Day 9 : The Longest Day

To pick up from Chris – I’m on the ferry now so have some time. I can’t not write for a day as I have no doubt I won’t write again if I stop now.

As he said, today was a ridiculously long day, starting an hour early and on a bitterly fresh cold morning. I rode with Dan, Steve C, Lenny and also 6 or so other riders in an attempt to master the drafting thing and see how easy we could make 12 hours in a saddle. It didn’t start that well – the group split early, but four of us picked up a few other riders throughout day and were generally at between 6 and 9.

Lifecycle is a really interesting insight into the impact of endurance and fatigue on the human body. Obviously the whole event, but also each day, as the event goes on.

Today is an example of that. Very few of us have ever gone that distance. Yet, despite the injuries, the high winds, and 8 previous days of hard effort everyone completed the ride and made it home. Amazing.

You can see the impact of the lack of sleep and exertion on everyone. The injuries are the obvious sign but also the zombie-like movement that everyone has adopted around the halls.

When we're on the bikes you may still be able to see evidence of an injury, although only the strapping gives it away. But you will have no clue that anyone is struggling mentally with the ride.

The event itself is fascinating too. Not much happens during a day, or even from one day to the next. It's all very repetitive. Same thing, different day, and different place - you just pedal until you get where someone tells you to go.

But such a lot happens to you mentally and physically in that time it's frightening. It’s like dog years - 1 lifecycle day is like a week on your body in real time.

Along with quite a few others I think I am now generally running on empty. No matter what I eat, I am completely run down. The impact of this is like sleep deprivation combined with oxygen deprivation.

After 30km it hits me again. My knees start to weaken, and are shaky. My eyes struggle to focus and it’s as if I’m either going to fall asleep or pass out at any minute (dramatic!). It’s probably not that but it’s really unsettling when you’re riding a bike.  Even though only just had breakfast I’m straight into an energy bar, not unnoticed by Dan. 

The idea of riding in a draft is to stay close to the wheel in front, as Chris described. Tricky if you think you will clip it, and cause an accident. So, it takes a huge amount of focus to not move too far away from the front rider, and then need to exert energy to catch up, or to get too close and end up clipping their wheel. The safest place is in front, but it costs energy and defeats the idea of a draft.

We made it to checkpoint 1 and I downed a pain au chocolat and two sandwiches in rapid succession. We were on the road again soon after, rain jackets removed, but still really cold.  We thought the challenge today was going to be not getting bored on the miles of long flats / waves of hills. As it turned out, the wind was the main problem, gusting at over 50km/h and against us almost all the way.

Our group were, bar 3 riders, the rear guard of the road warriors evacuation of Europe / advance on Manchester and we pretty much stayed there all day. At each checkpoint, we were just arriving as others moved on.

I was soon struggling again with no energy and Lenny suggested a glucose drink for a quick shot of energy. That got me to CP2 at 92km. Seeing the riders arrive at a checkpoint is like watching some kind of feeding frenzy of cookie monsters or piranhas, as they descend on the back of the vans for food. Any food, just food!

I’m ravenous and everyone else is the same. “Can I get a jam sandwich please?” “I have cheese prepared.” “I’ll have that while I’m waiting, thanks!” I’m hoovering down the food to try and get my energy levels up – 3 sandwiches, bananas, biscuits covered in Nutella, but it only helps for an hour or so.

Liz, for example, also felt the same - her energy also down to nothing. She felt like giving up all the way to the first cp - Rob kept her going until she was through it, and she completed the 245km. She's up again today with no thought of giving up.

Chris has mentioned that we spent 12 hours riding today. 13 and a ½ hours on the road, and covered 248km. Such a long time on a bike is difficult to explain and it’s impossible to find anything to do that will adequately “fill the time.”

Ironically though, my lack of energy keeps me totally pre-occupied. I can’t think about anything else – I’m focussing 110% on not hitting the guy in front, or veering into the pavement for long stretches.

In addition to that, the wind is causing such havoc that we are all totally focussed on staying up right. At times it’s so strong that it’s like watching 9 mime artist cyclists in yellow jerseys pretending to lean against an invisible wall – we are literally leaning at 45 degrees into it to stay upright. Hilarious for the cars passing by, but not so much for us!

This part of France is just one massive piece of open land as far as the eye can see. It is incredibly green, and after Malta you’d think it would be welcome. But with no cover at all, it is SO windy that even the trees are bent over double. If it’s like this every day, it’s no wonder the French are so grumpy!

At checkpoint 3 the frenzy resumed and I managed to eat sandwiches, figs, biscuits, banana and some toxically yellow banana sweets made of nothing but sugar and additives. 

Weirdly (or maybe not after those banana sweets), after 200km and by 5.45pm my fatigue had totally lifted. My energy had kicked back in and my whole outlook changed immeasurably. 45 minutes later and I'd totally forgotten how the morning felt.

The wind changed in our favour for 10km - it brought about a total change in mood of group. We switched from a straight line huddled as close as possible, saying nothing, with grim determined faces ploughing on.

We broke formation, chatting, riding like 10yr olds, weaving across the road and back, between each other, as if released from the shackles of drafting.   It didn't last long - maybe 15 minutes, but it was great and it got us to 220km even though it had changed back again before we got there.

We reach the last checkpoint and there's ice cream and only (!) 25km to go. Fabulous :) Spirits are high even if the bodies are weak. We leave, the wind is back up, the sun is going down and its getting cold. We just get our heads down and put foot to pedal, with the goal of getting home as quick as possible.

You have to ask why we didn’t do that for first 11 hours??

We’re in, and it’s 8.30pm, at least an hour and a half later than I’d hoped for. The showers are freezing cold, and as soon as we’re un-packed and eaten it’s time for bed. Then up at 5am and packing again.

Anyway, here we are now, leaving continental Europe. We have 9 days down, and only 3 to go. That’s only 500km more and it’s over. Just taking one day as it comes has got us here, almost without realising it.

We have today, one more killer day like yesterday and then a gentle 140km stroll into Manchester and we're done. It’s so close we can almost feel it.

But it wouldn’t be LifeCycle if we didn’t make it a little harder than it needs to be. So, we are getting up at 5am yesterday (for long ride), today (for police escort to ferry) and tomorrow (for long ride) and 4am on friday (to have any chance of meeting Sir Alex). We are also getting in late: yesterday (long ride), today (ferry causing late start) and also tomorrow due to another long ride.

The event takes so much out of you that, like the last 9 days, they’ll also be over before we even realise it too. God I hope so!