The Maverick Rides

John Reed’s 200 miles for £2,000 Bicycle one-day charity ride to Cheltenham on Saturday 07 June 2018

Points to note:

I sometimes refer to myself as ‘TheCyclist’

I named my bicycle ‘The Mean Machine’ – because it is one mean machine.

TheCyclist’s bicycle: A custom built (for me) Roberts Cycles ‘Roughstuff’

Mark’s bicycle: A Burrows Recumbent.

Prologue

Hi everyone, my name is John. I am a 25-year-old (liar) male who resides in the body of a 64-year young geezer. I love cycling, although I am not into racing, although I ride as fast as I possibly can.

On Saturday morning, 07 July, I am going on, or rather, attempting, a 200-mile (320 Kms) ride. It will be the longest one-day ride that I will have ever done. (So far, my farthest one-day distance is 135 miles (215 Kms)

I shall be cycling from Langley, (near Slough), to Cheltenham, down to Malmesbury and back. While I certainly won't be beating any world records, it shall be a major achievement for me if I can pull it off.

“I’m crazy!”, “You’re crazy”, “You’re bonkers”, “You’ll never do it!”, “You’re too old”, “You’re too unfit”, “Your bike is too heavy”, You don’t have a road bike”, “You’re not a pro”, are some of the many comments I received when I first mooted my idea of the ride, even by those who know me. “Really?” was the best one I had.

After all that, I was now committed and could no longer pull out of it. (My pride wouldn’t let me, to say nothing of the challenges that I chose so deftly to ignore.)

TheCyclist planned the route several weeks before, but never really did anything bout it, because well, it was, as the title says… Need I say more? Time went by, and then suddenly one day, about two weeks before the ride, TheCyclist was suddenly galvanized into action because of several things that were happening simultaneously, including leave, etc. Planning then moved into top gear, especially the route. Yeah, right. More about that later. Come the day before, preparations were finally complete. The Mean Machine had just been serviced & had some bearings replaced. (Always a good idea, replacing seized and worn out bearings…)

Wow! You guessed it. Just when I thought I had finished all the so-called last-minute items yesterday! Padded plasters for my toes, water bottles. Ha! Right up until about 10 seconds before I walked out the door, I was still remembering things to do and take with me.

Still, arrived at Church at 03:50, and quickly took some photos of The Mean Machine, whilst waiting for my great friend, Mark, who so very graciously agreed to accompany me on the ride, even though he thought (still does) that I am bonkers. For once, his wife agrees with him! We quickly took some selfies together and off we set on my 200 miles for £2,000 Bicycle one-day charity ride to Cheltenham.

04:00

“YEEHAAA!”, I yelled as we set off on the ride, I was so excited. Weather was brilliant, warm, calm and dry, with a slight breeze. Perfect! The route was immediately ‘hi-jacked’, by deciding to go on the A4 though Slough, instead of the traffic free cycle path along the Jubilee river, on the basis that it would be quicker at that time of the morning, which of course, it was.

Anyway, we quickly passed through Slough and soon Maidenhead, where the route was immediately ‘hi-jacked’ again, so we went via Warren Row, instead of Hurley. Fabulous cycling, turned onto the main road for Henley, which is the home of the Henley Royal Regatta (HRR). Then we came to a magnificent hill just before Henley, “YEEHAAA” where I attempted to beat my previous all-time best speed. But no, it was not to be. For some strange, inexplicable, reason, some cars ahead of me were slowing down. I mean, how unreasonable could you get? Just because arrangements for the HRR were underway? I ask you! Thus, TheCyclist only managed to get up to a miserable 41.2 mph (66 Km/h) before slowing down. Oh well, another opportunity will present itself, I am sure. I mean, who wants to get up early merely to watch a yachting race? (Me, if I lived nearby & wasn’t going on a crazy ride…) We met one man walking along the bridge and asked him if he was just starting work, to which he replied in a very grumpy voice “HOME!” Right, ok. We said no more to him, not wishing to upset him anymore. By now, my legs & my neck were quite sore, both issues I was somewhat concerned about, although I never said anything initially, not so much because the ride had barely started, but especially so. I realised too, that both my arms were quite sore. This was an issue that I was unfamiliar with when cycling, which was also another concern, and I had no idea what to do about it. But thankfully, I did mention them to my Buddie, who then found a large knot in my neck muscles, and then proceeded to give me a deep massage on my neck, and rubbed Voltarol on my arms, legs, knees, etc. All through the neck treatment, I was squealing like a stuck pig and barking like our dog, the treatment was hurting so much. However, almost immediately afterwards, I could move my neck quite freely and without pain. A true friend, Mark is.

Anyway, through Henley, we rode through Nettlebed, Wallingford, Dorchester, where we stopped at’ H Café’ and had some much-needed hot tea and (home brought) avocado, bacon & cheese sarnies, and took some more of the obligatories. One bit of good news was that by the time we had arrived at Dorchester, my legs & knees were no longer hurting at all. Yep! A great masseuse is Mark, too. At that point, Mark said to me, “Reedie” (Mark’s nickname for me), if we’ve taken 4 ½ hours to get here, and there’s 200 miles to go, that means we should be home in 18 hours, is that right?” I did some quick mental (I still had some left at that stage) calculations, looked at him, ands said, “Yes, Buddie (my nickname for Mark), that’s correct.” I didn’t have the heart (I mean courage) to tell him that I made it 24 hours. Again, more about that later. While passing through Dorchester, we saw some young girls who looked quite the worse for wear. “Wow, I thought. That’s one long shift they must have just finished. And then Mark enlightened me. Am I really showing my age? ‘Nuff said. (On the way home, some guy, obviously plastered, stopped and said “This is probably a silly question, but can I borrow your bike to ride to the bus stop?” I looked at him, half laughed & said “You’re correct. It is a silly question.”) By then, nothing really surprised me anymore. Not too long after that, we both needed to stop and have some more electrolytes. Sunglasses, helmet & gloves came off, and were placed back on afterwards. Or so I had thought, anyway, until about 10 miles later, I wondered why the sun was so bright, especially with my new sunglasses on. “Sunglasses? What sunglasses?”, I asked myself, as I realised I had left them behind when we stopped on the side of a road near a large tree. I was so gutted about that.

And so, we cycled on, minus sunglasses, through Abingdon, Marcham, and various other small, very pretty villages. We stopped somewhere and had some more food, refilled water bottles with both water & electrolytes – later, I stopped putting electrolytes in the water, because as thirty as I was before drinking any water, I was even more so afterwards, because of the electrolytes inside the water. From then on, I only had the chewables.

At some point, before we were even halfway along the route, the route was hi-jacked yet again (so much for my careful planning), because we realised that in order to finish the ride within 24 hours, we needed to ride on better roads. So, more time was taken up, but which did not prevent ThePlanner (aka TheCyclist) from making yet more mistakes… So on with the fast routes, we quickly made some decent headway, although as the headwinds were to tiring me out by now. Going down a delightful hill, I saw a sign (TheCyclist is convinced he read it correctly but has been corrected several times by Mark) turned left in accordance with my satnav went about 2 miles or so down the road, was taken down another road, and then realised we were being taken back to the original road it took us off from. This, in my infinitely wise stupidity (!), I refused to do, as ‘I knew better’. We found a pub that was open all day, except for meals, and had some more home brought food (thank goodness for such forward thinking) and decided to press on. At that point, the satnav threw a wobbly and, no matter how the settings were changed, insisted on taking us back to the original point where we left the route, instead of simply re-routing us. Why? I have no idea, as it was told to do so. From that point on, to a large degree, we parted company with the satnav and used our brains instead. What a clever idea. Who on earth would have thought of such a thing? Obviously not TheCyclist, that’s for sure. Mark, you’re a star for getting us out of trouble.

“Hi Honey, we’re near Cheltenham now, so we should be at Malmesbury in about 3 hours, or so.” Right, yeah. TheCyclist is an eternal optimist, it would seem. Still, the dynamic duo set off on their travels again, and so we came upon another steep hill, somewhere near Cheltenham. No traffic! YEEHAAA! And off went The Mean Machine, eventually getting into top gear, with TheCyclist merely doing the steering and pedalling. Not daring to look at the speedo, we eventually came to the bottom of the hill, after which TheCyclist was able to eventually pull over and stop. YEEHAAA! My previous top speed for both this ride & another ride several years ago, was finally beaten and equalled: 44.3 mph (71 Km/h). Well chuffed, I was. We then opted to go a different way, because our Satnav still tried to take us back to Cheltenham, which were getting rather tired of, as it was not allowing us to detour at all.

So, Cirencester, here we come. Flying down a long dual carriageway, we made magnificent headway, thanks to the first, albeit gentle, tailwind of the day. But hey, every port in a storm, right? We then quickly came to Cirencester, left it and went onto Malmesbury, (England’s oldest borough and a market town) where we had our next rest. At this point, I congratulated Mark on beating his previous longest distance in a day record of 125 miles (200 Kms). His response? Nothing less than “G-R-R-R-R”, I’m not interested! Squawk, squawk, turkey face, pigeon poo, etc., etc…”, (here the Microsoft spell checker went into overdrive to translate his language into something ‘clean’). No, not really, it was just the most amusing way I could think of to describe his lack of interest in such boring details, although he did scowl and grimace at me at the time. I didn’t know whether to laugh at, or commiserate, with him. I did know he would feel differently after the ride, when his agony was over, though. The bikes were locked up outside the town square, while we had a meal inside a very delightful café (The Bird), where the charming waitresses couldn’t do enough to make our meal more enjoyable if they tried.

Time approximately 19:30 (7:30pm)

After about an hour or so of just enjoying the rest, we headed off for Royal Wootton Bassett (RWB). At some point, we came across Brinkworth, a village and civil parish. It has the record for being the longest village in England, extending for 1 ½ miles (2.4 Kms) long, from end to end in northern Wiltshire, England. The village lies between Royal Wootton Bassett and Malmesbury

Mark & I were debating about the easiest way home, to which I replied (in my usual infinitely wise ignorance, yet again) “let’s go on the A4, at least now, there are no more steep hills to climb!” Hang onto that thought, if you will.

All this time, except for up hills, Mark was doing most of the leading. When we left Malmesbury, however, I noticed that I was leading the way, most of the time. I didn’t say anything, not wishing to possibly embarrass him, in case he was simply tired, but was concerned for him. Thus, I ensured that (riding up hills apart, when I could not ride too slow, not without falling off), I always waited for him at the top of hills and before any intersections/turnings, to ensure we never got separated. Sometimes I had to wait for about 5 minutes, or so, although was always quick to reassure him that I had only just arrived wherever it was. Of course, the other reason was to make certain that nothing had happened to him, or his bike. I should add here though, that when he was in the lead, he also did exactly the same for me. My great friend never ceased to amaze me, even though he was tiring. By the time we arrived at RWB, we decided to tell the satnav simply to take us home the quickest way, motorways excluded, obviously. So, what does it try and do? Take us back via Oxford, regardless of how it was set! With our lack of confidence with the satnav, we resorted to that old-fashioned method of maps (no, not paper – I slipped up there – we used digital maps. Mark hailed a cabbie and asked him the quickest way to Hungerford. “Sure”, he said. “… take the Queens Drive to Liddington, follow it to Aldbourne, and you’ll see the signs for Hungerford.” Easy! I mean, nothing could go wrong, right? True, but what he didn’t tell us, was that soon after we crossed over the A419, we would come to a hill, which also means that when we eventually did get to the base of the hill, we also had no idea just how steep, or how long it was. Shortly after we spoke to the cabbie driver, Mark suggested that we put our long-sleeved tops on, as, with all the cycling, it was getting quite cold now. Within 2 minutes of doing so, however, I regretted so doing, I was so hot with all the strenuous pedalling I was doing, once we arrived at the hill.

I then had to leave Mark quite soon on the way up, it was so steep, and TheCyclist was unable to ride any slower without hitting a grass verge, let alone falling off The Mean Machine. So very reluctantly, The Mean Machine took TheCyclist up the hill. Not quite sure what gear I was in, as I dared not move my hands on the handlebars at all, for fear of falling off, the hill was so steep. And then, relief! The top! And then, ‘just as you thought it was safe to go into the sea…’ (line ‘stolen’ from the movie ‘Jaws2’), I realised that what I thought was the top, was only the precursor to the base of the next stage of the hill. “Oh well”, I thought, “at least the top can’t be too far now, as I can see signboards at the top.” Yeah, right, as by the time I finally got to the sign posts, I felt like I was experiencing a heavy dose of ‘déjà vu’. Yep. Exactly the same thing all over again. Once again, TheCyclist had to knuckle down and get busy cycling. I should add though, that all this time, although I absolutely had to keep on moving, (as had I stopped, I would not have been able to build up any momentum again), although my thoughts were solely on Mark, as I had not seen his lights for a while, I dared not even attempt to look behind me, as my total concentration had to be on the ride up. Naturally, I did eventually get to the top, but really struggled to get off the bike without falling off. Even then, once I was off, I struggled to place the bike in such a position that it would not fall down at all. I was too tired and weak by then to pick it back up. So, holding it, and making sure the back of the bike was facing Mark (so he would see my flashing tail lights), I waited for my great friend. When he finally arrived, we both had the same comment to say – and a few times, too -: ‘Man, that was UGLY’, which was also the name that we called the hill, as it was the steepest we had climbed on the entire trip. So much for “at least now, there are no more steep hills to climb!” (repeat after me, “I must not make such statements again, I must not…”) Within seconds of arriving at the top, I was thankful that Mark had had the wisdom to encourage me to put my long-sleeve top on, as we got cold once again, with the immediate lack of such strenuous exertions. At this point, I also wondered if, had we come to the UGLY hill in daytime, whether we (me, at least), might not have been overwhelmed by it and decided that we could not ride up, but instead, had to walk up. Thank goodness, though, that I could not see the severity of the hill that we had to climb, as I think I would have succumbed to the climb and walked.

Time approximately 12:30 AM.
We both needed a 10-minute rest, had some nourishment, electrolytes, etc., and carried on to Hungerford. However, we did have some enjoyable experiences at the top of the hill, and that was a glorious golden coloured large, sickle moon, that stayed with us all the way, right until Newbury. Mark also shared with me God’s beautiful heavens that I could not see much of, being on an upright bike, but that he could, on his recumbent. For that, at least, I was very grateful to God, apart from keeping us safe from all harm and for getting us that far. After several delightful undulations at the top of the ridge, we eventually started the descent again. Soon after the descent, we came to Liddington, then Aldbourne. There I saw something that I initially thought was rather odd. Not too far off the main road, was a loud party going on. This, in the middle of the countryside. I was rather surprised, until Mark, with his usual common sense, reminded me that people in the countryside are also, well, not to put it too delicately, people and that they also enjoy things like parties, etc. Oops. Silly me. I should have known better.

We were both flagging by now, as we had been cycling (rests breaks and stops included), for more than 20 hours. Marks knees, and my neck and arms were hurting again. Voltarol on Mark’s knees, my legs and elbows and The Masseuse’s treatment on my ‘knotty’ neck yet again, worked wonders., followed by more of the inevitable electrolytes and chocolate and were once more fired up, ready to rock ‘n’ roll. Yeehaa!

It seemed an eternally long way to go before we reached Hungerford. I was starting to think that we were making no progress at all and that I was going to be doomed to continue riding to Hungerford for the rest of my life.

Thankfully, that was just ridiculous, tired, ‘stinking thinking’, as naturally, we did reach Hungerford. “I know,”, I said, “Let’s get some hot coffee from a shop, or what have you.” Me and my silly mouth. This is Hungerford, in the wee, very wee, hours of the morning, where such activities simply do not take place. Some teenagers we met on the side of the road, said they knew a place that might be open. The only trouble was, it was on the other side of town. That scotched that plan, as the only way we had implanted in our brains by then was homeward bound. Although, even that apart, we simply had neither the strength, nor the energy, to go in any other direction at all.

And so, Hungerford came and went. Onwards to Newbury, where the wonderful moon that had been such a magnificent visual guide to us, finally rose and became a bright, but much less colourful, white moon. Thank you, God, for such a wonderful heavenly display.

Time approximately 04:00

The road to Newbury also seemed to take forever and a day, although I have a sneaky suspicion that that was, in part, but mainly, to our fatigue. We did, however, manage to find an open garage where we could buy a hot coffee. What a relief that was. Coffee never tasted so good.

By then, although we were flagging even more, we seemed to acquire renewed energy and vigour, as we realised that we were definitely on the homeward stretch. “I have a great idea.” Yeah, right. Here have I heard that before? “Why not set our Satnav to take us home?”

“Ok, let’s see what happens.” Oh dear. After one of our home destinations are inputted into the satnav, it wanted to take straight up to, you guessed it, Oxford! Suffice to say, I still have it. More on routing later. So now, we use our brains once again. “What? This is getting beyond a joke! You’re actually using your brains again. Maybe that’s why you’ve been having so many satnav issues – because you’re using your brains yet again!” Yes, we looked at signposts this time.

05:30

Reading came along, at which point, I started thinking this was really going to happen, that I was really going to cycle 200 miles in one day. I felt myself getting quietly excited about the whole thing now, as though it were something I had just thought of. But my challenges weren’t over yet.

In Reading town centre, I started getting confused with all the signs and a few times, had to back track, so as to stay on the correct route out and in the correct direction. Told satnav the usual and got the same silly response: Oxford! What was it with the silly thing?

Eventually getting out of Reading, I got onto the A4, went through Maidenhead, stayed on the A4, approached hare Hatch, glanced down at the satnav, just to see what it was doing. Relief! It was no longer trying top take me to |Oxford at all. Instead, this time it tried taking me to a village called Wargrave. “Why would it do that,” I wondered, as my home was still a long way off, but I needed to stay on the A4, until just before I arrived at home. To humour it, I went down a couple of miles, only for it to tell me to go back the way I came! Exactly what it did tome near Cheltenham, when I ignored it. I just did not know what to think anymore.

At that point, I then turned it off, as I no longer needed it. There was, however, one more minor ‘incident’ that happened soon after that little diversion. I started ‘spacing’ out and hallucinating at the same time. I saw what looked like a car suddenly appear in front of me, except when I shook my head, realised it was simply a new repair on the road surface. I then thought I saw a man appear right in front of me, only to see that it was simply a branch of a tree in front., to the side. I then realised that I needed to stop riding immediately. So very carefully, and with much difficulty, I managed to lean my bike on a fence (that’s how tired and weak I was) and then promptly lay down on the kerb net to the roadside, just to recover from the way I was feeling. At some point, I looked around, and realised I had absolutely no idea how long I had been lying there. Whether it was 10 seconds, 10 minutes, ½ an hour, I simply do not know, as I had not looked at my watch before laying down. Or, if I had, could not remember. However, I managed to drag myself up, get back on TMM, and get busy cycling. Another 45 minutes or so, and TheCyclist finally reached his final destination: home! Yes, 28 hours after setting off, TheCyclist had actually achieved his self-imposed challenge of cycling 200 miles in one day (not including rest periods and other stops).

Other info:

Total distance: 200 miles (320 Kms)

Average speed: (outbound): 9.3 mph (14.9 Km/h)

Top speed: 44.3 mph (70.9 Km/h)

Mark’s top speed: 54 mph (86.4 Km/h) (TheCyclist is almost embarrassed by that figure.)

Food: Enough

If you have enjoyed this story and feel inspired to support this wonderful family of missionaries, you can do so here: https://www.paypal.com/uk/home and use the following account to deposit some funds: JoshNinaCleaver@gmail.com If anyone would like to support this amazing family in their work for The Lord on a monthly basis, please email them, using their email address.

Thank you for reading this story, of what has been the longest one-day ride of my life – so far. 😊

John Reed

The lovely Cleaver missionary family, for whom

this ride is all about and supporting.