Many of you will know that in June last year I took part in the Manchester 2 London ride supported by Rapha to raise funds for Ambitious About Autism. [This is a cause very close to Simon Mottram, Rapha’s founder, who has a severely autistic son.] The ride itself was 220 miles from central Manchester to Rapha’s HQ in Archway, London, passing through the south Peak District, with 4 feeds stops including The Hub and Spoke Cafe, Dunstable (where I was very well looked after) and The Sharpenhoe Clappers before the final run-in through North London.

I was asked by someone why I was taking in part . I would have liked to say that the cause was close to my heart but the truth is, it isn’t.  I can possibly say that about all charity events – I’m happy to help raise funds whatever the cause because they are noble, provide help and support to those who need it, and cast cycling in a positive light. So why this event?  Well, I spend a lot of time riding a bike for no other purpose than to benefit of my own mental and physical health.  Reason enough, but it feels right that sometimes the somewhat selfishness of hours pedalling solo has a greater purpose and wider benefit. And 220 miles in a day was at the limit of what I thought I might be capable of and provide a focus to my day-to-day training.

Training which needed some long rides.

Roll back two months and I’m in a car park in Huntingdon, having joined Richard Slade, Tom Stead, Simon Winter and Ed Hemms to the ride up from the Market Square, surrounded by a crowd of other cyclists of all flavours on a variety of different bicycles.  This was the start (the first control) of the Double Dutch Audax to Kings Lynn and back.  My first Audax.

I will be the first to admit that I am not immediately enthusiastic about Audax events.

You mustn’t ride too fast, you can’t ride too slow.

I get it – the checkpoints can only be open for a certain amount of time, but it goes against a deeply ingrained sense of competition.  Sure, try harder, dig in, grit yer teeth when riding into a headwind (to arrive at a checkpoint before it closes) but putting the brakes on, or stopping to rest, when you’re enjoying a taliwind or one of those all too rare days when with glass cranks when pedalling is effortless, to avoid arriving at a checkpoint early, seems a shame.  Even more so when eBrevet means that no card is stamped so checkpoints can now be open 24 hours.

But I am respectful of the traditions of cycling and am not a fan of the cycling-by-numbers that has pervaded the sport. I prefer riding on feel not a maintaining the number displayed on my head unit. Using the data (heart rate and speed) as a guide not a master.  I like that you can still carry a Brevet card and a pencil to have it marked when you reach a checkpoint.  I’d revert to paper maps but I am a fan of being able to look down and see the dotted line of the route displayed in limited colour on the screen attached to my handlebars.

The thing is, my reticence for an Audax isn’t logical.

I’d love to ride Paris-Brest-Paris.  It’s an Audax!

But to me it’s so much more than that. It has a history as a race and is now an amazing spectacle of cycling. I imagine it’s a truly enjoyable and unforgettable experience. But to ride it you have to qualify, completing a series of specified Audax distances in the a predefined period prior to the event.

When we were at the Dales Weekend last year, the Bike Centre was the most northerly checkpoint for an Audax event from somewhere a long way south and back, over lots of hills and by far from the most direct route. Cyclists were arriving late; cold, wet and tired, setting up make shift camps in bivvy bags at the side of the car park, as we came back from the pub, and I thought ‘that looks like fun!’

I’m no longer a spritely road or track racer but coming back to cycling in my early 50s, after a mid-life break to deal with mid-life stuff, I’ve regained some of my youthful fitness.  But I’ve been re-tuned from supercharged V8 petrol to a turbocharged V12 diesel. Maybe just a V6 diesel with economy features!  I can ride reasonably quickly for a long time and I have the experience of knowing when and how to save energy and when to expend it.

In the past, I was always training for the next race, training to beat everyone else to the line.  Maybe it’s a sign of aging, an acceptance that my racing days are behind me, or maybe it’s the result of shift in cycling generally. Competition isn’t just about the race – you can compare against others, but you can also compete against the terrain, the weather, the gradients, the distance, yourself and what you think you are capable of.  And cycling is much more than the Tour de France, the Monuments, and the televised races of the pro-ranks.

On a bicycle we can go further than travelling on foot, we can reach places we can’t in a car, and we are more connected with the environment.

The bike is simply the best tool for spending time outside.*

And, as I discovered, an Audax is great way to spend time on a bike.  We set off as a group of five into a headwind.  We caught/or got caught by a huge group of riders from St Ives CC and rode as a peloton into the headwind. Got dropped when stopping for a natural break. Chased back on, sat in, recovered. The group split at a Greggs somewhere on the flatlands (Chatteris, March, Wisbech?) We stopped for a bacon sandwich in Kings Lynn (I won’t be ordering one of those again mid-ride!) Ed phaffed with a rubbing disk rotor, and there was possibly a puncture.  We sped past technicolour tulip fields.  Hammered along poor roads running alongside a dyke enjoying a terrific tailwind. And stopped in Ely where Ed demonstrated the rejuvenating power of Coca-Cola.  The last section of the ride I remember was the super smooth path alongside the guided busway back to St Ives, then back to the final checkpoint at Wetherspoons in Huntingdon.

My first Audax, 200km. Done.

Except that it was only then I discovered that eBrevet is not automatic.  You do have to stop at the checkpoints, and digitally stamp your Brevet card.  We did this at the first one but rode through all the others.

We hadn’t officially completed the ride and we couldn’t collect our badge.

Ah well. You’ll probably find me in the car park in Huntingdon on 4th April 2026 for the Double Dutch 2026. This time with a pencil and perhaps I’ll take the time to stop at the checkpoints.

*Dan Pettit/Albion