Racing North with Esther

You might remember that we launched our Race Hydration Vest with a new challenge earlier this year. The North Race was born out of a question; "I wonder how far someone could ride due north from our workshop?" Our ambassador, Josh Reid, laid down the standard of 350 km north (and 505 total km ridden). Amazingly, it only took a few weeks for his record to fall, and since then six people have beat his mark. Recently Esther Lloyd became the sixth rider to surpass 350 km (beating Josh by a single kilometre of latitude) and the first woman. To mark the moment, we offered her £500 worth of Restrap goodies and asked if she would mind telling us about her experience...

AN INAUSPICIOUS START

It was thanks to a previous The North Race winner, Daniel Vipond that I found myself in a Co-op in Leeds; panicking as I stood in my bib shorts, road shoes with cleat covers, and a long distance jersey. Trying to hide my red swollen eye that was healing from an unexpected surgery just days prior, as I anxiously waited for the attendant to check the CCTV footage from the previous hour. I'd somehow managed to lose my phone before I'd even started my own TNR.

I met Daniel on Newlands Pass, in the Lake District, nearly 12 hours after starting All Points North back in May 2024. APN was my first venture into this niche ultra self supported cycling community, and even though a couple of life changing bonks saw me completing in 75 hrs rather than the 72 hrs, I was hooked. Daniel's smart Restrap setup which saw him winning APN had sparked the thought that potentially I too could win TNR, as the first female.

Confirming I had indeed left the Co-op with my phone, I ungracefully walked back to my accommodation, a stone's throw away from Restrap HQ, and proceeded to turn it upside down as I hunted for my phone. Garmin unhelpfully stated there was no bluetooth connection. The TV was on and I was seriously wondering who was more nervous, me or the BMX athletes at the 2024 Olympic games in Paris. After rechecking the freezer, something caught my eye. My phone was found on the floor under my bike. It had fallen as I charged my devices and battery cache for my dynamo setup. I celebrated alongside the French athletes as they got all three BMX podium positions.

THE JOURNEY TO THE START

It’s hard to believe that it's only been a year that I've described myself as a cyclist. It was in August 2023 that I joined London Velo Cycle Club, signifying the end of solely being a London bike commuter, and the beginning of becoming a cyclist. I’ve never considered myself as athletic, I’m not competitive, and previous to TNR, I had won nothing.

I think that anyone that rides any kind of bike is a cyclist; but for myself, it started my joyful healthy obsession in an activity that has quickly become my life. It’s worth noting I’m not naturally gifted; I am not an athlete, I don’t have incredible genetics, and I have a demanding job with a bunch of life responsibilities. I am good at problem solving, learning, and pushing myself and body to the limits. So what made me become a cyclist, and how did I end up doing TNR?

The answer to the first question is hugely personal. Like many others I admire in the sport, I have sadly suffered from an eating disorder most of my life. Sport was merely a form of earning calories to be able to eat, and I primarily ran. After 20 years, it was 2022 that I was at my lowest; lowest weight, lowest physical health, and lowest mental health.

One day I couldn’t walk out of agony after a run. Heading to the hospital to figure out the cause, I needed to provide my postcode to reception. But I just couldn’t remember it. I had so little glucose in my system that my brain had just given up. I broke down at reception, unable to remember where I lived, or even how to find out where I lived (which when you think about it, is really quite simple…). I was diagnosed with two stress fractures in my left pelvis and the bone density of an 80 year old. My running was over; I was barely able to walk and was on crutches. Thankfully, the surgeon told me I could still cycle. 

I quickly fell into a new love of cycling. It wasn’t my commuting method any longer, it was my physical outlet and something I could do without impacting my bones. I loved it. Quickly I realised that in order to go further and faster I had fuel well. Cycling saved my life. It gave me that reason to get out of bed in the morning. 

RIDE DAY

Getting out of bed still isn't always easy though. All too soon, my alarm went off. I had picked 8am Saturday morning as my TNR start time, reasoning that sunrise would bring a boost of energy as after 20 hours of cycling through the night. I also didn’t really fancy finishing at 6am, or 8pm for that matter. I ate my breakfast; rice pudding and a banana, washed down with a strong coffee, whilst I triple checked the weather forecast. Epic Ride Weather confirmed that it would be a hot day with crosswinds and headwinds until Edinburgh, but if I turned off and headed up to Aberdeenshire I could have a tailwind.

My route planning was a typical combination of being both very last minute, and over thought and analysed for months prior. I had started with the obvious; taking all the GPX routes from the TNR leaderboard Stravas and putting them into Ride with GPS. From this, I had confirmed my route from Leeds to Edinburgh. Uneventfully flat was the only way to describe this route. I had loaded and pre cached 10 routes onto my Garmin: the first from Leeds to Newcastle, the second from Newcastle to Edinburgh, and the remaining 8 options to various parts of Scotland. It was only 1 hour before I left for Leeds that I poured over my routes, marking all my custom cues, including water stops, food and public toilets.

Taking note of the route I would select in Edinburgh up the coast, I loaded my first stage. Leeds to Newcastle. Having never been in either city before, it was exciting. Pockets full of frozen bars, I tightened the Restrap Fast Straps holding my emergency bivvy and raincoat, checked my lights, put on my reflective vis, and set off to the start line.

Stopping at Co-op for water a couple of hours out of Leeds, it dawned on me I wasn’t in a rush. I have been training to do quick supply runs, but this time I decided it wasn’t worth the stress. It was hot, I needed a lot of water resupplies, and wanted to enjoy this day. My total stop time in the end was 3 hours 40min; which mostly consisted of lunch outside a closed Greggs watching as locals panicked, finding hummus, eating an overpriced gluten free Domino's pizza, and waiting for the 5am McDonald's breakfast menu when I could get a coffee. It was a race, but the breaks meant I wasn't breaking myself.

ANGEL OF THE NORTH RACE

I was nearing Newcastle when I saw the Angel of the North. Pulling into the car park, I took a quick picture, feeling grateful that cycling means you can just stop and visit these places, and excited about my progress. I must return to visit this area, as the rest of my Newcastle experience was mostly me walking my bike through the city, and passing people on a very different 24 hour adventure of their own as they headed into a music festival. The bridge crossing was an absolute highlight however; little did I know even better bridges were to come.

Not far past Newcastle I realised I had made a grave mistake. Quite literally. I was at a dead end in a graveyard. I had thought my routing skills were better than RWGPS; I was very wrong. Quickly assessing my options, I decided I could push my bike along the grassy verge running a breast the A1 off ramp which would lead me to my road. A successful decision, it was completely safe, and relatively easy to navigate. Much to my pleasant surprise I was soon back on track for Edinburgh.

GO NORTH

Thanks to a corrupt cue sheet, I had zero alerts from my Garmin along my whole journey. My Garmin thought I had 6000km to go and would simply tell me to just “Go North”. The audacity! This turned out to be a blessing. Sunset in the Scottish borders was stunning, and with few cars on the roads, all I could hear was the headwinds roaring past my ears and the sound of my tyres on the pavement. Those moments encapsulate what I love about cycling; complete flow state. Being outside, on your own steam, watching the world and experiencing the outdoors. I found myself grinning into the sun, loving that as I kept cycling north, my sunset kept being prolonged. It was just me on the road, chasing the sun.

Belly full of pizza, I started to navigate out of Edinburgh. I was delighted when I discovered the route that was planned was what I suspect to be a cycle highway for commuters. I felt on top of the world, like I was on an old train track, zooming out of Edinburgh and away from the busy Saturday night streets. I crossed another bridge, this time, post midnight it was just me on this bridge. Well at least I thought so until I passed a couple in the middle shouting Allez!

A different type of nerves came over me. Female cyclists in the middle of the night aren’t exactly commonplace, and I am very cautious. While I was sharing my location, I had no-one right there to help me if something went wrong or I was threatened. I didn’t respond to their good natured calls of encouragement, not wishing to draw attention to my gender. I did this quite a bit as I navigated through the subsequent towns, letting my free hub announce my presence to soberly part the sea of drunken students.

THE THREE Cs

I have learnt a few sources to increase dipping energy levels during long rides. The obvious being the three Cs: carbs, caffeine and company. Company is limited on self-supported journeys, but I never fail to keep my own company, often laughing out loud at my own monologues. Music is like a continuous glucose infusion; my Spotify playlist entitled Hi-Fructose Carb mix is at least 5 gels worth of energy. This adventure saw me adding a new energy source; police lights. I hadn’t planned on being on the A92 very long at all, but when I missed my turn off, I was no surprise that the blue flashing lights were for me. I was safely zooming along in my high vis, 2 rear lights, and with small amounts of traffic, felt rather safe to be honest. The Scottish police officers couldn’t have been more understanding. Upon hearing I was heading Aberdeen ways and that I was planning to exit at the next junction, they gave me a beep as I waved goodbye. It’s hard to believe that this whole period was only 25min, it felt like hours. But the adrenaline gave me a much needed energy boost for the hours after.

On the outskirts of Dundee is when I got the fright of my life; suddenly confronted with the reflection of a high vis and the blinking of lights. Other cyclists, at 2.30am. Are they crazy? What are they doing out at this time? Why are they alone? I had asked myself, a complete hypocrite in this scenario. I started laughing when I figured they must be Audaxers or doing some kind of event. They had just crossed from the Tay Bridge, and I was beyond excited when I reached it. My favourite crossing by far, the bridge was a feat of engineering, and I had it all to myself. The elevator to drop into Dundee almost made me giddy with excitement.

GOLDEN ARCHES BY THE SEA

From Dundee I skirted around the sea edges. It was glorious. Little bike paths to myself. It wasn’t fast, but it was so much fun. I kept thinking I should just turn off and go directly north, but looking at the map I had a hope to get to the train station at Stonehaven. I knew there was a train back to London from there and I really didn’t want to leave the seaside.

The sun rising over the sea was something I’ve never experienced on a bike. Just stunning. It was the dawn of a new day, and I had just a couple of hours to go. Naturally, therefore, when the other light on the horizon was the golden arches, I decided to head in. Never have I found myself going to McDonald's for breakfast in the UK, so it was my surprise that I discovered breakfast is served at 5am. This was a long stop; possibly too long. My pre-breakfast menu was a cucumber bag glittering with salt, and my breakfast order was more sugar than espresso.

The final hours were tough. At APN this year, I bonked with so little distance to go. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. Shivering uncontrollably, no power, heart rate so low, confused, and I couldn’t eat or drink. It was so frustrating and having never been in that situation before, I vowed it wouldn’t happen again. So now, with hours to go, I was mindful to fuel well to the end and keep hydration. That approach meant that when my phone alarm went off informing me that I had 15min to go, I had enough to really push it to the end. 

PRIORITIES

Upon getting to Stonehaven 24hrs and 510km later, my very first thing I did as I sat in the carpark of the station, was upload the ride to Strava and submit it to Restrap. That done, I then turned my attention to the less important things, like how do I get home?

Thanks to TNR I spent a lovely day in Stonehaven, including a snooze on the beach with my new 50p blanket as I waited for the Caledonian Sleeper that evening. Turns out getting a train home was harder than getting there in the first place, but I LOVED that the adventure didn’t end when the clock did. This is what makes events like TNR so special. Your journey doesn’t start when the clock does, and it isn’t defined by the Strava kudos. In reality, I think just getting to the start line is the hardest part. From there, you have no idea what might happen but that’s all part of the fun. It can feel lonely; not just on the road, but lonely that no one sees the hours of training, planning, prepping, sacrifice, and guts it takes to take on a challenge like this. But I’ve realised that in this little community we all understand, respect and champion all those who get to the start line. We cheer for every km after.

I cannot wait to follow the adventures of fellow female cyclists as they make their mark on TNR. You are all incredible and your journeys are going to form memories, both in muscle and in mind, that last you a lifetime. 

Images and words by Esther Lloyd

Esther's ride: https://www.strava.com/activities/12057131284