Piotr Mikolajczak – Romantic cycling in its longer version. 600km alone

Romantic cycling in its longer version. 600km alone.

I set off from home a few minutes before 9 a.m., thinking that London streets wouldn’t be crowded yet on Saturday at this time. I had to cycle the entire city from noon to midnight, and from there, I set off for my first destination – Cambridge.

This student city greeted me with beautiful cycle paths and a large crowd of people. I stopped here for a coffee break, to fill my water bottles, and to grab a quick sandwich. I have a tendency to not be able to ride for long on energy gels and bars alone; after a short while, I’d get so hungry that I’d take breaks every two or three hours to fill my water bottles and eat another sandwich. It’s worth noting that this was the first time I’d been so careful with my fluid intake. I consider one water bottle per hour (0.7 liters) a good result.

The route from Cambridge to King’s Lynn is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever ridden. I highly recommend it! Around 7 p.m., I arrived in King’s Lynn, where I’d planned a longer break for a specific dinner. As I approached my chosen pizzeria, I had a flat tire. The layover lasted about two hours. I waited a very long time for the pizza, and then it took a while to eat it too. This is definitely something to improve in the future, to improve my break times. But on the other hand, do I need to rush? Will a longer wait for food make a difference? Will a stop at a village café for coffee save me? Or maybe a stop by a picturesque meadow? Certainly not. It only takes me further from the “finish line,” but brings me closer to being “here and now” and simply enjoying it.

At that moment, I realized that it’s not the destination that matters, but the journey. After all, just three or four years ago, I spent every weekend partying, but today? Leaving beautiful King’s Lynn and heading back to London, I pass people going to parties. And it was a wonderful feeling.

Around 10 PM, I stopped at a gas station to replenish my water supply and change for the night. I’d like to recommend reflective harnesses to everyone! They don’t take up much space, and they significantly increase safety. I got the idea for the harness from Marta Gryczko, with whom I’ve had the pleasure of speaking several times. While I’m thinking about that “Sick Fucker” 😀, it was during this trip that I understood her words: it’s not the number of kilometers that counts, because it’s just the sum total. What matters is the very fact of traveling. Thanks to those words, I felt much better riding my bike, simply enjoying it.

Sunrise caught me overlooking London’s Tower Bridge. I won’t lie, I was moved. The entire night of riding passed very pleasantly, without a single crisis, which came when I arrived home to put on clean clothes and eat my favourite pesto pasta.

And that’s when I realized that staying at home had been a mistake. It was supposed to make things easier, but it made me lazy. I spent two hours there, and I knew that the longer I stayed, the less I would want to move.

The next leg of the journey was the London-Oxford route, which I knew quite well. Along the way, I stopped for coffee and a cake, which I thought would help me, as I had absolutely no desire for gels and bars. Fortunately, my energy returned. I knew that crises would come more and more often now, but I was mentally prepared for them. “In ultra-distance races, you die and are reborn a dozen times.”

Along the way, I got a typical puncture, the so-called “snake,” while hitting a manhole. What a beautiful place I had to change a tire, right next to an old cemetery… When I arrived in Oxford, I started looking for Chinese food, which I’d been craving since morning. I ordered soup and my favorite chow mein noodles.

I didn’t eat much noodles, but I did eat a double portion of soup, which turned out to be a hit, as I realized when I returned to London and felt renewed strength in my legs and head.

My toes started hurting. I’ve always struggled with this problem because my feet are awkward and it’s hard to find shoes that fit them. But I’m not going to give up with 500 km on the clock and 100 km home, knowing that from now on, every kilometer is my personal best, which is precisely 500 km…

The last 100 km were spent in various states – from tears of joy to those of pain, from smiling to cursing. When I arrived home, I had 580 km on the clock. I gritted my teeth and pushed through those last 20 km, which seemed to drag on forever. During them, I reflected a lot on where I was four years ago and where I am now… It was a beautiful journey of self-discovery.

I’m writing all this calmly, four days after that weekend, and this achievement is only just sinking in. I’ve realized why I love riding alone. I’ve understood Marta’s words: kilometers are just a sum of the total, and what matters is the celebration of the journey itself, not the numbers and results.

Carpe diem.