Chase The Sun – Cycling the Longest Day, 18 June 2022
My Chase The Sun (CTS) adventure only started three weeks before the midsummer event when I heard Dries De Bondt share the inspiration behind his Giro D’Italia stage win. He described how his drive comes from turning ambitions into goals and turning those goals into achievements. The seed was sown and two days later I tested the legs, leaving at 4.45am for London’s flagship mass-participation event RideLondon. I reasoned that riding the 30-miles to the start, the 100-miles around the course and still feeling strong at the end would mean I was just about ready to turn the CTS ambition into a goal.
What on earth have I done? Picture courtesy of Frederiek Peek
CTS is an achingly romantic concept. At its simplest, the organisers say it is a physical, motivational and navigational endeavour that requires participants to cycle 205 miles coast-to-coast from sunup to sundown; but it is so much more than just a long bike ride. It pits cycling against the backdrop of the immutable universe and asks, ‘Can you ride your bike faster than the sun travels through the sky?’ It celebrates the longest day of the year and glories in you sharing that celebration with 1,200 like-minded romantics whose motive is to ride, not race the distance. And, of course it would be disingenuous not to mention that it gives you bragging rights to a mighty fine Strava line.
My heart was soaring with these notions when I secured a late registration but I was immediately brought to task again by the mountain of obstacles I still faced. If I finished at all, then I would arrive late in the evening and would need to accommodation very near the end point. By then most entrants were in the final stages of planning and all hotels, B&Bs and camping spots were long gone. I reached out on the Burnham-on-Sea community Facebook page and asked for help. Three kind souls immediately offered me a bed and I arranged to stay with a host a mile from the finish line.
With my host for the night. We hooked up on the Burham community Facebook page
Onto the next obstacle. Most participants ride in teams and many very sensibly have a support vehicle for tea-breaks, mechanicals, fresh kit and the joy of being cheered on along the way by loved ones. In contrast, I would be riding solo and self-supported. I had the tools and the basic skills to manage commonplace mechanical issues – I had fashioned a single speed solution following a snapped derailleur on a recent bike tour of Holland – but I could not find the strength in my fingers to get my new racing tyres off the beading of my not-quite compatible touring wheels. A mechanically-mind friend and cycling mentor taught me how to safely wrench the tyre free using a 12-inch-long screwdriver. Not without risks, it was an emergency solution for an emergency situation. Nevertheless, carrying that tool in my jersey pocket brought some reassurance.
And then I had to prepare my mind for travelling solo. There was only time for one proper training ride in my short pre-event schedule. For this I challenged myself to ride 100 solo miles covering the entire 3000m elevation that the CTS route demanded in that one ride. It did not go well. 75 miles in, with only 2000m elevation done, I broke. There was one hill too many and I sat at the side of the road at the foot of yet another climb and wept tears of frustration. Why couldn’t I do it? Was my mind not strong enough for solo riding? Were my legs not equal to the challenge? Was my fuelling all wrong (again)? Unsure, I limped home and almost canned my plans.
I was in the doldrums when I latched onto the wise words of a friend who reminded me that starting and stopping is not failing but failing to start would be a big shame. So I made a crib sheet for two types of ride. I optimistically listed my planned stops and latest departure times to keep on track for sunset. But I also listed the bail-out points in case it all got too much.
My waymarker guide was taped to the top bar. Stops in bold. Bail points in yellow. Predicted timings worked well and by missing out the final stop at 286km I was able to arrive 15 minutes before schedule.
My goal, though, was simply to do the distance, however long it took. My strategy was to plod, keep plodding and keep stops and faff to a minimum.
At the start. Sunrise imminent
High point of the ride – I locked eyes with another solo rider at the start in Minster-on-Sea. She rode behind me for the first two miles to see if our pace would be compatible. She then came alongside, introduced herself and from that moment we were a team. She fed me flapjack, I fed her malt loaf; she waited whilst I had a minor mechanical, I navigated when her Garmin died; we both readily adopted the ‘plod, don’t stop’ philosophy. She was in a relay team so we rode miles 1-60 together and again miles 100-150. Those miles tripped by and were an absolute joy.
With my road buddy, Layla as I said goodbye at her first handover point
Low point of the ride – before lunch, back on my own, I hooked up with two welcoming riders out of Kingston-upon-Thames for an hour. Their pace was a bit too high for me and eventually I was dropped. I had burned too many matches staying with them and was tired and solo for the two hours leading into the lunch check-in at Bramley. I couldn’t keep from dwelling on the task still ahead of me – not yet halfway and the urge to stop was fierce.
From Devises at 150 miles I was solo again. This time, however, my mind was strong and though the rain, wind and cold on that English summer day made for the most uncomfortable cycling I have ever endured, there was a job to do and I put my head down and got on with it. Sharing this experience with the riders around me was a source of great comfort. We were a small wave of cycling humanity, inching forward, united in bearing terrible conditions. My navigation failed in Cheddar Gorge and my hands were too frozen and my mind too feeble to right the problem. Instead, I followed a twinkle of red lights, pedalling fast the last hour to keep them in sight and to keep from freezing. We arrived in Burnham-on-Sea at 9pm – half an hour before sunset - to cheering supporters.
Arrived! I was too cold and weak to lift the bike any higher
Drinking endIess cups of warming tea in the pub by the finish line, I waited for the shivering to abate and for feeling to return in my fingers. Around me paramedics and support staff tended to hyperthemic riders who had battled on late into the night, their dreams of a sunset arrival discarded high on the rain-sodden Mendip Hills. Perhaps the most courageous souls of all were those that abandoned the ride with fifteen, ten, even seven miles to go, sagely knowing when to put their safety first.
In time I was ready to venture back out into the filthy night to my overnight stay where my lovely host had a chicken casserole and hot water bottle waiting for me. It was the perfect end to the most incredible day.
I started with an ambition. I made it a goal and somehow with the help and kindness of many people I turned that goal into an achievement.
About Chase the Sun
The Chase the Sun team runs four events, all coast-to-coast, all over 200 miles, all on the same day. Chase the Sun South is the original and largest of the events attracting 900 entrants in 2022 to ride from Minster-on-Sea on the East Coast of Kent to Burnham-on-Sea on the West coast of Somerset. Chase the Sun North and Chase the Sun Ireland also run in the UK. Chase the Sun Italy completes the group.