Why did I sign up for this?’ It’s a thought that every cyclist has had, normally either on the start line or part way through a long day of suffering. Today I’m saying it loudly because it’s 5am, it’s chucking down with rain outside and I’m having to haul myself out of my warm bed to take on a ride that I’ve done before and have the opportunity to do any day of the week.
Why did I sign up for this? Because it’s RideLondon.
Having started life as the RideLondon-Surrey Classic, a legacy event from the London 2012 Olympics, the sportive has been one of Britain’s most popular – if not the most popular – ever since.
After Covid forced the cancellation of the 2020 and 2021 events, Surrey County Council withdrew support for the ride and the pro race that was run alongside it, so the organisers had to change tack. Thankfully Essex came on board to save the event, and the pro race turned from a men’s one-day race to a women’s three-day stage race, the RideLondon Classique.
On top of three different distances of sportive – 30, 60 and 100 miles – and the pro race, the weekend also includes the Ford RideLondon FreeCycle, where large chunks of the capital are closed to cars and people are encouraged to cycle around Central London just for the sheer joy of it.
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Of course, closing down parts of one of the world’s busiest cities and accommodating tens of thousands of cyclists is a mammoth task, but the organisers are the same people who stage the London Marathon, so the whole operation is done with military precision.
The latest twist in the RideLondon story is the sad news that the 2025 event has been cancelled, though the organisers are at pains to emphasise that this is just a ‘pause’ and that RideLondon will return in the future, perhaps with ‘a new format’
Rain doesn’t stop play
Once I’ve managed to get my overshoes on, I roll my way into central London – just me and the 21,000 other cyclists taking part today. Unsurprisingly, the start is a bit crazy. I’ve provided a modest estimated finish time of around five hours, so I’m far from the first wave to set off and have to make my way around Buckingham Palace to get to my start pen just off the Victoria Embankment.
The rain has just about stopped by the time my wave gets the all-clear. We head east from under Waterloo Bridge on roads that we have all to ourselves. Except that ‘all to ourselves’ still includes thousands of cyclists, so plenty of care needs to be taken.
I thought when I gave my estimated time I’d be starting with riders going at the same pace, but far from it. There’s a big mix of abilities even at this early stage. Nevertheless, I wave at the Cyclist office as I pass and take the right-hand lane to work my way past those slower than me.
With no need to stop at junctions or traffic lights, getting out of central London doesn’t take long at all. We head through Canary Wharf and take mostly main roads to Canning Town and West Ham before slipping past the Olympic Park – how’s that for legacy?
Follow the leader
The route is long and rolling. It looks pan-flat on paper, with 1,200m of elevation over 166km, but it’s never actually flat, and I know I need to find a wheel or a group to ride with.
That proves easier said than done though, and the mixing of pace means it takes a while for anything to stick. I’ve already been overtaken by a group from Rugby Wheelers, who were shifting along at a good pace – it was ideal but at the time the two-wheeled traffic around me was too busy for me to catch on when I saw them fly past.
I spot them again as we turn towards Leytonstone and manage to tag onto the back of their chaingang. Initially I assumed they were working efficiently as a group, but it turns out that everyone is being dragged along by one bloke who is chugging away at the front like a machine, occasionally dropping the stragglers at the back while barely breathing through his nose.
Even though the hour is still early, there are plenty of groups of locals who have come out to cheer us on. Yes, although if feels as though Britain has a general distaste for bikes on the road, all it takes is an official ride like this to realise not everyone hates us.
It’s the part of the ride that feels the most like the London Marathon; these aren’t cyclists coming out to clap us on and hand out sweets, they’re just everyday people appreciating the athletic endeavour of those taking on the challenge. I’m sure there are plenty in their homes cursing at the fact they can’t get off their drive, but it really is heart-warming to see families setting up camping chairs to spend the morning supporting cyclists.
By the time I reach my first rest stop in Epping Forest the rain has gone. It is almost turning into a nice day.
Country roads take me home
Looking at the route profile, the section through Epping Forest represents the biggest ‘climb’ of the day. In reality it’s less of a climb and more of a long drag, but it does mean there is a real bunching and it feels very busy. It’s a relief to get out the other side and to have a bit more space on the road, but more space means fewer wheels to follow. I’m still surfing from group to group as we come through Chipping Ongar, where the route splits for those doing the 60-mile course.
This is proper Essex now and the country lanes are banked with trees and hedgerows, which serve to shelter us from the wind and help with drafting. A solid-looking group comes past and I burn a match jumping from wheel to wheel to catch up, just about making it onto the back as one of the many gentle rises in the profile slows the pace down a little.
Unlike my earlier companions, this group is mostly comprised of solo riders, including one in a University of Cambridge kit, and we press on well through the lanes. The first half of an event like this is always the quickest and the big feed stop comes sooner than my legs need, but I know I have to get some more food in my system.
It’s a huge station in a school field in Felsted and most riders take a breather here. There are hot food stalls and a coffee truck but there are long queues for them. I make do with a water bottle refill, bananas and a snack bar and get back on the road, but now I’m on my own again. I just have to hope my double banana fix gets into my system quickly.
For a while the roads are near-empty, but when a group of serious-looking riders flies past I ramp up my speed and try and tag onto the back. It’s a real push to keep them within touching distance, and I come close to catching them on a descent, but it isn’t long before they disappear round a hedgerow and I never see them again.
Now I’m cooked, in no man’s land and still waiting for my bananas to kick in. I decide the time has come to stop pushing hard and just enjoy the rest of the ride.
Tired in London
The last time I rode RideLondon was the first time it came to Essex and I’m on the lookout for any changes to the route since then. It’s pretty much identical all the way past the final feed station and most of the country lanes blend into one at this point in the day. I get taken by surprise in Buckhurst Hill, though. I was sure the only remaining hill was further into east London and this climb hits harder than any I remember.
It doesn’t last long, but it’s longer and tougher than anything we’ve ridden so far, lasting a kilometre or so at a reasonable gradient. It’s the only time in the ride I need to switch to the little ring and it comes almost as much of a shock to my bike as it does to me, just about managing the shift as I make my way past the pack of 60-mile riders who’ve rejoined the party.
The final part of the ride is the real reminder of what makes RideLondon so popular. We come back through the streets we rode out on, but at this point in the day the view of Lee Valley Velodrome is sweet. While fatigue is always a factor at the business end of a 100-mile ride, it’s a lot easier to cope with when winding through car-free London streets.
Appropriately enough, the finish is the best bit of all. Instead of carrying on down the Embankment, riders take a left past the Tower of London and go over Tower Bridge, which is absolutely packed out with cheering crowds – an iconic end to an epic event.
Suddenly I remember exactly why I signed up for this.
Crowd control
How to organise the UK’s biggest bike event
On the Sunday of the annual RideLondon event, the organisers have to shepherd up to 25,000 amateur riders through the start gate on Victoria Embankment – a rate of around 100 riders a minute for four hours – and then see them safely through the streets of London and out into Essex.
At the same time, they have to make provision for another 50,000 leisure cyclists to ride on car-free streets around the centre of the capital as part of the FreeCycle. They then have to clear the streets and reconfigure a route through the city to host the final stage of the RideLondon Classique Women’s WorldTour race.
Luckily the organisers are the same people who oversee the London Marathon (54,000 people) and the Swim Serpentine (6,500 people), so they are well used to dealing with big crowds.
To help them keep all those riders rolling, London Marathon Events recruits an army of 3,000 stewards and a fleet of 100 vehicles (it’s handy that Ford is the main sponsor). Keeping riders safe requires 450km of road closures and 6,000 barriers at the sides of the roads. And fuelling those riders takes 100,000 litres of drinking water and 41,000 gels.
When it’s all over, everything gets packed away and the litter swept up – London Marathon Events claims it leaves London’s street cleaner than when it found them.
