How to prepare for 1000 miles in a day

I am not a charitable man. I pretend it’s because I’m always busy, but really I’m just a bit of a grumpy curmudgeon. However, I’m doing something charitable now and I’d like you – yes, you, with the magazine in your hands – to support this rare occasion please. Look at the box at the end of this story: it’ll shows how you can sponsor me. Please give generously.

I should come clean and say it’s not just me. I’ve been persuaded – that’s code for “roped in” – to do a charity ride. It’s not anything leisurely or sane. In fact, the more I think about it, the more worrying it seems. We’re going to ride 1000 miles. In a day.

If that sounds simple, believe me it isn’t. I’ve done quite a few big-mile days in the past – several getting on for 1000 miles – and they are awful. By the time you pass the 400-mile mark, you’re utterly fed up, without the consolation of being even halfway there. Bits of your body that you didn’t know even had nerves begin to ache.

By the time you’re past 600 miles your powers of concentration have evaporated. The bike – whatever bike it is – seems to take on a mind of its own as your mind wanders. Even the simplest of riding tasks becomes a massive challenge – from staying in your lane to putting the sidestand down at petrol stations.

By the time you pass 800 miles, you’re a zombie. The bike is more or less doing all the work on its own. Routine tasks are confusing – how do you cancel the indicators, how do you stop the engine screaming in fourth gear? Making even simple decisions – such as when to change lane or should you stop at this petrol station – becomes really hard because you can’t think straight. Besides, pretty much everything from cars to junctions to the bike’s fuel light surprises you, because your lack of alertness is so mighty you may as well be staring at the tarmac ahead of your front wheel through a cardboard tube.

And that’s if you can stay awake. Nodding in the saddle is truly, spine-chillingly horrifying. Your eyes shut for a half-second and you jerk back to panicked wakefulness, mouth full of the metal taste of adrenaline – but the worst thing is that you know it will happen again. No question. Terror will keep you awake for perhaps three miles, but then the brain will start to shut down again. And suddenly you’re jumping back to wakefulness, feeling sick because your eyes keep closing against your will.

When that happens, all you can do is stop, have a nap, then get on again. So getting through the whole ride in one piece is going to be a challenge. The prep is crucial. Here’s how I hope to get through it:

Simon Weir