On Wednesday I cycled 200km in a day, my longest ever ride — and it calmed my mind.
What does that say about my mind?
We’re about to set off on possibly the biggest adventure of our lives. In some ways, we’re really prepared. In others, not at all. But we’re going anyway.
The Big Adventure: TCR No.11
We are racing the Transcontinental Race No.11 (TCR11), a self-supported cycling race across Europe. We start in Santiago de Compostela, ride to the east coast of Spain, then turn inland and pass through five epic checkpoints — and their associated parcours (pre-set sections of course) — before finishing in Constanta, Romania, on the Black Sea coast. The route I’ve planned is currently around 4,700km.
Ready or Not, We Ride
Do I have good kit? Yes. Is it perfect? Probably not. But it’s good enough.
Am I well trained? Honestly, no. But I feel in good shape — I just rode 200km in a day, after all.
Is my mental health good enough? Compared to where I was in January, absolutely. This isn’t the post to go deep on that, but I’m in a much better headspace, and cycling — physical activity in general — helps me immensely with self-regulation.
So yes, I’m going. Because I can. Because it feels right. Because it’s good enough.
Amateur Athlete, Real Grit
If you know me, you’ll know I’m a committed amateur athlete. I ride, run, swim. I’ve completed two Ironman triathlons — in Tallinn and Copenhagen. Occasionally I even get a trophy (if I’ve been strategic about the category I enter). I show up to complete the course, not compete for a podium.
That doesn’t mean I’m not an athlete. It just means I’m okay with potentially coming last.
In fact, I did come last at Rampage last week — dead flat last. They kindly dressed it up as “6th woman in the B final,” which sounds much more impressive. But I was last. And I had fun. And I completed it. Next year, maybe I’ll train harder and come not last.
Just to be clear: I never try to come last. I just try. And that matters more.
It’s always better to turn up and try than stay home scared of not being good enough.
The Deeper Why
I’ve been a volunteer at this event. I’ve followed it online. I’ve been inspired by the riders and the organisers. I first heard about the TCR from Chris, my late partner. He’d already completed some epic cycling challenges — his compass challenges (a more complex version of LEJOG), cycling through South and Central America where he was mugged and tied up by Mexican bandits. He had ambitions to ride the TCR, but after his myotonic dystrophy diagnosis, that became unlikely — and then his life was cut short.
So now he can’t. But I can. And that’s a big part of why I’m doing this.
When I met Rob, my now-husband, and we talked about the TCR, it felt like a strange twist of fate. At the time, I was on a journey to prove I could handle anything. Ironman Tallinn was my chosen challenge, and it helped keep me sane. This new challenge — the TCR — is doing the same.
Rob and I volunteered together at TCR No.9 (Slovenia) and No.10 (Kosovo). We loved it. We initially thought we’d enter No.10 but life got in the way. This year, we made it a priority. Life still got in the way — some things we chose (like organising a beer festival and getting married), some things we didn’t (mental health challenges, planning enforcement, SEND care provision).
But here we are. At the start line. Still going anyway.
Racing the Clock
Even when you’re not chasing a podium, you’re still racing against time.
In an Ironman, there are strict cut-offs — a 2hr20 swim, multiple bike course deadlines, and a final finish line time (17 hours for Tallinn; 15 hours and 45 minutes for Copenhagen). I finished within both.
The TCR has cut-offs too. The first one is CP1 — about 600km in, halfway up a mountain (with a nice little 14% gradient to get there!). I’ll do my best to make the cut-off. But I’m also prepared not to. And to carry on anyway.
Because this is an adventure. This is our honeymoon. This is our challenge.
What Happens Next?
This post isn’t just about the TCR. It’s also about what comes after.
We plan to be back in the UK for the end of August — partly because it’s the Whixley Phoenix Sportive on the 31st, our event. But after that? A blank canvas.
What shall we do next? Answers on a postcard, please.
We’ve been told we should go into event management. We’ve organised a series of fun, successful, and financially viable events over the past few years. We have charitable ambitions too — to properly establish Badge Club, work more with Everybody’s Cycling and Get Cycling. We have funding from Cycling UK to run some cycle maintenance sessions. I’d love to organise the Penguin Pedal in time for Christmas.
Seeking Purpose
Underneath all of this is a bigger question: what is my purpose?
I’ve worked in charity finance for 20 years — nearly 15 of those in the sector. Rob’s been in business development for a similar amount of time. We’re both seeking something more direct. More hands-on. More life-affirming. More fulfilling.
It does need to pay the mortgage. So I can’t just ride my bike into the sunset forever. And I love my village. I love coming home. I love making a difference.
I think I want that difference to be about inspiring others to live life fully. I’m just not quite sure what that looks like yet.
Maybe this ride will help me figure that out. Maybe it won’t.
Maybe you have the answer?
Here’s to the Journey
Here’s to showing up, even if you might come last.
Here’s to good enough kit, good enough fitness, and good enough mental health.
Here’s to adventure, to grief, to joy, to love.
Here’s to the road, and to discovering fulfilment — one kilometre at a time.
LIFE'S BUMPY RIDE 
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