In preparation for Head4Change

Late last year, I decided that cycling to Paris was a great idea. Now I’m not so sure. Fast forward from that decision, to a late Friday afternoon debrief at local Head Quarters (HQ), The Fox, St. Brides, owned by Gavin and Katie Henson . I was simultaneously convinced and cajoled to join Rob Sage and Rhodri Stephens on what was described as a nice little training ride as a precursor, known as the carten100. While under clear peer pressure, I said yes to this little cycle. For those uninitiated, this cycle turned out to be a 110-mile slog from Cardiff, City Hall to Tenby Harbour.

When the dust settled, I convinced myself that I would be fine. I’d have plenty of time to train, in-between work, travel and family commitments. The pedals were duly changed on the Wattbike in preparation to practice being tied to a mechanical object at speed, and then I shut the garage door. Some sort of sporadic training took place, again, in-between work, travel and family commitments but with the addition of panic and denial.

I may have brushed over the fact that I have never been on an actual road on a road bike and the furthest I had ridden on mountain bikes, is about 20 miles. Nevertheless, I duly attended meetings at HQ, smiled and nodded while sipping on the newly brewed Guinness, laced with confidence the more I had.

Red leader, Rob Sage dutifully barked out the timing schedule that we needed to keep, to ensure he made it to the harbour just at the right time to celebrate. The rest of us, meanwhile were starting to believe that finishing was the best option. A week before the event, I thought I best seek out some advice. So I turned to an all-round ACTUAL athlete, friend and colleague, Garry Forfar , who I had already convinced to cycle to Paris with me.

A massive download of nutrition schedules and kit links, led to frantic online purchases with expedited delivery. Now, clearly prepared, I took the rest of the week off to taper off the non-existent training in true athletic guidance. After a terrible night’s sleep before the event and an early start, the nerves kicked in. As it was demanded by the red leader to leave the start line by 7:10am, even Rhodri Stephens attempts to be kidnapped en route could not derail us, and after the obligatory photographic line up of middle-aged men in ill-fitting lycra we were off, full of confidence.

It is said that getting out of Cardiff at the start is a slog, unless you are happy with the pace and traffic lights, which I was! This is until I reached one and completely forgot about being clipped in. I’m sure many can relate to the long sideways tumble I took, as my feet refused to exit and the cruel mistress called gravity continued to work as knee met pavement. Strike One.

Back on my feet and ready to go before the lights had got back to green, pride dented, but with a whole host of riders sharing similar stories, we carried on. Through Cardiff suburbs we went and on to the outskirts before the first real hill by Culverhouse Cross. We get through the climb with no troubles, as we level out to some more open roads through to Cowbridge and subsequently Bridgend, the speed increases and we settle into a groove - until the pothole. Strike two, three and four.

Unable to avoid the pothole, I immediately realised that the back tyre had taken the brunt, popping the rear tube. I trundled to a stop to shout at the now flat tyre, and my bad luck. In true Top Gear fashion, as I had broken down I was duly left. I set about changing the tyre but as I started to pump, I found a damaged valve on the inner tube, bad luck I thought. I got the second and final spare tube and started again.....no one will know if in my increasingly stressful mood, I pinched the inner tube on the tyre or a second dud but there was a nice hole!

Game over I thought and had a run of all the emotions. Marshalls turned up and tried, only to fail. With the pump now disintegrating in my hands I made a call to my wife Emma Williams , to give her the bad news. She, already being on her way to the finish line, incredibly turned around to support her already broken husband. An hour passes and finally after four failed attempts, marshalls and the final support van managed to get the tyre back on the bike along with a replacement pump.?

After all this help, I was already emotionally drained. Now with a wife who had made it all the way, I decided to carry on and try to at least get to the first feeding stop some 20 miles away. This was made worse by the fact that I was now dead last,behind the sweeper vehicle recovering the direction signage.?

I set off in traditional pursuit to catch a distant pack, nutrition planning gone out the window, tan lines already developing and emotionally tested. I figured that I would stop at the next station and decided to put my foot down. I arrive unscathed and now on par with the sweeper van, I had even caught up with some other all-round athletes. Feeling good and slightly revived, I start to plan to make it to the next stop at 62 miles.

Planning gone slightly out the window, I make sure to take salt tablets to avoid cramp and smash down as much fluid as I can with electrolytes and energy. I'm sure more seasoned riders spent time at the feeding station - I just wanted to catch up. Those next 30 miles were practically joyous, flat roads, cycle paths around a sunny mumbles bay - apart from the baking heat. I start to get close to the second feeding station but am also now feeling the effects of a novice nutritional plan.

It can be a very lonely process during such an event if you are on your own, so there is no surprise that during this time my mind was playing fun with myself, give up, you've done okay, etc etc. Part of me wished I had after the feeding station because that's when the hills started for miles, between 62 and 110.?

West Wales is one of the most beautiful places in the world, just happens to be horrible for a novice cyclist, far beyond his own ability in obliterating heat, under nourished,?side stepping cramp and alone with his own thoughts.

I slowly grind out to mile 77, the next feeding station, I chat to others who are all questioning their current life choices. With a broken voice and a few tears, I make a call to my wife to say that I'm going to continue and see if I can make it to mile 96. I gratefully take onboard a can of coke and a snickers and set off.

Mile 78 nearly broke me for the sheer cliff face hill. I, like many others, resorted to dismounting and pushing the bike up the hill. Hell endures similar to this until mile 92. Llanddowror hill expands a steady climb across 4 miles, with 92 miles in the legs this does not tickle. Arriving at the 96 mile marker I am unable to physically clip myself out of the bike for sometime, but now I’m convinced I can make it to the end.?I just want to make it there before the finish closes. I catch my breath, quickly check in and make one final push for the end. I cursed every single hill that remained and laughed at every down hill, counting down every single mile.?

I get in to the town and feel the buzz, the noise and the support of the crowd. Most of all I got to see my wife as I crossed the finish line, not even all the dirt or sweat could hide the lack of colour in my face and the exhaustion. I am sat down, handed a beer, that I am to tired to fully drink.?

Time allowed me to reflect on what I had achieved but mostly it gave me chance to remind myself why I decided to cycle to Paris in the first place.

I am a father and a husband, I am a son, a brother and a friend. I had been inspired and humbled by the stories and connections I had developed with some incredible people, that have signs of early onset dementia. Many of whom are fathers, husbands, sons and friends, making me realise just how important it is to spend the time we have on this planet trying to do something worthwhile, making a difference.

Every person that gets to the end of this story will know someone affected or who is suffering, which is why we made the decision to support Head for Change and the work that Alix Popham and the team are doing to help people.?

We have thousands of LinkedIn connections, so we hope that for those who can, please consider supporting this complete novice trying to cycle from London to Paris. If everyone was able to give ￡1 or more we could raise a significant amount of supporting funds to help Alix Popham and dementia research so that all fathers, sons, husbands, wives and families can fight this condition.?

Head to COPA-DATA’s fundraising site, posted in collaboration with Head for Change to help support this cause.

Thanks.