back on the ‘bloody thing’ but then there was a huge whoosh and a very large pack of riders surrounding someone going past.

Who was that someone?

It was ‘Blobby’ Boris Johnson as I called him.

I was crestfallen. Boris had signed up as a challenge and nobody really thought he could ride a bike but yet he and his posse had just overtaken me whom had trained for weeks and had been putting their heart and soul into this day for hours. I carried on and soldiered to the end of the ride, with just one more puncture. I’d learnt to grind somehow but I’d learnt lessons about punctures that I will never forget. As a result I have puncture paranoia for life. There’s so many rides, miles and places I go on my bike but on this occasion I think this one is right to remember and its of little surprise that it’s still laughing stock in our house.

Blobby, oh Mr Blobby, your influence will spread throughout the land. 
Let’s hear it for Mr Blobby…

Sport is really special. Like really special. Perhaps being an amateur athlete and cyclist myself makes me more attuned to appreciate professional’s efforts and achievements, but I will never ever forget what follows.

On the afternoon of the 28^th of July, the day before the storms and my first Ironman of the season, I sat on the sofa sobbing quite badly. The very same sofa where I also sat almost exactly a year previously sobbing when JT played for Chelsea for the last time and was subbed after 26 minutes. I was naturally a little apprehensive about a full 140.6 miles the next morning in a storm but I really can’t blame that. And this was also considerably more sobbing than for my beloved Chelsea.

Geraint Thomas ‘G’ was stood on the podium in the yellow jersey having just won the Tour De France (2018) after 20 stages (no racing for general classification on the last day, stage 21). Some of you will know I’ve long been a ‘G’ fan. I posted on the morning of the defining Alpe du Huez stage ‘Your stage to take today G, ditch the lanky Froomy’. It was only 12 stages in but something told me to ready myself to dare to dream and it was also something for me to hold onto in otherwise difficult times. I don’t think many believed me. I heard cries ‘Team Sky will never let Geraint race Froome’.

If not now, when?

I then spent the next two weeks avoiding the internet until after 7pm until I’d watched the highlights of each stage.

Most of the time I had to sit behind a cushion. Not because of G’s riding but because I so desperately wanted such a deserving and talented candidate to win. He was quickly becoming the nation’s favorite but he’d been mine for years. The day the peloton was attacked by pepper spray? That. Was. Bad. In the end I had to look at the results with the overall times rather than watching the whole race or highlights. I was so excited, but I needed to put my anxiety to rest in the quickest way possible.

G is now 32 years old (the same age as me) and is thus one of the older pro cyclists. He’s been a huge talent, starting as a track rider, played a big part in London 2012 but always either having a mechanical or crash at the all-important moments. He’s also a very good domestique and has spent many years at Team Sky keeping Froomey safe and sound without being allowed to actually race him.

This year it was different. It was clear the team were letting them race after around stage 12. Green light, green light. They couldn’t not given G’s strength and when roles reversed and Froome took on the job of G’s domestique it really put him up in my estimations!

However, cycling needed a change from Froome’s domination and the many doping scandals previously but right until the last day G was clearly not believing it would be him delivering it. I see a lot of myself in that mindset including the bits where one doesn’t take oneself seriously enough as means of protecting themselves against defeat or deficient performances. Like most sports people he broke it down, steady Eddy, ‘one day at a time’ until the commentator pointed out to him ‘well, there are no more days after tomorrow!’. He did the simple things to perfection, kept himself out of trouble, pushed on when he needed to.

G has a good few more years in him but I doubt he will win many more, if any, grand Tours. I wouldn’t have thought that will matter. He’s waited years for this and one defining victory at the Tour de France is enough to put him up there as one of the best cyclists around. It’s everything he deserved after tirelessly working and serving others for over a decade.

And no, before you would like to suggest my new ink refers to the ‘G8’ summit, it doesn’t. G’s race number was 8 throughout this year’s Tour de France.

I don’t care if you think I am sad for having a second cycling related tattoo on my skin. Nor do I care that few will remember G in 30 year’s time when I am grey and old. I live for the now and all my tattoos come as part of my story, history and moments that were truly special to me and I definitely won’t forget this one.

Paint the town yellow please, give everyone free Welsh cakes and then hand out the Personality of the Year Award to G.