By the time you read this, I will either be doing, (or possibly, depending on the publication date, be just about to start doing) something that is, objectively, a daft idea. Specifically: cycling from London to Edinburgh and back, which, by the prescribed route (including crossing the Pennines twice, because the straight, relatively flat, route would apparently be a bit dull), is somewhat over 950 miles with a total of 14000m of ascent (that’s over 1.5 times the height of Everest). Oh, and with a goal of completing this in less than around 5 days and 8 hours. Yes, that’s total elapsed time, i.e. it includes whatever time one chooses to spend doing such frivolous things as eating and sleeping.  So that’s the best part of 200 rather hilly miles a day for more than 5 days. Hmmm.

This event runs every 4 years. Two editions ago, in 2017, only 55% of the participants succeeded… in other words, this is quite hard. Compare, for example, against reported 97-98% completion rates on the London marathon. Quite a lot of those who succeeded were folk who’d done things like this before. Me, this is my first time, a big step into the unknown.

It was early February when I got a place for the 2025 edition of London-Edinburgh-London. Since then, my life has significantly revolved around it – not just the training (which has, unsurprisingly, been very time-consuming), but sorting all of the equipment and logistic planning required to give even a chance of success. I’ve spent far more money than I ever expected in the process: clothes, equipment, entry fees for other events to use as training, and so on. One way or another, it has, quite literally, taken over my life.

Yet… really, no-one else should care. If I ride to one of the UK’s other capital cities and back… well, fine… but honestly there’s a perfectly decent train service that could get me there the same morning in much greater comfort.  And I’m not doing it to impress anyone (though I can see how the act of writing this blog might give the idea I’m showing off). And I know it will hurt, in lots of ways: the lack of sleep (maybe 4 hours a night having ridden best part of 200 miles per day); the physical exertion; the substantial likelihood of getting either very cold (typically around 5C in the Scottish hills at night, even in August), or wet, or both(!); the sheer mental exhaustion of just having to keep going when my body is yelling at me to stop and sleep. And that’s before we start on the likely headwinds across 100 miles of the fens on the way south having already got 800 miles in my legs – there’s nothing quite like a block headwind for hours at a time when it comes to things that can spoil your day.  And, again, there’s a very substantial chance of failing… failing, that is, to achieve this entirely arbitrary challenge that I’ve taken on.  Arbitrary or no, it would feel like failure nonetheless.

Furthermore, once it is over, I know I will feel down.  Even if I succeed. And even more so if I don’t. Musicians and actors talk about “post-show blues” – this is the same thing. And I know that can tip me into depression if I’m not careful. 

So… why am I doing this? People have inevitably asked this over the past months, and when they do, I’ve talked about my need for a project, for a challenge, in my post-work life, something to fill the space that my career once occupied. Which is fine up to a point, but the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t really answer the question. It explains my need for _something_, but not my need for this particular thing, which, as I’ve described, comes with substantial unpleasantness during, and potential for more afterwards. Compare that with projects at work, which had benefits for the company, our customers, society even.  Whereas achieving this won’t bring any obvious great benefit to me, let alone society at large. I won’t even be stopping to take many photos – can’t afford the time!

The short answer is that I still don’t really know why I’m doing this, what box it will tick, what form of validation it will give.  Maybe I’ll know by the time it’s done. Goodness knows, I’m going to have long enough out there on my bike to think about it.

Do you take on things but can’t really explain why? Do you dig and look to understand it? Or maybe it’s OK to not know what’s going on deep down inside us?

Orville

A Moodscope member