Update:

The week leading up to the ride was surreal. Training had gone according to plan and we were ready. One last turbo session on Tuesday evening, then we'd taper, carbo load, get plenty of early nights so that our bodies would be perfectly prepared for Sunday.

Wednesday

It's 5am. I wake to shouts: "Eddy, I'm really sick!". She's in agony, the worst pain she's ever experienced. An ambulance is called, they give her morphine. At the hospital they can't find anything wrong. "We've been training really hard for this bike ride" she repeatedly tells the medical staff. Perhaps I've been pushing her too hard?

Thursday

We go to the Expo at Excel to register and pick up our race numbers. Seduced by the stands we decide to invest in some clipless pedals for Team Leader. Fears of a static fall were beaten down by promises of more power and smoother pedalling action. 

Friday

The ride has cut off times, don't make it to the check-points in time, get swept off the road by the broom wagon. Harsh but the pro race immediately after ours needs clear roads. This is really stressing her out: "we're not going to finish",  "we're going to get swept up". The pressure is on to outpace the broom wagon. 

Saturday

We're at her nephew's 3rd birthday party. She says her glands are swollen, I feel lethargic. Something's not right, we should be in tip-top condition. We head home for an early night. The phone rings, bad news, one of our good friends has been hit by a car whilst out cycling. It's serious, air-lifted to hospital, medically induced coma. We drift off into a broken worry filled sleep full of bad dreams.

Sunday

It's 3am, force feed ourselves with porridge and bananas, bikes loaded onto car, and off to London we go. We're early. Then traffic gridlock, road closures for OUR bike ride, our pre-paid official car park is unreachable! Now we're late. In desperation we dump the car outside Newham Council, rush off on our bikes to the start, we'll deal with the consequences later. 

5.30am

Now how to get to get to the Olympic Park? The route is supposed to be signposted from the official drop off points and car parks, nope. We spot some other cyclists, follow them, they don't know where they're going either, the blind leading the blind.

6am

5 miles later we finally arrive at the start, thousands of cyclists, lycra everywhere, dream machines galore. Everyone is pre-assigned a start wave, waves start 6 minutes apart from 6-8am. Bo-Jo officially starts the ride before taking part himself together with his wife.

7am

Our wave is finally off, but it's another 2 miles before we will cross the actual start line.

8am 

We're flying along, all that "really hard training" and the new clipless pedals appear to be paying off. My role is domestique, I stop to pick up food/drink from the feed stations, then chase back up, so Team Leader can keep her average speed high enough to beat the broom wagon. It's tough work chasing back, it requires burning matches and I only have so many in the box. But our race plan is working, we're ahead of schedule. 

9am

We're approx 30 miles in and team leader starts suffering for her early efforts. I also start suffering with an inexplicable dodgy tum, never been so happy to see a portaloo before. But one heck of a chase to get back up to Team Leader afterwards, burnt a few matches there.

10.30am

We're halfway, team leader hits a low, we still have to do the same distance all over again, but this time with hills. 

11am

Newlands Corner, the first of the hills marked "strenuous" on the route profile. A long slow drag. The chatty atmosphere suddenly goes eerily quiet. Hundreds of cyclists, intensely concentrating, feels like sitting an exam. The silence is only broken by the occasional superman zooming up the right, the tyre noise whooshing gloriously. We also heard somebody say: "Did you see Boris back there? He looks wrecked!".

12pm

Leith Hill, the second of the "strenous" hills. It's been hyped up, worse than Box Hill they said, and it is. Steeper, narrower, pot-holed. But we've done our homework, came here a few weeks ago for our longest training ride. The steep sections are interspersed with flatter sections, so you can get your breath back before going again. The gradient caused some riders to dismount and walk, the narrowness of the road made this a hazard to those still trying to ride up.

Team Leader was on my wheel, I was dragging her up. Then I heard a scream. Someone had stopped in front of her, having nowhere to go she'd come to a halt too, in her new clipless pedals. Fortunately this only resulted in bruises to an elbow, a knee, pride and some ripped bar tape. A quick push and she was back in the race. Got to keep that average speed up, must beat the broom wagon.

One of the best things about climbs are the descents afterwards. However, Team Leader hates them with a vengeance. It didn't help that we passed a serious looking crash at the bottom of Leith Hill. Poor guy didn't look like he'd be finishing, or riding again for a while for that matter. Brought to mind our friend in a coma. Average speed suffered as we descended safely. 

12.30pm

Dorking, there were actually decent sized crowds cheering us on here, it really lifts you. Thank you Dorking. 

1pm

Box Hill, the last of the "strenous" climbs. Nice smooth tarmac, gradient reduced by switchbacks, beautiful scenery. However, Team Leader hates it, it goes on forever. 

1.30pm

Tum goes from bad to worse. Long loo stop at Sandown, Esher. Team Leader decides to stop too to have a stretch. We get news that coma friend is out of danger. Relieved we ride on. Nice long roll downhill all the way into London now. Thank goodness, it feels like I've used up all my matches. Crowds on the road shout to us that Boris went through 20 minutes earlier, damn my dodgy tum.

2pm

Kingston, like Dorking, was filled with cheering crowds. Just what we needed to lift our spirits. The Macmillan supporters were also based there and their cheers made us smile. Thank you Kingston. Thank you Macmillan.

2.30pm

Wimbledon Hill is pretty strenous after 90 miles in the saddle. Another long loo stop at the top, oh woe is me, no more snacks thanks. But we're still ahead of schedule, so much so that we zoom through before our supporters get out on the course to watch us.

3pm

We're close, almost there, we're feeling good, me too with empty tum. The river is on our right, Parliament is up ahead. Suddenly the two bikes in front of us hit the deck in slow motion, first one, then the other. We just manage to stop in time to avoid them. One of the guys on the floor is wearing a tutu, surreal. He's OK, he's going to ride on, re-mounts his bike and is about to set off. Team Leader helpfully points out that his handlebars are twisted 90 degrees, maybe that's why he crashed. They're both OK so we plough on. 

We make that last sharp left turn through Admiralty Arch and start winding up for the sprint finish down the Mall. Team Leader breaks away but I burn one last match to chase her down. It goes to a photo, finish, a draw, 8 hours and 8 minutes each. The chiselled whippet had just pipped us to the line, but we'd beaten the broom wagon, and raised some good funds for Macmillan, mission accomplished.

Later that evening...

We hang around to rest our weary bodies and watch the pro race coming around that same last corner. The speed with which they finish is exhilarating and they've just cycled 40 miles more than we did. 

We take the chartered clipper ferry down the Thames back towards East London. Will our car still be there? Will we have to travel across London in order to retrieve it from some car pound? Has it been clamped. Not even a ticket. Happily exhausted we load the bikes on and head home, it's been a great day, early shift tomorrow!

Le fin.

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Ciara, Eddy and Matt are cycling the 100 mile Ride London on 4 August 2013 to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support, in memory of Eddy’s sister and in support of other family members who have been affected by cancer.

Macmillan nurses were there for Eddy’s family when his sister was diagnosed with cancer, providing a great source of support during a time of real need. Macmillan nurses are professional, caring and very well trained. They took the time to explain everything in as much detail as the family needed, helping to demystify cancer, which was extremely comforting. Macmillan Cancer Support rely on charitable donations to keep their invaluable service going, making an incredibly difficult time for cancer sufferers and their families that little bit easier.

We appreciate every bit of support for our mission – however small.

This will be my first ever bike ride that doesn't involve stopping for a leisurely lunch and I will am hoping to finish before they re-open the roads...

Macmillan Cancer Support improves the lives of people affected by cancer. We provide practical, medical, emotional and financial support and push for better cancer care. One in three of us will get cancer. Two million of us are living with it. We are all affected by cancer. We can all help.