An Easter 500. Storm Dave, Flapwiches, and a Confession.

There's a well-known cycling challenge to ride 500km between Christmas and New Year. I had every intention of doing it this year. As it turned out, I was rather busy (I spent New Year's Day running up Box Hill three times surrounded by people in fancy dress). That, as they say, is a story for another day. But the 500km idea stayed with me. So when Easter came around, I decided to do it then instead.

The plan was clean and simple. Four days, four directions out of home: north to Cambridge and back, south to Brighton and back, west to Windsor, with Box Hill making its now-obligatory appearance. Neat, logical, satisfying on paper.

Then Storm Dave arrived.

I will say this for Storm Dave: it is an excellent teacher of mental grit. Riding into a headwind that genuinely seems to have a personal grievance with you, for hours, with no shelter and no reprieve, is not enjoyable in any conventional sense. But it is useful. July will have bad days. The ability to keep turning the legs when everything in your environment is telling you to stop — that gets built in moments exactly like this. So: thank you, Dave. Sincerely. Please don't come back.

Now, the confession. Some time ago I had a professional bike fit done. Good decision. Then, in a moment of what I can only describe as questionable wisdom, I decided to change my bike setup halfway through a four-day, 500km block. Do not try this at home. Fortunately my body responded well to the new position — better, in fact, than the old one — but the timing was, let's say, adventurous. This could have gone very wrong.

The real discovery of the weekend, though, was the homemade flapwich. Think a flapjack, but opened up and filled with banana, grated apple, cinnamon and ginger. Dense, sweet, warming, and exactly what you need when the wind is in your face, the legs are asking questions, and the next village is further away than you'd like. I cannot recommend them highly enough. They may have been responsible for my best ever single-day distance — 188km, on day three. Here's to the flapwiches.

As I write this, the four days are done and the total sits at 500km-plus. By some distance the most I've ever ridden in four consecutive days. The body held up. The new bike setup held up. The mind held up, just about, thanks in no small part to Storm Dave's involuntary contribution to my mental resilience programme.

And then this weekend, the Ronde van Vlaanderen. Watching the male and female pros go absolutely all out across the cobbles and climbs of Flanders is a useful reminder that however well the training is going, there are people on bikes who are simply a different type of human. Awe-inspiring is the right word. It keeps you honest — and it keeps you hungry.

Barcelona is getting closer.