Just to be the enby who rode 200km just for the shits and giggles of it!

So I did this last year, but never wrote about it, and enjoyed it so much I decided to do it again this year. Each year Loros organises the Leicestershire Round Cycle Ride, which is a 100mile semi supported event that cycles either around Leicester, or Leicestershire, depending on your definition of "around".

From where I live it's 20km to get there, plus 160km for the 100 miles, and 20km to get back, bing bang bosh, that's 200km. Last year I did it because a few people from the group I ride with wanted to back up their first 100miler with another a few months later. Only one of them ended up actually doing it (that's a theme) but it was a great ride with Simon that I much enjoyed at a good pace.

So what about this year? Well, this year I wanted to do it again because Dharms had missed it due to injury last year, and he'd been struggling on longer rides. My Dad also wanted to do it, along with Simon and a few others. My prep going into this year was almost entirely off road dirt jumps and a bit of XC, but that's generally made me the fastest I've ever been (taking the CR on an off road segment I love, after setting a huge PB up a local well known climb).

I do honestly think just riding shit loads at the bike track has been the best training for all forms of cycling for me. I did end up riding a lot of zone 2 chillers for a couple of weeks before the event just to get back into the feeling of constant effort and riding steady, as I knew I'd be stuck on the front for most of the ride. Riding more definitely always helps.

A few weeks before the event, and I'm stressing as usual, massively overtraining and overpreparing, and people start dropping out who'd said maybe. The week before the event I clear some of the biggest full gap jumps on a trail bike for the first time, ride a scooter for the first time in over a decade, and start aiming for chilled rides for the days before the big day. The day before I go for an early hour of chilled riding, wash my bike, get set up for the next day, and get an early bed time.

The crew going is now just me, my Dad, and Dharms. I wake up at 04:00, get up a bit later, and confuse the shit out of the dog who had probably only just gone to sleep. He didn't get breakfast that morning because for some reason he didn't cry wolf in front of his bowl, so my sister assumed he'd been fed when I hadn't done it... Muppet.

The fuelling plan was simple: Two bottles with 30g of sugar in them to start me off, drink most of one of those in the hour ride to the start and refill it (because eating sugary sweets and drinking sugar water sucks), and then I had flapjack (lightly burnt, which ended up not being too bad after I panicked when I forgot about it in the oven while making it. The burnt meant it was slightly less sweet, making it better for eating alongside all the sugary shite you have to eat to get through big rides). Other than that I knew the stops were well spaced (50km, 80km, 125km, finish) and they had snacks available.

Cruising out into the darkness, which was a lot better than last year, I went out at 05:00 towards the start. It wasn't cold, but it was colder than I thought it'd be. Ended up having to throw my gillet on by the end of the driveway. Last year I remembered being hot, but it wasn't until much later that I got hot as it turns out, and that heat was short lived before dropping downwards. Anyway, that's in the future. The first part of the ride in the dark is fine, I've commuted it many many times, the second part is also fine. There's enough farm houses, and I know it well from many rides in the area. After about 8km it gets a bit less known, and after 10km there's not much to reflect off your lights. Last year I got lost in that part, thinking I was about 4km past where I was, until I saw a sign and went "shit, that wasn't the hill I thought it was". This time the sky was just grey enough for it to feel more open, and less oppresive. Being able to see the trees and know vaguely where you are on the road, instead of only being able to see the tiny spotlight, makes a huge difference.

It got reasonably light as the time entered civil twighlight and I hit just past the half way point. This is where I get onto the almost unknown roads, and end up on the main A47 road. It's fine at this time, nobody else is about at 05:30, and anyone that is is going to the ride (though I still get closepassed by a few cars with bikes on the roof :< )

I rolled into the start and went to the start tent to grab a route map with the support numbers on it, for a bit of security. You hope you don't need them, but you'd be pissed if you forgot to get one and did need it. I was recognised from the year before as someone who went the wrong way, that wasn't me, I'm the nutter who rode there and back!

I popped my bike into the racks, turned the lights off to save battery, and went inside for a hot chocolate. On the way past there was a chap sat on the bench with his helmet backwards. You get all sorts of people doing these events. I mentioned to him it was backwards, and he fixed it and thanked me. After grabbing my hot chocolate, and a coffee for my Dad who was just arriving, I went and sat down next to the backwards helmet chap.

We chatted a bit, and he asked me about the event. Worryingly he was shocked it took me 9h30m the year before (with 8h riding time). He asked if he could just not stop at the stops, but did understand when I said he could just stop briefly. We saw him at the first and second stops, and he was doing alright. I hope he finished, his being on his own meant he was leaving faster than us, and likely riding faster too, though I imagine the final section was a struggle as he had no water bottles with him.

The announcement came to start just before 06:30, and the first bodies rolled out at this time. We were still waiting for Dharms. We chatted with a chap who was doing it for his late wife, and had written her name on his numberplate. He'll be back later, though on the set off he just wanted to go to the pub, not 100 miles! Dharms eventually got there at 06:40, and after fucking with his number for a bit we set off at 06:50 from the start... Timelyness has never really helped. It was slightly nicer than the year before to be out of the chaos of hundreds of riders heading out over the rolling hills, you don't know who's going too fast for themselves, who can't descend, and who's where, so being more alone was better, and there were still people coming past.

The first, and longest section to Mountsorrel was good, though the group split slightly as Dharms did his usual going off the front too fast at the start, and I just rolled gently with whoever was more towards the back of our group of 3, knowing it was going to be a long day. We caught back up with Dharms at Borrough on the Hill. The next part was on roads we all know well, rolling into Mountsorrel. On the way we met a chap who kept losing and joining us, because he was riding his own pace and nobody else's. The best strategy, of course.

When we got to the stop there was a lady taking pictures, so we smiled for the camera, got some snacks, tried to fix my Dads number which had been attached only at the top so was flapping over his bars (though this fix did cause him to be unable to get into the bag, so carrying it for basically nothing until he undid the extra ziptie towards the end), and we managed a decently short stop (though not as short as I'd like for the first stop) and onwards to the big hills.

After the Mountsorrel stop is probably the hardest section of the ride, even though it's the shortest. It's a toss up between that and the final, but the emotions and physical drain of that being the final do change things a bit. First up Sharply Hill, then Warren Hill, and a few more rollers just after as you head into Markfield. Through Markfield ain't flat either. It does at least flatten out as you head from Barton in the Beans towards the stop at the Bosworth Marina. During this time we met a group of riders we kept overlapping with, and would join for some time. Good group of people, knew their riding. They were always just ahead or just behind, but due to the wiggling of the roads we couldn't see them. I saw them many times, having to stop for wees quite a lot on this ride. My fuelling and drinking strategy of "I don't care if you're not thirsty, fucking drink when the 10 minute beep happens" working well.

The second stop was a good one, full food. I had an interesting egg and sausage cob. The sausage not being cut did make it hard to eat, but it was good, and nice to eat some savoury solid food. That, plus a refill of water, an orange juice, and a few whispa golds, and after a bit of a break we were on our way. This was the last time we saw the backwards helmet chap from the start, he set off just after we arrived, but was in good spirits and doing well.

The next section of the course is where things started to get a little harder. My Dad had apparently been riding in mid zone 3 pretty much entirely, and hadn't really noticed because that's just how it is, and Dharms knee was beginning to ache. This is a long running thing on rides over 50 miles with him. It's a shame, because he can ride so well, but at least it's better than when it was 30 miles.

We overlapped many times with the other group, who by now we'd learned 2 names of (and I've forgotten them) and that one of them was from the same town we're from. Small world. He had a great bike, and as we headed through Earl Shilton we ended up talking about the England flags that lined the streets. Most of them had Stand Up To Racism stickers on them, which was nice, but didn't stop them blocking the paths and flowing into the roads due to shoddy attachments.

I'm never quite sure what to say when someone asks what I think of a major thing, so I do a politicians "say something while saying nothing" and guage their reaction. Fortunately I think this chap was smart enough to know I'm not a raging loony when I said something like "I think they're fine for the football, but it's too much, and painting them on roads is silly". There's many causes of the rise of fascism in the world, and in the end we agreed it's happened before, and hopefully it can be told to fuck off like the EDL and other scum before these cunts. Remember that if someone offers you an easy fix, they're lying to you. If you were going to buy a bike and someone said "easy fix" you'd run a mile, so why trust it from a politician? Fuck Fascism. Racists, you get out the fucking country.

Anyway, that aside, and back to cycling, I dropped into Stoney Cove on the way past. It was mentioned in the route guide as something you could do, if you were willing to do the extra climb out (which turned out to be not a big thing, more of a bridge than a climb, and not long at all). I did it partially just to see it, since it's bang the opposite end of the county to me, and partially to get some riding time at my own pace, as our group pace was slowing due to tiredness. I was still feeling good.

There was a lot of people in Stoney Cove, there was a scuba diving event going on to get more people to try it. Seemed cool, but not just over half way around this big ride.

I caught the group much faster than I wanted to, and found it was Dharms knee going slowly. Much earlier than expected, only around 90km into his ride. Not a good sign, but we had plenty of time, and we were in good spirits at least. The next section to the 3rd stop felt the longest of them all, even though it should have been one of the easiest. The longer dragging climbs were harder on Dharms knee, and harder on me to keep the speed lower. The trouble with pedalling softly for so long is that your bum eventually starts to hurt much more, as there's less weight being taken by your legs.

Just a few more hills, and some confusing, badly done maths, combined with my lap distance now not only being in KM when the route was miles, but also far enough into the ride that real distance and route distance had diverged through stops, wiggles, and Stoney Cove, and we stumbled onto the Cock Inn as our third stop without realising it.

The stop here was good, there were a lot of the people we'd seen around other parts here, and being towards the back we were more encouraged to take plenty from the tables since it all had to go by the end anyway. This stop moves from the first to third, so the stuff here is more limited, but still good. I grabbed a dib dab to put in my bag and take home. This is also where we more properly joined up with the chap who'd written his wife's name on his number, who was riding with someone being chased around in a car by a sausage dog (and lady to take the dog) who cheered us on as well, as we were nearby. We started to lose the other group we'd been with throughout as this stop was a little longer for more stretches and rest, but eventually we got moving again. Only 23 miles to go!

The final stretch could be considered the hardest. It starts out reasonably flat, then has a couple of steep hills towards the middle as you climb through Saddington, and into Gumley, and then goes rolling through the valley. The hard part is knowing there's 3 steep climbs at the end in Cranoe, Glooston, and finally the mountain top finish back to the start.

Along this part we had to stop a few times for a rest, being joined more and more by the chap from the start (now deemed "Annie's Husband" because asking people's names is hard). At the top of Cranoe Hill he joined us, having to walk a touch of it, and was ready for the end. Less than 10 miles to go here, nearly ready for a pint that he'd wanted since the start! It's great to be with more people when people in your group are struggling. I can imagine people in groups with me, seeing I'm perfectly fine and in good spirits not finding it as easy. I've definitely been told as much by people who think everything is easy for me, but the truth is I stress, overthink, overtrain, and then make sure to take it easy (unless it's a race) and pace my effort. It's easy to good too hard and blow up, it's hard to ride easy and finish fast.

I counted down the hills to Dharms, who was really struggling now, and any stops to releive the pressure seemed to make it worse once we got back going. One final hill to get over, through Tugby. I'd said I was leaving on this one, we were at a point where none of us were staying together on climbs due to different fatigue levels, and the need to ride ones own pace.

I'd spent a week riding easy, not pushing too hard, no sprints, no attacks all day, so I just fucking sent it up the final climb as hard as I could. It's not a bad time for after 180km. I sprinted down the finish tunnel, having to shout "excuse me" to someone stood out to guide people into the finish, flew through the line full pelt, and hung my bike on the fence to go back and film my Dad and Dharms coming in.

First, Dad came over the line, not far back from me actually, nearly crashing when trying to lift his arms in the air (the downhill corner of the finish didn't help), and then the wait for Dharms started, which was worrying. There is a road to cross, so we hoped he'd just got stuck there, and hadn't completely cracked hard. He made it though, happy to be done. Never to do that long of a ride again (or so he said)

We went to the finish together, got our medals, food tokens, and a bag of crisps. A fanta for me, a beer for the others, and went to get the food. It was a pulled pork cob and half a baked potato. Lovely, solid, savoury food.

We congratulated the people we'd been riding near to all day, first the group with the lovely chap who hates racists from our town, and then Annie's Husband, who my Dad did get the name of at the end, but I didn't hear, and he probably can't remember. After eating we headed back to the start tent and asked for a picture, which I don't have, and then Dad and Dharms headed to their cars, as I headed to ride out again. The lady taking the picture even offered that the support crew could take me home, which was really nice, but I insisted on the ride.

The ride home was freeing, done from the long ride, knowing I only had a short time home, I could ride whatever pace I wanted to. Last year it started raining close to the end, so I went hammer to the wall and fast all the way back. This year it was better weather, so I just chilled at tempo, something I've not done much of this year. It's either been easy zone 2, or sprints and threshold.

Arriving home, I unpacked what I could, sat on the soft, patted the dog, and eventually went upstairs to have a snack, and watch some YouTube before falling asleep.

So what next? Well, next up I'm just doing some dirt jumping, and learning more on the skateboard and scooter too, in prep for a family holiday to Scotland. There's a good skatepark where we're staying, but I can't pack a BMX, so I just need to learn to scoot on the scooter I picked up and fixed up recently.

I said towards the start of the year I wanted to break 4 hours in the 100km, and I think I can do that even on my gravel bike now. My zone 2 hour long rides are coming in around 24kmh on the flatter ones, so if I find a good route I can do it. First I guess I'll go for a test of a 50km, then head for the big one. At the very least I need to beat the fastest 100km I've done, which was part of the first 100 miler I did (still my fastest due to being alone, and fast stops, though also the hardest as I didn't drink or eat enough) You can listen about that here

So, that's that, I think the longest post I've done on this place for the longest ride I've ever done, and there's plenty of details I've missed and forgotten already. It was a good ride, and I'll definitely be back next year.