A tale of the unexpected

However hard you train for that event you've targeted, on the day there are so many variables that nothing can be certain. You can (and should) prepare as meticulously as possible but you should also prepare for the unexpected.

Having identified last weekend's Suffolk-based Crafted Classique 100-miler as 'something to aim for', we spent several months building training frequency and mileage until we finally felt reasonably confident of achieving a respectable time.

That's the thing with time chip technology - a sportive becomes, on one level, a mission to propel a digital chip across the line in the shortest possible time. With these chips now automatically associated with the rider numbers securely attached to your bike, there's no escaping that all-important finishing time.

Part of the fun of these events is in the planning and anticipation of the build-up. Piece by piece, you put in place all the essentials. How are you going to get to the start? Are you travelling there on your own or with a fellow rider? Have you got a kit checklist ready? On the day you must ensure that you get yourself to the sign on in good time and equip yourself with a route map. And then you must plan where to meet with friends after the ride and get yourselves home again.

During this obsessional planning period, you become an avid devotee of the long term weather forecast. There's nothing you can really do about it, of course, apart from taking along the appropriate kit. For some, these events present an opportunity (or excuse) to refresh their cycling wardrobe - 'go on...treat yourself!'

We rode last year's event as an informal team but this year saw us ride as Simpson CC. We actively encouraged our readers to join us for the ride and ended up with a good mix of natural rouleurs, confident clubmen and racing veterans, all eager to devour 100 miles of beautiful Suffolk countryside. These guys could set a good pace and maintain it for the duration.

In the end, we split into two groups from the very start, mainly due to varying arrival times. The faster guys were already on the start line as the others arrived to sign on. The weather was good - maybe too good, with baking heat becoming a hydration factor. With high average speeds being clocked up everything looked set for a quick finishing time until one of our riders was taken ill.

When this happens, you must prioritise. Targets and training clearly take second place to a fellow rider's wellbeing. The race against the clock ended there and the final 40 miles became more of a survival challenge. We eased back on the pedals and started to chat on subjects far removed from our present situation. Reaching the finish line now had a different meaning.

We're pleased to say that everyone did make it back in one piece and the ride was still an amazing experience. But it means that we now have a 2016 ride target already in place - not that any excuse was really necessary.

Rising to the occasion

There are downsides to big, organized bike rides. En masse, us cyclists have an unfortunate tendency to lose our common sense as the occasion gets the better of us. We swerve unpredictably, take risks we’d never normally take, plough into potholes and fail to warn those behind us about hazards.

Our impact on the people and places we cycle past can be upsetting, disruptive or even dangerous, reinforcing the views of the anti-bike brigade that we’re nothing but a bunch of testosterone-fuelled Lycra louts. It’s no surprise that many experienced cyclists eschew mass participation events in favour of lower-key, lower impact rides.

But to turn your back on all big rides is to deny yourself some rare treats, as we were reminded last weekend on the third Prudential RideLondon 100-miler.

Being one of 27,000 cyclists tapping along on central London roads that are usually choked with traffic is a truly uplifting experience. Add cheering crowds, impeccable route marking, logistics management and marshaling and you have an experience that every cyclist should try at least once.

Turning into the home straight on The Mall, where thousands lined the route, banging the hoardings and screaming us to the finish line 300 metres away, we allowed ourselves to imagine how it might feel to be involved in the sprint finish of a Grand Tour, as the adrenaline peaks and those weary leg muscles twitch into action for one last superhuman push to the line.

Easing out of the saddle for a final big-ring blast, just inches away from all those clapping hands and waving flags, we set our jaw with steely determination and gave it full gas for the first 100 metres…before realizing that both legs were about to cramp and that 300 metres is a lot further than you might think when your muscles are awash with lactic acid.

Never mind. It’s good to dream.